Angel Eclipsed (The Louisiangel Series Book 2)

by C. L. Coffey

  “Angel,” Michael sighed.

  “Damnit,” I snapped, slamming my fist so hard against the wall, it actually made a hole. “Shut the hell up, Michael. If you want to kick me out after then go ahead and do it, but you will damn well listen to me until I have finished. Bee’s is owned by Beelzebub who has been parading around New Orleans since it was created in a human named Terrence. Joshua’s Lieutenant is Asmodeus and he has never bothered to hide his name the whole time he has been in that position. That’s two Princes. Here. In New Orleans.”

  I strode forward and thrust the photographs at him. “On top of that, whatever they are planning also includes proving the existence of angels to the world. Beelzebub could have killed me, and the only reason he didn’t was for this,” I said as Michael finally took the photos from my shaking hands.

  “Angel, enough,” Raphael snapped.

  “No,” Michael muttered, his attention on the photographs. He flicked through them before setting them down on the desk behind him. He inhaled deeply, and then looked at me.

  I could feel the blood rushing from my head again, but I stood tall. Even if I lost my wings, I wasn’t going anywhere until he believed me.

  “Are you finished?” he asked me, finally. I nodded. Michael closed his eyes and nodded. “I believe you. And you are correct: two Princes of Darkness in this city is two too many, and that is indeed on me. But that’s where it ends. Asmodeus and Beelzebub are going to join Lucifer in Hell.”

  “You believe me?” I repeated, dumbfounded.

  “I do,” Michael responded firmly.

  I stared at him, wanting to cry from the relief I was feeling. It was like I was Atlas from Greek mythology, and Michael had just removed the weight of the heavens from my shoulders, only it was more like a huge chunk of my own darkness. I swayed slightly, reaching out to use the punctured wall to steady myself. “We need to get Veronica and the other cherubim back.”

  “The cherubim left through their own choice,” Michael said, shaking his head. “They are no longer welcome in this House, and that is something they must live with.”

  “Michael?” Cupid started to object.

  “No, Cupid,” Michael cut him off. “They knew the rules and so do you.” He turned to me. “I am not worried about these photographs; however, I will need you to stay in the convent until further notice.”

  “What about Joshua?” I asked. “I can’t leave him alone out there when his boss is a fallen angel.”

  “You will leave Asmodeus to us,” Michael instructed me, as he indicated to Raphael, Cupid, Paddy and himself. “I will see to it that Joshua is not alone, but it is imperative that you stay here. These photographs will blow over quick enough, but your appearance is distinctive enough that you may well bring unwanted attention to this House and those who reside here.” He stepped forward and rested his hands on my shoulders, looking down at me. “You need to trust me now. I won’t let you down again.”

  As I looked back up into those chocolate colored eyes, I realized that finally, I did trust him.

  As an indie author, I rely heavily on word of mouth, so if you do enjoy the book, it would mean the world to me if you left a review wherever you purchase books. It really helps out a lot.

  In the meantime, here’s a sneak-peak of book three.

  Angel

  Tormented

  Book Three

  of the

  Louisiangel Series

  C. L. Coffey

  Coming Summer 2016

  CHAPTER ONE

  Headlines

  November 19th

  ANGELS AMONG US?

  Last night, Luke Goddard’s much anticipated Believe in Me tour kicked off in his home town of New Orleans. Thousands of Followers hit the street to try to catch a glimpse of him before his show in local bar and live music venue, Bee’s. Although ticket sales would have been enough to sell out the Super Dome twice over, Goddard chose the much smaller venue to give his audience a more intimate performance.

  Focus, however, was not on Goddard, but rather the strange goings on outside the venue. Evidence has emerged that we are not as alone in this universe as we have long assumed. Not long after the show kicked off, a woman was seen exiting the venue through a second story window. Far from being injured or worse, she got up, just in time for a second, younger, girl to fly from the ground and catch a grown man mid-air. What makes this even more extraordinary is that the young girl had wings, as shown in the photos below.

