Angel in Crisis Read online

  “You have experience at cleaning up after a fire?” I asked, dubiously.

  Gabriel half turned on the couch to face me. “No, but I know woodwork and carpentry, and my guess is you’re going to have your hands full with the fallout that was Asmodeus.”

  I couldn’t help but examine the clothing that Gabriel was wearing. Warrior, yes. Carpenter, not so much. “Woodwork?” I repeated.

  “I may have spent some time with a carpenter or two,” Gabriel grinned. When the doubt remained, his grin faded and he looked to Cupid. “Really?”

  “I thought we were doing better,” Cupid sighed in disappointment.

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” I snapped at Cupid. “I am well aware of who Joseph was, Cupid. What I’m struggling to believe is that even if he devoted his life to training you,” I gestured at Gabriel, “That you now know enough to be able to restore a four hundred year old building.”

  “Woah!” Gabriel protested, holding his hands up. “I said help. Clean up, help out with a lick of paint… maybe even replace a floorboard or two; certainly not restore a convent. You’re going to need professionals for that. Professionals that I’m happy to help oversee while you two are busy trying to fix everything else.”

  “Shall we see what the damage is?” Cupid suggested.

  As far as the fire department was concerned, this was the first time any of us had stepped foot in the convent since the fire had been put out four days ago. The reality was that we had returned to the convent shortly afterwards, but only to check something in the armory. I’d hoped to quell a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, but had instead confirmed something I had been avoiding for weeks. Along with a large portion of our weapons, Lucifer’s sword had been stolen. When I had seen the gap on the wall, along with Michael’s sword, now nearly back to its original white, I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Lucifer was alive.

  I was also certain that Lucifer was possessing the body of Luke Goddard. Luke Goddard was the teen pop sensation who was currently somewhere in the Mid-West, making his way to the West Coast on his world tour… I had been keeping an eye on him through his various social media accounts.

  The office, which backed onto the library, was mercifully at the other end of the building to the armory. It had been spared of any fire damage. The heavy oak doors had been closed at the time, so the worst problem in both the library and the office was the lingering smell of smoke. As soon as we stepped out into the hallway, our nostrils were assaulted by the charred remains of the far side of the building. A thin layer of grey ash seemed to cover every available surface. As we walked down the corridor, our footprints leaving a trail, the ash was kicked up into the air so I could see the small particles dance in the sunlight.

  It tickled at my nose and I fought to keep back the sneezes. “Jordan will be happy,” I muttered to no one but myself, as I swiped a finger across the bottom of a picture frame. The effort turned my fingertip black. “He loves dusting.”

  We passed the main entrance and the welcome desk Cupid had once favored. The ash was getting worse, little piles building up in the corners, but so far the damage was limited. Even the beautiful cypress wood staircase seemed to have escaped any structural damage. There was evidence of many more footprints here, but looking at the heavy-set prints, it was likely they belonged to the fire department.

  “It’s going to take more than a duster to clear up this mess,” Gabriel said, blowing out a breath as he surveyed the area.

  The closer to the armory we got, the more I realized that it wasn’t going to be just a case of using a bit of elbow grease to clean up. Here things were charred. Thick black soot lined everything so that it looked like we were walking down an endless tunnel of darkness. The doors to the armory had been devoured in the fire. I glanced up and the last remaining shred of optimism disappeared when I saw through a hole in the ceiling of the floor above and the clear blue skies above that. It was only the fact that the walls were made of old stone that they were still standing, but all the woodwork that had been attached to it was gone. “Oh, hell,” I muttered. I was willing to bet the fire department had given us conditions to our return to the building, including not venturing this far down; certainly not without wearing a hard-hat. Only the fact that both Cupid and Gabriel had the ability to zip us out of there in an emergency vanquished the fear that the building could collapse on us at any moment. “It’s going to take more than a lick of paint to sort this,” I sighed.

