Angels Falling

by Harriet Carlton

  “Where are Kadia and Colton?”

  “About half a mile away. They’re circling down slowly,” replied Ryan.

  “Imorean,” crackled Raphael through the earpiece. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” replied Imorean. “We’re all fine. We’re on the way back.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Imorean sighed as his feet touched back down on the solid ground outside Felsenmeer. He stumbled half a step as Roxy pulled her hand away.

  “Those things are hot,” she said, shaking her fingers.

  “Overheating kind of hot?” asked Imorean, unbuckling the backpack.

  “Definitely getting close.”

  Felsenmeer’s doors slid open and Michael walked out, followed by Raphael, Gabriel and Sariel. Michael tilted his head. “Very impressive.”

  “I’m impressed, too. I didn’t die,” replied Imorean. Baxter stifled a snort.

  “I’m blown away,” said Raphael, slipping around Michael.

  “Really?” asked Imorean. “It really wasn’t that hard. It was –”

  Raphael cut him off. “These are an absolute marvel. I’m relieved they worked as well as they did. But you said they felt like they were going to overheat, didn’t you, Roxy? Stay here a moment and help me take a look at them if you would.”

  Gabriel grinned. “You’re old news, Imorean. He’s more impressed by the wings now. Ryan, Baxter, everything go all right for you?”

  “Yeah,” nodded Ryan. “Nothing out of the ordinary for a change.”

  “Are Kadia and Colton back?” asked Imorean, turning to Michael.

  “Already inside,” replied Michael.

  “Speaking of inside,” said Sariel, stepping forward. “Frayneson, a word?”

  Imorean met Michael’s eyes for a split second as Sariel strutted back inside Felsenmeer. A sheen of resignation descended over Michael’s green eyes and he tossed his head in the direction of the doors. Imorean shed his outer jacket and flared his wings a few times, stretching out the cramped muscles, then followed Sariel.

  The homey lobby was quiet. Small, twin fires crackled at either end of the great room. Imorean couldn’t feel at peace, though. There was a horrible tension in the air.

  A pause, then Sariel inclined his head. “You still haven’t asked, have you?”

  Imorean scoffed. “How the Archangels choose the hybrids? No, I haven’t asked.”

  Sariel gave a nasty laugh. “Not yet, but you will. And when you do, you’ll know just how my brother’s mind works. Once you know that, you won’t trust him nearly as much as you did today. What I saw today was blind trust. It was almost disgusting. The truth is, you aren’t even supposed to be here. Michael doesn’t care if you live or die, and if you think he does, you’re a fool.”

  Imorean took half a pace back as an emerald wing cut between them. He had never even noticed Michael’s arrival.

  “Sariel, enough,” snarled Michael. An unshed fury coursed through the air, but Imorean couldn’t tell whether it was Sariel or Michael who was seething.

  “You can’t hide the truth, Michael,” said Sariel. “He’ll find out soon. Truth has a funny way of exposing itself.”

  “Sariel, you are dismissed from Felsenmeer. I will request your presence if you are needed again. You have overstepped your bounds. Gather your possessions and leave.”

  “What about my assignment from Amriel?”

  “That is none of my concern. How you tell my sister you were dismissed on account of behavior is your business and yours alone. Pack your things. I want you gone by tomorrow evening.”

  Sariel’s face blanched. He didn’t seem to know whether to curl his lip or beg for forgiveness. Instead, he opened his pale wings and thrummed his way up to the second floor. Imorean looked at Michael. There was a kind of a shield down around his eyes.

  “Do not ask. Not now,” said Michael.

  Imorean’s eyes narrowed and a horrible sense of foreboding bled hot in his chest. “Right. Don’t ask. Got it.”

  “Do you have a bag packed?” asked Michael.

  “What? No?” replied Imorean. “Do I need one?”

  “Yes. You and I have a flight leaving from Iqaluit tonight.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since now. Get a bag together.”

  Imorean glared. “Any particular destination in mind or are we just hopping on the next plane out of here?”

