Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)

by C. L. Coffey

  I did a few lunges and squats to see how much movement I really had, and discovered that they weren’t as restrictive as normal jeans – I could move just fine – it would just take a while to get used to wearing jeans again. The real test though, would be to see how I could react when I was fighting: hopefully Paddy would be able to help me with that.

  Keeping the jeans on, I scooped the remaining pairs up, leaving my own trousers and shoes in the changing room, and headed back out. I had barely gotten a few steps back into the store when I was greeted by a low whistle. I whirled around and found Joshua grinning at me, his eyes firmly fixed on my butt.

  “I half thought you wouldn’t try them on,” he told me.

  I could feel my face heat up as I lowered the jeans in my arms as an attempt to discreetly cover myself up. “There’s Kevlar padding-” I hurried to tell him.

  “How about we move these out of the way, darlin’,” Joshua suggested, taking two strides over to remove the jeans – and my protective shield – from my hands, and deftly hung them up on the first rack he could reach. He then turned back to me, tilting his head from side to side as he eyed the jeans on me. Finally, still grinning, he raised his sparkling blue eyes up to meet mine. “Well, are you going to give me a spin?”

  Okay, I honestly thought the padding made my already big butt look bigger than it was, and I wasn’t really happy about that, but the look that Joshua was giving me was already making that thought disappear. Although I felt a bit silly, I did as requested and turned slowly on the spot. When I found myself facing Joshua again, those bedroom eyes of his were back. “And now for some boots,” I declared, sauntering straight past him.

  I could feel his eyes on me as we walked over to the shoe section. I hadn’t intended on getting boots from here – a normal shoe store probably would have done the job – but I spotted the knee-high boots and knew I wanted them. I darted over, taking them from the shelf, turning them over in my hands. I barely had time to register that they were real leather when I sensed Joshua stop behind me.

  “Well, these are handy,” he announced. Before I could turn around, his hands slipped into the back pockets of my jeans.

  “Joshua!” I squealed, nearly dropping the boot.

  Joshua closed whatever gap there was between us and leaned down to my ear. “Darlin’, when this is looking as good as it is,” he gave my butt a squeeze. “I can’t help but want to touch it.”

  I was so glad he was stood behind me and couldn’t see the ridiculous grin I had on my face. “What do you think of these?” I asked, holding the boots up.

  “Depends,” he responded. “Will you be wearing anything else?”

  “Joshua!” I exclaimed, reaching back to awkwardly swipe at his shoulder.

  His chuckle tickled at my neck. “You asked.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and focused my attention on the boots, trying to ignore Joshua’s hands, which he seemed in no hurry to remove. The boots had a low heel – much more practical than the shoes I’d abandoned in the fitting room – and several buckles. By the looks of things, the buckles had a practical purpose, as well as a decorative one, and would allow for the width of the leg to widen so the boots could be worn either underneath or on top of the jeans.

  “Can I help you with anything there?” Hank asked, clearing his throat. “You both seem to have your hands full.”

  I jerked forward, mortified, and found Hank trying (and failing) at not laughing, whereas Joshua just folded his arms, smirking.

  * * *

  We were on our way back to the Quarter, a while later, and I was certain my face was still burning. “How long are you going to ignore me for?” Joshua asked. I didn’t have to turn to look at him to know he wasn’t taking this seriously.

  “It’s not funny,” I said, finally staring over at him.

  He glanced at me long enough to hold his hand up to indicate about an inch gap between his finger and thumb. “It is a little,” he told me. “And you are still wearing those jeans.”

  I’d been that embarrassed, I didn’t want to spend any longer than necessary in the store and had decided to keep the jeans on, rather than get changed. I’d also put the boots straight on, but he was overlooking that fact. As soon as I had grabbed all of the jeans on the rack in my size and they’d been paid for, I all but dragged Joshua out of the store.

