Angel Tormented (The Louisiangel Series Book 3)

by C. L. Coffey

  “I’m here now,” he pointed out.

  “You’re in my head,” I corrected him. “All that tells me is that I need to figure this out by myself.”

  “You don’t have to figure anything out by yourself,” Michael said, shaking his head. “You only need to ask for help.”

  I stood up. “Well, this has been… weird. I need to go.”

  “I will see you soon,” Michael assured me.

  Maybe the help I needed to ask for was a shrink.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Serendipity

  Joshua woke me up when he closed the car door. My eyes flew open and I hastily rubbed the sleep (and the tears) from them. I took a deep breath wondering where my limit was with pain – the guilt of Lilah and the loss of Michael… I wouldn’t survive much more.

  It had been just over an hour since I’d left Joshua but he looked hot and bothered. “Are you okay?” I asked him.

  He pulled a face and turned the engine on, and the air-conditioning on full, pulling at the neck of his jumper. “I’m wearing a turtleneck when it’s 97 degrees out,” he grunted. “And you’re sat in a car which doesn’t even have the windows cracked and you’re not even breaking a sweat. How?”

  “You could have worn something else,” I shrugged. Hot Joshua was a grumpy Joshua.

  “Yes, because handprints around a police officer’s neck is an excellent badge of honor,” he snapped. “Where’s my bottle of water?”

  I reached into the foot well and grabbed the bottle he was referring to. “It’s warm,” I warned him as I handed it over.

  “Great,” he grunted, snatching it from me.

  “Suddenly, Beelzebub’s idea to heat the city makes sense,” I retorted, rolling my eyes at him. “How about you take that jumper off and we detour for ice cream.”

  “I’m not wearing anything under this,” Joshua said, playing with the vents to angle them at his face.

  “I fail to see the problem with that,” I told him, blinking up at him.

  He turned to look at me then, and all the irritation left him. “You’d like that, huh?”

  “I feel like I should lie to you to calm that ego of yours down,” I told him dryly, then gave a dramatic sigh. “But I feel doing that will also deprive me of a wonderful view.”

  He gave me a smirk, but shook his head. “I’m going to have to deprive you of that wonderful view,” he said, regretfully. “I’ve got the address of the next of kin. It looks like Mr. Ramsey worked at his father’s shipping company.”

  It took me a moment to process what he was saying. “This city is built on the banks of a river. There’s miles of ground used by shipping companies along this section of the Mississippi. Like I said to Leon, this is just a coincidence.”

  Wordlessly, Joshua leaned over and programmed the address into the onboard GPS system. The overview route map popped up. “Still think it’s a coincidence?”

  I started at the screen, not liking what I saw. “No.”

  * * *

  Although A. R. International had several warehouses on the site, it also had a very posh building at the site entrance. Judging from the cars we parked next to, this building was where people in suits, and not overalls, worked. The inside was as plush as I expected it to be.

  “Good afternoon,” Joshua greeted the secretary. “We’d like to speak to Mr. Ramsey, please.” The woman gave him a confused look and he pulled his badge out, but this only made her frown more.

  “I assume you mean Alex?” she asked, slowly.

  “If that’s what Mr. Ramsey Senior goes by, yes,” Joshua nodded.

  “You can’t,” she said, still looking confused.

  “It’s regarding his son,” Joshua said. I could see he was getting frustrated but knew better than to step in. I stepped back and wandered around the room. “I regret to disturb him, but this is important.”

  “Mr. Ramsey is missing,” the woman said. “I would have thought you knew that, considering you were here last week.”

  “Oh crap!” I exclaimed. I wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation. I had been keeping myself occupied by studying the photographs of A. R. International’s board of directors. There, in the center, was Mr. Ramsey Senior, the CEO of the company.

  Or, as I knew him, Valac. Which completely explained why he had been there the other night, though not what his connection to Asmodeus or Beelzebub was.

  “How could you not know that?” the woman asked impatiently, reacting to my outburst.

  I looked at Joshua. “We need to leave.”

  “We can’t just leave,” he said through gritted teeth.

