Angel Eclipsed (The Louisiangel Series Book 2)

by C. L. Coffey

  Before I could decipher his message, I was distracted by a voice I did not recognize. “Do you remember when we looked like that, Jean?” an elderly voice asked. “Young, and madly in love.”

  Just over Michael’s shoulder I spotted an elderly couple looking in our direction. I glanced over my shoulder trying to work out who they were referring to. The sneaky suspicion I had that they were they talking about us, was confirmed when I realized there were no other couples in the vicinity. Embarrassed, I pulled away from Michael and sat down, crossing my legs. Michael didn’t see me like that anymore, and as wonderful as Michael was I didn’t feel that way either.

  In an attempt to make it look like it wasn’t the woman’s comments that had made me pull back, I picked at the éclair and made a show of eating it. “You cannot tell my aunt but I think I like French éclairs much better.”

  Michael waited patiently for me to finish eating but I could tell the mood had changed. He collected our trash and threw it in the picnic basket, and then got to his feet. “I think it is time we got you back to New Orleans,” he informed me. He waited for me to get up, and rolled the blanket up, stuffing it back into the picnic basket.

  He made his way out of the grounds. I gave the Eiffel Tower one last look and hurried after him. We were walking in a similar direction but it took me a while to realize that we weren’t returning to the Sacré-Cœur. “Where are we going?” I asked Michael.

  “Paris has too many sights to be able to show you in one trip,” Michael responded. “But as it is practical, I thought it would be nice to show you a third tonight.” The third, it turned out, was the Notre Dame. Like with the other landmarks I had already seen that evening, as soon as my eyes fell on it, my mouth fell open again.

  I knew instantly it was my favorite site. The way the Gothic architecture was lit up against the dark night’s sky was beautiful. The Sacré-Cœur, with its pale stonework was a magnificent sculpture. The Notre Dame, on the other hand, had nooks and crevices, casting shadows which somehow made it seem more dark and mysterious. Inside was just as breathtaking as the outside and Michael waited patiently for twenty minutes while I stared in awe at everything.

  Finally, I allowed Michael to lead me into a private room where he transported me back to his study. The sudden switch from night-time to the bright afternoon light made me blink. It took me a moment to steady myself, but I was still exceedingly grateful for the fact that I didn’t feel like I wanted to throw up. Transporting this way was much more enjoyable without that particular side effect.

  “I’m sorry we did not have the time to see more of Paris,” Michael said.

  I frowned. “I never thought I would get the chance to visit Paris,” I told him. “That was ... that was more than I could ever have imagined,” I admitted, softly. “Thank you, Michael.”

  Michael stared at me, looking slightly awkward. I cocked my head, and he cleared his throat. “You should hurry and get changed. Raphael will be waiting for you in the armory.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Playing Cupid

  I pushed open the door to my bedroom, stepped in, and let out a squeal of fright. Stretched out on my bed, his back propped up by my pillows and his hands tucked behind his head, was Cupid. “What are you doing in here?” I demanded, unbuttoning my coat.

  Cupid sat upright and beamed at me. “How did it go?”

  While I had been gone, Cupid had pulled out a fresh set of my training gear and laid it on the bed for me. I scooped up the clothes. “Jeez, you’d think I’d just returned from a date,” I told him, rolling my eyes. I ducked into the bathroom, out of his line of sight, but left the door open. “Paris is beautiful. I will definitely be returning at some point in my future. There’s so much that I wish I could’ve seen,” I told him.

  “And how was Michael?” Cupid called into the bathroom.

  “Michael was Michael,” I called back, pausing before I pulled the cropped sports top over my head. “I suppose he seemed a little more relaxed than he normally does. Why?”

  “Just making sure he is behaving himself,” Cupid called.

  What on earth did that mean? I hurried to finish getting changed, slipping on my running shoes, and returned back to my bedroom. “Why wouldn’t he behave himself?”

  Cupid merely shrugged at me. In one graceful movement he jumped off the bed, and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Nothing for you to be worrying about. And you should hurry, Raphael is waiting for you.”

