by C. L. Coffey
“Will you quit apologizing?” Joshua demanded. He pulled something out of his pocket and held out the phone. “And I bought you this so I would worry less. You’re supposed to send me a text, not leave the phone on my desk. How am I supposed to find you easily?”
“You’re not. I was returning it,” I admitted.
“I thought we had covered this?” Joshua sighed. “Do I have to play the ‘how do I get in touch with my guardian angel’ card again? Because I will.”
“That won’t work for much longer, anyway,” I mumbled, unable to make the words loud and clear like they needed to be. Saying them aloud was making me hurt again and my hand went to my chest, rubbing at it.
In a quick motion, Joshua reached out and grasped at my hand, holding it still. I blinked and found myself looking at him, surprised to see he looked troubled. “What does that mean?” he asked me slowly. “And why do you look like you’re in pain again?”
I took a deep breath and dropped my head. “I can’t be your guardian angel anymore.”
I tried to pull my hand free from Joshua’s grasp, but he only tightened his grip. When his other hand gently tugged my face to be looking at him, his warm touch made me jump. “Why not?” he asked. “Did Michael say something?”
I slumped back against the wall, the action bringing Joshua back with me. He caught himself at the last moment, but the gap between us was non-existent. Finally, I shook my head. “He didn’t have to,” I said.
I could see Joshua studying me when something flashed through his eyes. Just as quickly, he stepped back, releasing me. Then he was looking at me as though he didn’t recognize me. “So you decided that I was better off with a different angel?” he asked slowly. He took another step back as something else flashed through his gaze. I recognized it the moment it changed those bright blue eyes into dark stormy skies: anger. “You decided what was best for me? Without even talking to me about it? Damnit, Angel, you just left the phone on my desk and walked away!”
I swallowed, surprised to find my tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth. I had only ever seen Joshua angry once before. That had been because of me too. I’d told him what I was and he hadn’t handled it brilliantly. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted. “I am new to this, and I am not doing a good job. You keep getting in trouble because of me. You nearly died!”
“You think I know what I’m doing?” Joshua cried, raking his hands through his hair. “You think I don’t lie awake at night wondering why I’m so special, why I need a guardian angel? What the hell makes me,” he thumped his chest, “So god damn special? Because I don’t have a clue, Angel.” His hand shot out, grabbing at my shoulders. I gasped, more from the shock than anything. Joshua didn’t seem to realize.
“Miss, are you alright?”
We both turned to find a passer-by watching us with concern. His hand was holding a phone and he looked primed to dial 911. Instantly, Joshua released me and took a step back. “I’m fine,” I quickly assured him, inwardly wincing at the fact my voice was shaking.
“Doesn’t look like it,” the man disagreed.
“I am,” I repeated.
The man looked between the two of us, considering my words, and then slipped his phone in his pocket. “That is no way to treat a lady,” he told Joshua sternly.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Joshua agreed.
“It’s not me you need to be apologizing to,” the man pointed out.
I looked up at Joshua and found him nodding. He turned to me. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Its fine,” I repeated again, glancing back at the man. He took another minute to watch us and then carried on his way. I watched him until he disappeared around a corner, before finally turning back to Joshua. “I need to go,” I suddenly blurted out. “I’m sorry, Joshua, but this is the way it has to be.”
I didn’t wait for an answer, marching with a purpose back in the direction of the convent. It was a good thing he didn’t call after me. I think that if he had, if he’d had made more of a fuss, I would have caved. But it also stung that he didn’t.
It took me ten minutes to make it back to the convent. I slipped in, vaguely noting the corridors were full of the other angels, but not really registering any of their handsome faces. In the shelter of my room, I stripped, dumping my clothes in a heap on the end of my bed, before shutting the bathroom door behind me.
It was only when I reached to turn the shower on that I saw I was still trembling. I paused, clenching my fists, and took a deep breath. With the gulp of air still firmly locked in my lungs, I closed my eyes and focused my thoughts.
