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If you came with excuses, Emric, I don’t want to hear them,” Kheone said to the sandy-haired head poking into her room shortly before lunch the next day.
She shoved the worn book under her pillow, hoping the angel thought she was only hiding porn. Kheone had barely cracked it before she had heard someone in the hall.
Emric shook their head, cheeks painted red. Good, a little shame was fitting. Showing up late for the morning workout was unacceptable. The looks on Emric and Maj’s faces when she yelled at them after dismissing the others were two parts guilt to one part smug. She sent them off with a warning. Any further transgressions would result in Kheone notifying Michael. That had shut them right up and replaced smug with fear.
Kheone did not wish to lead with fear, but the sooner they both realized she had their best interests at heart, the better. Michael would not tolerate such behavior.
“Phone call for you, LT.”
She ceased breathing for an instant, the inflection in Emric’s voice a near copy of Serel’s. Kheone blinked away the tears and shoved the grief down, far down. It hurt, a pain as deep as the one she had glimpsed on Shax’s face last night. Understanding dawned. Demons must feel this grief and anguish all the time.
Poor Shax. And she meant it.
“Thanks. Be right there.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears.
Emric looked concerned but kept their thoughts to themself. They stood aside as she walked to the kitchen and picked up the receiver from the table.
“This is Kheone.”
“Lieutenant,” Michael said, voice all business. “Anything to report?”
She’d met with a demon. Said demon had found a book that might hold the secret to opening the Gates. Oh, and she had every reason to suspect one or more of her gathering had something to do with Serel’s death.
“No, Archangel.”
Suspicions weren’t worth reporting without evidence. The misrepresentation came easily, perhaps too easily, but it was better than what would happen if she spoke the unvarnished truth. If he didn’t kill her outright at the accusation, Michael would demand proof. They had none, yet. Until she and Shax found something useful, Kheone would keep their arrangement to herself. No need to mention the way her heart raced and skin burned whenever Shax appeared. Perhaps that, too, had something to do with her recent headaches. Fatigue, maybe, with a touch of anxiety.
He grunted in acknowledgment. “I have found a healer. My next stop is Nairobi. The language expert I know resides there.”
“Understood.” A wave of relief washed through her. She hated to think of replacing Serel, but the simple fact was they needed a healer. The angels’ ability to heal themselves was swiftly fading.
The dial tone greeted her ears before she could say goodbye. Michael rarely observed human niceties, but his abruptness seemed cold-blooded considering their recent interactions and his obvious concern for her.
How did Michael do it? It was difficult enough keeping her gathering in line. Keeping all the balls in the air for every gathering must be a gargantuan task. He made it look effortless. Of course, Michael was an archangel. Obedience was his due, a fact not even worth debating among the angels. Kheone had no such claim. She had to earn the loyalty of the gathering, had to earn their respect, and prove her leadership day after day after day.
Today had been challenging so far, and it was only half over. Besides Emric and Maj, she had dealt with the petty concerns of the gathering. Complaints about the patrol schedule, complaints about the food, questions over who got to move into Serel’s room.
The last had sent her to her room. Kheone had a good cry while sharpening her curved, kopis sword. A poor substitute for the Guardian Angel’s blade she had once wielded, but the repetitive action and rhythmic scrape of metal on stone soothed her.
She made a sandwich in the kitchen and took it to her room for lunch, eager to get back to examining the book. She wanted to have something, anything, to report to Shax when they met tonight. All these questions kept her from sleep. It had nothing to do with the lingering heat of his touch. Nor the new insight she had into his psyche.
Kheone pulled out the book, hoping the text would be clearer in the full light of day than it had in the dimly lit library last night. She was disappointed. The blasted book should make sense, but it was a mess. She had learned Latin over two thousand years ago and spoke it regularly for centuries. This wasn’t even bad Latin, just Latin words thrown together without rhyme or reason. Something else was going on with the book, something she needed Serel to make sense of.
Or someone like Serel. Kheone tucked the book under her arm and returned to the kitchen. Picking up the receiver, she dialed Father Fauci’s number. It rang, then went to voicemail. She left a vague message, hoping the priest would be there this evening before she met with Shax. Perhaps she would finally have some answers instead of all the questions that kept turning up.
Maj ran into her in the hall, tears dripping down her cheeks and chest heaving with sobs she wouldn’t let escape.
“Oh,” Maj said, freeing the sobs.
Kheone didn’t have time for this, but Maj was her friend. She made the time, anyway.
“Come on,” she said, guiding the other angel into her room.
Maj headed straight to the bed and plopped down. With a small sigh, Kheone sat next to her friend and pulled her into her embrace. Maj leaned her head on Kheone’s shoulder and cried.
