Angel's Blade (5 page)

“Nice to meet you,” Raphael said,
turning to Nathaniel.

“This is outrageous!” Raguel burst
out, striding forward.

Shit. Nathaniel stood up, shifting
so that his body was between Raguel and his father. He wasn’t surprised to see
Zeke subtly position himself where he could protect Gabriel.

“What is?” Raphael asked mildly,
but Nathaniel noted that his blue eyes had gone from friendly to cold.

“The leader of the angels is a
homosexual?”

Nathaniel frowned. He was still
angry with Raguel from earlier and this new outburst wasn’t helping. “He’s not
the first gay man you’ve ever met. No need to get so worked up,” he said,
making sure his voice conveyed his displeasure. Raguel ignored him, striding
closer. Nathaniel inched over, instinctively protecting his clan leader while
his mind analyzed the situation. What was happening? Even for Raguel this
outburst was strange. The man was a jerk, sure, but freaking out in public?
During a clan trip? Something wasn’t quite right.

“Two men together are unnatural.
Two male angels together is an abomination,” Raguel declared.

Nathaniel took a deep breath,
willing himself to not punch the asshole right in the mouth. Gabriel just stood
there calmly, thank God.

“Our mating was consecrated in the
ancient way,” Raphael interjected, obviously trying to diffuse the situation.
It didn’t work. Raguel opened his mouth to say something more, but before he
could, Nathaniel interrupted.

“You had a mating flight?” he
asked, stepping further in front of his father. He wasn’t a strong as Raguel,
but he could at least put his body in the way if the angel snapped entirely.
It
would help if Dad stopped edging out from behind me,
he thought irritably,
blocking the older angel from exposing himself.

“We did,” Gabriel said.

Nathaniel forced a smile, eyes
still on Raguel. The angel’s face was red and he had his fists clenched, but he
managed to hold his tongue, thank God. “That’s wonderful news.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel said, catching
the conversational ball. “We were surprised, but very grateful.” He smiled at
Raphael.

The Omega snorted. “Surprised? Ha.
You were totally flabbergasted.”

Gabriel grinned sheepishly. “Maybe.”

Nathaniel’s smile eased a bit at
their banter, but then he glanced over at Maion and tension crawled back up his
spine. Maion watched Raguel struggle to keep his temper with a look that
Nathaniel could only call avid.
He looks like a boy pulling the wings off
flies. And enjoying it.
Nathaniel’s stomach churned. What the hell was
happening here? Raguel had gone entirely mad and Maion, his best friend for
years, had suddenly turned into a stranger. He’d changed at some point, not for
the better, and Nathaniel had totally missed it. Shit. He glanced at his
father. Orifiel was watching Maion too, a strange look on his face.

“I think we’re all tired from the
trip. Would you mind if we went to sleep and met again in the morning?” Orifiel
asked after a moment. “My apologies for my clan member’s outburst.”

Gabriel glanced at Raguel who
remained silent, then nodded. “Certainly. Zeke will show you to your rooms.”

Nathaniel looked at Raguel. He
seemed to have calmed down, but he certainly wasn’t happy. “I’m definitely
beat. Flying on a plane isn’t ideal.”

Raguel glared at him. “If you had
stayed home, we could have flown without the plane.”

Nathaniel sighed silently to
himself. He’d mentioned the plane on purpose, to deflect Raguel’s attention
from Gabriel and Raphael’s relationship, but he certainly didn’t enjoy being
picked at.

“Yes, and I’m sorry for that,” he
said. Raguel looked slightly mollified. Maion looked irritated. His father
stared at him, surprised. Nathaniel shook his head slightly. The things he did
to keep the peace.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you
upstairs,” Zeke said, moving toward the door. Nathaniel followed him, eager to
get somewhere he could decompress in private. He’d had enough of bigotry and
cranky angels to last him a lifetime. “Sorry you didn’t get your hot chocolate,”
Zeke murmured when Nathaniel caught up.

“It’s okay.” Nathaniel smiled at
him.