  I marched over to the desk. “Ma’am, I apologize. There’s clearly been a mix up at the station – we were following up on another case and we haven’t been properly briefed,” I lied. “Again, I apologize for the inconvenience.” I glared at Joshua and nodded at the door. “We should let the other officers handle this.” Not giving him time to respond, I strode out of the building.

  Joshua was right behind me. “What the hell was all that about?” he asked. “You can’t just do that.”

  I turned back to him. “Please trust me and get in the car.”

  “Okay,” Joshua quickly agreed, even though he clearly didn’t understand why. I refused to say anything until we were in the car and I could no longer see the shipping yard behind us. As Joshua pulled over, his phone bleeped at him, but he ignored it and turned to me. “What was that about?”

  “I was wrong,” I told him. “When I told Leon it was a coincidence, I was wrong.”

  “We gathered that when we saw the address…” Joshua trailed off. He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Darlin,’ you’re shaking.”

  “The victim’s father is the fallen angel who killed Michael,” I said. “He’s missing because I killed him. I killed another human vessel, Joshua.” I slumped back, and then the nausea hit me. I jerked my hand free and lurched out of the door, emptying my stomach.

  Joshua was there, holding my hair back, then, when I was finished, he led me back to the car, leaning me against it as he offered a bottle of warm water. “I don’t think you did,” he said, slowly.

  “Trust me, I killed him,” I muttered, miserably. “He exploded.” Joshua chewed at his lip, but said nothing. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me. I sucked in several racked breathes in an attempt to calm myself, then I pulled free of his embrace. “I’ll be okay.” I gave him my best reassuring smile and got in the car.

  Joshua took my lead and got back behind the wheel as his phone bleeped again. This time he looked at it, frowning. “Well that has to be a record time for an autopsy,” he muttered. “It looks like we need to head to the morgue.”

  I nodded numbly. We drove in silence, the ride seeming much longer as I disappeared into my thoughts. By the time we had arrived, I had pulled myself together: he might have been under the control of Valac, but if I hadn’t have killed him, he would have killed me.

  Despite the message, we still had to wait for Henry under the watchful eye of the grumpy secretary. Leon had arrived moments after us, and was as confused to see us as we were him. “You can’t possibly have the autopsy results already?” he asked us. “Because I have mine, and the body was only picked up an hour ago.”

  Joshua shrugged. “The message just said to come to the morgue for the results. Clearly there’s been a mistake and only one of us needs to be here.”

  He looked at the grumpy secretary who glowered at him. “I have made no such mistake, young man. I did as requested.”

  I was grateful when Henry finally appeared.

  “Sorry about keeping you waiting,” he said. He paused by the reception desk. “Sheila, please make sure I’m not disturbed,” he requested, disappearing into the back of the morgue before he could see the disgruntled look on her face.

  There was a body lying on the table as we stepped in and my stomach rolled at the sight of it. I’d seen a few bodies now, and I suppose with my new line of work I shoul
d be more used to them, but this one was mid-way through an autopsy with the chest cut open and his insides on show.

  Thankfully, we bypassed him, only for Leon to stop at another body, pre-incision. Judging from Leon’s reaction, this was his victim. “Even I can tell no autopsy has been performed on him.”

  “He’s only just come in,” Henry said, confused. “I was preparing to move him to the other room when you arrived.”

  “Then why am I here?” Leon asked.

  “The paperwork had both you and Walsh as the lead detectives on another murder victim,” Henry explained. He pointed to the remaining body in the room. Alexander Ramsey Junior.

  Leon pointed to the body in front of him. “This guy is mine.”

  “Can we not talk about him like that,” I snapped. “He was a person.”

  “Okay, let’s not attack the detective,” Henry requested, stepping between me and Leon. “We’ve got a lot to run through and I could do with you all being present.” Before I could tell him I had no intention of attacking anyone, Henry looked over his shoulder at Joshua. “Speaking of, I’m glad you’re still alive.”

  “What does that mean?” Leon asked, instantly, giving Joshua a shrewd look.

