Repent in Love

by J. Hali Steele

  Morta glared at the angel, acutely aware that although he spoke to her, he remained focused on Nona, whose spinning wheel now stood eerily silent.

  “It’s always a pleasure to visit with three very lovely women.” Finally he turned and pierced her and Decima with a strange look.

  “How can we assist you?” Dec’s words hung in the air.

  “This is a necessary visit, however, there’s no reason to be so on edge.” He glared at Morta.

  “What?” Mort’s fist clenched and her nails dug painfully into her palms. The chill she released in the air gave away how tightly she was wound.

  “Michael has trained you well. Even as a small child you were the frosty one.” He spun back to Nona, who didn’t divert her eyes.

  What was going on with her sister and Marmaroth?

  “Decima, you understand this must be?”

  “What’s he talking about?” Morta’s skin grew a thin sheet of ice. Flinching she looked at her hands and saw shards of ice forming at the tips of her fingers.

  “You’d be no match for me so don’t think about it.”

  Nona stood and moved slowly around her wheel. Waving in the air, she fashioned a loose black shirt shot through with silver threads and said, “You will be safe. Wear this to keep warm.” She helped Morta don the sparkling shirt and spun on her heels to look at the angel. “Touch a hair on her head, harm her in any way, you will never see the light of day again.” Nona touched the tips of her fingers to Marmaroth’s cheek. “She is my sister.”

  He smiled at Nona, took her hand and kissed the very same tips that had rested on his face. “I only need to talk with her alone.” He jumped back and glared at Nona. “That wasn’t necessary.” Smoke drifted from his lips. Still gazing at the Fate who spun life, he added. “I’ve always loved the fire in your soul.”

  Before Morta could move, she was whisked into a black hole and carried through the air. She couldn’t see anything and her throat felt constricted. She tried to scream but there was no sound. And there was nothing when she reached with her mind for Uri.

  God help me.

  * * * * *

  When she could see and make sounds again, Morta found herself surrounded by an array of overstuffed, sumptuous, colorful pillows and she was sitting on a silky, soft carpet covered in a riot of birds. The rug was so finely crafted each bird appeared to be alive and in flight. Running her fingers around the designs, she sniffed at the air, pushing the flap of a large tent back and forth. It was warm and smelled like jasmine.

  “You’re in my desert domain and you’re absolutely safe with me.”

  Morta jumped inches from the floor at the sound of his voice. She flashed up and turned to see Marmaroth, his shoulders slouched, looking out of an opening at the back of the tent. He no longer wore pants or a shirt. His lose fitting caftan looked like cotton and the threads weaved through it were a rainbow of color.

  Her first thought was to flee back to her heavenly domain.

  “Don’t. We need to talk.”

  “We could have done that above, why bring me here?”

  “In my desert you can’t use any of your frosty toys and your sisters cannot interfere.” He turned to peer directly at her. “Being an angel is trying as hell.”

  Mort’s breath hitched in her throat when she saw the sadness in his eyes. He must have heard her thoughts, because they quickly became blank slates before he returned to staring wistfully out of the tent.

  “But I imagine having sway over life, death and all that happens in between is a real bitch too. No pun intended.”

  “What?” She seemed to be asking that a lot. Nothing was making any sense, yet calmness and warmth stole into her body. She removed the soft shirt Nona had given her to ward off the cold and tossed it on a nearby divan.

  “Do you know why the Father allowed me to mate with a human? Why he didn’t smite me like he did the others?”

  “I’ve heard stories about your one true love, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me more.” No longer afraid, she moved to stand by him. Morta followed his gaze across the desert and saw nothing as far as she could see.

  “Because I asked—it was that simple.” Marmaroth’s voice softened to a whisper and she strained to hear him. “I loved the human woman I spent a lifetime with. Her lifetime anyway. She loved the desert.” Loneliness laced the words.

  “Our Father is kind and loving to all in his universe.”

  “You think so?”

  She waited quietly knowing there was more.

