DEC CAUGHT UP TO RORI just before her knees hit the bricks on the patio floor. Staggering backwards into the door, he locked his arm around her waist as the building trembled. Before anyone could say a word, the glass in the bedroom window shattered. Exploded, really. Like a bomb went off.
“Lucifer!” Uriel’s bellow froze them in place.
Raphael’s face darkened with fury. “So he wants a war.”
Dec and Rori both spoke at once. “What’s happening?”
His maker wasted no time explaining a damn thing. Instead, he barked, “Get out of here!” and vanished.
Stunned, he and Rori gaped at each other for a nanosecond before the building swayed again. The cracking of more glass broke the spell. She screamed. Loki tipped back his head and howled.
“Let’s go, darlin’!” Scooping Loki into his arms, he clutched Rori’s hand and dematerialized.
The farmhouse was quiet when they rematerialized just inside the front door. Slightly hysterical, Rori tossed his hand away, yelling, “What the hell, Dec? What the hell?” Flinging herself into the kitchen, she slammed her palm over her racing heart. “I’m going to have a heart attack!”
Ditto.
Dec listened for footsteps and heartbeats. “No one’s here. Thank God! I need to think.” As much as he adored his godsons, he needed quiet right now and that wasn’t in their job descriptions.
Rori whistled for Domino before demanding in a much more reasonable tone, “What just happened back there? Did you see Raphael’s face? I’ve never seen him that upset. I’m guessing it wasn’t an earthquake.”
Dec snorted at the idea. If only . . . “Nah, not an earthquake. More likely Uriel’s temper.” Shaking his head, he tried to find some humor in this but came up empty. Sometimes shit just wasn’t funny.
Meanwhile, down at knee level, Loki whimpered and backed into his calf.
“What now?”
The terrified pup rubbed his snout on Dec’s jeans and peered up with worried eyes.
Why am I all tingly? I’m scared.
“You’re fine, furball. It’s called teleporting. Perfectly natural. Shake it off.” He gave the dog’s ears a fondle and said in his best reassuring tone, “Seriously, you’ll be fine. Go meet your new friend.”
After turning the corner at a trot, Domino launched herself into Dec’s arms with an undignified yip of joy.
You’re back! I’ve missed you! Did you bring the sack toy?
“Hey, pretty girl!” Burying his face in her neck, he dropped a few kisses on her silky ears and set her back to her feet. “Raincheck on the hacky sack, all right?”
Rori crouched to snuggle Domino, saying, “Domino meet Loki. Loki, this is Princess Domino. She’s a demon dog like you.” Lightly tapping his nose, she grinned at the obvious uncertainty on his face. “She’s famous. Be polite and pay attention. You might learn something.”
Dec couldn’t help smiling. Both dogs seemed to be hanging on every word she said. When she stood up and faced him again, he suggested, “How ‘bout this? It’s nice out. Let’s sit on the porch for a bit. We need to talk.”
“Uh-oh, nothing good ever comes from that lead in.”
She was so right.
The wraparound covered porch was one of the coolest things about the farmhouse. They’d spent a lot of time on it over the years. From kicking back with a cold beer when they first moved to Plattsburgh, to laughing their asses off when Mica tried to convince them to make snow angels, to reading stories to the little dudes while they slipped into toddler sleep, he had great memories of the porch. Since they’d moved in fulltime, Mica and Killian had added a couple of new sofas and a few pots of flowers. Holding court at the end of one of the wicker couches, a stainless steel beer cooler did double duty as a plant stand. Killian’s touch, no doubt.
Rori tucked her feet underneath her butt and leaned into one of the cushions. Too keyed up, he didn’t bother to sit. Besides, he always thought more clearly when he paced, so pace he did. Rori’s eyes tracked him with a mixture of worry and amusement dancing deep inside. Another thing he loved about this woman—she never overreacted. That was pretty awesome especially considering that his job—and his hobbies—were not for the faint of heart.
After a few minutes, she broke the silence. “Okay, hero, spill it. What do you know about Af? I think I can handle whatever you don’t want me to know. We’ve been through a lot this year. I’ve not broken yet, have I?”
