Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)

by C. L. Coffey

  I nodded, wondering whether I should tell him what had happened or not. He deserved to know the truth. I sucked in a deep breath, when Joshua reached over and squeezed my hand. “I wish we had known the Lilah you had,” Joshua said, releasing me.

  I gave Joshua a sideways glance, but his attention was on Darell: surely he didn’t know what I was about to say? I looked back to Darell but found his gaze on me, a look of understanding suddenly appearing – a look of pity. “You two are together,” he realized.

  I could feel my cheeks heat up, but I nodded.

  A sad smile appeared on Darell’s face. “Lilah and I both knew that we could never really be together – she was immortal and I was not – but that didn’t stop us. To us, all that mattered was that we loved each other: as long as she loved me, I was happy to be with her, and the same with her. Even when we slept together, I still thought that could have been possible, but I didn’t take Michael into consideration. I truly believe Lilah didn’t fall. I know she would have told me.”

  “Then why did Michael banish her from his House?” I asked.

  “She said it was because he was jealous. He had feelings for a human girl he could never be with,” Darell said thoughtfully. “I suspect that he could have been if he wanted to. I don’t think he would have fallen, but I do think the other angels would have reacted the same way to him as he did to Lilah: they would have banished him from Heaven.”

  If I was still alive, at that point I would have said that my heart had stopped beating. As it was, it barely beat anyway. It was more like something got released into me; a mixture of emotions. Michael had once told me he’d seen me years ago and been attracted to me. I hadn’t realized how strong those feelings had been back then. I certainly never expected that Lilah would have known. She’d never mentioned it that night. I was sure it would be something that she would love to point out, so perhaps she’d never known who I was in Michael’s eyes?

  * * *

  “You’re doing that thing again,” Joshua sighed.

  I blinked a few times. “What?”

  Joshua reached over and tapped my forehead. “Retreating into there.”

  “Eyes on the road,” I snapped.

  “You’ve just proved my point, darlin’,” he declared, gesturing to the windshield.

  I looked ahead. We weren’t moving. We weren’t even stuck in traffic. We had actually left the interstate and parked up at a rest area. I blushed and shrugged. “Sorry,” I muttered. “What were you saying?”

  “I need the bathroom,” Joshua said. “Do you?”

  “No, but I think I’d like to stretch my legs,” I decided, getting out of the car. The rest area was close to the interstate with no trees or undergrowth to dull the noise of the steady stream of traffic. The building, with a “Welcome to Louisiana” sign was only a short walk away, but I ignored it. While Joshua headed into the building, I walked in the opposite direction, heading past several covered seating areas and towards a small lake at the back. The border between Louisiana and Texas was perhaps less than a mile away, so we were still too far from New Orleans for the heat to have reappeared. The skies were clear, though the wind was strong and chilled.

  It was probably because of the weather that the outside area was pretty deserted, which brought my attention to a guy sat on a bench, staring out across the lake. His back was to me, but the way he was sitting, his back straight, wearing a slightly disheveled dark suit… “Michael?” I called. “Michael!” I ran over to the blond as he turned around.

  He looked startled, tilting his head in a way which was painfully familiar, but not the same. “Oh!” he exclaimed.

  I was seeing ghosts. He wasn’t Michael. He was a good looking blond, and he even had similar brown eyes, but he wasn’t Michael. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I hurriedly apologized, flustered.

  “You have no reason to apologize,” he assured me.

  “Angel?” I heard Joshua call. I turned back, spotting him heading over. “Hi,” he said, greeting the blond.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized again. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” I gave Joshua a smile and took his hand, lacing my fingers through his. I started to lead Joshua away, looking back to the guy. He was staring at my hand holding Joshua’s, frowning.

  “Who was that?” Joshua asked, once we were far enough away.

  “No one,” I admitted. “I thought he looked like someone.”