  He continued. “I couldn’t stay up there anymore. You see, the woman I loved down here, she wasn’t my one true love as all believe. Neither was she my first love. I cherished her, needed her even, because she made me forget.” Marmaroth paused and straightened his shoulders.

  Turning from the opening, he went to a table full of bottles in every size, shape and color, some gilded in gold and silver, others decorated with jewels. He ran his fingers over one sparkling with sapphires before he lifted it and pulled the stopper out. He poured an amber liquid into a glass. “Would you like some honeyed wine? It’s been blessed.” His eyes grew darker with deep, moving shadows. “Everything on Earth has been sanctioned and blessed by Him.”

  Marmaroth’s voice washed over her, mesmerized her with its soft, steady tone. “Yes, please.” She waited for him to continue.

  “There is a plan for all life and for it to work we must all follow the rules.” Handing her the glass, he stared at her as she took a swallow. “Even angels and Fates. None of us can be treated as special, Morta. It would throw things awfully out of balance.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  After watching her take another sip, he sighed. It sounded so final, sad even. “Do you know how Uriel got the scar he wears?”

  She remembered Luke asking the same question and was getting damn tired of hearing it. “No, and I wish everyone would stop asking me if no one plans to tell me.” Morta turned from the entrance and went to sit back in her spot on the carpet. She gulped the remainder of wine and rested her back against the mound of pillows. Her body grew limp and hot. The only time she felt enough heat was when she was in Uri’s arms, so this surprised her. Trying to focus, she looked closely at the beautiful shirt Nona had given her. The silver threads glittered and danced against the black as though it were alive.

  Shit!

  “Ahh, you’ve finally realized what has happened. It’s a potion.” He walked to stand above her. “This love you have for an archangel can’t be allowed. It would throw Heaven into turmoil should he gain any of your power.”

  “Bastard,” she hissed as tears scalded a path down her cheeks.

  “Morta, you won’t remember loving Uriel.”

  Everything went black again.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You motherfucker! You knew.” Uri stood so quickly his chair toppled backward and the table flipped over. “He has taken her to his domain.”

  Yael appeared in a shower of blue light and grasped Ramiel’s hand. “Uri’s correct. I felt her fear but I don’t any longer.” He saw her brow pucker in thought.

  “If he’s harmed her…”

  “That would never be allowed,” Ram said softly. “He was only supposed to talk to her.”

  “I’m going to get her, Ram. Don’t try and stop me.”

  “Uri…”

  The surprise written across Yael’s face told him something else was wrong.

  “What, damn it, tell me. Is she hurt?”

  “No, and she’s back home. Morta’s safe.”

  “Cut the bullshit. You two together are probably stronger than Michael and you read minds better than Raph. Tell me what the hell is happening?”

  Ram’s eyes darkened. Uri saw pity in them and his chest constricted with pain.

  “I’ll kill him.”

  “You can’t and it wouldn’t matter.” Ram’s voice dropped an octave. “She won’t remember loving you.”

  “What do
you mean?”

  “He’s administered the potion.”

  Uri’s mind twisted like a hurricane and his thoughts jumbled together. It took him a minute to register that Raphael stood behind him. The table was back in place and his chair sat as though it had never moved. Normal bar sounds went on all around him. He watched mouths open and close, faces light with laughter. Couples danced close together, whispering in each other’s ears. No one noticed them at all and it dawned on him that Raph controlled the people’s minds. So they suspected he’d be out of control and harm their safe little universe.

  The noise became unbearable, yet all he could do was stand there and blink. Uri moved his hand to touch his cheeks and felt tears streaming down his face. When he opened his mouth to bellow his pain, there was only silence. Twirling like a dervish, he blended with the particles of dust in the room.

  Streaking through the air toward his heavenly domain, Uri sensed Ram, Yael and Raph close behind him as he cried out in devastation. Stars flashed and glittered, scattering before him.

  The others followed him into his home and stood quietly waiting for him to speak.