  “The armory took the worst of the damage,” Cupid confirmed. “I spoke to the Fire Chief, who, by the way, didn’t even question the fact we had an armory in a convent. That man has clearly seen things... He advised us to keep this whole wing out of bounds until a structural engineer has seen it. That said, he figured that the engineer would say the same thing: we’re going to have to lose at least half of the bedrooms while the repair work is undertaken.”

  No Michael, no cherubim, half a House… we had a huge mess to fix, and that was before we looked outside the convent walls. We were in crisis-mode.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Memory Recall

  We spent an hour in the convent. Including mine, Cupid’s, Michael’s and two for guests, there were twenty bedrooms in the building. Most angels can go a long time without sleeping, so all the angels and cherubim had shared rooms. The middle of the attic had been converted into a bedroom with an en-suite, and a large office area. This had been Michael’s domain. What I hadn’t realized was that the section above the armory, closest to St. Mary’s (the church on the convent grounds) had been converted into two large dormitories which had housed the seventeen cherubim.

  Cupid, the angels and me had taken twelve of the rooms on the top floor. I was an anomaly – the only angel to have a room all to herself, being as I was the only female in that rank. Cupid, already an archangel, also had his own room. The two remaining bedrooms were the guest bedrooms.

  The fire had left us with one dormitory destroyed, the other uninhabitable. Five of the bedrooms were also missing key elements – like a floor. With the angels already in twos or threes, it was going to get very cramped. We needed to get a builder in here to confirm, but we were looking at weeks of living on top of each other.

  I felt my phone vibrate from the bottom of one of the many pockets on my jeans and glanced over at Cupid and Gabriel. They were both deep in a conversation about finding the best builder to do the job, so I slipped outside and pulled the phone from my pocket. I had been expecting it to be Joshua, so I was surprised when Ty’s name flashed up on the screen.

  Can we meet?

  I pursed my lips, leaning back against the convent’s wall as I stared at the message. I was still trying to work out what I thought about Ty. His father was none other than Beelzebub, and it was thanks to him that I had been at the Port of New Orleans with Michael. Although I was convinced that Michael’s death hadn’t been Ty’s fault, there was still a nagging voice in the back of my mind which repeatedly pointed out that we wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for Ty. Then again, we wouldn’t have been able to defeat Asmodeus if it wasn’t for Ty, either.

  I’ll call into Qube when I can, I responded. I didn’t know how long I was going to be here, but I couldn’t just leave. I walked back inside. “Have we come to a conclusion yet?”

  Cupid sighed. “We’re coming back with the angels who aren’t out delivering messages. We’ll get the rooms that are habitable aired out and start on the cleanup process in the east wing.”

  “We’re going to need to start looking at builders to restore and rebuild the rest of your House,” Gabriel added.

  “I asked someone to come to help with our security issues. He used to work construction here, so he’ll be the best person to ask. He’ll know who we can trust.” Cupid knew about this, but Gabriel hadn’t been around when the decision had been made. He looked surprised, but didn’t comment. “I’ll check the supplies in the kitchen then go stock up on what we need. No doubt it will need cleaning befo
re we can use it.”

  I headed to the kitchen, pushing the doors open. The motion caused soot to billow everywhere, and sent me into a sneezing fit. This was going to be fun. When my eyes had finally stopped streaming, I surveyed the kitchen. The doors had been closed, but there was still a fine layer of soot covering every surface. Never mind checking supplies – this kitchen needed blitzing first. I swapped my jacket for an apron and started running some warm, soapy water, thankful that the boiler was at this end of the building.

  It was a slow process. My supernatural speed and strength had yet to make a reappearance since my battle at the Port. I wasn’t worried: the fight had taken a lot out of me, and the energy that I did have was focused on mending my injuries. It was merely that the dull throb of pain that was constant in the background – a physical feeling to accompany the guilt of killing a human, the girl Lilah had been possessing – it wasn’t so dull anymore. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t think I should feel that ache. Hell, I deserved much more for what I did, but it was slowing me down.

  At some point, Nyle and Eugene joined me. Between the three of us, it took us seven hours to get the kitchen and dining room to a state that would pass a health inspection. I’ll admit, they bore the brunt of the workload too. We pulled out every surface and appliance that we could, seeking out the hidden dirt but finally, it was clean. We hadn’t, however, had the chance to even think about cooking. For the first time ever (at least according to Nyle), we ordered in pizza. A lot of pizza.

  It was a very odd sight. Half the angels were in scruffy clothes and filthy, and the other half were dressed in smart suits, all crowded around pizza boxes. The conversation was rich and loud. It made a pleasant comparison to the overall mood of late. I grabbed a few slices of pizza, but ate them in the quiet confines of the kitchen. I was simply too exhausted. My plan was to eat and then go to bed.

  “We need to stay at St. Louis’ another night,” Cupid announced from the doorway. “I think we should be able to move back in here tomorrow.”

  Father Roberts, over at the St. Louis Cathedral, had accepted us into his church when the convent had burned. It was an enormous building, with some rooms suitable for sleeping. Even so, a lot of the rooms had been converted into temporary bedrooms to accommodate us.

  “But we’re going to have to double up,” Cupid continued.

  I blinked a few times and set the pizza down. “That’s fine, but I won’t be impressed if you snore.”

  Cupid’s frown turned into astonishment. “I don’t mean we need to double up!” he declared, turning his nose up at the suggestion.

  “You know how to do wonders with a girl’s self-esteem,” I grumbled, maneuvering myself to sit on the counter. “I take it you mean the angels, then?”

  Cupid nodded. “We went around the rooms. Gabriel thinks that the roof is damaged over two more. We’re going to have to get some cots put up. Father Roberts has graciously said that half of the angels can continue to stay there, but I turned him down. I don’t want the Fallen to add a target to his back, and I think it would be safer to keep us together in one location.”

  “There’s always Michael’s room.” We had danced around the subject of what to do with his room for a while now. Neither of us wanted it, but that was a lot of space that wasn’t being used for anything anymore, other than a shrine. “We could fit six beds in his office alone.”

  “If neither of us want to go in there, we can’t expect the others to go in there either,” Cupid frowned.

  No, I guess not. “Then the only other option is the gym. We could put up some curtains to give them some privacy, but the hall looks big enough to put them all in there, if we fill it with bunk beds.” It wasn’t an ideal solution. Even though they didn’t need to sleep, they were still entitled to some privacy.

  Cupid nodded, tapping his jaw. “That’s not a bad idea. We don’t use it for much else.” He stood back, leaning against the now sparkling stove and watched me eat the rest of my pizza. “You look tired,” he said, bluntly.

  “Your chat up lines really need some work,” I informed him. I shuffled down off the counter to place my dirty plate in the dishwasher. “Let me show you exhibit A,” I gestured to the kitchen. “The fact that this is clean would be a good reason as to why I look like crap.”

  “I didn’t say you look like crap,” Cupid objected, then he shrugged. “But yeah, you do.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “You’re clearly eating,” he mused. “You inhaled that pizza.”

  “And the compliments keep on coming,” I rolled my eyes. “I like my food, sue me.”

  “Are you sleeping?” he continued. When my eyes narrowed, his expression softened and he closed the distance to put his hands on my shoulder. “I’m serious, Angel. Are you sleeping?”

  “I haven’t slept well for a couple of weeks,” I admitted. I didn’t need to tell him the specifics for him to know why my sleeping had been affected… Michael. "But I am getting some sleep."

  “He had the conversation with you, didn’t he?” Cupid asked, his tone soft. He removed his hands to rub at his face. “About how you now need to sleep and eat?”

  I nodded. Angels got their strength from the faithful – their belief and prayers. Sure, it still gave me strength, but as Michael had pointed out, why should the energy of the faithful be used to help me deal with my guilt? That was my responsibility and my burden.

  “You need to go to bed and get some rest,” he declared, marching over to place his hands on my shoulders. “We have a huge mess to clean up and I can’t do it without you. You need to be at full strength.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “I think I might head upstairs now.”

  Cupid pulled a face. “We’ve had the windows open all day and I still wouldn’t recommend sleeping here tonight. The place stinks.”