  “Michael,” Joshua said, simply. I must have failed at keeping the surprised expression from my face, because he shrugged. “There’s a resemblance, I guess.” He wrapped his arms around me, drawing me back against his chest. “You’ve been quiet since we left Crown Security,” he said. “You want to tell me what’s up?”

  I leaned back into him as I gazed across the water. I didn’t think he was right, but the more I thought about it, there had been barely any conversation since we had left Houston, and what little there had been, I couldn’t really remember what it had been about.

  “It’s okay to admit that you miss him, you know,” Joshua said. I turned around to face him. “Michael,” he said, as though I wouldn’t know who he was talking about. “He was the one that saved you, and he was your mentor. And he was killed in front of you,” he added.

  “So much has happened in such a small space of time,” I muttered as the wind whipped my hair around my face.

  Joshua reached up, trying to tuck the hair behind my ears, and when that didn’t work, held it back, his hands cupping my cheeks. “How are you doing?”

  I shrugged, even though the action was hampered by Joshua’s grip. “Cupid’s probably going to be wondering where I am.”

  “I’m not asking about Cupid, darlin’. I’m asking about you. How are you doing?” Joshua corrected me.

  “I don’t know,” I told him. “Not great. I’d be lying if I said I was, but I don’t know how I feel. There’s a lot going on.” I chewed at my lip, trying to think of the way to put it into words. “Guilty,” I started, finally. “Michael wouldn’t have been at that port if it wasn’t for me. He pushed me out of the way, you know. Valac was charging at both of us, and I didn’t see it. I should have seen it. But I didn’t, and Michael is dead. I feel lost without him,” I continued, cutting Joshua off before he could even start to say that it wasn’t my fault. “I mean, I have so much to learn and I was not learning it as fast as I should have. And I cared about him, Joshua,” I finally admitted. “Not in the way he wanted me to, but I did care. The fact he’s gone hurts. I want to curl up in a ball and cry, all the time. I thought getting out of New Orleans would help, but it hasn’t. Not for this, anyway.”

  “Getting away wouldn’t solve anything,” Joshua told me, gently. “You’ve lost someone important. Distance isn’t what heals: time heals; time, allowing yourself to heal, and allowing people to help you. You can and you will get through this, and I’m going to be right here while you do.”

  I could feel the tears starting to well up as he drew me closer, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I would’ve stayed like that, but a gold flash from the corner of my eye – sunlight glinting off a car as it drove past – brought me back to the rest stop. “I’m so glad I still have you,” I muttered into his shoulder.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Red M&Ms

  By the time we arrived back in New Orleans, it was late afternoon and already the sun was starting to head closer to the horizon. As Joshua needed to get back and see to his cat, Dave, he dropped me off at the convent. This was the first time I had left the car since returning to the city and I was surprised at how noticeably warmer it was. The small crowd still lingered in front of St. Mary’s Church, and I was certain the weather was keeping the crowd there – if it was as cold and wet as it was in Houston, they’d be at home right now.

  I slipped into the convent grounds unnoticed and hoped I would be awarded the same luxury when I walked inside. I wasn’t… Pascal was manning the front desk. “Cupid wants to see you,”
he said, before I’d even shut the door. “He’s in the library.” Well, at least he still hadn’t resorted to using the bells Michael favored. I thanked Pascal and headed straight to the library, as requested.

  Cupid seemed to be in the same position I had last seen him in. He was certainly wearing the same clothes. In fact, the only thing that seemed to have changed was his expression. No longer angry, he just looked tired. There were bags under his eyes, the brown of which seemed to have dimmed. Cupid met my gaze when I sat down at the table opposite. “Houston?” he asked, wearily.

  “I went to see Darell Ford,” I told him.

  “How is he?” Cupid asked, after a moment’s pause.

  “He seemed to be alright,” I shrugged. “At least he was, until I told him about what had happened to Lilah.”

  “Michael said he called in on him, but I didn’t think he’d ever told him what happened,” Cupid agreed. He let out a long sigh and then slumped forward, resting his elbows on the table to prop his head up. “Can we be friends again? I can’t run this House by myself and I don’t want to.”