  “I will tell you everything after we leave. For now, just do as I ask. Gabriel will inform your squad of your whereabouts tomorrow morning. After Sariel leaves.”

  Imorean scanned Michael’s face for any indication of what was going on, but there was nothing. Nothing to show any intent. No emotion whatsoever. Not even a glimmer.

  Wings shuffled as Imorean took a deep breath. “I meant what I said to Sariel. I do trust you, but for God’s sake, Michael, you’ve got to start trusting me, too.”

  “You are in no position to lecture me about trust. Now is not the time to discuss what we have to do with regards to trust. A bag. Pack one. That is an order. I will explain more to you when conditions are favorable.”

  Brown glared into green for a moment more, then Imorean looked away. “Yes, Chief Archangel.”

  Chapter 49

  Uniforms? Check. Normal Clothes? Check. Shoes? Check. Personal items? Check. Sword? Double check. Imorean turned, looking around his bedroom. Everything he might need for the next few days – or weeks – was gathered together in his backpack and AL Pack. His sword was packed deep away. Openly carrying it through an airport might raise a few eyebrows. He frowned. This didn’t feel right. Leaving his squad behind like a thief in the night. He had done it before, once, but that had been necessary. Now, it just looked like this was an undertaking Michael wanted to make. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his squad not to overreact about him leaving. It was more like he didn’t want them stuck in harm’s way because of him. The less they knew, the less risk they would be at. Did that mean, though, that he didn’t want them to follow him into danger? That he would rather lie to them to keep them safe? That he didn’t want to have to rely on them in dangerous situation for their own sakes? Imorean swallowed and shook his head. It wasn’t a question he wanted to address. Now wasn’t the time.

  Imorean’s eyes swept his bedroom one final time and he nodded to himself. There was nothing else he needed. His gaze lingered on the photo of his family and his father’s watch and a half smile crossed his face. He shouldn’t be gone long. One movement swung the backpack onto his back, and he walked out the door, shutting it after himself. He paused, looking at the brass number one on his door. How long would this mission be? Michael hadn’t said. How long would they be away? When would they come back to Felsenmeer? The place had become a second home to him and now that he was leaving again, he couldn’t help but feel a tug in the pit of his stomach, urging him to stay. A wave of impatience battered the side of his head, and Imorean felt a distinct shade of green behind it. Michael was ready to leave. Imorean was nearly at the barrier from the second floor to the first, when he paused. He could hear music. He looked over his shoulder, a stab of guilt jabbing him just under his heart. Roxy’s door was slightly ajar. Music played from inside. Roxy, at least, deserved to know he was leaving. She had saved his life earlier by holding down the artificial wings so that all the pressure pads made contact. She was his best friend. To not trust her with his whereabouts was practically a crime.

  Imorean turned around and sent out a thought. “Michael, I’ll be down in a few minutes. Sit tight.”

  “Hustle.”

  “Keep your hair on. I’ll be down as quick as I can.”

  Annoyance, but no further answer came. Imorean swallowed as he crossed the empty landing to Roxy’s door. The walk seemed longer than usual. He raised his hand to knock on her door, then paused. Was it courtesy that made him want to knock or the sudden sense of distance? He dropped his hand to the doorknob and pushed inward.

/>   “Hey,” said Imorean, his voice lower than he had intended. Roxy was sitting on her bed, flipping through a textbook. Dynamics of Flight.

  “Hey, stranger,” she said, looking up. Imorean smiled as she tossed the book aside. “What brings you down to this end of the hallway? … What? What’s with the face?”

  Imorean raised an eyebrow. “What face?”

  “You’re making a face. The one you always make when you have bad news.”

  “Yeah …” Imorean breathed a humorless laugh. “Roxy, I have to leave.”

  “Since when? I – I don’t … Where are you going?”

  “Since this afternoon, apparently. Michael’s orders.”

  “Can I come?”

  “Something tells me Michael wants to do this one alone with me.”