Zeke shook his head and led the way
upstairs. Nathaniel followed, Orifiel and the others on his heels. At the top
of the curving staircase, Zeke turned right and led them down a long hall. At
the end, he unlocked a door on the right. It opened into a sitting area with
windows that looked over the front of the castle grounds. Three doors were set
into the wall on the right and one on the left.

“There are three bedrooms and one
bathroom. I’m sorry, but two of you will have to share a room.”

“My son and I will share,” Orifiel
said immediately, walking slowly inside. Maion and Raguel were already prowling
around the room.

Nathaniel nodded, still by the
door. He had no problem with that. And separating Maion from Raguel seemed like
a good idea right now.

“Your bags are near the windows.
Have a restful night,” Zeke said. He turned to leave, but paused near the suite’s
door, leaning in so closely that Nathaniel’s heart gave a hard thump. Zeke
smelled of metal and heat, for some reason. Nathaniel struggled to hold himself
still.

“If you have need of my protection,
you have only to ask. None of us can choose the circumstances of our birth. You
deserve the respect owed any other angel,” Zeke murmured. And with that
remarkable statement, he closed the door behind him, leaving Nathaniel staring
at the polished wood in astonishment.

****

Several hours later, Nathaniel
struggled up out of sleep, his body heavy with tension. Something was wrong. He
rubbed his face and turned toward the other bed in the room. His father slept
on, oblivious.
Why am I awake?
He yawned, then pushed back the covers
and swung his legs over the side of the bed, knowing he would never get back to
sleep with this unsettled feeling in his gut.

Maybe I’m just rattled from Raguel’s
outburst,
he thought, even while a deeper part of him knew that wasn’t it. The thing that
truly bothered him was Maion’s sudden weirdness. What was going on with his
friend? It worried him.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me.” Zeke’s
voice came out of the depths of the room, soft and dark.

Nathaniel startled violently,
sending the comforter sliding to the floor. He swallowed hard, and blindly
looked around. All he could see was shadows. “Zeke?” he whispered.

“Come with me,” the angel said,
suddenly materializing right in front of Nathaniel. He wore jeans and nothing
else. The marks of his legacy splayed over his skin like slashes of black ink.
The muscles in his arms and chest were impressive.

Nathaniel stared, wanting to grab
the sheet and hold it up over his bare skin. He felt strangely vulnerable.
Jesus,
calm the fuck down,
he told himself sternly. “What are you doing here?” he
asked, whispering.

Zeke shifted his weight. “I need to
talk to you.”

Nathaniel frowned. This made no
sense. Why couldn’t they talk in the morning? “I don’t understand.”

“That makes the two of us,” the
angel muttered, clearly uneasy.

Those words decided him.
No one
who talks to himself like that could be all that bad,
he mused, standing
up.
And I’ll be strictly hands-off with
him. Never play with straight guys, remember?
Glancing at his sleeping
father, he whispered, “Okay. Do I need shoes? Where are we going?”

Zeke shook his head, not
elaborating.

“Fine,” Nathaniel said, sighing. He
wore sweatpants, so he was decent enough. “Lead on, before my father wakes up.”

Zeke backed up, almost disappearing
into the dark. Nathaniel followed him out of the bedroom and into the sitting
room. When Zeke beckoned him toward the suite’s door, Nathaniel pursed his lips
and obeyed. Zeke latched the door behind them and started down the hall.
Nathaniel debated whether or not he should keep going—
because this is nuts,
—but
Zeke turned around and gave him a look, he couldn’t help himself.

“Where are we going?” he asked as
he caught up.

Zeke rolled his shoulders,
obviously uncomfortable. “My room.”

Nathaniel frowned. “Seriously?”

Zeke glanced at him, his face
showing frustration, then he opened a small door at the end of the hall that
Nathaniel hadn’t even noticed. The door opened onto steps that led down to a
lower level.

“This way,” Zeke said, starting
down.

Nathaniel took a deep breath and
followed. If Zeke was intending to do something nefarious, he doubted the angel
would be acting so uncertain.