I was responsible for Joshua. I was the one who was supposed to keep him alive. I had nearly failed at that, and I had nearly cost him his job. Making sure he had a new guardian wasn’t in my best interest: it was in his. When I opened my eyes, and slowly released the breath, my hands weren’t shaking anymore. I quickly showered and returned to my room.
My internal clock told me it wouldn’t be long until it was time for dinner. With that in mind I pulled open my closet and examined the contents. When I had arrived at the convent I had been provided with a uniform. It consisted of a pair of smart trousers, a waistcoat, and shirts in various colors. In the end I pulled out a version of one of the uniforms with the deep blue shirt.
I left my room and made my way downstairs to the large dining room. Although we didn’t need to eat food on a regular basis, whichever of the cherubim was responsible for the cooking in the building, they did a fantastic job. The smell of freshly made Mexican food assaulted my nostrils making my mouth water. I started to make my way to the serving hatch but as I drew near a door opened and Veronica stepped out.
I’m sure I won’t be alone by saying my image of the cherubim originally consisted of squidgy babies in diapers, wings, and a tiny bow and arrow. In reality, a cherub was an angel whose physical appearance was akin to the stereotype of an emo teenager. Veronica was no different and like all the other angels, she was extraordinarily beautiful.
Her attention was focused on the box she was carrying, but when she looked up and her slate colored eyes found my green ones, her mouth fell open. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. She flicked her thick black bangs out of her eyes. “You really did leave your room.” She gave me a stern look as she drew close. “About time too. Michael was all about leaving you in there but if you hadn’t have come out, I would have gone in there and dragged you out by your ankles.”
“I didn’t mean to make you worry,” I said quietly. “I just…”
“I know,” Veronica told me. “Well I don’t,” she frowned. “Not really, anyway. But I understand.”
“Have I interrupted something?” I asked, nodding at the box in her hand, moving away from the awkward topic.
She looked relieved that I had and glanced down at the box. “Actually, I was just taking these to the conservatory.” She frowned at me. “Michael didn’t tell you that the dinner was being held in the conservatory, did he?”
“No,” I said. “Actually, I don’t even know how to get to the conservatory.”
“Well it’s a good thing I’m heading there,” Veronica beamed. “Follow me.”
The box Veronica was carrying looked heavy especially with her slim frame, but cherubim were also not lacking in the strength department. I followed behind her until doors needed opening.
The conservatory was a much more intimate setting than the dining room. The sun, heading towards the horizon, set the contents of the room aglow. In the center of the room was a large circular table with five chairs spaced evenly around it. Veronica set her box down on one of them. “Do you need a hand?” I asked her, watching her as she pulled out what looked like the convent’s best dinnerware, and began to place it around the table.
She spared me a glance to shake her head but continued with her task. “I’m good, thank you. Why don’t you sit down? The others will be in soon.”
“Are you sure there is nothing
I can do?” I asked. I felt uncomfortable allowing her to do all the work.
“It’s my job,” Veronica assured me. “I don’t mind. Besides, Michael would not be happy if he found you helping me with this.”
“This?” I repeated. “Why not?”
Veronica shrugged. “We all have our jobs. You are an angel. Actually,” she frowned. “You’re an archangel in training. You have a job as a guardian. Like Cupid says, I’m ‘the help’. That’s my job.”
I pursed my lips but said nothing. I'd heard Cupid refer to Veronica and the other cherubim as the help before. I also knew Cupid adored Veronica and there was no way he used that term maliciously. That being said, there was something bitter in Veronica’s tone, and I found myself starting to question just how she and the other cherubim felt about their role. She had mentioned on several occasions that the reason she was here on earth, rather than heaven, was because the cherubim were sure a war was coming and this time they would spend it on the front line.
I waited until she had set one place before taking the seat. “I never knew Paddy, St Patrick, I mean, was a woman. Well, St Patricia would obviously be a woman, but St Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland? I never saw that coming.”