  Roxy’s eyebrows lowered. “Where are you going, Imorean?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

  Roxy stood up and walked across her bedroom. She leaned on the door jamb. Imorean met her eyes and froze. He couldn’t move. Her hazel eyes were brimming red.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “You’re running off again, Imorean. You’ll leave even if you don’t know where you’re going. You’re throwing yourself into danger. I’m worried about you. More so now than I’ve ever been. Don’t you care about who you leave behind?”

  “It’s just a mission, Roxy. I don’t know why Michael doesn’t want anyone else going, but, if it’s any consolation, he didn’t say it would be dangerous,” replied Imorean. He gave her a smile, hoping it would reassure her. Concern seared through his chest as a tear escaped Roxy’s eye. Before he could move, she reached up and caressed the side of his face.

  “What happened to my best friend? You wanted to be a doctor.”

  Imorean swallowed. That was a world long past. “I don’t know. I guess I changed, Roxy. There’s nothing I can do about this except see it through.”

  He flinched as Roxy’s hand ghosted down the edges of his long, primary feathers.

  “Is this really what you want to be? What you are now?”

  “I don’t have a choice. I can’t be any more or any less than what I am right now.”

  Roxy looked at him, shaking her head. “There’s always a choice.”

  Imorean looked away. Roxy’s hand dropped back to her side.

  “I wanted to let you know I’d be leaving,” he said, resisting the urge to take her hand in his own.

  “I know,” she replied in a whisper. “Be safe?”

  “Always.” Gooseflesh ran over Imorean’s skin as he felt Roxy’s anxiety. Fear on his behalf.

  Roxy sniffled. “Keep me up to speed as best you can, yeah?”

  “Of course,” nodded Imorean.

  “You should probably get going. I’m sure Michael’s waiting for you,” sighed Roxy, folding her arms.

  Imorean hesitated. There was something horribly like dismissal in her voice. He took a step toward the door. One hand rested on the doorknob. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Yeah.”

  Imorean forced himself to move. The air in Roxy’s small bedroom had turned angry and hurt. He could sense that Roxy wanted him gone. She wanted space. He stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Imorean sat next to Michael in the terminal. They had checked in for their flight a little over an hour ago. Now it was just a waiting game until they left Baffin Island. He had wandered the airport for a while, trying to pass time. Iqaluit, though, was a small airport and there wasn’t much to see. Michael had settled on a seat nearly an hour ago and had remained rock solid ever since. Imorean still didn’t know how he did it.

  “So, you still haven’t said, where are we going?” asked Imorean, picking up his phone and scanning the screen for any word from Roxy. Nothing. He swallowed. She really was angry.

  For the first time in several days, the atmosphere between him and Michael was relaxed. Imorean wondered if it was because they were away from Felsenmeer or if it was just because they were away from Sariel. Sariel. Imorean swallowed. He didn’t want to ask Michael about how he and the other hybrids had been chosen again. It would only cause stress. He would ask. But later. For now, he wanted to enjoy the lack of tension.

  Michael’s eyes opened, neon green racing back toward the iris. “I admire your persistence. That must be your third time asking within an hour.”

  “I’m curious. Can you blame me?” said Imorean. He set his phone back into his carry-on bag. He needed a distraction from his situation with Roxy.

  “I suppose not. Within the next forty-eight hours, we should be in Italy. Vatican City.”

  “Hold on. The next forty-eight hours? What are we doing between now and then?”

  “Travelling. We have to go a rather … unconventional route to Italy. It will be longer and more arduous. Entirely my fault and I apologize in advance.”

  “What are you building up to?” asked Imorean. He couldn’t help but sense some foreboding task looming in the future. There always was with Michael.

  “We are flying from here to Zürich. This part of the journey alone will be an eighteen-hour flight with stops in Ottawa, Toronto and Frankfurt. When we land in Zürich, we fly ourselves over the border into Italy. After that, our journey to Rome will be far smoother. We will be traveling for the next thirty hours or so.”