  “And there are photographs,” I added in a huff. I threw the paper across the room, watching it as it hit the wall and the pages separated across the floor. That article had been written three weeks ago and I was no longer upset about it but instead downright angry.

  Joshua was sprawled out on his bed, his arms behind his head, watching me with mild amusement. “You have gone from reciting that to me, to actually conjuring a paper. Is that another power which angels have?”

  We weren’t really in his bedroom, and I wasn’t really pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed. This was a dream. Or at least, the location was a dream. I was an angel, and the story in the paper really had happened.

  I had been killed by an archangel, who had been trying to raise Lucifer. I had been out partying one night and the next thing I knew, I had woken up in a convent with the Archangel Michael informing me that although I was dead, I had been given a second chance of earning my wings and becoming an angel – hopefully an archangel like him one day. Part of this meant I was given a charge, someone important to protect. That was Joshua Walsh. He was a trainee detective who I had helped to investigate my death, and a series of others across New Orleans, all of which led back to the archangel, Lilah, who was trying to find a key (Joshua) and the angel to use the key (me, by killing Lilah and the innocent human she was possessing). All of this to apparently let Lucifer free from Hell.

  For the longest time, thinking about Lilah caused me a lot of physical pain – the physical manifestation of the guilt I was feeling from killing an innocent. I still feel guilty, and while there are occasionally flashes of that pain, now I mostly feel angry: angry at her; angry at Lucifer; angry at the cherubim (Veronica in particular); angry at Michael; and angry at myself.

  Veronica was the girl, the angel, who had revealed herself to save Joshua. That wasn’t what made me angry. For that I will be eternally grateful. No, my anger with her is directed at the fact she and the other cherubim walked out of the Michael’s House and left us. They’d been convinced for years that Lucifer was going to come back, to the point they had been happy to be the ‘help’ in the convent performing all the menial chores, because they wanted to be on the front line and fight when the time came. Sure, Michael didn’t believe them – he didn’t believe me – but the moment they had the chance, they’d upped and left without leaving a forwarding address, minutes after we had discovered that there was a second Prince of Darkness, Beelzebub, in New Orleans. That pissed me off.

  “You know it’s not that bad, right, darlin’?”

  Joshua’s voice snapped me from my internal rant, and I glanced over to see the concern in his dark blue eyes. “And yet I’m still trapped in that convent,” I responded with a huff.

  He patted a spot on the bed next to him, and pretending that the effort to get there was putting me out, I got on the bed and crawled over on my knees, curling up next to him. “Seriously though,” he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder to pull me close. “You created a newspaper.”

  “A newspaper with the same story on every page,” I grumbled.

  “You should use that phone I gave you to look at the news pages, darlin’,” he suggested. “You will soon see that the only paper still running with that story is the same rag which published in the first place, the one you told me was written by a nephilim’s girlfriend. Most people think it was a either a hoax, or a few loons think it was aliens.”

  “If that’s the case, why can’t I go outside? I’m stuck in my room day after day,” I mutter
ed. It was almost ironic that, after killing Lilah, the guilt and pain I felt made me feel like I couldn’t leave my own bed for almost six weeks. Now I was trapped in the same building because Michael had told me I needed to keep a low profile.

  My appearance wasn’t exactly subtle. Just before I had died, I had dyed my hair a bright cherry red and there was nothing I could do to make it fade – or stop me from standing out. It was only when I was in Joshua’s dreams that I could revert back to my normal blonde. Honestly, if it had been on anybody else’s head, I would have thought it was cool, but the prospect of it being part of my appearance for however long I got to stay in this vessel killed me a little.

  “I’m really not complaining about that,” Joshua assured me, smirking. As if to prove it, he leaned over and claimed my lips with his own.