Veronica looked up and over at me. The look of confusion was brief and quickly replaced with a burst of laughter. “No, you wouldn’t. She got her sainthood during a very sketchy period in history. She isn’t the first woman who had to pretend to be a guy. It’s a shame she was nearly 2000 years too late for the women’s rights movement.” Her pretty features grew sad. She finished setting the table and then stashed the box into a cabinet.
“Humans can suck big-time," I muttered. “So, is Paddy Raphael’s second-in-command? Can a saint be second-in-command?”
“It depends on how you look at it,” Veronica said returning to the table. “Personally, I like to think that she is the one in charge. After all, the wife is the one who usually is.”
I let out a squeak as my jaw hit the floor. “His wife? Paddy is Raphael’s wife? They’re married?” I stared at Veronica, my eyes wide; convinced she was pulling my leg.
“That’s what I said,” Veronica shrugged.
“You said angels were not allowed relationships,” I said my tone accusatory.
Veronica shook her head. “No, humans and angels are not allowed to be in relationships. Angels and angels don’t do relationships. A saint is not a human or an angel.”
“What on earth are they?” I asked.
“Well,” Veronica frowned looking thoughtful. “They used to be human. They were special humans, I suppose. Very special. They’re a bit like you in that respect, but they accomplished something in their life that was truly extraordinary; something which took an unbelievable amount of bravery; something which saved a lot of people and which required their ultimate sacrifice, and in return, they were granted immortality.”
“Immortality?” I repeated. “Their souls are going to live forever too?”
Veronica slowly shook her head. “No, they live forever. Their bodies live forever. Their bodies are frozen in time, like our vessels, only they can’t change them. If their bodies die, they do too, but they will be granted entry to Heaven.”
I sat back in the chair staring at her in amazement. “So you mean,” I was saying the thought out loud as I thought it, but before I could voice the words properly, the door opened and Paddy walked in, Raphael right behind her, the pair of them holding hands. Behind them both were Michael and Cupid.
There was a look shared between Veronica and Michael, and then she ducked out of the room closing the door behind her. The group approached the table, and unsure what the correct etiquette was when dining with archangels and saints, I started to stand. “You don’t have to get up for us,” Paddy said giving me a smile.
I hovered above my chair, midway between standing and sitting. Next to me, Raphael pulled out the chair for Paddy. At that point, I sat. Raphael took the seat next to Paddy, while Cupid took the one next to me, leaving the seat opposite for Michael.
“Please tell me we get tacos to eat too?” Raphael asked Michael with an easy grin on his face.
“When have you ever had anything else when you’ve visited?” Michael returned. “You’d think your cherubim were incapable of cooking Mexican food.”
“It’s just not the same,” Raphael sighed. An impish grin appeared on his face. “Besides, I like watching you try to eat tacos with a knife and fork instead of your fingers,” Raphael added winking at me.
I glanced at Cupid, sure that Raphael was joking. With the exception of one time when I’d accidentally caught Michael in his pajamas, the only thing I’d ever seen him wear were immaculate designer suits, just like the charcoal one he was wearing now. I couldn’t imagine him eating tacos, never mind with a knife and fork. When Cupid just shrugged at me, I stole a glance at Michael. Although Michael was now talking to Paddy who was agreeing with Raphael’s opinions of the chefs in our House, his brown eyes were fixed firmly on me.
“What is troubling you?” Michael asked, using our psychic connection.
“Nothing that can’t wait until after dinner,” I told him. “Unless you really do eat tacos with a knife and fork?”
The slight frown was replaced by soft smile. “My brother has a habit of exaggerating.”
“Angel?”
Somehow, while having the psychic conversation with me, Michael had been able to maintain his conversation with Raphael, Paddy, and Cupid. I, on the other hand, had not mastered that level of multitasking. “I’m sorry?” I apologized to Cupid, who had said my name.
“Paddy had asked you what your favorite food was. I was telling her you didn’t discriminate.”
I shot Cupid a glare, poked my tongue out at him, ignored Michael’s grunted disapproval, and turned to Paddy. “I do like most foods,” I told her. “But I absolutely adore chocolate éclairs.”