  “Putting me through my paces, aren’t you?” said Imorean. “But there has to be a story behind this. Why are we taking such a bass-ackward route?”

  Michael’s eyes darted away and Imorean saw a screen of confusion on his face. He smiled as Michael barely mouthed the last three words of his sentence, then clicked his tongue and shook his head.

  “Come on,” said Imorean. “Humor me.”

  “I am not technically allowed to enter Italy.”

  Imorean raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Must you pry into every aspect of my private life, Imorean?”

  “You created me. You’re taking me on this trip with you. The way I see it, you set yourself up for this.”

  Michael turned his eyes to the ceiling tiles, then a small smile crossed his face and he looked back. “I stole some things from the Vatican archives. Some maps. A few histories. The Holy Grail.”

  Imorean snorted. He couldn’t quite wipe the grin from his face. “You stole the Holy Grail? What for?”

  “Things, Imorean. Things. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that almost every time I have attempted to take anything from the Vatican, I have been caught.”

  Imorean laughed and shook his head. “Seriously? You must be a terrible thief.”

  “I am an Archangel, Imorean. Being a thief goes against my nature. I can see you grinning. I suppose, in hindsight, it is quite funny.”

  “How long have you been banned for?”

  “Oh … the last fifty years or so? Time blurs when you are as old as I am.”

  “Hold on,” said Imorean. “You said almost every time you’ve stolen something you’ve been caught. What did you not get caught for?”

  “The Grail.”

  “Michael! People have been looking for that thing for centuries! They still are. How long have you had it?”

  “Around five hundred years.”

  “Come on. What do you use it for?” asked Imorean. “It has to be something incredible. You wouldn’t have it otherwise.”

  “If you must know, it makes a remarkable pencil holder. But really, Imorean, there are so many other things about the supernatural realm to be in awe of, and you decide to fixate on the fact that I, an Archangel, have the Holy Grail.”

  “Pencils? Really? You’re hopeless, you know that right?” Imorean sighed and rolled his eyes. “So what’s our actual mission?”

  Michael’s eyes flicked up and Imorean looked over his own shoulder. “Get your bag. Our flight seems to be boarding.”

  “Michael, come on, tell me,” said Imorean, pulling his bag onto his shoulders.

  “We a
re going to steal from the Vatican. Again. And I need you to help me do it.”

  Chapter 50

  The area around Zürich seemed beautiful. Imorean only wished he had had the awareness to appreciate it. He and Michael had arrived late the night before by plane and walked from the airport terminal to one of the closest hotels. Imorean had found himself zoning in and out of focus throughout Michael checking them into a room, but finally, finally they had reached a stopping point. All he remembered from the night before was taking a quick shower and flopping into bed.

  Light. Aggressive and yellow burst through the window.

  “Wake up.”

  Imorean groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. He rolled over in bed, facing away from the window. “I’m tired, Michael.”

  “As am I, but we have a job to do. You can rest on the train.”

  “Train?” Imorean lifted his head from the pillow.

  “From Milan to Rome, yes, but we have to get there first.”

  “Why did you decide to do this all in one stretch?” asked Imorean, pawing at his eyes. They were still burning with tiredness.

  “Be grateful,” chuckled Michael. “We could have done this the old-fashioned way. Flying across the Atlantic used to be much harder work.”

  “Couldn’t you just zap us across the border and right down into Italy?”

  “Were my energies not put into other things, yes. Barriers, shields, incognito cloaking. They all demand energy, and I find that keeping my fleet safe while they are in the field is more important than my getting from one place to another in the blink of an eye.”

  “Fair,” replied Imorean, finally sitting up, stretching. “How long is our flight?”

  “Around three hours. We should get moving soon. I want us to catch the morning thermals and be on our way before most of Zürich is awake.”

  “Roger that. So, why couldn’t we have taken a plane directly into Italy?” asked Imorean, sifting through his bag for some fresh clothes.