Crouching in front of her, he framed her face between his palms. After kissing her soundly, he lost himself in her luminous eyes before murmuring with a faint smile, “Cheetah eyes.”
Those eyes twinkled at the nickname, but she murmured, “Stalling?”
“Yeah; maybe a little.”
God, he loved her. She was right. She wasn’t a fragile little flower and never had been. When he’d found her, she was weak from fear, but she’d been strong enough to resist Azrael’s possession and fought to keep her independence. Since then she’d only gotten stronger. It wasn’t fair to treat her as if she were too delicate to handle the truth. If he were honest, he’d admit her delicacy was all in his imagination. He’d always think of her that way. Sighing long and hard, he dropped one last kiss on her mouth, and shared what he knew about Af.
“I don’t know much about Af really. He’s a dark one. Antisocial. Keeps to himself. I’ve never met him before, but I’ve heard of him.” He dragged his fingers through his bangs, shoving them off his forehead with more force than necessary. “Everyone’s heard of him. He’s the Angel of Wrath.”
“There’s an angel for that?”
“Oh, sure. There’s an angel for everything. Primani don’t have much to do with traditional angels since our jobs don’t overlap much. But make no mistake, just because we don’t hang out with them, doesn’t mean we don’t recognize them when we see one walking here. We can sense each other from a mile away.”
“You knew, didn’t you? This morning? As soon as you saw him, you knew he was an angel.”
“It was pretty hard to miss since he had that damn alarm system blaring. My ears are still ringing.” He shook his shaggy head like a dog and flashed a disarming grin.
Rori’s taut expression softened at his lame attempt at a joke. “Why can’t I touch him?”
“Because he’s also an Angel of Destruction like Uriel; but unlike Uriel, he’s pure chaos when he’s on the human plane. Uriel has more control—usually, anyway—because he’s an Archangel. Af’s a different story. Everywhere he goes destruction follows, like the aftermath of a bad burrito. To make it worse, Af’s a double whammy. Rage and destruction. Without control over his power, he can kill with a brush of his fingers. He’s completely unstable right now. The force of his dark energy would kill you outright in a nanosecond. Boom! Dead.” He snapped his fingers to make the point. “Just like that. Because you’re human, you don’t have any defenses against him. That energy would make a beeline straight to you if you put your hands on him. Even other angels can’t touch him when he’s out of control, because he would unconsciously suck away their power to survive. That’s why Raphael wouldn’t heal him. Too risky. The world needs Raphael with his power intact.”
She nodded slowly as his words sank in. “So Uriel can touch him because they’re both Destructo boys? Plus, he’s already chronically cranky so the whole wrath thing wouldn’t bother him like it did me.”
He shot her a sideways glance and squeezed her hand. “You picked up on that too? I’m kind of glad we had to leave when we did. His energy was already starting to affect you even from the other room. You were a bit scary.”
Tugging him closer, she nuzzled his ear with soft lips, saying, “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I don’t know what came over me. I just felt a sudden flash of anger and you were the closest target.”
“Af came over you. That’s the effect he has on people.” He arched his throat so she could have more nuzzling access and groaned happily when she nibbled on his neck. Mmmm. Don’t stop. When she dragged her hot, silky tongue around his earlobe, he had to fight off the urge to shiver. Maybe they could forget about Af and Raphael for a wee bit? They weren’t going anywhere for a while.
“You were ugly to me. I think you may have hurt one of my feelings.” He captured her mouth with his and sank into her, shifting them around so she lay beneath him on the couch. As her tongue danced against his, easy and slow, he slid his palm over her breast, cupping the softness that was made for him. Her nipple peaked for attention so he dipped his head to nip it between his teeth. Rolling her hips against him, she moaned low and throaty. Mr. Crowley stood up and cheered.
“Show me which one it was and I’ll make it feel better.” Brushing her lips along his jawline, she trailed kisses to his collarbone. “Or maybe I’ll just start here and kiss my way lower.”
“Hey! Do you two mind? There are kids here!”
Rori’s head came off the couch so fast she head-butted him right in the nose. The pain was blinding. Probably the crunch was heard in the house down the street. With blood gushing like a friggin’ faucet, he rolled to the floor with both hands clutching his nose.