“Good choice!” Paddy told me. “Do you get them round these parts though?” she asked.
“My aunt makes them.”
“Is she as good as the French?” Raphael asked, looking curious.
I shrugged. “I’ve never been to France,” I admitted. “Actually, I’ve never tried anything other than my aunt’s chocolate éclairs.” I could feel Michael’s gaze on me and I flicked my eyes over to meet his. His head was slightly cocked as he studied me. As usual, his stare had the ability to make me feel instantly guilty. I dropped my eyes to my empty plate in front of me.
“Éclairs aren’t food,” Cupid objected. Behind him the door opened and Veronica re-entered the room this time pushing the cart laden with serving dishes. It was that wonderful aroma I had smelled in the dining room earlier.
“If they’re not food what are they?” I demanded.
“A pastry? A desert? A snack? Food should be nutritional and substantial,” Cupid disagreed, as Veronica unloaded the cart onto the table. She then worked her way around the table serving up the tacos.
“In which case I don’t have a favorite food,” I shrugged. “I like them all. Except rice pudding.”
“Rice pudding is not a food,” Cupid disagreed. “It’s a desert just like éclairs.”
Veronica had finished dishing up dinner but instead of leaving the room like I was expecting she stood back to one side as though to remain there all evening, like a waitress. It felt weird.
For a period the only noises coming from around the table were those of people eating. I did my best to ignore Veronica and instead focused on the food in front of me. It was easier than I thought. I’d never experienced cooking by any other cherubim, but the ones that resided in our House were masters. I don’t think I’d ever had tacos that tasted as good as these.
“So,” said Raphael, finally. “Cupid tells me you are his star pupil at archery.”
I blinked, and then looked suspiciously at Cupid. “Aren’t I your only pupil in archery?” I asked him.
Cupid flashed me cheeky grin. “I suppose that depends on yo
ur definition of pupil? I mean, you actually have to turn up to training for me to be able to teach you, and for you to be my pupil.”
I frowned at the not-so-subtle dig. Before I could apologize Michael spoke up. “You are to resume both the lessons with myself and Cupid tomorrow,” he informed me. I nodded seeing no reason to disagree. I needed to be able to wound, not kill.
“Have you had any joy hunting out the Plague of Snakes?” I asked Raphael.
“We have had a few leads, but so far nothing has panned out,” Raphael replied, after glancing over at Michael as though he had to check his permission to answer my question.
“Because they’re not here? Because they’re covering their tracks?” I could feel Michael’s gaze burning into the side of my head, but I kept my attention focused on both Paddy and Raphael.
“We don’t know,” Paddy said carefully. “So far, there has been no definitive proof of the group resurfacing here in New Orleans.”
“Is there anything I can do to help you? I mean, is there something I can be keeping my eye out for?” I offered.
“Angel,” Michael’s warning tone echoed in my head.
I ignored him. “You said when they were in Ireland they were trying to raise Lucifer. How?”
“They thought they could raise Lucifer,” Paddy corrected me. “Lucifer is dead. He cannot be raised.”
“You all keep saying that, how can you be sure?” I asked in frustration.
“Because I killed him,” Michael snapped angrily, slamming his fist hard enough on the table that all the plates bounced and rattled. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you again. And you will not bring it up or speak Lucifer’s name to me anymore.” His tone was one I recognized. It was the one where, no matter what I wanted, his decision was final. “Now finish your tacos.”
I glowered at him, but did exactly as he ordered, and picked up the last taco on my plate. My cheeks flamed.
The room settled into an awkward silence until finally Raphael spoke. “The Plague of Snakes is dangerous,” he said, causing me to stare at him with my eyes wide. “Not because Lucifer can be raised from the dead. As Michael has said, this is not possible. Paddy and I eradicated the Plague of Snakes centuries ago, but that hasn’t stopped man from finding old texts and thinking they can resurrect the group. They are dangerous because they think Lucifer can be raised from the dead. They based their beliefs on a centuries-old story that if enough souls can be corrupted it will give Lucifer the strength he needs.”