  Aside from still being somewhat embarrassed by the shopping trip, I was feeling a lot better about it. There was still so much going on, and so much that I needed to do, that being able to tick even one thing off that list was a small weight being lifted off my shoulders.

  Of course, the things left were all big things that needed to be tackled; but if I made a list, even one in my head…

  1. Get the rest of the angels outfitted in more defensive gear;

  2. Get the rest of the angels trained in defensive, if not offensive, actions;

  3. Find out exactly what the rules are, and which of them can be broken (okay, that was a selfish one, but immortal or not, I was still a twenty-year-old girl with an amazing…);

  4. … Find out exactly what is going on with Joshua and me;

  5. See Ty and tell him to go to hell (he was still texting me);

  6. Defeat Asmodeus;

  7. Defeat Beelzebub;

  8. Work out where Lucifer was and defeat him;

  9. Get a whole lot better at using my bow and my sword – or both swords – that I had (actually, that would be better happening before number 6);

  10. Do what I could to get the cherubim back in the House.

  Ten things – that was simple enough, right? I mean, sure the order wasn’t set in stone, but they were the most important things. I was seeing Cupid later. We were going to have dinner together and start going over the key issues within the House, so that would be a great time to check off number 3, and hopefully make progress on numbers 1 and 2, now that I knew where Creole Chrome was (although I wouldn’t be returning in a hurry. A few centuries might just get the embarrassment to fade).

  “Angel?” Joshua waved a hand in front of me. I glanced over at him. “I said, do you agree?”

  I had no idea what he had been saying, but the smirk on his face told me he was up to mischief. “No,” I responded firmly.

  “No you don’t, or no you do?”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “No, I don’t.”

  The smirk developed into a full grin, and I knew I had made a mistake. “Well that’s good to hear.”

  I sighed. “What have I just agreed, or disagreed to?” I asked warily.

  “I was merely saying that I didn’t think I would like those pants on you as much as if they had been leather,” he said.

  “That’s not a question,” I pointed out.

  “I might have also indicated that I wanted to stake my claim on those pockets, you know, as hand warmers – seeing as winter is coming – but if you didn’t want to share, they were all yours,” he added, the grin never leaving his face.

  I rolled my eyes, about to correct him, when a thought ran through my mind. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  This time it was Joshua who eyed me suspiciously. “Working the next two evenings, then off Thursday. Back to days on Friday. Why?” he asked, as we pulled up outside the convent.

  “You fancy coming here tomorrow morning to help me out with something?”

  Joshua’s eyes narrowed further. “Is this something I’m probably going to regret agreeing to?”

  “Probably,” I confirmed, jumping out of the car. “Just wear something comfortable.” I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss, before leaving him agreeing (although still looking puzzled), and darting into the convent.

  It was still a little early for dinner, but as Joshua had to go get ready for work, I had no excuse not to head back to the kitchen to help with whatever was left over. I regretted it as soon as I got close and could smell the food – judging from what we had been preparing this morning it had to be meat and potato pie.

&
nbsp; Sarah wasn’t there, but Nyle and Eugene were, wiping down the aluminum counters. “What can I help with?” I asked.

  “We’re just going to sweep the floor, and then take a break before we have to serve up dinner,” Nyle responded, wearily. His blonde hair was flat to his head and looked as defeated as he did.

  “How did you do this by yourself?” Eugene asked, sighing dramatically.

  “I made dirty rice for a month,” I told him, grabbing the broom. “I didn’t manage to keep the rest of the convent clean, and I also didn’t leave the building.”

  “I don’t mind the cooking,” Nyle said. “It’s the cleaning up afterwards. No one likes the cleaning.”

  “Except Jordan,” Eugene corrected him. “He’s been on a dusting binge all day. He didn’t even stop for lunch, and he wanted us to help him polish,” he said, his face contorting as though polishing was a form of torture.

  “I take it he’s on his own?” I laughed.

