Death's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels (34 page)

“So this Gregori guy is after the Old Man,” said Eleanore softly, once everyone had stopped chuckling along with Michael. “And he says that the Old Man is not where he usually is?”

Sophie nodded.

“So where
is
he?” asked Uriel.

“That seems to be the question of the hour,” said Max. His expression was contemplative, his gaze on something in the carpet, his thoughts obviously turned inward. After a few seconds, he looked back up. “There’s also the Adarians to consider. From what you’ve told me, Azrael, it would seem Abraxos is working without his brothers now, and more surprising—and
important
—working for Gregori.”

“He had no heartbeat,” Az told them. “There was a stillness to him that I noticed while we were fighting.” He paused, frowned, and then said, “I think he’s dead. In the truest sense of the word.”

“But he couldn’t stand to be in the light,” Sophie said, recalling how Abraxos had been forced to recoil from the sun’s rays. “Like a vampire.”

“
I’m
still a vampire,” said Azrael, smiling to show her his fangs. A warmth coiled low in Sophie’s stomach, spreading quickly to her core. She swallowed and looked away to hide her blush. No one was fooled. “And yet I can walk in the day,” Az went on, doing a much better job at hiding his own smile. “Thanks to you,” he added meaningfully. “Things can clearly change in some ways—and yet clearly stay the same in others.”

“So he’s a reanimated vampire,” suggested Max. No one said anything to the contrary, so he took a short breath and asked, “Then who killed him in the first place?”

“Gregori?” Juliette suggested.

“But he was alone,” said Sophie. “Does that mean Gregori killed all of the Adarians?”

“Either that,” Michael ventured, his face taking on the expression of a seasoned detective, “or the other Adarians killed Abraxos. And Gregori brought him back.”

That gave everyone pause. It was a possibility, just as everything else was.

“Well, we clearly have a lot to think about,” said Max. “And in the meantime,
you
,” he said, looking at Azrael, “have a concert to give.” He turned to Uriel next. “And you have the last scenes of a movie to film.” He stood up, setting his empty beer mug on the coffee table and running a hand through his brown hair. “I’ve got enough to straighten out these days without having to fool hundreds of thousands of people into believing Valley of Shadow isn’t on tour and the
Comeuppance
sequel was supposed to come out a month later than it actually was.”

“And I have a criminal to catch,” Michael added, standing up as well.

Sophie
, came Azrael’s voice in Sophie’s head. She turned to look at him. His gold eyes were glowing.
Marry me.

Sophie went still. Her breath hitched, her jaw went slack. The room fell into silence. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her and Azrael . . . as if they’d heard what he had just thought. She wasn’t even certain
she
had heard it correctly.

But he smiled, again flashing the faintest hint of fang.

Marry me, Sunshine
.

He slowly stood up, all fluid grace and darkness, and Sophie’s heart danced in her chest. Amid the rapt attention of the room and the unmoving universe, Azrael bent over the love seat where she sat, bracing his hands on either side of her to lean in until they were inches apart.

Marry me and I’ll only bite you once
. His eyes glittered intensely, his smile thoroughly promising.

Sophie felt her entire body flush with heat and anticipation.
Liar
, she said.

Azrael’s deep, dark chuckle echoed through her mind.
Is that a yes?
he pushed.

Sophie waited a beat. Then another.

Yes
.

Chapter Thirty-seven

“I
s it like you imagined?” Sophie asked, leaning over to whisper the words in her lover’s ear.

Azrael’s gaze remained locked on the spinning carousel, his smile one of peaceful bliss. He shook his head distractedly and gave her hand a squeeze. “No,” he said. “It’s better.”

He reminded her of a child in that moment, held rapt by the eye candy he’d dreamed about for oh, give or take forty years—as long as the carousel had been open. The carousel on Pier 39 turned and turned, a whirlwind of color and sound as children waved for cameras and mothers held toddlers tightly in their painted saddles. All around them, tourists and shopkeepers traded their services and money, and the smell of sourdough bread and fresh-cooked waffle cones pervaded the air.

Seagulls cried overhead, swooping over the crowd. Out on the bay, a tugboat sounded its horn. A group of teenagers rushed past them, giggling about something one of them had done the night before. A father turned around and pulled his four – or five-year-old son closer and reminded him not to stray.

Sophie and Azrael had walked the circumference of the seaside tourist attraction several times that morning. Az hadn’t gotten tired of the morning sounds, the feel of the sun on his face, or the way the seagulls and pigeons acted differently when vying for food in the mornings than they did at night. They were hungrier now. Sophie enjoyed watching Azrael smile as he fed them almost more than she enjoyed watching them eat.

In front of Pier 40, tourists lined up for Blue and Gold Fleet ferry rides out to Alcatraz Island and the Golden Gate Bridge. As the line grew, those waiting shifted their weight from one foot to the other, clearly weary of standing but humming with excitement for what they were about to do. The kite shop nearby buzzed with color as the sea breeze brought its displays to a rainbow of whirling, spinning life.

On the south side of the pier, the sea lions slid heavily off of the wooden rafts set up for them and then expertly climbed back up. They barked at the tourists, slapped their bodies with slick black flippers, and yawned lazily as they squeezed in for a midmorning nap.