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Rori was mortified. Why, oh why, did these things always happen?
Dec rocked back and forth, covering his face, swearing in what was probably Latin. Or Gaelic. Who knew with him, though. Could be ancient Hebrew. Or even Enokian. Hard to say. Bottom line? They were not happy words.
Dropping to her knees, she tried to pull his hand away to triage the damage, but he stiff armed her with more than a little annoyance in his voice. “Don’t! I’ve got this.” With that, he lurched to his feet and glared daggers over his hand. Leaning over the railing, he spit blood into the grass, and groaned, “Shit, woman! You’re killing me!”
Mica and the kids hesitated on the front steps. Michael and Rafe were round eyed with curiosity, but Cian frowned with concern and glanced up at Mica for instructions. Nicknamed Cian to eliminate confusion, Killian Jr. was more like his daddy than the other two boys. Always ready to take charge, he was halfway to Dec when Mica shook her head and ordered, “Michael, go inside and get a wet washcloth for your Uncle Dec. Hurry!” As she watched his progress, she flinched and yelled, “Don’t step in the blood!”
“Sooo glad we have wooden floors.” With a wry smile, she patted Rori’s shoulder. “It’s all right, sweetie. I broke Sean’s femur once. Not one of my shining moments, but shit happens. He totally deserved it, but I felt awful afterwards. Raphael had to come and help him heal.”
“How mad was Sean?”
She had no trouble imagining Sean’s handsome face tight with anger as Mica hovered at his side. Nope. Angry Sean wasn’t hard to picture at all.
“Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled, but he got over it.”
Dec snorted a laugh which turned to a painful cough, some moaning and more swearing. Definitely more swearing. Rafe and Cian broke into giggles until their mother shushed them with a look.
Yelling, “I got it! I got it!” Michael sprinted back with a dripping wet washcloth hanging from his fist.
Dec pressed it over his nose with a mumbled, “Thanks, little dude.”
Tipping his head back, he stood perfectly still as bloody ice water ruined his favorite shirt.
“So I hear you have angel trouble.” Mica took her by the elbow and nudged her towards the front door. “Killian called me while he was at your place. I took the boys for haircuts so they’ll look spiffy for the wedding. They were looking like heathens.”
Digging in her heels, she protested, “Wait! I can’t leave Dec out here. What if he—”
Mica laughed cynically and towed her along. “The question isn’t, ‘Can you?’ It’s, ‘Should you?’ And the answer is, ‘Yes!’ You can’t understand what he’s saying, but it’s fair to assume he’s not happy right now. Best to give him a little time to fix his nose and not bite your head off. Trust me on this. Besides, you can fill me in on all the drama. Killian is out with Sean trying to trace Af’s steps from the park. They should be back in a few hours. How long could this take?”
“Dec and I were just talking about that. Af was still out cold when we had to leave. Uriel was healing him, and all of the sudden, the building started to shake like an earthquake. The next thing I knew, the windows were exploding and Raphael freaked. Dec brought us here.”
“I most certainly did not freak. I was simply concerned for your safety.”
Mica jumped with her hand to her mouth as Raphael appeared in the hallway directly in front of them. Rori slammed into her from behind and they both stumbled into his chest.
“Someone should just tape my mouth shut before I jam my entire leg into it. I’m sorry, Raphael. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
“It’s quite all right, Rori. I didn’t take it that way.” Angling his head in the direction of the living room, he said, “I need to speak with you though. Will you sit?”
“Uh-oh. This can’t be good.”
“It never is, darlin’.” Dec joined her as she sank to the loveseat. He’d cleaned the blood from his face and stripped out of the wet shirt. There hadn’t been time to completely fix his nose, but it was centered on his face again at least. “That serious tone usually means you’re not going to like what comes next.”
Raphael’s brows pulled together in a frown before he snapped, “Thank you, Declan. That’s very helpful. This concerns both of you so you may stay.” Before going on, he rested his gaze on her face for a heartbeat.
