Michael took the journal. Mixed among the ramblings in English were phrases in another language. Memories of Heaven allowed him to translate. “There’s a few paragraphs I can’t read because the writing is too sloppy, but it sounds like they are searching for a book.” He flipped the page, his voice weak as he read. “A book that will unleash Hell on Earth.”
Joe burst out laughing. “For real?”
Michael ignored Joe’s reaction, reciting, “The book will tell how to unshackle Satan and allow him free reign of the mortal world and all its souls.”
Joe’s smile faded. “That’s not good.”
“No,” Michael murmured.
The memory was as fresh as the day it happened. The rebellion had been quashed and Michael was tasked with imprisoning his brother and the angels who rebelled in Hell. Morning Star fought the whole way, screaming that Michael was a mindless slave. He promised revenge.
You can’t keep me chained! I will be free and ruin Heaven and Earth! His voice was cut off as Michael sealed him in his prison. While the lesser angels weren’t confined, resulting in their eventual escape, Morning Star was forever bound. He was only allowed to dream of freedom.
“What do we do, Mike?” Gabe asked. “Is there a book that would free Lucifer?”
Uncertainty rose in Michael’s chest. He swallowed it down. If this was where the path took them... “I don’t know, but I need to speak with our Father and find out.”
***
“Lake? Lake, are you in there?” Melody pounded on Lake’s bedroom door before shoving it open. She planted her hands on her hips, slightly swaying. “What is wrong with you? I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes.”
Lake didn’t move from his perch on his bed. His arms were wrapped around his legs and he stared vacantly at the tattered blue blanket pooled around him.
Melody sighed at his lack of response. She yanked the blanket from under him. “Get up. I need you to run down to the store and pick up dinner. I don’t feel like cooking.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“I don’t care.”
Lake finally looked at Melody. “Fine, can I have some extra money to get myself something?”
Melody scowled, then handed over a wad of bills. Shrugging on his jacket, Lake pushed past her and stomped out of the trailer. He was barely aware of the rows of homes surrounding him as he walked. Ever since the disastrous lunch with Michael, his spirit had been shattered. Life had never looked bleaker.
All he meant to give Michael was a small kiss. A token of gratitude for the kindness Michael had shown him. But it had turned into so much more. The ferocity of Michael’s passion had stolen his breath. Michael’s desire had warmed every inch of him.
But Michael had pulled away, his face frozen in horror. The reaction had been like a punch to Lake’s gut. Then Michael disappeared and the heat coursing through Lake froze.
A bell chimed as Lake entered the store, drawing the owner’s attention. He glared with suspicion, but Lake ignored him. Not even a snarky comment came to mind. Taking his time, he wandered down the aisles until he arrived at the over-priced freezer section. He snatched the cheapest pizza. On the way to the cashier, he grabbed a bag of chips.
“Sixty-three cents is your change.” The owner dropped the coins on the counter.
Lake gathered the money and food, heading back to the trailer where he tossed the pizza on the stove and continued to his room, barely noticing Melody yelling at him. He sat on the edge of his bed, the bag of chips falling from his grip. Hurt rose up his throat. His list of boyfriends may have been short, but being dumped by them hadn’t hurt as bad as Michael’s rejection.
It’s because you’ve never accepted how worthless you are. You’ve always secretly hoped someone would see something that wasn’t there.
Lake gritted his teeth against the voice. It always spoke when he was at his lowest. “Shut up!”
Why? Afraid of the truth?
“You don’t know jack shit about me. You’re just my insecurities.”
Are you sure?
“Yes!”
Then why are you answering me? It’s a bit silly talking to yourself. Maybe deep down you know there’s more to me. More I have to offer.
Lake scoffed. “What more could you offer other than insults? You’ve already beaten into my skull that I’m a loser. You and everyone else.”
Maybe I’ve been a bit harsh on you. I only wanted to make sure you were strong enough. With a little help you could be capable of much, much more. I can help. Together we can show others how wrong they are about you.