  Henry looked between the two men and sighed. “You haven’t had this conversation.”

  “What does that mean, Joshua?” Leon repeated, enunciating each word. When it was clear that Leon was not going to drop it, Joshua gave a reluctant sigh and pulled the neck of his jumper down to reveal the ugly purple bruises. Leon’s eyes went straight to mine.

  “It wasn’t Angel!” Joshua snapped, angrily. “Don’t even go there, Leon.”

  “I wasn’t,” Leon assured him. “I was going to thank her.”

  I wasn’t expecting that. I stumbled back, unsure what to say. “Oh.”

  Henry, however, had no shortage of words. “I do have work to do, so can we focus?”

  “You’re the one that brought it up,” I mumbled, though I was grateful the topic moved to something else other than me and my ability (or lack thereof) to protect Joshua.

  We followed Henry to Alexander. “You haven’t done an autopsy on this victim either,” Leon was quick to point out as he didn’t bother to hide his irritation.

  Henry narrowed his eyes. “Cupid informs me you are an ally and can be trusted.”

  Leon’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Oh course.” His words were firm, but he looked embarrassed as he said them. The embarrassment quickly turned to confusion. “You’re an angel?”

  Henry nodded, but it was Joshua who responded. “He’s the Grim Reaper.”

  “I’m an Angel of Death,” Henry corrected him. “Now we’ve got that cleared up,” Henry turned his attention to me. “There’s something you should know about this victim.”

  “He’s nephilim?” I offered.

  Henry’s mouth dropped open. “How do you know that?” he spluttered.

  “I killed his father,” I admitted.

  “What?” both Henry and Leon demanded.

  I winced. “His father was Valac. He was the fallen angel who killed Michael.”

  Leon’s face settled into understanding, whereas Henry looked even more stunned. “You killed Valac?”

  “Just,” I admitted. “Not quick enough.”

  “Valac was bad news,” Henry said. “He might not have been in Lucifer’s inner circle, but the guy has been wreaking havoc for centuries. I didn’t even know he was in New Orleans.”

  “Apparently nobody knows which of the Fallen are in New Orleans,” I retorted.

  “Let’s get something straight, fledgling: the Fallen do not remain in the vessels they were given. They possess innocent humans and hide behind their auras. Sheila could be one and I wouldn’t know any different,” Henry explained, like he was trying to keep his cool. “No one does.”

  “But you can tell he was nephilim,” I pointed at the body next to me.

  “Because he’s dead.” Henry stood between Alexander’s body and the victim from Leon’s case. “Most people can’t see auras. Within the angelic choirs, only the virtues can see the auras, and about half of the archangels. The part that archangels can’t see is the residue, and sadly only half of the virtues can see that. We that can, do what we do,” he explained. “Auras leave a mark, a stain almost, on the body. These two, three,” he quickly corrected himself. “These three bodies may look normal to you, but I see what they were. The first guy has traces of orange – he was an outgoing individual, and an overall decent person. This guy,” he pointed to Leon’s victim. “His residual aura tells me he was quite a dishonest person. I would not be surprised if he has a criminal past. Whereas this man,” he indicated to Alexander. “I can see the residue, and that shade of red tells me he was angry, but I see nothing there that would make me believe he acted on his anger.”

  I squinted at Alexander’s body. I may have had an exceptional ability of being able to see auras, but I definitely couldn’t see the residue. “How can you tell he was nephilim?”

  “Do you know what an aura is?” Henry asked us.

  I nodded. “Like a light that encompasses a person, but the different colors represent their emotions and feelings,” I said, recalling what Michael had told me. “Like a visual guide to what a person is.”

  “An explanation given by someone who can only see the auras,” Henry nodded, disappointed. “That aura is their connection to Heaven. It doesn’t matter what that person believes, or who their god is, that light is a sign to say we are all cherished by Heaven. When angels fall, that connection to Heaven, that aura, it goes. That is why the Fallen have no aura, and why they can hide behind the human’s. Does that make sense?” he asked. When the three of us acknowledged that we did, he continued. “The nephilim are half human, half angel. Alive, all you see is that light. When they die and the brightness subsides, you’re left with gaps. That is what I see when I look at this young man.”

