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A thunderous pounding pulled Kheone from her dreams, away from the chaos of the falling Gates. A dagger as black as Satan’s soul fell away from her throat, leaving a trickle of iridescent blood. A blazing light flashed, and she tumbled through the ether, her wings smoldering as she plunged to Earth beside her kin. Meteorologists had called it an unexpected meteor shower. The angels and demons named it the Second Fall.
Damn Shax for almost besting her. And damn him for disappearing, too. How was she supposed to even the score if she never saw him again?
Pushing aside the fiery whorls of pain surging across her back, she reached over to her nightstand as the knocking continued, fruitlessly fumbling for her sword. Blazes, it was on the other side of the room, exactly where Michael had thrown the blade last night before she collapsed into bed. Had she really challenged him to kill her for her supposed incompetence?
“Kheone! You’re late.” Serel opened the door and rushed to her window, throwing open the curtains.
Light streamed in. Oh, Hell. In winter, training started in the dark. What kind of example did she set for her gathering by being late to her own training sessions? She needed to get over to the adjoining gym immediately. Kheone jumped out of bed and instantly regretted it. Her legs collapsed like limp pasta, and she tumbled to the floor.
For pity’s sake, if slowly losing her angelic abilities was not enough, now she had shown weakness in front of members of her gathering. Michael set a high standard and didn’t tolerate vulnerability.
Serel rushed over and helped her up. “Oh, dear, I was kidding. The Archangel gave us the day off.”
Giggles from the hall caught her attention. Emric and Maj hovered in the doorway, their presence unnoticed in her panic.
“Ha, ha.” She glowered at Serel.
“Sorry, LT. Guess I’m still getting a handle on this human stuff,” he said, wearing a sheepish smile.
“Forget about it. I’m sure I’ll laugh someday.”
Kheone gave him a half-grin. His rugged face brightened, and Serel joined her on the bed. Emric and Maj slid into the room and leaned against the wall. Emric, slight with whipcord muscles and light brown hair, stared at her with thunder in their emerald green eyes. Maj, with skin and hair almost black, leaned against the wall, her left brow cocked up over midnight, eyes sparkling like stars in the sky in her usual bemused fashion.
“Care to join us for an Angels’ Day Out?” Serel asked.
Ah, that explained Emric’s annoyed countenance. Never her biggest fan, Emric seemed to have developed a big ole chip on their shoulder whenever Kheone became involved since the Second Fall. She had tried to address their attitude on multiple occasions in the past few weeks, but all she got in return were more disdainful looks.
“Is that the best idea, Serel?” Kheone pointedly met Emric’s stare. The other angel had the grace to blush and refocused their attention out the window.
“Of course it is. You deserve a day off just as much as we do,” he said.
Days off were a rarity for angels, though more necessary now they were stuck on Earth. Only God knew what happened to their souls when their physical bodies died now. Until they found a way home, it was best to keep them functioning at peak performance.
Maj snuck a glance at Emric. She straightened up and said, “You should come, Kheone. From how Serel tells the story, you deserve it more. He said you were a sight to behold yesterday.”
Kheone and Maj had history together. Their first assignment together at an early Viking raid had given rise to the legend of the Valkyrie. Every once in a while, they still hoisted ale in honor of the Viking dead. Something had changed in the last few months, though, and Maj had stopped coming by for impromptu drinks, leaving Kheone more alone than she’d ever been before.
Rigid with fury, Emric turned to Maj. They seemed ready to yell at her but clamped their lips together.
Kheone waved away the compliment. “Just doing my job.”
“There’s doing your job, and there’s killing four demons single-handedly,” Serel said.
“It wasn’t single-handedly. You helped, and Michael saved our butts.”
“Stop being so humble, LT. Maj and Emric don’t believe me. Come with us, if only to convince the whippersnappers.”
Emric snorted. “You’re stuck in the wrong century, Serel. No one uses ‘whippersnapper’ anymore.”
“That is patently false.” His voice was deadpan, but his eyes sparkled at the joke. “I just did. Therefore, someone uses ‘whippersnapper.’”
The other angel rolled their eyes, but the smile stayed. If only Emric would remain that way. Kheone knew as soon as she opened her mouth, Emric the Annoyed would return. She needed to deal with this soon, or else the two of them would continue to circle each other until whatever grudge they held onto exploded into some disruptive spectacle.
“I really need to catch up on my reading,” Kheone said.
“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Kheone. You’re not an archangel,” Emric said, scorn dripping from the final word.
As predicted. Kheone turned the full force of her glare on the subordinate angel, all amusement gone. Michael would have never put up with half the drivel they’d displayed in the past five minutes. Then again, Emric respected him. Somehow, Kheone had lost their respect in the Second Fall.