The steps were stone, narrow, and
much longer than a normal staircase. They were lit at irregular intervals by
small LED lanterns set into old sconces. They didn’t light the way all that
well and he almost slipped a couple of times, but caught himself before he
staggered into Zeke.

Because that would be totally not
cool,
he thought, watching his feet more carefully. Nathaniel had no idea what the
hell was going on. “Are we going into the basement?” he finally asked after
what seemed like they’d gone down a hundred steps.

Zeke shook his head. “No. These go
to a room on the first floor, set very far back in the castle.”

Nathaniel hmmm’d. Just then, the
steps ended and Zeke opened yet another door. This one was old dark wood set
with iron straps. “Jesus, it looks like the door to a dungeon.”

“That’s not a bad guess,” Zeke
said, chuckling briefly. He pushed it open. “But no, not a dungeon.”

The hall beyond was stone and cold.
Zeke shivered, wishing he’d brought his shirt. His toes curled over the rough
slate underfoot.

Zeke glanced at him. “It’s just
down here.”

Nathaniel certainly hoped so. He
had goosebumps—and not the fun kind.

Zeke opened another door a few feet
down the hall. Warmth spilled out over Nathaniel and he hurried forward, then
stopped just inside the door to look into the room. A fire burned in a huge
fireplace along one wall. There was a sort of metal screen in front of the
flames and he could feel it radiating heat into the room. The metal screen was
filigreed with shapes that looked similar to the legacy marks he’d seen all his
life on the other angels. The rest of the room wasn’t large, but it was… odd.
One wall seemed to be made of glass doors that opened accordion style. Beyond,
a larger space filled with tools lay in darkness.

“Those are blacksmithing tools.
Sort of,” Zeke said, closing the door to the hall behind them.

“Blacksmithing?” Nathaniel looked
around some more. Zeke’s bed sat with rumpled covers beneath a window. The iron
of the frame was elaborately designed. In a rack close by, blades of various
sizes were lined up, full of dangerous promise. “You’re a blade master,”
Nathaniel said, suddenly understanding. “I thought the angels had lost the art
of weaponry.”

Zeke sighed. “The art is not quite
lost, but I’m not quite a master, either. I have the knowledge—” He tapped his
head. “—but I don’t have the power.” He walked over to the bed and sat down on
it, shoulders slumping. The moonlight fell through the window down over his
arms, highlighting Zeke’s skin: legacy marks crisscrossed with faint, fine
silvery scars.

Between the flickering firelight
and the moon, Nathaniel could see enough to understand that the marks weren’t
the usual brown color. The slate grey lines looked nearly black. That color was
the mark of the angel’s weapons master. Zeke’s wings would be grey as well, when
he shifted. The color was unique and rare amongst their people.

“You have the marks of a master,”
Nathaniel murmured, slowly walking closer. “Why deny it?”

Zeke lifted his head. “This isn’t
what I brought you down here for.”

Nathaniel stopped, confused. “Why
did
you bring me here?”

Zeke shifted, rubbing his hands up
his arms. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” Nathaniel didn’t
understand. He looked at Zeke, eyes lingering on the angel’s muscles, the
scars, and accepted that Zeke truly didn’t understand either. “What do you
feel?”

“I had a strange dream,” Zeke said,
clearly uncomfortable. He tried to continue and coughed, then cleared his
throat. “You have to understand, I don’t dream. Not anymore. Not for a long,
long time.”

Nathaniel sensed this wasn’t going
to be a quick conversation. He walked closer. When Zeke didn’t object, he sat
down on the bed and leaned back. It was cooler here, further from the fire, but
Zeke gave off enough heat for the two of them. Nathaniel fought to keep his eyes
where they belonged and away from Zeke’s impressive musculature.
No need to
spook the heterosexual angel,
he told himself. “You had a dream?” he asked,
prompting Zeke.

The angel rubbed his face. “Yeah,
but I can’t remember it. I just remember the feeling I had when I woke up.”