  “It will be quiet though.” Well, it would be quieter than the cathedral. “And my bed is much more comfortable than the cot.” Not that I wasn’t grateful for everything that Father Roberts had done, but the cot was old, squeaked, and the mattress was so thin, I could feel metal springs below. Smoked or not, I wanted my own bed.

  “We can look at getting some air freshener in the bedrooms and on the beds tomorrow,” Cupid offered, reeking optimism.

  I adored Cupid, but in many ways he was like a child who had spent his life being looked after by his mother and suddenly he was let loose in the world by himself. In some respects, this wasn’t far from the truth. The cherubim had taken care of the day to day chores (I caught Cupid trying to cook once – I was surprised that hadn’t resulted in burning the House down), and Michael had taken care of the financial side of things. Okay, so I had no room to speak on financials – I could barely balance my own checkbook – but I at least knew how to turn a vacuum cleaner on.

  I stretched, trying to work out a kink in my shoulder. “Tomorrow we need to see where the insurance documents are. Air freshener is not going to cut it, Cupid,” I yawned, unable to stop myself.

  “Insurance?” Cupid repeated, looking at me like I was speaking in a foreign language. That was worrying considering angels understood all languages.

  That was enough for today. I patted Cupid on the shoulder and yawned once more. I needed my bed before I could think about this anymore. I was also certain Cupid would quiz me on the ins and outs of insurance, when the truth was, the most I did know was that we were going to have to claim on it. Sarah was due back from Monroe in a few days – she would be a better person to ask.

  The hallway looked a little cleaner… until I looked closer. A more accurate description was that someone had done a good job moving the dust around. I yawned again, too tired to care, and trudged up the stairs. My bedroom was the last in the hallway, and the furthest away from the fire. The door, which had been closed, had done a good job of keeping all the soot out but nothing was keeping the strong smell of smoke from there. Air freshener wouldn’t begin to mask the smell. The only way it was going away was
by replacing the mattress and washing out the curtains and bedsheets.

  I pulled open my drawers to find an old shirt to sleep in, unsurprised to discover that the smell had permeated into my clothes. The walls would need a coat of paint, I decided as I brushed my teeth. The bathroom wasn’t too bad – there wasn’t much for the smoke to sink into other than the towels, but there was still a lingering scent of smoke in the air. Finally, I collapsed onto my bed, wondering how Michael would have dealt with everything. Silly question – if Michael had been here, none of this would have gotten as bad as it had. I yawned, slowly letting out the breath. The bedding reeked, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I just wanted sleep.

  * * *

  Just like that, I wasn’t in New Orleans anymore. Well, my body was in New Orleans. My sleeping subconscious was in… Despite it being winter, the weather in New Orleans was stuck on summer heatwave, thanks to Beelzebub. The ledge I was standing on offered a view of an incredible landscape: a slope of birch trees and some form of dark spruce covered in a thick layer of snow and ice. It dropped at a steep angle to a sandy beach which had white-tipped waves crashing angrily against it. In the dim light, the water, an inky black, looked as cold as my surroundings and even if I couldn’t feel it, it sent an involuntary shudder through me.

  Aside from the sudden change in location, I knew I was dreaming from the fact I no longer felt any pain. I glanced down at myself. I was wearing my new and improved uniform: the jeans and boots somewhat more appropriate for my current surroundings than they were in New Orleans. The wind whipped around me, and I raised my face into it, closing my eyes. I had no idea where I was, but it was refreshing not to have to breathe through the gills you needed to survive the humidity of Louisiana.

  “What are you doing here?”

  At the sound of Michael’s voice, I whirled around. For one brief moment, I thought I was Dream Walking. Dream Walking is another weird ability. I haven’t done it in ages – I haven’t had the need. By thinking of a certain person before I fall asleep, I can join a person’s dream, which I was doing mainly to spend time with Joshua. Angels aren’t supposed to have the gift though. It’s exclusively reserved for archangels, but as I’m still trying to earn that status, I’m taking it as a good sign.