She took Maj’s hand, reminded of Shax by this simple gesture. The warmth of his touch had lingered long after their parting, and the thought of him caused a warm spark of something to flicker to life deep inside. Kheone had never entered into a blood oath before. Perhaps this was a residual effect of the magic, a little of his blood remaining in her, flaring to life whenever she thought of him. Perhaps. It was better than the alternative. The only time she had felt anything like this before was under Michael’s healing touch.
Maj’s sobs quieted, and the angel wiped away her tears. She took a bracing breath.
“I feel like I’m always crying these days. Em thinks we need a break,” she said.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Kheone asked.
Maj shrugged, and a tear drew a wet trail down her cheek. “I guess it’s not a bad idea.”
“Emric’s a fool.”
Her friend smiled, a pathetic thing, but a smile, nonetheless. Michael would not be happy with their relationship, but Kheone vowed she would make him understand it was easier to accept than to find replacements for them both.
“Be on time from now on.” She smiled back at her friend.
“Thanks, Kheone.”
“What’s the saying? That’s what friends are for.”
Maj nodded and glanced in the mirror, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. Squaring her shoulders, she strode into the hall. Soft voices filtered in. Slowly but surely, their gathering was returning to normal. Pretty soon, Serel would only be a faint wisp of a memory.
Kheone took a deep breath. She would hold on to him as long as she could.
Six chimes sounded from the bell tower. Already? She pulled out the book and created a rift to the basement of the history building. Bracing herself for the pain, she let go of the magic, holding it open. Nothing, thank God. Fatigue must have caused her headaches yesterday.
Leaping up the stairs, she found Father Fauci’s office again. He leaned against his desk and checked his watch, waiting for her.
“Good evening, Kheone,” he said, looking up.
“Good evening, Father.”
“You found something?”
Kheone hesitated. Serel had left no instructions, nor had he told the priest about the book. Who was she to share it with him? But the words were all jumbled, and she needed help. Serel had trusted the priest, and something told her she could, too. She gave the book to the priest.
He put on his glasses and flipped through the book, his brow wrinkled in concentration and a small smile on his lips. Satisfied with what he saw, Father Fauci returned it.
“He was crafty, wasn’t he?”
Kheone glanced down at the book and back at the priest. “How so?”
“Serel told me he’d taken measures to prevent the information from falling into the wrong hands. It seems he found a method to scramble the words. The runes inscribed inside the cover, maybe?”
“Maybe, but one of the runes means demon, probably to keep them from being able to touch the book.” She did not want to tell Father Fauci this was more than a guess.
The priest chuckled. “Ah. Two layers of protection are better than one. You have quite the puzzle.”
“There’s nothing else you can tell me?”
“I’m afraid not. For whatever reason, Serel kept this from all of us. He seemed to trust you, though. Find his notes, and you should have some answers.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“I didn’t do much, but you are most welcome, Kheone.”
Disappointment flooded through her as she walked to the dorm, the cold evening sending shivers through her body. She had hoped the priest would have some answers for her. Instead, he left her with more questions. She hadn’t had this many questions since she woke up naked in a snowdrift last year.
The bells of the clock tower struck half-past seven, their music ringing across the campus. Blast it all. Kheone rubbed at her temple. She had no time before her meeting with Shax, but she couldn’t risk taking the book with her. The demon would have to wait. Unless he had found something more interesting than she, their meeting was going to be short and not-so-sweet, anyway. From all those murder mystery shows, she thought crime solving would be easier.
So intent on the questions tumbling over and over in her mind, Kheone didn’t see the great, spinning hurricane that was the Archangel Michael until too late.
He stormed up from the direction of the dorm, bent on sweeping her out to sea.
“You should not be out alone. Where have you been?” he thundered.
Michael stopped mere inches from her, his chin level with her forehead. She stared straight ahead, her training as a Soldier of God kicking in.
“I wasn’t expecting you back, Archangel. If I had known—”
“Answer the question, Lieutenant.”
“I found something Serel left behind and went to consult an expert.”
He withdrew a step, staring down his nose at her. “I thought you said you had nothing to report.”
“That was this morning.” The ease with which she lied scared her a little.
“What did you find?”
Kheone held out the book. Michael snatched it with his gloved hands and thumbed through the pages.
“This makes no sense. Who did you show it to?” His voice was glacial, menace threading through it like a crack in the ice.
Without even planning to, she lied again. “No one, he wasn’t there.”
This lie felt right, felt protective.
He peered at her as though sensing the lie. Kheone readied herself to accept the consequences of her actions. His shoulders dropped, and when he spoke, the ice melted from his voice.
“You cannot show this to a human, Kheone. Not if it contains the secret of rebuilding the Gates.”
“I understand.”