Her stomach tightened into a knot as the Archangel gathered his thoughts. Automatically reaching for Dec’s hand, she crushed his knuckles as Raphael explained, “We need a few days to get Af sorted out and moved to a secure location.” The pause was heavy enough to sink a ship. “He’s dangerously unstable right now. I need the safe house.”
She felt an instant stab of disappointment. Her eyes pricked with tears that she blinked quickly away. Of course he was right. The safe house existed for these situations. Af had to be protected. She got that. She understood. Really, she did. But all of her planning . . . Everything was supposed to be perfect today.
Swallowing to release the lump in her throat, she said as graciously as possible, “Sure. I understand. We’ll reschedule the ceremony. It’s . . . It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Despite her best effort, her throat squeezed shut so the last words came out as a whiny squeak. She coughed and said a little too brightly, “We have all of eternity, right? What’s another week?”
An hour later, alone in the penthouse, Raphael assessed the disaster area with an ache in his gut. He scanned the bedroom from one end to the other without missing a thing. The window had been blown out completely. The glass was simply gone. Not a trace was left clinging to the steel frame or sparkling on the carpet below. Uriel had done a fine job of destroying it. Typical.
Standing just inside the unprotected opening, he braced his feet to let the wind whip over his face. He yearned to unfurl his wings and simply soar away, shouting with the exhilaration of flight. Daring to reveal his true form, he released the tips of his wings just far enough to brush his cheek when he turned his head. Reaching up, he idly stroked the nearest feather and sighed with frustration. What a damn mess. The rushing air was shrill, but he barely heard it. His thoughts were very far away—his powerful mind reaching towards answers he sought but hadn’t yet found—answers he needed more than he wished. Was Af involved?
That was a damn mess too.
That particular problem would have to wait. He was still unsure of the best solution, and jumping headfirst wasn’t something he ever did. He needed more facts . . .
The doorbell rang.
Before he could investigate his hunches, he had to take care of this more immediate problem. Drawing his wings inside, he straightened his collar and smoothed his windblown hair. Showtime. Two policemen and a fireman greeted him when he pulled open the front door.
Holding out his hand, he said, “I’m Raphael Girardi. Please come in. I appreciate you coming so quickly. We need to get a crew in here to cover the window before nightfall.”
A paunchy older policeman stepped forward to shake his hand with the air of a seasoned professional. “Officer Glass, sir, and this is Officer Nash.”
Officer Nash was much younger, early twenties perhaps, inexperienced. His cheeks were flushed; his eyes bloodshot. The subtle odor of alcohol oozed from his skin. He drummed his fingers against his thigh and gnawed at his lower lip. Nerves or withdrawal?
The firefighter held his hat in one hand, and offered the other in greeting. “I’m here to check for structural damage on the roof. Since you’ve got your patio gated off, I need to access it through your apartment, if you don’t mind. I’m Mark Hayes.”
“No problem, Mark. The French doors lead to the patio. Please make yourself at home. Do we know anything about what happened today? The news outlets are claiming an earthquake is to blame. Imagine an earthquake here in Manhattan. Ridiculous.”
Hayes agreed and shot Officer Nash an ironic glance as if they’d just had this conversation. Nash flushed and muttered, “Dickhead” under his breath, the words too soft for the human ear, but not for Raphael’s. Sharpening his focus, he reevaluated the young officer. Anger and frustration wafted from him in pulsing waves. He managed to keep his contempt for the fireman concealed, but just barely. Interesting.
Interesting it may be, but there was no time to indulge in a dissection of random human relationships. No, it was best to let them do their jobs and get out of here so he could have the penthouse back before Af’s energy created more problems. Thanks to Uriel’s temper, they had to bring in a contractor to fix the damn window. Clearly they couldn’t leave the window open to the elements and any demon who wanted to shimmer inside. The protection spell that made this a safe house was gone for now, obliterated with the shattered glass. The space was vulnerable to attack. Dangerously vulnerable. They needed to move quickly and get the repairs done.
Raised voices drew his attention back to the patio. Now what? Rolling his eyes heavenwards, he headed outside to a bizarre sight. He blinked. He wasn’t imagining things.
Nash had Hayes pinned against the side of the garden wall and was busily trying to strangle him in the middle of Rori’s jasmine trellis.