  “And will continue to be so long as I can stay in the kitchen,” Eugene said, looking hopefully at Nyle.

  “Those onions are all yours!” Nyle exclaimed. He stood back and watched me work. “We’re going to put a roster out for the rest of the angels and take it in turns. Like you, we have other things we need to do.”

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that,” I said, pausing in the sweeping.

  “The roster?” Nyle asked, cocking his blond head.

  “No, the other things you guys do,” I clarified. “I thought that, considering you guys are out in the city all the time, you should learn how to use some weapons to protect yourself, especially considering how many of the Fallen there seem to be here.”

  “Why would we do that?” Eugene asked, his mouth dropping open.

  “Why wouldn’t you?” I returned. “There has been enough death in this convent. I’m not expecting you guys to be going out and hunting the Fallen, much less take on any Prince of Darkness, but you should at least know how to protect yourselves long enough that you can get out of there.”

  “But that’s not our job,” Eugene continued, still looking horrified at the prospect. At this point, I thought he would rather help Jordan polishing than pick up a sword.

  “I’m not expecting it to be your job” I said. “I’m saying that we now know of two Princes of Darkness that are operating in this city, and now they have been revealed, we don’t know what they’re going to do. How many of you have changed your vessels since you were given them?” At Eugene’s expression, I shrugged and continued. “The Fallen have – you won’t recognize them, but they will recognize you. Michael and I were led into a trap and attacked. I barely made it out. Michael didn’t.” I paused, not sure if I could continue without crying.

  “It’s not our job,” Nyle said, repeating Eugene’s words. “We weren’t put on earth to fight. We were put here to deliver messages.”

  “What happens when you can’t do that effectively because there aren’t many of you left?” I asked. “You were put here to do a job, not just to sit about and look pretty.” Pretty was an understatement. They, like the other angels, could certainly work for any modelling agency in the world.

  “Actually, we were put here to look pretty,” Nyle corrected me.

  I blinked at him. “What?”

  “We are here on earth, delivering messages because we’re pretty, and not much good at anything else,” Eugene answered.

  I looked between the two of them. They both looked so sincere, yet both looked so… dejected. “Your purpose is to look pretty.”

  “You don’t think that we don’t hear the other angels talk? That we haven’t heard Cupid and Veronica call us mindless and shallow?” Eugene asked.

  Oh hell, did I feel guilty! I didn’t know the angels before, but I was certainly guilty of thinking the same things. “We’re here to deliver messages, but we got the job because we’re no good at anything other than looking pretty while we do it,” Nyle explained.

  “I refuse to believe you’re no good at anything else,” I said, firmly. “Look how quickly you mastered cleaning,” I gestured to the spotless kitchen. “And I’m also certain that being pretty is not part of the job description.”

  “No, it is,” Nyle said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Mankind has always trusted a pretty face. You only have to look at the movies to see that the good-looking people get the main roles. Then there’s the fact that we’re the only all-male choir,” he frowned. “Present company excluded, but you’re going to get promoted – you’re already Second-in-Command in this House.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What has being male got to do with anything?”

  “Mankind listens to man,” Nyle shrugged. “If men speak new, different, or controversial words, they’re either right, or revolutionary. At worst, people still listen to what they have to say. If women try, they’re either crazy or witches.”

  “You know it’s not like that anymore, right?” I asked, pulling a face.

  “It doesn’t matter. When we were created, that’s how it was, and it’s served us well until now,” Nyle said, moving out of the way for the brush I was only half-heartedly using. Well, I felt a grade-A bitch now: talk about judging a book by its cover. And the worst part of it was that I didn’t sit looking at the Hollywood A-listers, thinking they were all idiots, so why had I allowed myself to assume that the angels here were? And then the next words from Nyle had the pity shriveling up. “So you see, we’re pretty looking, but pretty useless at everything else.”

  “Have you even tried?” I asked, trying, and failing, to keep the sharpness from my voice.