  “I’m fine. I don’t intend to tear your world asunder or anything.” He sat down and put his head back in the chair. “This is for the best. Now no one can harm her because of me.” The pain squeezed his heart like a vice, but he wouldn’t let them know that. He kept his eyes closed and struggled to bring order to his mind.

  “Will you be all right alone?” Yael’s words were soft, caring.

  “Yes.” He was afraid to say anything more or make eye contact. Taking loud draughts of air, he managed to gain a semblance of normalcy. Enough to fool them for a while. Opening his eyes, he peered at them standing there and wondered what they’d do if he did go mad. Right now that felt like a possibility. Being without Morta, seeing her and not being able to have her ever again burned a hole into his heart like a hot poker.

  Calm. Uri needed to remain calm. Think.

  “I meant what I said. No harm can come to Morta if she has no connection to me.” He looked up at the three of them. “That and the boy are my only concerns and I want to be the one who returns him. The child’s soul remains with Yael for now. Promise me that, Ram.”

  “We’ll take care of him.”

  “Thanks. I want to be alone.”

  “Look, if you need to talk, I understand.”

  He couldn’t keep the pretense up for long. “You don’t understand shit.” He glared at Ramiel and moved his eyes to take in Yael. “You’ve got everything you wanted in the world. Get out.”

  Uri’s head throbbed as he struggled to keep his thoughts to himself. His safeguards here were strong and impenetrable but below the earth’s crust he would be better able to keep even the strongest angel out of his mind. As soon as he no longer felt their essence, he morphed into dust again and blazed a path to his earthly domain.

  There was an answer for this and he’d find it. He was prepared to do everything possible to get to the woman who belonged to him, with him.

  He had no intention of living without Mort.

  Entering his domain, he felt the presence of Marcan and knew instantly the Nephilim child of Marmaroth still held the key. Uri would use him any way he could to take back what was his.

  Without Morta—life meant nothing.

  Michael stared across the green expanse of lawn and didn’t even see the riot of colorful flowers that dotted the landscape. The silence was deafening.

  “It is done.” Decima’s words held no joy.

  “Why can’t I feel him?” He swiveled in the chair to look at the Fate responsible for the length of life.

  “He’s returned below. Uriel’s safeguards there were always stronger because of Lucifer.”

  “Luke wouldn’t dare lift a finger to help him.”

  “Are you sure of that?” Decima whispered.

  They were both afraid God would hear them. Yet Michael knew that, as in everything, he’d already know. “No.”

  He asked, “The boy?”

  “Ramiel has promised to keep him for now.”

  “Shit. What has happened to us?” Michael hunched forward in his chair. “It’s as though I have no control over any of them anymore.”

  “That’s not true. You’ve always chosen to use your powers only when necessary. Marmaroth has made sure you don’t have to.” Decima walked to the chair nearest his desk and sat down with a thud. “It is tiresome watching them all the time. Angels are like children.” A deep sigh slid through her lips. “But then they are God’s children.” She glanced out the window and saw Ram and Yael’s daughter, Jayel, running with a ball toward her parents’ palace. “Do you think she feels the presence of the being that follows her everywhere?”

  Michael peered over his shoulder and watched his goddaughter, who was closely followed by the ghostly essence of the one she belonged to. “That is something we don’t have to worry about for quite a few years. His soul is in good keeping with Nona. His father, Ezekiel, would have it no other way.” He turned back to Decima. “Ram and Yael were brought together to create Jayel for a reason only God knows and though his mating with Jayel will one day solve the dilemma for man and beast on Earth, what of ours here and now? Something tells me Uriel is only biding time.” His fingers drummed on the desk. “I believe his and Morta’s meshing has already taken place. If she regains any part of her memory, I’m afraid there will be no keeping them apart.”

  “Then you will have to use your powers.”

  “The devastation that will ensue will take its toll on all of us.”