Officer Glass raced to them, yelling, “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Nash!”
He clutched at Nash’s forearm to break his hold, but the younger man was too strong and strangely fixated on his task. Hayes’ face was beginning to turn purple, but he managed to throw his knee into Nash’s crotch. He loosened his grip just enough for Hayes to punch him in the face and stagger away.
As Hayes struggled to catch his breath and Nash bled from his nose, Officer Glass swung his gaze back and forth between them. Clearly confused by the fight, he demanded, “What just happened?”
Holding up a hand, Hayes bent at the waist, wheezing horribly. He didn’t sound healthy.
Outstanding. This day was going from bad to worse.
Hayes coughed raggedly and muttered, “Damned if I know. He just lost it. Ambushed me from behind before I could move.” Rubbing his throat, he glared at Nash for a full second before his expression changed. His eyes narrowed; his jaw clenched. A wave of anger rolled outward followed by a growl deep in his throat. “Little bitch is going to pay for that!”
“Oh, damn and bloody Hell! It’s already starting.”
With a thought, Raphael froze the tableau in front of him. The three men stood motionless and unaware that anything had changed. Stepping between them, he said, “In two minutes, you will leave this place. You will return to your offices to finish your reports. There was no structural damage. The window was broken due to a freakishly powerful mainline wind gust. It wasn’t deliberate. There’s no reason to investigate any further. The hotel isn’t liable. You are completely satisfied with your findings. Next, you will forget this altercation. It never happened. You won’t remember the sudden burst of anger either. It didn’t happen. You will go on with your lives without giving this visit a second thought.”
When he finished the brainwashing pep talk, he healed Nash and Hayes before lightly touching each of them between the eyes and murmuring, “Heed me.”
After moving back to his original position, he woke them up. All three blinked before simply stepping away from each other to finish their inspection. In two minutes, all three reported that they were satisfied with their findings and would be on their way. After calling their usual contractor, a working angel who went by the name of Big Hank, Raphael went to check on their houseguest from Hell.
Af was still out cold. It was healthy rest though. True to his word, Uriel had put the troublemaker back together and he looked one hundred percent better. He was almost himself again. Af would be pleased that his hair had grown to its usual length; too long in Raphael’s opinion, but it wasn’t his hair. If the angel wanted to look like a barbarian, that was his prerogative. The wavy black hair reminded him of spilled ink flowing across the white pillow. Or one of those Rorschach tests—the one that everyone thinks is a bat.
Snickering softly at the fanciful direction of his thoughts, he evaluated the rest of their unwelcome visitor with a sense of foreboding. Thanks to Uriel’s miracle, his body had gone back to the glory of its former self. All the thick muscle and supernatural strength needed to fight Heaven’s most important battles. Yes, most of the wounds were healed now. He would survive.
But would he ever fly again?
That remained to be seen. In the meantime, he’d need to handle Af delicately. He wasn’t going to be happy. Staring at the unfortunate time bomb wasn’t going to change facts. What’s done is done. Bad news didn’t get better with the waiting. It was time to get this over with. He’d procrastinated long enough already. The window was fixed in the other room. He’d already reset the protection over the penthouse to lock out any nosy demons and lock in Af’s dark energy. The last thing they needed was for everyone in a square mile to suddenly act on their repressed anger.
He shuddered at the idea. If left unshielded, Af’s energy would radiate outward affecting anyone within range. This was a densely populated area. The world wasn’t ready for that much rage. Bracing for the worst, he said, “Time to wake up, Af.”
Right on command, Af’s eyes popped open and swiveled immediately to him. With an almost feral growl, he leapt to his feet and stalked towards Raphael. With hands curled into fists, he demanded rudely, “Who the fuck are you?”
Sighing heavily, Raphael lifted a palm and Af jerked to a stop, his mouth dropping open in surprise.
“I am Raphael. You will show me some respect or I will put you back to sleep—permanently.” He lowered his hand and snarled, “Do you understand me?”