  “Tried what?” Eugene asked with a sniff.

  “Doing anything else?” I said, before gesturing to the kitchen. “Obviously this job was once done by the cherubim and you’ve managed to pick this up easily enough. So why couldn’t you manage to use a sword? And,” I cut Nyle off before he could object. “I’m not asking you to fight; I’m suggesting that you learn to protect yourselves.”

  “I don’t think Cupid would like it,” Nyle said.

  “Nyle!” I exploded. “I am not asking Cupid; I am asking you: do you want to learn self-defense? If you don’t, that’s fine. If you do, you leave Cupid to me.”

  Nyle and Eugene shared a look, before Eugene finally shrugged. “We can see the benefits of it,” Nyle seemed to reluctantly agree.

  “Though, if Michael couldn’t survive the Fallen, I’m not sure what chance we stand,” Eugene grumbled under his breath.

  To bite my tongue, I thrust the broom towards Eugene and stormed out of the kitchen.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Can You Teach an Old Angel?

  Later that evening, by the time I had found Cupid, I had calmed down somewhat. It wasn’t really their fault that no one had really given them a chance to do anything, but that didn’t mean they had to act so helpless. By the time I went down to the library, I was in a much better mood: even if we were going over things like the convent finances.

  Dressed in my new clothes (and a simple, yet comfortable vest top to finish my new outfit suggestion), and armed with a notebook and pen (I had been serious when I told Cupid I wanted to learn), I made my way to the library. Cupid wasn’t there. “Don’t tell me he’s forgotten?” I asked the empty room.

  “Nope, just relocated,” I heard him call from between a bookshelf. “We’re in here.”

  The library wasn’t a particularly big room – my high school library had been much bigger – but it was covered floor to ceiling in books, mainly of the religious reference variety (either the angels weren’t big readers, or they had a very particular taste). There was a half dozen shelves at the far end which protruded into the room, and the rest of the room contained the large table Cupid had been favoring, and a few comfortable chairs.

  I walked over to the shelves peering down between them. I wasn’t a reader myself. The few that I had been reading while here were things like the Bible and the Torah – books which hadn’t lived down th
is end – so I’d never noticed the door in the corner before. I stepped in.

  The new room was about a quarter of the size of the library and was only being lit by several wall and desk lamps, but was furnished with pieces made from the dark cypress wood everything else in the convent seemed to be made of. There were two desks: the largest was in front of the window. The second was at an angle to the side, tucked in the corner, but also facing out into the room. In front of each were two seats. The only other things in the room were two two-seater couches, facing each other, and a small coffee table between them. Cupid sat on one with Paddy beside him. The thing that surprised me the most was that between them, on that coffee table, was a laptop.

  Short of my own, which was used only for playing DVDs because the convent didn’t have internet access, I hadn’t seen a computer in the building. Even Michael somehow managed to run the House using paper and pen. To see Cupid frowning as he stared at the screen was quite a surreal image.

  “What did I miss yesterday?” I asked, my eyes wide.

  “I decided that I couldn’t…” Cupid looked up and his mouth dropped open. “Girl, what are you wearing?” he demanded, his eyes raking over my clothing.

  “This is one of the things I wanted to discuss with you,” I responded, gesturing to the pants and boots. “But you’re in the middle of something, so it can wait,” I said.

  “No, this is more important,” Cupid disagreed, getting to his feet to turn the main light of the room on. He then bounded over to me and dragged me into the center of the room so he could circle me. I suddenly knew how a gazelle felt as a lion circled it. “Well, I don’t hate it,” Cupid finally announced. “I mean the color suits you, but I’m not sure about the cut. And those boots are so chunky and clumsy looking.”

  “The boots have grip and ankle support,” I said, folding my arms. “The pants are tight fitting enough that they’re not going to snag on anything, but loose enough for me to move and be comfortable. They’ve also got Kevlar in them.”