“I do not think you do.” Michael tucked the book under an arm. “The demons do not want the Gates rebuilt. If they suspect you have found a way, they will kill you like they killed Serel. I will not place the humans who have offered us shelter in danger. And I cannot lose you, Kheone.”
“Me?” Her eyes widened in surprise. There was nothing special about her. She doubted anyone here would miss her much. Maybe Maj.
“I have never had a more loyal, more courageous warrior under my command. You have always impressed me, Kheone. Always. Why do you think I took you off guard duty so quickly?”
Only to an archangel would a thousand years be quick. She suppressed the smile which threatened to break her stoic soldier veneer.
“I assigned you to the hardest hearts. You were the only one with a chance to break through, to steer them toward righteousness.”
Kheone shook her head. “I lost so many of them, Michael.”
“No, you saved so many of them. Multitudes would now be consigned to perdition if you had not saved them. No angel has ever been more capable than you, more compassionate. You have earned your place at my side. I do not know what I would do without you, Kheone. I cannot risk losing you.”
He raised a hand to cup her cheek. She held her breath, waiting for a rush of heat, for the desire to rise within her. Nothing happened. They stood there, painted by the golden light of the streetlamps, neither daring to do what seemed inevitable.
Kheone broke the spell and raised her hand to his chest, nestling it on his sternum. Softly she asked, “Why? Why can’t you lose me?”
Michael removed his hand from her cheek and plucked hers off his chest. He heaved a great sigh and let go. Frigid air blew away the lingering feel of his cool caress, so unlike the warmth that dwelled long after Shax’s simple touch. Kheone waited for whatever fate the archangel decided to dole out. He raked his hands through his shorn hair and fixed his gaze on her. His brown eyes were full of pain and shame.
“I cannot lose you because you mean more to me than is fitting. I have desired you, Kheone, since long before the Second Fall. It was easy enough to deny when we were in our celestial forms, but with each passing day, these feelings become harder to refuse. You are the best I have ever trained. You are my pride, Kheone, but you are also my shame. A part of me, the part I am most ashamed of, is glad you were caught outside Heaven’s Gate, so I was not alone.”
“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Michael,” she said forcefully, taking a step toward him. “Desire is not shameful. Neither is caring. And not wanting to be alone, that is human. We are corporeal now, and every day we become more and more human. God would not give us these feelings if they weren’t part of the plan, even though we can’t see the plan.”
Enough of this. Kheone closed the distance between them and took his hand in hers. Michael pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her. Her other hand slipped over his lower back, his muscles firm under his jacket. He groaned at the contact. Heat rose to her cheeks, and her breathing quickened. He lowered his golden-crowned head and pressed his lips gently, ever so gently, against hers.
Her heart raced. She wanted this, had wanted it since she first understood the demands and desires of her corporeal body. His lips were soft against hers. Michael groaned again, pulling her body hard against his, and the kiss changed. No longer gentle, this was the kiss of a man in pain, a man in the throes of desire. She opened her mouth under the onslaught, and his tongue invaded. She wanted to like his kiss, wanted to feel the fire blaze within her. Instead, something inside shriveled with the cold touch of his lips.
The memory of Shax’s touch, hot and electric, rushed through her. That was what she truly wanted, the thrill of unholy need, the burn of a desire so deep she had no words for it. God help her. She wanted to feel Shax’s lips on hers, not Michael’s.
Kheone tore away from the archangel. He gazed down at her, his pupils dilated, eyes hot with need, and his lips wet from their kiss. She had always thought the biggest what if would be, What if he didn’t feel the same? Kheone had never considered, What if I didn’t?
“I did not mean for this to happen, Kheone. You must believe me.” His voice cracked, and the fire in his gaze diminished.
“I do. I wanted it too.” How did one let an archangel down easy? “But this is wrong. We shouldn’t—”
He scowled at her, but before he could argue, a piercing ring came from Michael’s pocket. He pulled out the phone and transferred the scowl to the piece of technology.
“Yes?” Michael listened for a moment. “I will be there shortly. My business here is concluded.”
He tucked the phone into his pocket and studied her for a moment.
“I cannot stay, but this is far from over, Kheone. You told me not five minutes ago desire was not wrong, and yet now you say it is? We must finish this conversation at a later date.”
Before she could protest, the Archangel Michael opened a rift and stepped through. With her book.
“Curse him,” she muttered to herself.
The bells struck eight. She was late again.
What was she supposed to do, now she knew her own pounding heart’s desire? Kiss a demon? The thought should have turned out the contents of her stomach or ruptured a blood vessel in her brain. Kheone should have felt something other than the excitement coursing through her or the flush on her cheeks at the anticipation of seeing Shax once more.
Kheone opened her own rift and went to meet her demon.