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Meow.”
The plaintive cry greeted Kheone as she walked into her room, hair damp from her shower. Her cat sat on the outside window ledge, scratching at the clear panes. She hurried over and opened the window.
“Well, hello there. Did you miss me, Machka?” Kheone asked in the affectionate voice she reserved for the cat.
He bumped his head against her hand, and she obliged him with scratches under his chin and behind his ears. Machka jumped down and twined himself between her ankles, purring loudly.
Kheone scooped him up into her arms, leaving the window cracked. The little cat let out a squawk of protest. She stroked the sleek fur, and the cat’s firm muscles relaxed under her touch. Kheone laughed, carrying him to the cabinet in her room. She pulled out a can of plain tuna.
“I thought you might be back.” Kheone opened the can and spooned some onto a paper plate.
Machka squirmed out of her arms and trotted over to the food. She stroked his back as he gulped down his treat. The cat licked his lips and stretched. Instead of making a beeline for the window, he jumped on the bed, turned around a few times, and curled up. His tail covered his nose, and he closed his amber eyes.
Grateful for the quiet company, Kheone sat down at her desk, staring at the only decoration in her room. The poster of her favorite painting from the Nelson-Atkins Museum usually brought her joy, but not today. Too much was going on today. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and reached to the small of her back, massaging the knot of discomfort. Kheone rearranged the calendar and papers on her desk, procrastinating the task at hand. She needed a new patrol schedule before noon.
Kheone crumpled up her first attempt. She forgot to take sleep into account. Though the angels could work on less sleep, if needed, they performed better with a good night’s rest. Once she completed the second draft, she put it to the side and stood up.
Machka opened his eyes and mewed at her, a question in his pitiful voice.
“It’s been a long week,” she said.
He blinked, stretched, and jumped off the bed. Rubbing his cheek on her legs for a moment, once he received his due attention, he leaped onto her desk. The cat batted her pens off the edge and messed up all her papers. She laughed in spite of herself.
“I agree. Work is pointless when there’s a cat to play with.”
Kheone picked up a pen and swished it back and forth on the edge of the desk. Machka flicked a paw at the pen, tail twitching. Then he stopped. The cat’s nose twitched at something undetectable to Kheone. He arched his back, and his fur stood on end, suddenly seeming much larger. Machka hissed and dashed straight to the window, clearing the sill with marvelous grace.
She smelled the ozone, then. A split second later, a red line grew in the middle of her room, expanding until it framed a broad figure holding a sword. Michael stepped into the room, leaving the rift open behind him, a grim look darkening his face.
“What’s wrong?” Kheone crossed the room and grabbed her sword.
“Has anything occurred since we last talked?” He surveyed the room, tension in the crease of his brow. Michael held the rest of his body in relaxed readiness, a perfect warrior’s stance.
One did not lie to an archangel lightly, but she had no way of explaining to him how she knew what she did. Aeshma was in town, and her only source was a demon she wanted to kiss. That would go over well, just before Michael sent her to the afterlife. If such a thing even existed anymore.
“No, it’s been quiet,” she lied. “Why?”
“Gather everyone you can, Lieutenant. Tailash is missing.”
Yes, she remembered Tailash. He had spent several weeks here training before assuming command in Nairobi. A good fighter with an easy-going leadership style. The angels liked him, but she’d had doubts about how effective he would be. He was more successful than she feared, fortunately.
“How heavily do you want us armed?”
“Carry as much as you can. Are you able to open a rift that far?”
Kheone nodded, belying her doubt. She hoped she could. If not, she would make a pit stop in Morocco to keep her gathering safe. What Michael didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Only results mattered.
“Good. Bring them to Nairobi as soon as possible. I will meet you there.”
Steel entered her voice, hard, detached.
“I’m not staying here while you go back. This could be a trap. You need me.”
“Are you questioning my orders, Lieutenant?” Michael’s voice iced over.
The thought of allowing him to go into danger without her rankled. The thought maybe he didn’t trust her to have his back stung even more. But millennia of discipline kicked in.
“No, Archangel. I thought—”
Michael’s voice rang out even more serious than usual and filled the small room.
“I am the right hand of God, and all my powers are still intact. I can kill dozens of demons and barely break a sweat. I am not worried about me. I am worried about you.”
“I’m perfectly able to take care of myself.” Her voice, too, rang with authority.
“I know. I trained you. But if whoever killed Serel did so to send me a message or provoke me, you are the next likely target. You are...” He cleared his throat before continuing, his voice softer, more intimate. “You are too important to your gathering, too important to me. Come when you have all the backup possible, and not before. I cannot concentrate on the enemy if I have doubts over your safety.”
The words stunned her. Perhaps they shouldn’t have. Michael had made his feelings clear the other night when he kissed her.
“Of course, Archangel.” It was the only appropriate answer to a direct order, though it still rankled.
“Good. I will see you soon. Call the Nairobi gathering should anything unexpected occur.”
“Understood. Anything else?”
With a quick, fierce grin, Michael closed the distance between them, hunger in his eyes. The red light of the rift lent an air of danger to the simple movement.
“Do not think I have forgotten our conversation, Kheone. Once this business is concluded, we will resume where we left off.”
He placed a lightning kiss on her forehead and ran into the rift. It vanished with a snap.
Kheone stared at the spot for a moment, gathering her thoughts, making sure the past few minutes had not been a delirium dream she would wake up from any moment. She set aside her personal feelings. This was no time to wonder how that conversation with Michael would go.
She bolted out of her room, all thought of the cat chased away by her new mission. Running down the hall, Kheone banged on all the doors she passed.
“Grab your gear. We leave in twenty. Let’s move, angels!”
A flurry of activity followed in her wake. Doors opened, and weapons clanked. She raced up the stairs and repeated her actions for the second floor. Once assured everyone was moving their butts, Kheone went back downstairs.
“What’s going on, LT?” Emric asked, standing next to the common room.
“Michael needs us in Nairobi.”
She squeezed past. A few angels had already gathered, strapping on swords and twirling daggers.
“What about Maj? She’s still on patrol.”
Crap.
“Call her,” Kheone said. “Tell her what’s going on. She’s to return here and hold down the fort until our return. Grab your sword and join us as soon as you can.”
Emric sprinted to the kitchen, their voice a murmur in the background. Kheone waited in the common room for the angels to gather. She stood on a chair, and the room quieted.
“Tailash is missing,” she said. A few mumbles greeted her announcement, followed by a few elbows jabbed at the perpetrators. “We’re heading to Nairobi. Michael will brief us further once we’re there. Be prepared for anything. Questions?”
Nothing but silence. Not like she could have answered their questions, anyway.
Kheone took a few deep breaths, preparing to open the rift. Although she had no further incidents since the other day, she did not want to take any chances. Open too many rifts in quick succession, and she could find herself senseless. Open one too far away, and she could be lost in the between place, a void without time or sensation. She shuddered.
Fixing Nairobi in her mind, the red line and sharp ozone of a rift ripped into existence, bathing those present in a hellish light. It had worked, but her hold was tenuous.
“Go, go, go,” she ordered.
One by one, the angels drew their weapons and ran through the rift. A pulsing ache began at her temples. Kheone couldn’t hold the rift for much longer. Emric ran down the hall, their sword sound over their shoulder, and, without slowing down, leaped through the rift. Kheone pulled her own sword from its sheath and followed.