“And how would you do that?”
Chills ran up Lake’s spine like fingers. Visions of himself rising above everyone appeared before him like a mirage. Beautiful men catered to his needs, and he sat surrounded by piles of money. The last image was of a club located across the city—The Devil’s Lair. The door was open and a sign flashed, ‘Welcome’.
This could be yours if you want.
“Whatever,” Lake replied. He grabbed the bag of chips and ripped it open. The intense flavor reminded him of lunch with Michael. Tears stung his eyes. He didn’t want money or fame. What he really wanted was to see Michael again.
You can.
But that wasn’t possible… Was it?
It is.
Lake shook his head. No, it wasn’t. The voice wasn’t real. His imagination was going overboard. The pain of Michael’s rejection would fade, like the hurt others had caused. He would rise above. He had to. He was part angel. Divine.
But no matter how many times he told himself that, he couldn’t quash the feeling that the voice was telling him the truth. Someone was speaking to him. They were offering him help. A chance to show others he was special.
The chips crunched in his hands as he stood. Determination took him down the hallway. In the living room, Melody started yelling at him again, but he ignored her, grabbing his coat and heading outside. The night was bitterly cold. By the time he made it across the city, his fingers and toes were numb. His heart knocked against his ribs as he stood before the club. Horns poked out of the ‘D’ in ‘Devil’.
Was he sure he wanted to do this?
Yes, a voice replied. Take control of your life.
***
People crammed into booths and around tables. The wait staff struggled through the sea of bodies to serve drinks. Lights lit up a packed dance floor. The dancers seemed to spasm under the flashing light. Bouncers surrounded the room, motionless as statues.
A tall redhead stopped at the table Lake occupied. She bent lower than necessary to set his drink before him, her breasts barely contained by her glittery halter-top. When her gaze met his, her eyes briefly flashed red. He smiled nervously at her, his hand shaking he lifted the drink to his dry lips. The alcohol tingled on his tongue. When he set the glass down, the thumping techno music made the liquid vibrate.
“Relax. She is a friend,” the man lounging next to him purred. He was sprawled back in his seat, one leg crossed over the other. He wore a gray pinstriped suit with diamond cufflinks that sparkled. Delight lit his slender face—or maybe it was the strobe lights. Lake wasn’t sure.
Lake watched the redhead disappear into the crowd. He took another sip of his drink, hoping it’d sooth his jittery nerves. He flinched when the man moved closer.
The man frowned, his hazel eyes troubled. “I think I was too harsh on you. Beat you down too far when testing you. Forgive me.”
“Your words were like child’s play compared to what others have said.” Lake shrugged, trying to sound like he wasn’t rattled.
Why had he come here? On the journey across town, determination had seared his veins, propelling him forward. It was time he stopped letting others beat him down. But now, under the man’s gaze, he felt his confidence faltering. The atmosphere in the club didn’t help.
Lake had always been sensitive to emotions, able to know how a person felt when near them. He could almost sense wha
t they were thinking as well—the ability was psychic-like. Over the years, he had figured out how to control his angelic power and put up a wall that protected him from the emotions surrounding him.
Lust and desire mixed with barely-contained violence beat at Lake. The cold stirred in his stomach. He drew a slow breath, working to raise a shield and protect his mind.
The man smiled as if he knew what Lake was doing. “Tell me, Lake Divine, what is it that you want most?”
“N-nothing.” Lake couldn’t stop the word from stuttering past his lips. He coughed, then repeated, sounding stronger. “Nothing.”
The man raised an eyebrow, continuing his wicked, knowing smile. “Are you sure?”
Lake sprang to his feet. He didn’t know which he was more eager to do: escape the club or the man. “I should go. This was a mistake.”
The man lunged forward, grabbing his arm. Cold shot through Lake and he felt his own flare in response. The change washed over him, his wings erupting from his back and his nails sharpening into talons.