  As well as being my charge, Joshua was also my… Actually, I don’t know what Joshua was. I cared for him. A lot. I wanted to be with him and he certainly wanted to be with me. Not that that information was currently public. According to Michael, a relationship between a human and an angel was forbidden and the consequence was the angel would lose their wings. Frankly, I cared too much about Joshua to risk sleeping with him – and I was standing firm on that decision (and Joshua fully supported me with that) – until we could prove it either way.

  I pulled away from Joshua and frowned. “Why aren’t you suffering from cabin fever then?” I demanded. “You’re under house arrest too.” For the first time, he looked uncomfortable. I cocked my head as I stared at him. The first Prince of Darkness was Asmodeus, also known as Joshua’s Lieutenant. According to Joshua, he had ‘transferred in’ about fifteen years ago and although Michael’s House had been based in New Orleans for the last couple of years, because he wasn’t in his original vessel, he had gone unnoticed. Joshua was not going into work while I was under house arrest.

  “Angel,” he said, patiently, despite his obvious discomfort. “If I refused to leave New Orleans during Hurricane Tabitha, you couldn’t possibly think I’m going to stop working when I find out that a high ranking member of the police department is one of the Fallen? A high ranking fallen angel at that.”

  I couldn’t help but let out a long sigh as I sat down opposite him, crossing my legs. “No,” I admitted. If I was being honest, I knew he was back at work. As my charge, I have an inbuilt tracking system that lets me know where he is at all times. Sadly, it doesn’t come with Google Maps so I only know a general area, rather than a street address. That being said, it was quite easy to tell when he was at work or when he was at home: I was choosing to ignore when he was at work.

  “We said we weren’t going to do this,” he said, watching me.

  “I’m not going to lie and say I wouldn’t find it a hell of a lot easier to protect you if you weren’t working for the police,” I shrugged. “But I don’t trust Asmodeus.”

  “Neither do I,” Joshua agreed as he pulled himself upright and leaned back against the headboard. “Which is why I’m not leaving him alone with Leon, who, thankfully still doesn’t remember being possessed or the exorcism, and is putting his memory loss down to working too much. Not that he’s taken time off,” he added.

  “I need to get out of this convent,” I told him, sagging slightly.

  “Like I said darlin’, I don’t think you being spotted will be a problem. That story has died a death and no one really believed it anyway,” he said, repeating his earlier observations.

  I closed my eyes and focused. Awake, regardless of the time zone, I knew what time it was. Dream walking, it took a bit of concentration, but I was still able to tell. Of all the ‘gifts’ I had as an angel, this was as weird as it was cool. “I will be waking up soon,” I said. It was about half past five.

  “Then let’s put this time to better use,” Joshua suggested. I opened my eyes to find him smirking at me. Then, with no warning, he lunged at me, pushing me backwards. I let out a girly squeal before his lips silenced me. This was definitely better use of our time.

  * * *

  The sun didn’t make an appearance until after my shower. I pulled back the thick claret curtains in my bedroom and stared out of the window. Despite it being November, it looked like it was going to be another hot and humid day. I couldn’t remember the last time it rained. It had to be weeks ago now, judging from how brown the grass was looking.

  I made my way downstairs into the convent’s large kitchen, flicking on the lights. I scanned the room, my eyes coming to rest on the lack of plates on the shelves. Before I could even think about cooking, I needed to clean up. I walked back into the dining area and stared at the messy tables, grinding my teeth.

  Angels don’t need to eat. Prayer, faith and belief – that’s what gives angels the energy to power their vessels. With the exception of myself and Michael, the other angels eat out of habit, more than anything else. Yet, even though the cherubim were no longer in the convent, none of the angels were prepared to give up food. They also weren’t prepared to pick up the slack.

  Being in the convent I had little to do to occupy my time outside of training. Bored, and unable to cope with the mess that had quickly built up in the place, I had taken it upon myself to look after the communal areas – and if this is what they looked like, there was no chance in hell I was going anywhere near their bedrooms.

  I gathered up the dirty plates, grumbling to myself at how it wouldn’t have killed any one of the thirty angels to have at least carried their plates to the kitchen, much less do the dishes for once.