Af blinked twice but nodded as reality set in. He might be unstable, but he wasn’t insane. Af knew who he was. No one disrespected an Archangel and survived to brag about it. It was one of those unwritten rules. Af knew better. Still, it wouldn’t be prudent to assume Af was firing on all cylinders after his ordeal. He wouldn’t trust the angel until he’d proven it was earned. After all, there was that nagging question of loyalty . . . And he’d probably lose his mind when he got the bad news.
Spreading his palms in surrender, Af backed away with slow steps. He remembered enough protocol to at least duck his head in acknowledgment of Raphael’s senior position, murmuring tightly, “My apologies, Archangel.”
“Accepted. Now, I’m afraid I’m to be the bearer of bad news.”
Af’s head snapped up, nostrils flaring, teeth clenched. The window began to hum as a tremor moved across it. “I hate bad news.”
The sheet of glass rattled in its frame.
“Stop! We’re in the middle of New York City on the 18th floor of a hotel. There are millions of humans around us. You must stay in control or these people will be damaged. It would be catastrophic.”
Wrong tactic. He forgot he was dealing with an Angel of Destruction.
Af’s face beamed at the prospect of mass casualties. “Really?” he drawled as if the day had just gotten brighter.
Raphael straightened to his full height and warned, “Don’t even think about it! These people are under my protection!”
“I’m sorry to hear that. They’re going to be very disappointed with the effectiveness of your protection.” The naked loose cannon smiled, showing his incisors. Despite his earlier display of respect, he let his nature take control. Instead of backing down, he sauntered forward until they were toe-to-toe. He had to look up at Raphael, but he didn’t seem to mind.
The window continued to vibrate as the two of them stared at each other, each weighing the other’s resolve. The tension grew heavier as neither moved. Would he regret letting Uriel keep his friend here? Should he have insisted his brother take the pain in the ass to an unpopulated area immediately? Antarctica was lovely this time of year.
Af’s dark energy exploded like a solar flare; pure rage slapped Raphael in the face with the heat of a blast furnace. Damn and Hell! This was going to be harder than he’d thought. Narrowing his eyes, he stared Af down until the angel looked away.
Crack!
The sound jolted them both. To his horror, a long crack appeared in the center of the window. The glass didn’t shatter, but the crack expanded from a hole in the middle.
Af smiled coldly and shrugged both shoulders. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
It was night when Af opened his eyes next. He came awake gradually this time; his mind easing into peaceful consciousness until he moved. Wincing as pain slammed into the space between his eyes, he groaned and lay his head back down. It felt like someone had clubbed him with a baseball bat. The room was completely dark except for a bit of light filtering in from outside of the window. Cars drove by. A horn honked. Muted voices filtered through the closed door. A dog barked.
Wait a minute. There were no dogs in Hell. Where the fuck was he? What was wrong with his head?
In an automatic response to blinding agony, he tried to raise his hands to clutch at his skull. Nothing happened. Glancing down, he saw the restraints. Bloody fucking hell! Someone had cuffed him to the bed! Bellowing with fury, he snapped the restraints and rained terror upon those who insulted him in such a manner.
No. He didn’t.
The restraints didn’t budge. Not even a sprinkle of terror either.
What the—
The door crashed open and in walked an Archangel. He knew it was an Archangel because his body was wreathed in pure golden light, his magnificent chestnut wings curled around his shoulders, framing him with their strength and beauty. And he carried a sword. A humongous fucking sword.
The power that radiated from this creature swamped the small bedroom with the force of a hurricane. Everything shook as he strode into the space. The curtains were torn from the rods; the pictures flew from the walls. The table lamp smashed into the opposite wall. Even the bed lifted up and down as if it would flip over. Af lowered his eyes respectfully.
The Archangel announced in a ringing tone that nearly punctured his eardrums, “You are awake because I willed it. You are alive because Uriel willed it. If you want to stay that way, you will do exactly as you’re told and keep your smart mouth closed. Am I clear?”
Af froze at the tone of his voice. This dude was royally pissed at him. What had he done to deserve the wrath of an Archangel he didn’t even know? Clearly something had happened . . .
The Archangel spoke again. “I’m waiting. Do you understand or do you need more sleep? I can knock you out again, but eventually your brain won’t recover. Your choice.”