  I’d never actually been given a time as to when my lesson with Raphael was going to begin, so I didn’t think I could actually be late, but I quickened my pace anyway. I didn’t want to keep the person who was going to be training me for the next few hours, waiting. It’d be just my luck that I ended up spending the entire time on a treadmill.

  The armory was located close to the reception area. Raphael was already waiting outside for me. His auburn hair was secured in a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had on a pair of navy sweatpants and a white form fitting T-shirt.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, my voice catching in my throat when I saw that one of the swords in his hand was the sword I had used to kill Lilah. Something in me churned painfully, and I had to squeeze my hands into fists against my thighs.

  I could tell that Raphael had noticed my actions, but he didn’t comment. Instead he just nodded at me, and indicated that I should follow him. We walked in silence to the gymnasium. When Michael had been teaching me how to use a sword, his lessons had consisted mainly of me running for hours on end on one of the treadmills. He was trying to get me to accept that my body was no longer my body but rather a vessel, and as such, it would be able to do many things it normally wouldn’t. Like run at a faster speed for longer periods of time. A part of me had been worried that this type of training would continue, even after I’d seen a sword, so I was exceedingly grateful when we remained in the basketball court-sized hall.

  Raphael stopped in front of me, and turned to face me. Outstretched in front of him, in his hands was the sword, full-length. Rather than trying to give it to me he was studying it thoughtfully, turning it over in his hands. Eventually he lowered the sword, and raised his gaze to me. “It is only archangels who are given a sword,” he told me. “When we were given permission to seek out humans who had the potential to become archangels and angels, we decided that although a potential would train before they actually obtained archangel status, a potential would not be given their own sword until then. We have discussed it and decided that this will remain the case. We will get you trained using this sword, and then move on to your second sword when you’re competent with the first.”

  I gaped at him, my mouth hanging open, before blinking rapidly. “Two? At once?”

  Raphael nodded. “The reason you have two is nothing short of tragic. There is nobody who would ever have wished this on you, but as you must now use this sword anyway, you must try to see the benefits of it.”

  I stared glumly at the sword, the sharp stabbing pain returning to my stomach. “I’m failing to see even one benefit.”

  Raphael gave me a small smile which didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I know it is hard to believe, but I’m glad that is your answer. For that reason alone, I know that not only is this the right thing to do, but you’re strong enough to be able to handle this responsibility.” His words did not make me feel any better. “This sword will ensure you never forget this feeling, that you will do everything in your power to make sure this doesn’t happen again. Your second sword is, quite simply, another option in helping you to protect your charge,” he explained.

  He offered the sword to me and I took it. The grip was still slightly warm from where Raphael had been holding it. This was the first time I’d ever really looked at it. The blade was perhaps a meter in length, and had a groove running down the center of it. It looked like it had been crafted from black gunmetal, which had been polished so well I could see my reflection. I didn’t need to run my fingers down t
he edges to know it was sharp.

  While the design of the blade was simple yet elegant, the guard and the pommel looked like it had been woven together from thousands upon thousands of tiny threads, the metal as black as coal. It wasn’t as heavy as I remembered either. “Let’s get this started then,” I muttered before looking at Raphael.

  Raphael took the sword from me, and cocked his head. “Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  Those seven words made my heart sink. I would not be wielding a sword today. “I’m ready,” I told him firmly. “I mean, I know I spent six weeks in bed, but I’m ready to learn. I need to.”

  “Okay,” Raphael conceded.

  Before I had earned my wings I’d often find that the other angels moved so fast that their actions were a blur. Now, I could see every movement like it was happening at normal speed. Unfortunately, I hadn’t quite learned yet to anticipate any of this. So when Raphael’s hand shot out and shoved me on the shoulders, I saw it all clearly; but I wasn’t able to avoid it. Instead, thanks to his supernatural strength I flew backwards and landed in an unceremonious heap on the floor. “Ow!” I moaned. Neither the shove nor the fall had hurt that much, but I felt obligated to point out that his actions had caught me by surprise.