  “We were never not friends,” I assured him, as I mimicked his posture. “I don’t want you to have to run this house by yourself, but if you want my help, you have to at least listen to what I’m suggesting and try to find a way to compromise.” I sighed. “If you can’t compromise, you know, because there are actual angelic rules, then you need to tell me, because I don’t know them.”

  “That sounds fair,” Cupid agreed. He broke into a grin. “Can we do something fun? Like a movie?”

  I opened my mouth, ready to agree, but found the words caught in my throat when Veronica flashed into the library. My mouth hung open in shock.

  “Hi,” she said, giving us both an awkward finger wave.

  “You can’t be here,” Cupid blurted out.

  The glimmer of hope that had been in Veronica’s eyes was extinguished in a flash. “Oh,” she said, slumping her shoulders. “Yeah… sorry.”

  “Wait!” I cried, before she could disappear. I looked over to Cupid. “Just listen.”

  Cupid stared at me, tensing, and then he turned to his friend. “Veronica,” he said, coolly. “What are you doing here?”

  Veronica winced. “I wanted to see how my friends were doing. How you were doing.” As Cupid narrowed his eyes, she took to chewing at her lower lip. Veronica was a number of things: cocky, brash, stubborn… But nervous and unsure?

  “Do you even care?” Cupid asked her, his tone becoming harsh.

  “Of course I care!” Veronica cried. “You’re my oldest and best friend!”

  “Then why did you abandon me?” Cupid asked quietly.

  Veronica’s eyes went wide. “I never abandoned you.”

  “You left the convent and this is the first time any of us have heard from you. Did you know that Michael had been killed?”

  Thankfully, Cupid’s attention was on Veronica and not me as I deftly averted my eyes to my lap while trying to will my cheeks to return to their normal color. As she and Garret had asked for my silence, she didn’t give any indication that we had seen each other. “That’s why I’m here,” Veronica told him. “I heard you had been left in charge of the House.”

  “I can’t change anything, Veronica,” he stated. “I would go against Michael’s wishes and have you back, but you left as a collective. If you wanted to come back, it would have to be as a collective.”

  Veronica wrapped her arms around herself as she stared at her feet. “I know,” she muttered, eventually. “And I know I’m not coming back, but I miss my friend. I would like to be able to check in every now and then and see how he’s doing.”

  “Too much doom and ‘woe is me’?” Cupid asked. “Or do you simply miss my charming personality and rugged good looks? Or, does Garret keep stealing your eyeliner?”

  I blinked, looking up at him. There was a hint of a smile there.

  “Actually, Garret keeps stealing my skinny jeans. It’s April who has taken a shining to my eyeliner,” Veronica retorted haughtily. “Rugged good looks? There’s nothing rugged about your face. Babies have got more hair on their faces than you.”

  “Still got more than the other cherubim combined,” Cupid shot back, before the stern expression was replaced with a wide grin. Veronica’s smile was just as big. “I feel like we should hug it out.”

  Veronica wrinkled up her nose. “What is it with you and hugging?” she asked, as he got out of his chair and started towards her. She held up her hands and tried to back away. “Ew!” she squealed, but given that she had the ability to move much faster, I knew she wasn’t really making too much of an effort to escape his massive bear hug. Cupid caught her and wrapped his arms around her, and for a while, she hugged him back, but when he didn’t let go, her attention was on me. “Angel, help? I can’t breathe.”

  I shrugged. “You’re an angel: you don’t need to breathe,” I pointed out, grinning smugly.

  Finally, laughing, Cupid set her down. “Angel and I were planning a movie night. Want to come?”

  Veronica eyed him suspiciously. “Is it going to be one of those mushy romances you like?” she asked him.

  “Probably,” Cupid shrugged.

  I decided now was a good time to bow out and leave them to hopefully repair their friendship. I returned to my bedroom, feeling the need to shower, which was when I discovered the messages on my phone.

