Angel's Curse (36 page)

How would I find Raphael? Once I had his scent I was sure I could track him anywhere, but finding him to start with, that was the question. While I thought about how to find him I decided to clear out the hotel room of all of the possessions that were important to me, that I wouldn’t want others to find and marvel over — the crystal daisy chains, Death and the feather top. One of the daisy chains I sent to the cavern, to rest undisturbed with the bodies and ashes of the countless vamps I’d killed over the years. I would take the remaining items with me and put them to good use.

I didn’t feel the need to dress up for the occasion, with a couple of exceptions — feathers and crystal. There would be no black leather, no catsuits. I changed into an old, but comfortable pair of jeans and the feather top Danny had sent to me on my first birthday after he’d died. Under it all I wore red lingerie — a reminder of whose blood made my mission possible. Death was strapped to my arm once again and one of the three daggers — the only gifts I had from Drake — was strapped to my left thigh. I wanted Raphael to see the feathers and wonder if they belonged to one of his fellows that I had slain. I wanted him to taste fear — trepidation — before he died.

I sat the remaining crystal daisy chain on my head and wove a few strands of hair around it to ensure it would not come loose and be lost, though what would happen to it when I died was anyone’s guess.

As I stared in the mirror, looking at my face for the last time, I wished I knew where Raphael was. It came to me, then, that I only had to wish to be wherever he was and I would be there, just as I had wished to be at the mouth of hell some years before. The power of thought was not to be underestimated.

“Are you ready, Helena?” I asked the face in the mirror.

I nodded. “I’m ready.”

I can’t hear you!

“I’m ready!” I yelled.

What was that?

“I’m ready!” I screamed.

Then what are we waiting for, let’s go!

“Take me to Raphael,” I said.

Before I’d even finished saying his name there was a flash of light and I found myself in a light and airy room that appeared to be a library. There was row upon row of books as far as the eye could see, and a good many angels sitting at tables reading. I knew what Raphael looked like from Danny’s memories, but with their backs to me all of the angels looked the same and I couldn’t see any wings.

“I’m looking for Raphael!” I yelled.

A number of angels turned around to see who had called out and more than a few returned to their reading after having assessed me for only a moment. They didn’t seem at all concerned that I was there. Of the ones that kept looking at me there was nothing in their eyes that gave away Raphael’s position. They were merely curious — I was a curiosity.

Out of the corner of my eye I spied movement, and an angel disappeared.

“Raphael!” I yelled, “You can run, but you can’t hide. I know how to find you now, wherever you go. Earth, heaven and even hell,
I can find you!
”

Take me to Raphael,
I thought, and
flash
I was gone.

We were on a mountain top, in a snowstorm. I could barely make out the figure standing about twenty metres in front of me, a cloak flapping wildly in the driving wind. It seemed Raphael had taken to hiding his wings. He’d been scared by what had happened at the solstice, so much so he’d fled and left his army to die leaderless. He unfurled his wings now, knowing he’d finally been found out, and with no reason to hide them anymore.

I walked towards him, the wind and snow proving no obstacle. I could see the fear in his eyes and he ran backwards, disappearing into the snow.

Take me to Raphael!

Unless he wanted to stay in the lights and descend into madness, he would have to come out eventually.

Once he was corporeal I was there, in darkness blacker than a starless night. It took me a moment to realise we were in a sealed cave, far beneath the surface of the earth, the oxygen long since gone. It mattered little. I could live without breathing if I had to, just as he could. Being immortal came with certain advantages.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness something struck my head — a number of something’s rained down and hit me, knocking me to the ground. I looked up and Raphael was gone, the roof of the cave collapsing in on me until I was buried under tonnes of rubble.

I was
really
pissed now. Had he forgotten that I didn’t have to move in order to transport? Unlike angels, I didn’t need to take four steps to get anywhere. Was he
that
thick?

Take me to Raphael!

The flash was a while coming. He was taking his time, staying in the lights and being cautious.

I found myself in the ocean depths, the pressure enormous. Raphael smiled and waved at me before swimming away, fading until I could see him no more.

Why here? What could he possibly think was in the ocean that could hurt me — some giant prehistoric monster? The pressure was beginning to get uncomfortable, and even though I didn’t need to breathe I found myself reflexively gasping for non-existent air. My mouth and lungs filled up with water — salt water — and it ran down my throat into my stomach. I could taste the salt and it was awful.

That was it! That’s what he thought could kill me — salt. As it was, my stomach would not tolerate anything other than blood. He was trying to poison me with what I couldn’t tolerate, but the fool wasn’t aware that salt couldn’t kill me.

Take me somewhere safe!

I was in the bathroom at the La’miere, water gushing out of my nose and mouth. My stomach heaved and foul-tasting water, mixed with blood, spewed out. It hurt all right, but I wasn’t going to die, not yet. My heart pounded in my chest, trying to escape.

My stomach heaved again and along with the water and blood a small translucent bony fish with very large fang-like teeth flopped on the bathroom floor.

I don’t remember swallowing that! Maybe that’s why I’m vomiting blood.

The heaving continued, but the blood became more watered down and eventually only water continued to surface. It took hours before the heaving — even the dry heaves — stopped.

I lay against the cool tiles surrounding the bath, getting my breath back and thinking of all the wonderful things I’d do to Raphael once I caught up with him. I was tired, bone tired, and slept for a while.

I woke with a fright to the sound of screaming. The housekeeping staff had arrived to clean the room — not that they needed to do much — and found me on the bathroom floor, blood and water everywhere. Thank goodness mine was the only room on this floor. The screaming would have brought others running to investigate.