  “There is always Samael.” Sadness poured from Decima’s mouth along with the name neither of them had wanted to say. Michael loudly expelled the breath of air he’d been holding.

  “Yes, there is always death.”

  * * * * *

  “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I don’t know anything.” Marcan slouched in the chair across from Uri. “You can bang me into walls, break my limbs or beat the shit out of me and it wouldn’t matter. I don’t know what you want.”

  Uri watched the gangly Nephilim twist and turn in his seat. He respected that the kid wasn’t afraid of him. Why couldn’t these cretins just leave the humans alone? Uri wouldn’t care if they stole each other’s souls or shared their own blood. It was the harm and pain they caused to those weaker than they were. It wasn’t fair.

  “Life isn’t fair.”

  Marcan’s eyes crinkled up. “What?”

  Uri hadn’t realized he had spoken out loud. Out of the blue it dawned on him he’d done the same thing to Marmaroth’s son. All those years ago, he’d done it to Goliath, one of the first Nephilim. He’d paid for that.

  He was an archangel and wielded power over many beings and had often used it to benefit no one but himself. Seldom if ever had he tried to understand them or know what they felt or needed. Brute force was much quicker and easier.

  Oh God damn! Don’t go all soft now.

  But something clicked inside him and it was too late. Uriel had changed and he didn’t realize it until this instant. When had it happened?

  Morta. Loving her had changed everything.

  The answer lies in loving her. Ram’s words ran slowly through his mind. He peered at the giant across from him. “Marcan, I don’t want to spend the rest of forever chasing your sorry ass around the globe. Do you understand that? You’re one of the strongest of your kind I’ve ever had to deal with and you could damn near have anything you want. What more do you need in life?”

  “Huh?”

  “Jesus Christ, you’re not stupid.”

  “Yo, fly-boy. Careful with the language. Gramps could be listening.”

  “You care about my using Jesus’s name in vain?” He pressed his lips tight to hold back the sarcasm. “What about Gramps’s children? What about the humans you harm?”

  “Hey, they’re just power, you know…”

  “No. I don’t know, explain it to me. How much power d
o you need over someone who is already weaker than you are? What does it prove?” Uriel watched him closely.

  Marcan leaned his head to the side and rubbed his cheek. “I guess it’s just something to do.”

  “Do you ever feel sorrow?”

  The young man looked down at his hands. Embarrassment flamed bright red in his face. “Yeah, but I can’t stop myself.”

  God loves you, God forgives you and I absolve you of all your sins. Tears threatened the boy’s eyes. “Go before I forget how many people you’ve truly hurt.” Uri waved his hand to release his safeguards. “You’re free, but know this—I will watch your every move.”

  Marcan made a loud noise as he slipped into nothingness and, undoubtedly, headed back to Earth. He had released the one person who could help. The pain in his heart hadn’t lessened; it had grown far worse. But as much as he wanted Morta, he needed something else.

  Everyone had been right. The way he was, what he planned, would only bring harm to her family, the world, and everyone in it. Even worse—pain and misery to the one person he cared about.

  Morta. He didn’t deserve her or her love.

  Repent all you sinners.

  Now it was his turn.

  * * * * *

  Morta was empty inside. The cool air instantly put goose bumps on her arms and legs when she rose from the steaming water. Fashioning a soft gray turtleneck with long sleeves, and jeans, she slipped them on but she was still cold. And hungry as hell. She decided to cook the old-fashioned way today. She hadn’t spent much time with her sisters lately but when they smelled the aroma of fresh fish, they’d both come running. Fates didn’t need food, yet it provided a comforting way for them to sit together and talk.

  Curtains billowed at the window of her bedroom and caught her attention. The filmy lilac material drew her closer. Decorating. Morta had the inexplicable impulse to change her room. Never one to relish performing homelike duties, she had no idea where the thought came from.

  Later she’d talk Nona into shopping. The need to get out of the house had her jumpy.

  “You could just fashion them with magic.” She spun around to catch Decima watching her with glistening eyes.