She stood and stalked over to Emric, her six-foot form towering over the petite angel.
“I understand you’ve only rarely been to Earth, and this is all new to you. I also know you’re a prickly pain in the neck, but I’m sick and tired of this nonsense. What did I do to deserve your contempt in the past twelve months?”
Emric squirmed and looked everywhere around the room except at Kheone. Maj and Serel stiffened, waiting for the fireworks to explode. Emric mumbled something.
“I can’t hear you.” Kheone used her most commanding tone, a voice she reserved for moments when it counted, the one she’d picked up from the Archangel Michael.
“I said, ‘You act like you’re better than the rest of us.’“
Kheone sucked in a breath and let the sting of the words wash through her. She’d tried hard to balance friendship and leadership since she’d landed in the alley behind the Crown Center last year. Apparently, she’d failed. Did everyone think like Emric?
“That’s because she is, you dumbass.” Serel rose from the bed, and his eyes narrowed in exasperation. “How would you have fared against six demons?”
“Run like a child,” Maj said with a chuckle. Emric crossed their arms and shot her another anger-filled look. “Oh, come on, it’s true. Don’t get pissy. You know your limits, Em, and running from that many demons is smart unless you’re an archangel. Or Kheone, I guess.”
“Thanks for the invitation, Serel,” Kheone said, turning from Emric. “But it’s obvious my presence isn’t wanted. Another time. Enjoy your day off.”
She waved in a shooing gesture, and Emric and Maj trudged out. Maj glanced over her shoulder and gave her a shrug as they walked away.
Serel rested a hand on her shoulder, the light touch easing her anger and frustration.
“Seriously, LT, join us,” he said. “Emric is being a jerk, not an uncommon event, and they’ll both lighten up once they realize you aren’t the killjoy they think you are.”
“How do you know I’m not a killjoy?”
He smiled. “I’ve seen you in the speakeasies a hundred years ago, the dance halls during the Second World War, the feast halls of the Anglo-Saxons. Emric hasn’t, and Maj has forgotten.”
“That was before, Serel. I’m in charge of this gathering. I have a reputation and an image to maintain.”
“Fine. Do whatever you have planned but join us for drinks and dinner. You gotta eat, right?”
“I don’t—”
“We’ll be at The Cheesecake Factory about six-thirty. Who doesn’t like cheesecake? Stop by and have a drink or some dessert. What can it hurt?”
Maj’s voice carried down the hall. “Hurry up, Ser. The movie starts in thirty minutes.”
“Gotta run. See you at six-thirty!”
The door banged closed behind him before she could protest, leaving Kheone alone with her thoughts. Serel wasn’t wrong. She’d been merely one of Michael’s many trusted lieutenants before the day he’d rescued her from the slush in the dirty alleyway. Kheone was the only lieutenant who had survived the Second Fall. He had given her command of the Kansas City gathering as soon as she recovered. Apparently, there was some bitterness in the ranks about this. She should talk to Serel, see how deep the animosity went. Maybe she’d get lucky, and it was only Emric.
Kheone had learned most of what she knew about being a leader from Michael. He was never just one of the team and kept himself apart from the others. But she wasn’t an archangel and didn’t merit the angels’ instinctual, automatic obedience to authority. If she wanted to lead this gathering, if she wanted the other gatherings to respect her, Kheone needed to build relationships and earn their trust. Meeting them for a drink or a meal was a small step in the right direction.
Good, that was settled. Now she had to decide what to do with a whole day to herself. Kheone grabbed her shower caddy and headed to the shared bathroom down the hall. A nice, warm shower would ease the lingering ache she felt from the fight yesterday and let her weigh her options.
She did, in fact, have reading to catch up on. After all, the library here was the reason Michael had chosen Hurst University for their refuge. When they weren’t training or hunting down demons, many angels spent what spare time they had searching its extensive collection of mythological and religious texts, some incredibly rare, all of them useful. It was the best chance to find a means to rebuild the Gates and return both angels and demons where they belonged.
She should spend her day off reading, but just this once, her special place tempted her to abandon obligation. With an entire day to herself, not merely an hour or two before bed, she needed to remember why she was a guardian angel and why humans were worth saving.
Her soul needed feeding, and only one way would bring her any peace.
From their first steps into the wide world, humans created art. Drawings on cave walls and etchings on rocks, telling the stories of ordinary days. Incorporating decorative elements into everyday tools evolved into an explosion of things of beauty for beauty’s sake. Whenever Kheone found herself annoyed by human failings, of weak souls tempted by easy paths, greed, and power, she remembered all the beauty they created, often out of the pain those failings caused. Paintings, sculpture, architecture, film, books, photographs. Art fed her soul, and she knew exactly where to find the banquet.