This was a problem and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. I stood up and approached them.

“It’s okay, I’m all right. Nothing to be alarmed about,” I said calmly.

They didn’t look like they believed me — I’d forgotten about my red eyes — and slowly backed away. I looked towards the door and heard a click as it locked and the chain slid in place. The two women were terrified and made the sign of the cross. Admittedly I must have looked quite horrific, certainly nowhere near my best.

I backed them into a corner and reached out with my hands to touch their foreheads. If Satan could make me fall asleep this way surely I could make them forget what they had seen?

“Forget,” I said, and their eyelids drooped and they slid to the floor. “No, no!
Don’t go to sleep!
I only want you to forget. Ah, shit!”

I returned to the bathroom and cleaned up the mess, including myself, and set everything right. I hoped their memories would be a bit vague. At worst they’d be caught sleeping on the job and dismissed. No one would believe some crime had taken place here. The evidence was all gone.

Take me to Raphael!

I was caught in the middle of a desert sandstorm and couldn’t see a thing, unlike in the snowstorm. The particles of dust and sand were so fine they obscured everything, but Raphael
must
be here.

The noise of the storm was deafening, and while I called out his name I doubted he’d hear me. I had no choice but to wait it out. Every now and again I thought to myself
take me to Raphael
to ensure he hadn’t left. Perhaps he’d given up running. Perhaps he’d thought he’d weakened me enough to kill me.

When the storm died down to a roar I saw him, less than five metres away, a thin layer of sand coating his body and wings. He gaped at me and I looked at myself to see why. Not a speck of dust or sand had touched me.

“I have his tracking and hunting skills you know, plus a few of my own!” I yelled.

“Whose?” he yelled back.

I look a few steps forward and Raphael tensed.

“Why, Danizriel’s of course. He gifted me many things when I took his life — when I had to kill him to save him,” I said bitterly. “Do you know what that’s like, having to kill someone you love? I guess
you don’t
do you.”

He raised both his arms and fire and ice blazed from his palms. I waved my hands, before they could reach me, and deflected them to either side. I continued to close the gap between us. He tried twice more with the fire and ice before giving up.

I held out my left hand and a length of rope snaked from my palm to where Raphael stood, attaching itself to his left wrist and biting into the skin. The rope slithered from my palm to my wrist and cut deeply. We were tethered together and there was nothing he could do about it.

Raphael tried removing the rope from his wrist and it bit further into his skin. I knew it would hurt like hell, mine did, but I managed to grin and bear it.

Show no weakness!

“I’ve learned a trick or two — the more you struggle, the more it digs in. That’s what you did to Danizriel, isn’t it,” I said accusingly.

He refused to answer and the rope contracted until we were only a metre apart. His lips weren’t moving, but I could hear him using his thoughts to call to his fellow archangels for help.

I laughed. “They can’t hear you. This,” I held up my roped wrist, “is blocking your signal. You’re in
my
domain now.”

He kicked out at me and I leapt through the air to land behind him, pulling the rope taut — it cut slightly deeper into both of us. Raphael’s roped arm was twisted awkwardly behind his back and I gave a number of short, sharp jabs into his lower back with my fists. He turned around quickly, alleviating the pressure on his roped arm and dealt a savage blow to my throat, crushing my windpipe. I struggled to breathe.

You don’t need air, Helena. Relax and forget about it.

I closed my eyes and dropped down, sweeping the back of his legs as I did so. He fell onto his back and the rope constricted around our wrists even more. I kept a determined grin on my face to disguise the pain. Raphael was snarling.

I rolled over onto his stomach and sat on my knees, pulling his end of the rope to cause him more pain. He made a gesture with his free hand and a blade appeared. He stabbed me with it, barely missing my heart. I looked down at the blade — it was one of the switchblades I had provided Drake’s vampires with in order to kill angels. It was an unused blade — I could feel my own demon blood on it.

“You think you can kill me with my own weapon, you pathetic little creature,” I sneered. “This ends,
now!
”

I reached over to my thigh, unsheathed the dagger and plunged it into Raphael’s shoulder. I twisted it as I pushed down and he grunted, a grimace crossing his face. I wanted him to suffer before he died — I wanted him to feel pain.

I stood up and pulled him to his feet, yanking roughly on the rope. It had cut so deeply into his wrist that I could feel the rope working harder as it encountered bone. It wouldn’t take much more to sever his hand. I turned him around so that his back was facing me and used Death to hack off his wings, throwing them to the ground in front of him so that he could see what had become of them.

He fell to his knees gasping for air and I could hear his heart falter. The poison in his system was doing its job, though I didn’t want it to be Satan’s blood that was responsible for dealing the deadly blow — I wanted it to be me. I pulled back his head and held Death to his throat.

“Say goodnight, Raphael.”

Goodnight, Raphael!

His headless body slumped forward, falling gracefully to the ground. How ironic that he could be full of grace in death.

The rope that was still bound to me grew tight, biting deeper into my wrist, while Death sang to me of love, hope and joy, and of life eternal. It was trying to take the pain away from me. I dropped the head and sank to my knees. The song changed to one of sadness and regret as I cut off my roped hand. The hand fell to the ground with a dull thud and the rope turned to dust. It was the only way to free the hand from the rope, cutting it off. I had learned — in hell — that the rope did not work on demons, as they had already been cast out. I had risked my soul, yet again, in the hope that the demon genetic code I had assimilated would prevent the rope from casting me out. Sure, it can still cause pain, but that’s what demons live for.