Shit. How long had he been asleep? His mind was one big blank. This was beyond bad. Trying not to sigh or make an annoyed face, he replied in his most respectful tone to keep from winding up on the pointy end of that sword, “I understand, Archangel. I am grateful for your and Uriel’s help, and I won’t cause you any trouble.” He winced again as his head threatened to explode. Stifling an undignified groan, he wiggled his hand within the restraints and asked, “Why have I been restrained? What’s happened?”
The silence was deafening.
After what felt like eternity, the brilliant light dimmed around the Archangel’s body to reveal a tall man who appeared to be about forty years old. Wearing jeans and a navy blue Henley, he looked more youthful and hip than most of the Archangels Af had seen. He folded his wings tightly to his back, but didn’t vanish them like most of them do when in another angel’s company. Instead, he approached the bed and crossed his arms, scowling as his penetrating gaze swept over Af’s face. He doesn’t trust me. What did I do?
After another few seconds of heavy silence, he pulled up a chair and sat, one knee crossed over the other, hands steepled beneath his cleanly-shaven chin, those powerful wings draped elegantly over the back of the chair. Mr. Perfect. He looked Af straight in the eye and said, “I’m Raphael. You’ve been restrained because the last chat we had ended with your being a disrespectful ass. You are very fortunate that I do not let petty annoyances drive my actions.” He cocked an eyebrow and continued, “We know who you are, Af. We went to a lot of trouble to rescue and heal you. You and I need to have a serious conversation without any drama. I’ve blocked you from sapping my power so I can sit and talk to you for as long as it takes. I should warn you that your emotions will trigger a negative reaction so you will want to remain calm and in control. It may be uncomfortable for you if you get upset.”
“Blocked my power? I didn’t think that was possible.”
He leaned slightly forward and smiled in a way that made goose bumps break out over Af’s skin. “Anything is possible, son. Does your head hurt?” That smile widened as if he was giving good news.
“Like a bitch. But then you know that, don’t you?” He laughed and then moaned as more pain lanced through his temples. “Ow. Shit. Sorry. Yes. It hurts. Your doing, I take it?”
“That’s the block working. Sorry about the pain. Can’t be helped. We have much to discuss and I can’t have you using your destructive powers to draw attention to the safe house or to hurt anyone who lives here.”
“Fair enough. I get it. I’m not Mr. Popular. People tend to avoid me like the plague.” He started to laugh again, but choked it off in fear of more pain. Truth was though he’d often been the plague . . . Wait a minute. Did he coin that phrase about himself? Maybe he did. When did he get a sense of humor?
“I’ve got bad news for you and you’re going to be furious. Can you keep yourself together so we can get to the bottom of what happened to you? I really don’t want to knock you out again, but I will if you lose control. As I explained earlier, these people are under my protection. We’re keeping you here so my Primani can help you recover. He is my most even-tempered soldier.” He leaned forward until their noses were inches apart. His voice roughened with an ominous threat. “Know this. If you cause any trouble, I’ll drop your ass off on Antarctica and chain you inside an ice cave until we get this figured out. You can have as many temper tantrums as you like. You’ll either scare the penguins or cave in your prison. That’ll be your call.”
Was he kidding? The Archangel sat back and tapped that big ass sword against his thigh. Those steady blue eyes were frosty as he waited for Af’s response. Nooooo, not kidding. The motherfucker was going to leave him in an ice cave? Sonofabitch! What had he done to piss him off?
Raphael studied the rebellious angel with a heavy heart. Af was entitled to the truth. He deserved to hear it from a friend, but Uriel was probably his only one, and even that was iffy. Even if Uriel wanted to be the one to tell him, he was in Hell trying not to murder Lucifer while still breaking his nose. Since Uriel hadn’t called for backup, he assumed either, A. – he hadn’t found Lucifer yet, or B. – they were still beating the hell out of each other. Uriel had lost his mind when he saw the mutilation. Raphael wasn’t any happier about it, but he’d had time to calm down. Af would be furious enough for both of them.
“I want to remove your restraints so you can sit up. Will you keep yourself under control?”