  I ran a bowl full of hot soapy water and scraped the plates while I waited for the bowl to fill. The kitchen had an industrial dishwasher, but as the plates had been left out all night, they were going to need a soak before a cycle would have any impact. One the dishes were soaking, I hurried around the dining area, wiping the tables down. I was thankful I had the supernatural speed but it also just made me angrier that the angels couldn’t have manage this themselves.

  Once the dishwasher was running, I turned my attention to breakfast. Not a single angel knew how to cook. Unfortunately, my skills in the kitchen weren’t great either: I could manage for myself and my aunt on occasion, but it was a limited number of dishes for a limited number of people. Breakfast was easy. Once I’d worked out how we got the groceries (a local store delivered twice a week), I’d ordered a vast selection of cereals and ignored the complaints at the lack of pancakes. I poured the various cereal brands into the bowls at the service hatch – something that had quickly become self-service – and got the jugs of milk ready.

  Finally, I focused on the drinks. Two big urns of hot water so that tea or coffee could be made (I had been amazed when I’d had to teach the angels how to make a cup of tea!) and some juice.

  By the time I was ready to consider preparing the evening meal, I was staring at the nearly empty fridge to a soundtrack of complaints at having the same breakfast for the last three weeks. I was trying to be as patient as I could be: Cupid and Veronica had constantly called the angels vain and shallow, and they were right. They all looked like they had just walked of a catwalk, but they were the laziest bunch of people I’d ever met. They’d also spent a couple of centuries being waited on by the cherubim, so they had naturally fallen into some pretty idle routines.

  The lack of contents in the fridge didn’t inspire me. I was still trying to judge how much food was needed for the meals I was capable of making. There was plenty of rice and ground meat, but I had already made Dirty Rice three times this week alone. Chili Con Carne was supposed to be a simple meal, right? I rummaged through the pantry, frowning. I had enough of everything except onions.

  I backed out of the pantry, closing the door behind me, before turning around and letting out a scream. Cupid had managed to sneak up to me without me noticing. He winced slightly and pulled a face. “We need to work on your observational skills,” he declared.

  I wanted to tell him what he could do with that suggestion, but he was right. If I couldn’t sense a
friend sneaking up on me, how was I going to sense someone with ill intent? Instead, I sagged against the door. “Please tell me you’re not here to complain about breakfast?”

  “No, although I am hoping it’s not Dirty Rice for dinner again?” he asked hopefully.

  “Chili,” I responded.

  He brightened, and looked around the kitchen. “It’s weird like this, isn’t it?”

  It was fair to say that Cupid was my only friend these days. We had been spending a lot of time together recently, outside of the archery training. I had finally introduced him to The Vampire Diaries, and we’d spend several hours squished up on my single bed, watching the DVDs on my old laptop. If not there, we were in the library. We craved each other’s company: if I was bored, he was lonely. Veronica had been his inseparable sidekick. I didn’t need detective skills to see he missed her.

  His gaze was on the angels complaining at the hatch and I took the time to study his profile. Cupid was tall, lanky, and like every other angelic being, good looking enough to be on the cover of any magazine. To look at him, you’d think he spent most of his time studying. You certainly wouldn’t expect him to be insanely skilled at archery. He would happily watch an episode of Arrow with me and claim that he had a lot to live up to, but the truth was the Arrow had a long way to go before he was a patch on the archangel.

  But it wasn’t his looks which caught my attention. It was his overall demeanor. There were currently three archangels, including Cupid, living in the convent. Michael, who looked like he had be sculptured into existence, was slightly taller with the most incredible set of abs I’ve ever seen (sorry, Joshua), and Raphael, who was equally as good looking and built like a quarterback. The thing the three of them had in common was their presence. They could command the room in a way I could only dream of, and with a weapon in their hands – I couldn’t understand why any fallen angel would stay in the same city and think they were safe.