  “Part of sword fighting, or any fighting for that matter, will require you to block or avoid hits,” Raphael said as he folded his arms and looked down at me.

  I scrambled to my feet, brushing myself off, all while glaring at him. “I can’t avoid what I’m not expecting,” I pointed out.

  “That’s true,” Raphael agreed. “However, how you react when you are hit and how quickly you recover can determine the outcome of the fight. If you can get back on your feet quickly, just because your opponent made the first hit, doesn’t mean they will make the last.”

  We stayed in the gymnasium long after the sun had set. We spent four hours, well; I spent four hours, learning to fall. I was covered in bruises, which were admittedly already starting to heal, earned when Raphael had tossed me to the ground in every way imaginable. To add insult to injury he insisted on it taking place in front of the mirrors, all so I could see how I was falling incorrectly. We started off with ground work which mainly consisted of Raphael either tripping or pushing me, and worked up to me being tossed in the air, or knocked off platforms he’d set up at varying heights.

  By the end I was tired and ached all over, but I had learned how to fall. No matter what force, speed or direction I hit the ground I had learned how to balance my weight, tuck my body into itself, use the momentum, and roll out of the way and back onto my feet. Most of the time, anyway.

  “That is enough for tonight,” Raphael finally announced. “I will see you tomorrow.”

  He teleported out of the gym leaving me alone. With an exhausted sigh I sank to my knees and then flopped onto my back. “Yay,” I muttered dryly to the empty room. “I can’t wait.”

  I lay on the floor for a while, contemplating having a nap right there. My desire for food outweighed the need for sleep. Remembering what Michael had said about food making me feel better, I forced myself to my feet, and picked up my sword. The sword belonged in the armory with all of the other weapons. I quickly made my way back there, figuring I’d go straight for dinner before showering. I pushed open the door to the armory and stepped in. Like every other door in the building it was unlocked. The fact still made me feel a little nervous, but I guess if there was ever a group that was trustworthy they would be angels.

  The armory was a long room. At the far end of it, opposite the door, was an enormous fireplace. Hanging above it were Michael’s swords. A black one: his own. And crossing over it, was a silvery white one: one that had once been Lucifer’s. I walked over stopping at the hearth, and stared up at the two swords. The last time I had seen them, I hadn’t thought that Michael’s sword looked all that black. Even now, as I compared it to my own, it looked more like gray than anything. My mind flashed back to the memory he had shared with me. With a sigh I turned from the hearth and returned my sword to an empty stand.

  * * *

  I had successfully managed to avoid thinking about Joshua for two days.

  Oh, who was I kidding?

  Yes, I was being kept busy, primarily by Cupid and Raphael, but when I wasn’t training my thoughts kept drifting back to him. I was certain I was crazy: I had spent six weeks holed up in my bedroom without seeing him and now I missed him? I’d had a bigger crush on him than I’d ever admitted – even to myself.

  I stepped under the water of the shower, trying to concentrate on the heat and only that. I failed miserably. “You’re not his guardian angel anymore,” I told my empty bathroom, hoping the words would also work in convincing myself. “You’re not even allowed to be feeling like this, so not seeing him is a good thing.” I repeated the words over and over again – they had become my mantra.

  I’d just gotten out of the shower when I sensed something with Joshua. I really needed to speak to Michael about finding him another guardian angel, because I couldn’t continue to tune into Radio Joshua like this. I saw Michael daily, so it wasn’t like I didn’t have the opportunity: I just couldn’t bring myself to do it; which left me in this position. Even though seeing him wasn’t going to make things easier, I couldn’t just leave him to fend for himself if he was in trouble. I pulled on a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and running shoes and headed outside, trying to work out what it was I could sense.

  He was moving quickly, maybe only a few blocks south of where I was now. I had a strong feeling it was because he was running. There was a strong emotion coming from him, but I couldn’t quite work out what it was. I picked up my pace, keeping an eye out for him, and anyone who was chasing him.