  I hadn’t bothered to take the phone to Houston with me. The only people who had the number were Joshua and Sarah. Or, I thought it was… I had forgotten that Ty had the number too. I had eight text messages from him, all begging for me to call him.

  I did what any sane person would have done and deleted them. The only reason I had been at the Port of New Orleans was because of Ty, and Michael would still be here if I hadn’t gone. As far as I was concerned, ignoring the texts was letting him off lightly.

  Wrapped in a towel, after my shower, I once again found myself staring at the contents of my small wardrobe, frowning. The angels on earth were completely unprepared for the possibility of coming face to face with one of the Fallen, and the clothes hanging in front of me were proof enough.

  I was well aware that nothing short of a suit of armor was going to protect me from a sword, but as I’d previously concluded, some form of protection could help with recovery times, and any shoes, other than the heels I had for my uniform, would help movement.

  If Michael’s death had highlighted one thing, it was that the Fallen were no longer content with blending into the city, unnoticed. They were starting to attack and if they could take out Michael, then no one was safe. The least we could do was prepare ourselves for that, starting with the clothing.

  Then it was time to look at the actual angels in the House. Sure, they weren’t trained to fight, and they weren’t guardian angels, so it wasn’t their job, but there was no harm in them learning some basics in self-defense if they were to continue in their duties. Not that I was qualified to train them, but Cupid had to have some tricks up his sleeves.

  * * *

  The weekend passed in a blur. I kept myself busy around the convent, trying not to think about Michael, or replay the conversation with Darell, or the conversations with the higher ranking angels… basically, I was trying to do as much as possible so I couldn’t think at all.

  I pulled open the wardrobe and plucked out an outfit. Clothing was one of the things I made myself think about in the morning. Not just because I was getting dressed, but because, the more I thought about it the more I started to realize that this House and the angels in it simply weren’t used to doing anything themselves. They had always relied on Michael or Cupid to do the fighting, and the cherubim to do the housework.

  Honestly, they were clueless and didn’t know the basics of cooking and cleaning. I wasn’t great. Sarah can attest to that. She’d certainly agree that I may have tried to avoid doing chores for many years, but at least I knew the difference between a washer and a dryer.

/>   I headed down to the kitchen, walking through the dining area, and stopped short at the sight of an angel mopping the floor. Well, he was either mopping the floor, or trying to turn the dining room into a swimming pool. “You need to squeeze the excess water out,” I told him, taking care not to slip as I walked over, trying to avoid the puddles. This one, if I remembered correctly, was Eugene. He was tall and good looking (shocker), with a vessel that looked around my age. He had very dark skin, and the corn rows in his hair were braided into neat lines with an inch long tail at the bottom.

  “It’s wetting the floor,” Eugene frowned, looking at his handiwork. Of the thirty angels that lived in the House, it was still just the four that were cleaning and cooking. Or, at least, attempting to.

  I took the mop from him and stuck it in the soapy water. “Wetting, yes,” I agreed. “Cleaning, not so much. Like this,” I said, putting the mop head into the wringer and pulling the leaver. “You need to drain the water off.”

  “But how does that clean the floor?” he asked, the frown remaining. “It’s too dry to do anything.”

  “It’s not dry,” I assured him, staring down at the wooden floor. It was covered in dust, crumbs, and under one table, what looked like half a bowl of cornflakes. “Did you even sweep it first?”

  “Sweep it?” the angel repeated, slowly.

  I spent the next hour explaining, showing, and then helping the angel sweep (okay, in the end we cheated and vacuumed) and mop the floor. By the time we moved out into the hallway, I had switched to showing another, Jordan, how to dust! I knew they’d never done a single chore in their thousand-plus year lifetime, but this was sad. I felt sorry for the cherubim.

  Eventually, I left Eugene and Jordan to tackle the main entrance and walked into the kitchen. Once again, I stopped in my tracks – this time at Nyle who had tears streaming down his face. “Has Sarah been telling her jokes again?”