  “So we have auras?” Leon asked, looking dubiously at his own hands.

  I could sympathize with him – no matter how hard I looked at myself, I couldn’t see my own aura. “Yours is…” I was about to say his aura was the color of honey, but as I squinted and his aura suddenly became visible, I discovered it had changed. “Parmesan,” I blurted out.

  Joshua laughed. Leon looked like he was trying to decide if that was a good or bad thing. Henry was arching an eyebrow. “That’s probably not the word I would have used, but surprisingly accurate. It’s a pale yellow, which tells me what I already know: that you know what Angel and I are.”

  “What about Joshua?” Leon asked, suspiciously. “Is he some shade of yellow as well?”

  I felt Joshua’s eyes on mine and I knew what I would see before I looked at him. “Mostly silver,” Henry said, but he was staring at me when he said it. He could see what I could: that hot pink.

  “And Angel?”

  “Gold,” Henry responded. “Mostly.”

  I looked down at my feet, feeling increasingly uncomfortable under Henry’s scrutiny. “I have a question,” Joshua rasped. I released a breath as Henry’s focus switched back to him. Joshua cleared his throat, earning an unimpressed look from Henry.

  “Wait here,” Henry sighed. He disappeared from the room, returning only moments later with a glass of water. “You may still be alive, but you need to rest those vocal chords before you end up with too much damage to them and that rasp is a permanent feature.”

  “Thank you.” Joshua took the glass and took a sip. “Angel said she may have to change vessel, so what happens to her aura then?”

  “Whenever an angel must change their vessel, they do not use the living,” Henry said, sharply. “We would never take that freedom away from a human. Never.”

  “So really, what you’re saying is that it isn’t the body which has the aura, but the soul,” Joshua concluded.

  Henry gave him an impressed smile. “Exactly.”

  “But that also means that the Fallen have souls,” I scoff
ed.

  “Yes,” Henry agreed. “But having a soul does not equate to having that connection, hence how the Fallen do not have an aura.”

  “Cupid once told me that the longer the Fallen possessed a human, the more unlikely it became that you could get them out,” Joshua said. I frowned, trying to work out where he was going with this. Again, Henry nodded. “Well, what happens to the soul then?”

  Henry folded his arms and exhaled heavily. “In theory, a strong soul can remain trapped in the body long after the body should be dead. I hate to say that a positive to being possessed is that the body can recover as quickly as a vessel; however, the answer is unquantifiable – it depends on the atrocities caused by the Fallen, and how strong that soul is to survive it.”

  “Okay, so we can assume that a couple of years is the best case scenario?” Joshua suggested. I was still struggling to see where he was going with this, especially as Leon was looking a little gray.

  Henry nodded, thoughtfully. “I guess,” he mused. “Though I think that might be optimistic.”

  “And either way, in order for the Fallen to create a nephilim, they must be the only soul in the body,” Joshua continued. “And by that reasoning, we can conclude that the body of the Fallen who has an offspring is in fact dead.”

  “That makes…” I trailed off. “I didn’t kill Mr. Ramsey,” I realized, unable to keep myself from staggering backwards. Joshua’s arms shot out to steady me.

  “Obviously,” Henry said. “You still have your wings.”

  “There’s a problem with that logic,” Leon spoke up. “You say that the Fallen possess humans for their auras, but if their soul is gone then the aura is gone too.”

  “They must have found a way to counteract that,” Henry said. He was trying to be casual, but his tone had turned guarded. I glanced at the two detectives and realized that either they hadn’t noticed, or they’d chosen not too. I narrowed my eyes at Henry, trying to work out what he was hiding, and then, I had my lightbulb moment. My relief was short-lived. He did know. He, like Mama Laveau knew exactly who the Fallen were, but judging from the fact that he and the other Angels of Death were still doing their job, and that the number of Fallen in the area seemed to be increasing on a daily basis, they hadn’t advertised that fact.