“You have no idea of the gift your father bestowed upon you,” the man said. “The power you possess. I can teach you to use it. You can rise above your oppressors. They will cower in awe of you.”
He pressed his hand to Lake’s forehead. All the anger and resentment Lake kept locked in the recess of his mind burst free. It spilled into his thoughts, bitter memories playing like a movie. The cold inside him turned to ice, his teeth grinding and fists shaking as rage surged through him.
The people who knew him thought he was lower than dirt. A loser. They laughed and mocked him, but he was better than them. Part angel with divine gifts. He’d show them. It was his turn to step on others. They’d regret snubbing him.
He knew exactly who he was going to start with.
He turned the man, red eyes blazing. “Teach me.”
***
Gravity dragged Michael back to the hotel room. His feet touched the floor and he took a moment to steady himself. It was rare that he sought counsel with his Father. Usually, he relied on Metatron to relay messages. But he had wanted to show his Father what they had uncovered. His stomach clenched. He gripped the journal tightly, as if afraid it would vanish in a puff of smoke.
“Well, what’s the verdict?” Joe asked.
Their path was shifting. Hunting the Fallen and half-breeds was a secondary mission now. Finding the book had taken priority.
“It’s real,” Michael said softly. “Father wants us to find it and destroy it.”
“Where is it?” Zade jumped up, his ax appearing.
Michael hesitated before delivering more bad news. “Father can’t see the book’s location. It’s hidden.”
Joe whistled. “That’s not good. No one is supposed to be able to hide anything from Father.”
His words hung in the air. Michael felt shaken to the core. The Fallen had found a way to conceal something from God. If they could do that, what else were they capable of doing?
Zade broke the silence. “We can start by finding everything we can about the book. See if we can uncover who wrote it and how the Fallen discovered it.”
“And where do we go to find out about a book that will free the devil?” Gabe asked skeptically.
The four men looked at each other, searching for the answer.
“Uh, the library?” Joe offered. He shrugged sheepishly. “It’s a start.”
“Yes, it is.” Michael sighed.
Twenty minutes later, they stood outside the downtown library. Michael still clutched the journal as they jogged up the stone steps and passed the carved pillars flanking the doors. Inside, they paused, letting the cool air caress their skin.
“I hate researching,” Joe muttered.
“You hate books. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you read anything more than a picture book. And that was in kindergarten,” Zade replied.
“Stop,” Michael ordered before Joe could retort. A smile cracked his face. “At least pretend to be serious.”
They made their way down the spacious aisles. Zade and Gabe broke away to the computers as Joe asked the librarian perched behind a large desk for help. She directed them to the far corner. A shelf reaching to the ceiling was filled with books on religion.
Hours passed as they scoured the library, searching for any reference to Morning Star and the book. Gabe and Zade wandered to them from time to time with printouts from the computer. Michael’s vision began to blur as he read. His eyes felt like they were about to pop out of his skull, and paper cuts covered his fingers.
“Okay, either I’m developing dyslexia or my brain is fried.” Joe laid his head on the table.
Michael rubbed his throbbing temples. “I think we should stop.”
They gathered the pile of notes they had collected. Zade and Gabe eagerly resigned the computers to other waiting patrons. Hunting Fallen wasn’t as tiring as spending all day hunched over books.
As they walked back to the hotel, Michael scanned the crowd, but he wasn’t looking for Fallen. No, he hoped to see a head full of black curls. It wasn’t rational. He needed to focus on preventing Morning Star from being freed. But he couldn’t get Lake out of his mind. The brown eyes called to him, and the memory of Lake’s lips made his groin ache. He pushed the desire back before it overwhelmed him. He could not stray from the path again. The most he could spare Lake was concern and a prayer that the young man didn’t hate him for running.