Thrilled with her decision, Kheone rushed through the rest of her morning routine, pulling on her usual uniform of black t-shirt and cargo pants. She charged out of the bathroom, eager to get on with her day, and ran smack into a broad chest. Strong arms steadied her as she rebounded from the rock-hard muscle.
“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Michael said in his rumbling voice.
She blinked at him in surprise. The archangel rarely stayed in town after a mission. Some other gathering always had need of him. He trekked around the world to ensure the other leaders had the resources necessary to ensure the safety of all the angels trapped on Earth. He hunted down the demons who now plagued humanity. With no master to answer to, they caused much chaos and destruction.
“Apologies, Archangel.”
He nodded gravely. Michael did everything gravely.
“Do you have a moment?”
“Of course.”
They headed to her room. Michael strode in, taking up most of the space with his bulk. Built as anyone would expect God’s general to be, the archangel was tall with thick muscles outlined by his long-sleeved black t-shirt and golden hair shorn almost to the scalp. He was the most beautiful being she’d seen in ten thousand years.
His stony gaze roved over her as though he was a medical scanner from a sci-fi TV show, looking for any evidence of her injury from yesterday.
“How are you?”
Irritation crept over her. She’d answered him last night, and the shower had washed away any lingering discomfort.
“Honestly, Archangel, I’m fine. It’s almost as though I was never stabbed in the first place.”
His brows drew down into a scowl. Michael expected everyone else to do everything gravely too. Kheone looked down at her feet as the heat rushed to her cheeks. Despite her best efforts, she’d picked up some bad habits from the humans.
“I apologize. I’m well.”
“No apology necessary.” Cool indifference replaced the scowl. “I came to inform you I would be here today since you will not. Is there anything we have not discussed recently that I need to know?”
Kheone shook her head. Her reports on the gatherings’ progress in training were thorough, and no new information had been discovered on what had destroyed the Gates, nor what could fix them.
“How goes the search through the library?”
“As well as can be expected. Serel is there most days. He’s very efficient in weeding out the duds and finding some promising texts.”
She gestured at the thick book on early Egyptian mystics sitting on her nightstand. The tome she was ditching in order to visit the art museum.
Michael nodded, face set in stone, unreadable. He said nothing, however, and as the silence stretched, Kheone found her fingers and toes twitching as her unease grew. Had she said something wrong?
“Is there anything else?” she asked when she couldn’t take any more.
His gaze found her, and a shiver crawled down her spine. Kheone never understood how his brown eyes could be so cold.
“How were you able to defeat those demons alone? Six would be bothersome for me, but no other angel on Earth could survive such an attack.”
“They were rash, and I got lucky.” At his glare, she clarified. “I’m not being glib. They misjudged my abilities and had no strategy. Serel helped. And let’s not forget who swooped in at the last minute to save my ass.”
Michael blinked at her use of the coarse language, a reminder of how much the past year had changed her. Had changed all of them, except for Michael. He clung to the old ways like lichen to a boulder. Kheone tried, but the people, the language, the art, they infected her, affected her, in ways she was only beginning to realize and still did not understand. The occasional swear word was the tip of the iceberg.
His stare unnerved her, and the shiver down her spine was hard to suppress. What was he thinking? She’d only followed her training, training from this very archangel. Had she done something wrong without meaning to?
Michael tore his eyes away and breathed out a loud sigh. His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand over the stubble on his head.
“I owe you an apology. I allowed my concern for your wellbeing, as well as that of your companions, to get the better of me. I am sorry I took my failure to anticipate your situation out on you.”
Her body almost went boneless, and she avoided crumpling at his feet only because her back hit the wall behind her. The Archangel Michael never apologized or admitted fault. Perhaps his time on Earth had changed him, after all.
“You have exceeded my expectations, Kheone. As your gifts fade, your skills expand more than any of the others. It is a testament to your dedication.”
“And my training.”
Michael gave a nonchalant shrug, but the corners of his mouth twitched up.
“Yes, and your training. Your day off is a well-earned reward.”
“Thank you, Archangel.”
“Call me Michael when we are alone, please. You have earned that, as well.”
She nodded, once again at a loss for words. A year into the Second Fall, and the arch—Michael had changed.
“Thank you, Michael.” Kheone savored his name on her tongue.
Without another word, he turned and left. Reeling from the emotional wringer the archangel put her through, Kheone flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling while she waited for the world to stop spinning.