Af frowned with confusion. Clearly he had no recent memories so didn’t know why Raphael was upset. That must be a side effect of the block. He hated to take such extreme measures, but he wouldn’t risk losing his powers just to keep Af comfortable. That wasn’t going to happen, so Af would have to suck it up. “Are you ready?”
“With all due respect, I’m not a child, for crying out loud! Let me sit up and then tell me what’s going on. You’re starting to freak me out.”
He unlocked the restraints and watched as Af struggled to sit up with his back against the headboard. He was dripping in sweat and pale as a ghost by the time he was situated. He tucked the sheet around his hips and closed his eyes to catch his breath. Raphael sensed the frantic racing of his heart as he endured the pain slamming through him. Instead of complaining, he clamped his bloodless lips together and breathed through his nose. His knuckles were white as they clutched the sheet.
Raphael gave Af a minute to settle down and said, “You were in very bad shape when we found you. My Primani Declan had to carry you here. You couldn’t heal yourself because you’d gone into stasis. Your saol was nowhere in sight. Uriel had to help you heal. Do you remember any of that?”
Af studied his fingers for a few seconds, thinking. “I remember snatches. Just some images really. I’m sure more will come now that I’m awake.”
“You were gone for more than a month. Do you remember who took you?”
Shaking his head slowly, his brows furrowed in concentration, he froze in mid-denial. The memory must’ve come to him because his face reddened with sudden anger, and he ground out, “It was Seth. Sonofabitch! I’m going to rip his fucking scales off one at a time!” He made a move to leap off the bed and cried out in agony. His big body fell like a tree. His head bounced off the nightstand as he landed halfway between the small table and Raphael’s legs. Moaning pitifully, he clutched at his forehead and curled into a fetal position with the sheet twisted around him. His face was hidden under a curtain of black hair, but Raphael imagined his eyes screwed tightly closed against the pain.
Damn and Hell! This is not what he’d intended when he blocked Af’s powers. He wasn’t trying to torture him. This simply couldn’t continue. He laid his hand on Af’s hair and sent a tiny bit of his own healing energy into his head. Af twitched once and lay still. His heartbeat slowed to normal as his body disbursed the pain. With a grunt of annoyance, he untangled himself from the sheet and struggled to rise. Raphael gave him a hand and helped him back to the bed.
“Are you all right?”
Af’s voice trembled as he begged weakly, “Let’s just get this over with so I can die already. This pain is killing me. What happened that is so damn bad?”
“Uriel wasn’t able to heal all of your wounds.”
“How’s that possible? He’s an Archangel. He can heal everything.”
He squeezed the angel’s shoulder, eyes intent on his face, watching for signs of explosion. “Not this time, Af. I’m very sorry.”
“But—” Af’s face drained of blood. Erupting into motion, he frantically examined himself for injuries. He even yanked the sheet off to check his penis. Clearly nonplussed that everything was where it should be, he opened his mouth to speak and then the lightbulb went off in his head. His entire body froze. His eyes rounded in dawning horror. Shaking his head, he stammered, “No . . . No . . . Please, Father, No! Tell me . . .”
He didn’t finish his sentence. His eyes begged Raphael to deny what he had to know in his heart. Raphael nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t say the words either. They wouldn’t form on his tongue. He only shook his head sadly.
Af’s dark eyes went completely blank as he tried to process what he didn’t want to accept. “No. It can’t be . . .” He rolled his shoulders to release his glorious raven wings, but they didn’t unfurl. They remained locked inside his body. One of his hands fluttered near his shoulder as if he couldn’t bear to reach behind him. He whispered thickly, “My wings . . .”
“I’m so sorry. We’re going to do everything we can to fix this.”
That was true. They had no idea how, but they weren’t giving up. The sigil could be removed. Theoretically. They weren’t sure how to take it off without removing the skin and muscle of his entire back. The scarring was deeply imbedded and wouldn’t be simple to undo. They already tried to heal the wound, but it had been done with some kind of magic and the damn monstrous thing wouldn’t be cleansed. Demon magic was nasty that way. Hence the brawl probably going on in Lucifer’s office right this moment. Their brother had a hand in this. The question was, why?
“Nooooo!” Af slammed his fist into the wall and promptly howled in agony. His terrible eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted.