A Gift of Wings (42 page)

“I requested that Uriel bring Raphael with him,” Zeke said.

Kev looked up at the two huge, glowing beings before them. As he watched, they shrank until they were each only a foot or so taller than Zeke when he was standing, their glow diminishing as they did so. Uriel he recognized. Even in this smaller form, the Archangel was intimidating, with his emotionless, flame-filled eyes. That unearthly breeze seemed to accompany him wherever he went; his hair and the iridescent feathers on his wings moved in it even now.

The Archangel Raphael Kev had never seen before. Though still awe-inspiring, he looked altogether much more approachable than Uriel. Like the other Archangel, Raphael’s eyes were absent of pupils and completely inhuman, but where Uriel’s sockets were filled with flames, Raphael’s somehow conveyed the impression of water, holding all the blues and grays and greens of every ocean or lake or sea imaginable. His hair, its strands ranging in color from the palest white to the deepest green, curled around his shoulders in a manner reminiscent of vines. His wings, like Uriel’s, were iridescent and sparked with colors seen nowhere on earth, but even those colors were more subdued than those found in his cohort’s wings, not dimmed in any way, but somehow soothing rather than terrifying.

Ha-Satan.
As Uriel spoke, he directed his fiery gaze at Kev, who felt as if the Archangel were looking through him rather than at him.
You were a witness to the attack?

That’s one way of putting it,
Kev thought. “Yes, Archangel. I was in combat with the two Powers who threatened us, while my brother sought to direct the Sensitive, Lucky Monroe, and her friend to safety. As I was dispatching one of the Powers, the other engaged my brother, distracting his attention from the girls, while a third Power materialized and ran Lucky through with his sword.”

Aidan, son of Lucifer, does your brother speak the truth?

“Yes, Archangel.” Aidan moved a few steps closer to Kev. “My brother had taken on the two Powers, so that I could get Lucky and Mo safely away. We were running toward the safe house when one of the Powers attacked me. While I fought him, another appeared out of nowhere, stabbed Lucky, and then dematerialized. Kev—my brother—brought the girls into the safe house while I—finished off the Power.”

Since the girl’s wounds were inflicted by angelic means, in a direct attempt to thwart the decree of today’s Striking, I have some leeway to intervene.

Although Kev sensed more than heard the words of both Archangels, Raphael’s voice was as distinct from Uriel’s as was a tumbling waterfall from a raging inferno. Both were powerful, but while the intensity of the one burned its way into his mind, the other flowed like liquid between and through his senses.

“I confess I was hoping that would be the case,” Zeke said. He spoke softly, but the powerful resonance of his voice filled the sanctuary like distant echoes. “Which was why I requested that Uriel ask you to accompany him. Is there anything you can do to help the girl, Raphael?”

I have healed her wounds and stopped the progression of the sword’s poison through her body. I cannot undo any damage the poison has already caused, but there will be none additional. She will not die this night, tomorrow, or the next day, but she may or may not awaken. Only one of angelic blood can withstand a wound from a sword of Heaven.

Aidan laughed harshly. “Then the Making may actually
save
her?”

Zeke nodded. “It could, if we can do it in time. Uriel, do you, like Raphael, have any leeway in this matter?”

I can give you some time, Ambassador. The third day from the Striking begins at midnight—a little more than 48 of your earthly hours from now. We can hold the ceremony then, and we can do so in a location other than the Council Hall, if your Sensitive is unable to make it there.

“Thank you, Uriel. That should suffice. And, Raphael, many thanks for your healing.”

Would that I could have done more, Ambassador. Actions such as those taken by the Powers who attacked the Sensitive cannot be condoned. I would have preferred to have alleviated all the damage they caused.

“You have done a great deal,” Zeke replied. “And to both of you we are most grateful.”

Zeke had barely finished speaking when Uriel’s words burned through Kev’s brain.

The Making will commence at midnight on the second day from this. Send us word of the place of your choosing.

Kev gathered the Archangel had grown impatient with the niceties. As if to corroborate that thought, no sooner had Uriel spoken than both Archangels supernovaed, bursting into that blinding light once more. Kev slammed his eyelids shut and clapped a hand over his eyes for good measure. When he lowered his hand and lifted his lids, the dusty room, lit only by the electric light of the overhead bulbs, seemed dim by comparison.

His eyes flashed to the floor where Lucky lay—to find that she was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s…?” he began.

“Hmm,” Zeke mused. “Raphael must have determined he could do something more after all. I believe we will find her resting in my guest room. I will return there as well and bring Malachi to her, if you two will see that her friend gets safely home.”

Mo was sitting up, groaning and rubbing her head as she did so.

“She did not observe any part of the Archangels’ visit, so she will have no memories of that,” Zeke continued. “I assume she is to be allowed to keep the memories she does have of this evening’s events?”

“Yes,” Aidan said. “Lucky told her everything before the Powers attacked. She would want her to know.”

“Then so be it. I will see you both shortly.” With that, the Cherub vanished.

“I can take Mo home, Aidan,” Kev said, shrugging into the jacket he’d retrieved from the floor. He could feel a slight residual warmth left by Lucky’s body as the jacket settled against his bare skin. “If you want to go to Zeke’s and help tend to Lucky.”

Aidan hesitated, and Kev could see how much his brother wanted to take him up on his offer. Instead, his training as a soldier won out. “She’s safe now—as safe as she can be anyway. And you might need my help—in case there’s another attack.”

Kev nodded, feeling both proud of his brother’s decision and sad that such a decision had to be made. “I don’t think it’s likely, but you’re right. It is possible someone might try to hurt Lucky through her friend.”

Aidan sighed. “Like they did with Josh.”

Kev turned toward Mo, who looked as if she was about to crumple to the floor again. Stepping up beside her, he slid a supporting arm around her shoulders. “Right,” he said briskly. “Let’s get you home.”

They ran into no difficulties on the trip back to Mo’s apartment. No one attacked; no one appeared to be following them. Nevertheless, Kev and Aidan took the precaution of setting up protection wards on both the building and the apartment itself. Unlike the complex, personalized wards that protected Aidan’s condo and Zeke’s brownstone, these were simple and generic, designed to protect the inhabitants from anyone who intended them harm.

By the time they were finished with the apartment and were ready to move outside to work on the building itself, Mo had fallen asleep on the couch. Noticing her shiver in her sleep, Kev pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and tucked it around her before they left.

CHAPTER 28

Aidan paced back and forth outside the closed door to Zeke’s guest room. In his mind, he could still see Lucky lying on the bed, with Malachi hovering over her. She’d looked so small and fragile, the lashes of her closed eyes dark against her pallid cheeks, her sweater and jeans stained with her blood. He clenched his hands and jaw at the memory.

He and Kev and Zeke had all been standing around the bed waiting for some movement, some sign to indicate that Lucky was okay. Although they had spoken very little, their presence, or perhaps their fear for the girl on the bed, must have gotten to Malachi, because he’d shooed them all from the room, saying he needed absolute peace and quiet in order to concentrate deeply enough to reach Lucky. Zeke and Kev had wandered downstairs, but Aidan hadn’t been able to bring himself to go any further than the hallway just outside the door. He wanted to be as near her as possible, even if there was nothing he could do for her. So he paced. And worried. And paced some more.

He started when a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Kev said. “Why don’t you come downstairs? Since there’s nothing else he can do at the moment, Zeke is making tea. We might as well do our part and help him drink it.”

Wordlessly, Aidan glanced from his brother to the closed bedroom door.

“I know,” Kev said. “I’m worried about her too. We all are. But Malachi is the only one who can help her right now. And he will. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll bring her back to us.”

Aidan heaved a sigh and then managed a weak half-smile. “Wouldn’t want Zeke to think his tea-making was wasted, I guess.”

Kev grinned. “Plus, if you wear a hole in his antique rug you’ll really piss him off.”

His hand tightened on Aidan’s shoulder for a moment. Then he turned and headed for the stairs, adding in a deliberately cheerful voice, “Fighting off those Powers made me kind of hungry anyway. I could use a snack.”

Aidan cast a last worried look at the closed door before he followed his brother down the stairs.

***

She was floating in the dark. Waves of sensation washed over her. Pain, numbness, nausea, fatigue, more pain. She caught flickers of light against the blackness, like distant lightning in a night sky. She thought she could hear the murmur of voices, but they too were distant—too far away for her to make out any words. Fatigue flooded over her, and she offered no resistance as it swept her away.

***

The darkness parted, the swirling in her head subsiding. She was with G-Ma. In the Oriental Institute, like when she was small. But she wasn’t small anymore. She stood at G-Ma’s side, while her grandmother pointed at something she wanted her to see. Lucky followed G-Ma’s pointing finger to a huge stone sculpture. It looked like a bull, but it had wings and the head of a man. As she watched, the statue’s wings seemed to move, multiply, and she caught flashes of blue. Then, the bull-man’s hair seemed to lighten to gold-brown, a mix of wheat and honey, and his eyes were warm and gray. Something in the back of her mind whispered a name, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. She reached toward the bull-man, but he disappeared as darkness closed around her.

***

Aidan threw back the covers and sat up on the side of bed, shoving a hand through his hair. This was pointless. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep, never mind how tired he was, until he knew Lucky was okay. Zeke and Kev had urged him to go to bed—and he’d finally complied, against his own better judgment—but all he’d done was toss and turn and worry. He couldn’t seem to clear his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried. Maybe he’d wander downstairs to Zeke’s study and help himself to several fingers, perhaps even a whole hand, of the fine scotch the Cherub always kept on supply. Either that or make his way to the large personal gym hidden in the brownstone’s extensive basement. Drink or sweat, how to decide?

Sighing, he pushed himself off the bed and rummaged through the bag of clothes he’d retrieved from his place before trying to call it a night. Sambethe had been in the guest room checking on Josh when he’d arrived, and she had assured him Lucky’s cousin was still as stable as possible. At least they had that going for them. His hands closed around the pair of
gi
pants he’d stuffed into the bag almost as an afterthought. Pulling them on, he quietly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

He paused for a few moments outside the door behind which Malachi labored to find Lucky and restore her to consciousness. He reached toward the doorknob, but let his hand fall back to his side. He knew better than to interrupt Malachi. If he broke the Naphil’s concentration at a critical moment, Lucky could be lost to them forever. Squaring his shoulders, he turned away from the door and made his way down the stairs, his bare feet making little noise on the hardwood.

No one was moving on the main floor, and all the lights were turned off. No matter. The perpetual city glow provided enough light for him to follow the familiar path to the basement stairs. As he descended the stairs, he was unsurprised to see light emanating from the door to Zeke’s study—the angel never slept. Not in the mood for conversation, Aidan passed the study door without even glancing inside and headed toward a tapestry hanging on the far wall.

It was a medieval piece, depicting the traditional version of the battle in Heaven that led to Lucifer’s eviction. Michael’s sword was raised, ready to strike the victorious blow. Aidan noticed, not for the first time, that for whatever its flaws in accuracy of story, the tapestry’s portrait of Lucifer was pretty much dead-on. Lifting the tapestry, he pressed his palm against the door hidden behind it. No sooner had he felt the burn of his sigil than he heard the click as the door opened beneath his hand. Slipping inside, he let the tapestry fall back in place behind him.