Chapter Five
The words on the paper seemed to get up and move, rearranging themselves into new ones. Michael blinked his dry eyes and the words fell back into place. He couldn’t recall what he had read, though. He read the paragraphs again, slower. It was the ramblings of a devoted man lamenting the digital age. The irony was Gabe found it on the Internet. Michael discarded it and moved onto the next article.
Slowly, the information they gathered was being whittled down. Most was irrelevant. Gabe and Zade had made their Internet searches broad and printed anything they found on angels, devils, and religious books. Michael was certain they used enough paper to destroy a small forest.
“We should plant a tree after this,” he said.
“Let’s do it now,” Joe suggested.
“I second a break,” Gabe added.
“Third the motion.” Zade pushed the stack of paper before him away.
Michael chuckled at his brothers. A glance at the clock showed the time pushing two in the morning. “How about we go hunting? We can’t forget our original task. The less Fallen here, the less chance one of them finds the book.”
“I sensed a potential den on the way back from the library. It was in an apartment building not far from here,” Gabe supplied.
The four eagerly scrambled to their feet and left their research behind. Michael summoned his sword, sighing with contentment at the weight of the hilt in his hand. The fatigue plaguing him faded as he fell into the warrior mindset.
They found the den quickly, a small apartment that looked like the residents had cleared out recently. Dishes sat in warm water in the kitchen sink and the TV was on in the living room. Another shrine was discovered in a bedroom. Michael picked up the drawing of Lucifer. It was slightly better than the doll, no horns or tail, but the skin was still cherry red. He crumpled it. There was no journal this time.
“What a bust,” Joe grumbled, slumping into a chair. “No information or Fallen to destroy.”
Michael silently agreed with his brother’s disappointment. “Don’t rejoice the idea of destroying a living creature.”
Joe snorted, but kept his comments to himself. Michael gave the shrine another sweep. A business card fluttered to the floor when he overturned the wooden base a candle had been sitting on. It was black with red writing. A pair of horns poked out of the ‘D’ in Devil’s Lair. The glossy finish of the card caught the light from the streetlight. He held it up.
“This looks promising.”
Gabe took the card, reading the address. “That’s across tow
n. If anything, we’ll find some Fallen.”
“We’ll have to be careful. Lots of people might be there,” Zade warned.
“All right! Espionage!” Joe pumped his fist.
“We are not playing spy.” Michael sighed and Joe’s face fell. He plucked the card from Gabe and tucked it into his pocket. “Let’s get back to the motel. Tomorrow night, we hit the club.”
Michael didn’t feel as confident as he sounded. One mistake meant death. He and his brothers might be archangels, but their control over their angelic abilities was sporadic at best. None of them were sure what they were capable of. They were mortal as well, and while they would be reborn again, Michael didn’t want to wait another sixteen years to restart their path.
He closed his eyes and sent up a prayer. Father, protect us.
***
Power crawled across Lake, seeping into his pores. A smile pulled at his lips as cold covered him like a second skin. The two boys at his feet quivered like leaves.
“What’s the matter, Dumb and Dumber? You don’t like it when the tables are turned?” Lake grabbed Vincent’s chin and forced his head up. “I want you to look in my eyes and know this is how I felt when you bullied me. Feel the same fear and humiliation you put me through.”
The two boys whimpered like dogs. Lake reveled in the sound. Music to his ears. He lifted them, one at a time, and shoved them into lockers, the metal groaning in protest. A bone in Jason’s arm cracked when Lake slammed the door shut, and the boy howled in agony.
Lake peered through the metal slats. “Have fun.”
Whirling around, Lake stalked down the hallway. Students and teachers scrambled out of his way. He smiled in satisfaction. No one was going to step on him or look down at him anymore. He made sure of it.
Starting with Melody, he had worked through the people on his list: Teachers who never gave him encouragement, students who refused to speak to him, and the bullies who humiliated him. There was only one person left. One last person to make suffer.
Michael.
“I take it everything went well?”
Michael (Path of Angels Book 1) Page 4