  I found him quite quickly. He wasn’t the one being chased, though. He was the one doing the chasing. I slowed, looking for his backup. The streets were busy, the traffic moving at a steady pace, but I couldn’t see a single patrol car in the area. There also didn’t seem to be any backup on foot. I was going to leave him to it, but I couldn’t help but remember the last time I had found Joshua without backup. I sighed, and keeping to the opposite side of the street, jogged after him.

  A few blocks later, Joshua was gaining on the guy he was chasing after. He was fast, I’d give him that. Suddenly, he darted out into the road towards me. Joshua charged after him, ignoring the blaring horns. They’d just crossed the neutral ground when the guy being chased turned on the spot, swinging his arm. Joshua ducked, but not before the guy had punched his shoulder. Combined with his momentum, the blow sent him falling to the ground. The guy carried on, leaving Joshua in the middle of the street.

  I looked up. There was a car heading towards him and neither Joshua nor the driver had seen each other. Joshua was too busy picking himself up and it looked like the driver was more focused on his phone. A few passersby had noticed, and were shouting to get Joshua’s attention. He looked up just as I grabbed him, hurtling us both onto the concrete neutral ground.

  My shoulder took the brunt of the impact, and I allowed Joshua’s weight to take the lead as we came to a rolling stop with me on top of him, unlike the car which kept on driving, horn blaring.

  “Angel?” Joshua demanded as he stared up at me. His eyes narrowed. “Are you following me again?”

  “I don’t know?” I retorted. “Are you still doing a poor job of keeping yourself safe?”

  “I thought you weren’t my guardian angel anymore?” Joshua asked, rolling me off him. “So you’re stalking me again?”

  I landed on the concrete next to him and shot to my feet before he did, glaring at him. “Now I’m back to stalking you?” I snapped. “I was never stalking you. I told you, a guardian angel knows where her charge is.”

  “You also told me you couldn’t be my guardian angel anymore,” Joshua said, angrily. “So make up your mind. Either you’re helping me, or you’re stalking me.”

  “Most people would just be thankful that I saved their life. Again!�
�� I shot back at him.

  “I don’t need you to save my life,” he said. “I need you decide whether you’re in it or not, and then stick to that decision.”

  I glared back and then looked away exhaling heavily. “Out,” I muttered, hating the word as it left my mouth. I didn’t want to be out of it. I could feel Joshua’s eyes on me, but I kept my eyes focused on the cars passing by, vaguely registering that the crowds had gone back to whatever they were doing before.

  “Yeah, me too,” Joshua said, finally.

  I looked up in time to see him darting across the traffic, leaving me alone on the neutral ground. I took in a deep breath and checked my shoulder. It was scratched and tender, but it would quickly heal. That was currently the only thing that didn’t suck about being dead.

  * * *

  I took my time walking back to the convent. Part of me wanted to be alone. The other part of me felt too alone. I needed a friend who I could talk to about being an angel, and about the fact I liked Joshua. The only person I could think of who fit that bill was my aunt, but the thought of going to see her had my stomach churning like a washing machine.

  I didn’t have to rush today. Michael had something planned, but it was for later in the evening. I decided that maybe some time with Cupid was in order. I made a detour and picked up some fresh beignets and coffee from Café du Monde, feeling the need for some deep-fried goodness. I hurried back to the convent and located Cupid’s room, knocking on his door.

  Cupid seemed momentarily confused when he saw me, but his eyes lit up when he saw the bag being offered to him and snatched it away from me. He retreated back into his bedroom, his focus on the food. As he had left the door open, I assumed it was okay to come in, and followed. I stood awkwardly in his bedroom, contemplating where I should sit.

  Cupid leaped onto the bed, not caring about the powdered sugar that rained down everywhere. He looked up, spotted me and cocked his head. “How about you shut that door before you let all the awesomeness out, and join me on the bed?” he asked. “Or, if you’re set on standing, move beside that dresser because I’ve always thought a plant would look good there.”