It was just past noon and a band was setting up in front of the Hard Rock Cafe at the opening to Pier 39. While Azrael watched the carousel, Sophie watched the lead singer test out the microphone, switching wires and adjusting the stand. She recalled the bands she and her parents had caught here when she was a little girl. Thinking of them now, she turned to look at the man beside her, probably the single best lead singer on the planet. No one knew who he was here. Onstage, he always wore a mask, just as he’d done for the wildly successful concert he and his band mates had given two days earlier.

No one recognized him, though Sophie had to admit to her slightly jealous self that quite a few women—and men—stopped to ogle him when they thought no one was looking. She couldn’t really blame them. He was gorgeous. If she hadn’t been who she was and hadn’t known
him
for who
he
was, she would have wondered whether the tall, beautiful, and built man watching the carousel was a famous actor on holiday, hiding out from his adoring fans. Or maybe a model.

At the very least.

And because he was out during the day, she would have had to disappointingly toss out any fantasies of him being a vampire.

Which made her laugh. Because that was exactly what he was. At the least.

Azrael turned to look at her then, his smile turning slightly mischievous. “You have a dizzyingly busy mind, Sunshine,” he told her softly, his deep voice wrapping around her. “But I like it that you get jealous.” His smile cracked into a grin, and she caught the hint of fangs.

Sophie rolled her eyes and punched him gently in the arm. It was like punching a tree trunk in a leather jacket. She winced and gave her hand a small shake and Azrael took the hand in both of his to lay a tender kiss upon her knuckles.

“What’s next?” he asked then.

Sophie’s mind must have been in the gutter, because all she could think of for a moment was taking him back to the mansion and ravishing him—and having him ravish her.

But she did actually have things planned for the day. She’d gone out of her way to make up a list of attractions she wanted to show him in the light of the sun. There was so much she wanted him to see. . . . Pier 39 was just the beginning.

So she swallowed hard, cleared her throat, and said, “I was thinking we’d cross that bridge,” she said, pointing in the general direction of the Golden Gate Bridge. Az had only ever seen it at night. It wasn’t orange at night. He’d always missed the very best part of it.

“Sounds good,” Az said, smiling broadly. There was a sparkle in his eye that made Sophie both nervous and excited. He leaned in a little. “Go on.”

Sophie’s gaze flicked from his eyes to his mouth, where she knew his fangs were hiding. She licked her lips. “Um . . . Well, depending on how long it takes us to cross it both ways, I was thinking that we’d go to Golden Gate Park. I mean, I know you’ve always been able to go through the park whenever you wanted, but it’s pretty impressive in the sunlight.”

Azrael’s smile deepened, and something dark flashed behind his eyes. “Okay,” he said, leaning in a little more. “And after that?”

“We’ll probably be starving,” Sophie ventured, her heart rate picking up. “So we’ll need to eat. Or at least I will.” As she said it, she thought of what exactly it was that Azrael would “eat.” Lately, his diet had consisted mostly of
her
.

“I imagine you’re probably right,” he agreed too easily. His gaze slid from her eyes to her lips to her throat and the top button of her long-sleeved Henley shirt. She looked down, as if to see what he was looking at. But then she closed her eyes as he curled his finger beneath her chin to pull it back up and brushed his thumb across her cheekbone.

“Or . . .” she began, but had to stop when his thumb dropped to the pulse in her throat. She took a shaky breath and started again. “Or we could eat now instead. We could use the energy to get across the bridge,” she finished in a rush. She opened her eyes.

Azrael cracked a grin, exposing the fully lengthened fangs that had been lying in wait behind his lips. “Now
that
sounds like a plan.”

* * *

The name of the boat was the
Sand Dollar Angel
. She was another cutter ketch, with two masts and four sails, and this morning, the pristine sailing ship was outfitted with silk streamers and wedding bells.

Michael adjusted his collar and took in the scene. The sun had yet to come up. Twilight smoothed out the surface of the water, giving it an airbrushed quality. The
Angel
, as Michael called the boat for short, was anchored nowhere near any bridge of any kind, as neither Azrael nor Sophie wished a repeat of what had happened with the
Calliope
.

The ceremony would take place at dawn. Michael and his brothers had always assumed that when Azrael found his archess, the two would be married at night and he would be surrounded not only by his brothers but by the vampires who loved him as well.

But fortune had turned a page on Azrael’s life. Because of Sophie’s love, not only was the sun no longer a problem for him, it was no longer a problem for
any
of the other vampires who had been turned under his sovereignty.

The members of Azrael’s band were there on the boat, each of them wearing dark sunglasses and dressed in varying degrees of dark shades. It was fortunate for them that the area had been blocked off for the private event, or Valley of Shadow fans would have been swarming the docks to get a look at them.

Randall McFarlan now stood in a group on the dock with Terrence Colby and Casper MonteVega. The vampires wore dark suits, as was customary, but was also most likely as they preferred. Michael had noticed that despite Azrael’s immunity to the sun and his reduced need to feed, nearly everything else about his vampirism remained the same. He still loved black, he still preferred the night. He possessed all the strengths and powers of a vampire but now he suffered from almost none of the weaknesses. If Azrael had been formidable before, now he was nearly unbeatable.

It was a good thing, not just for him, but for Sophie. The young archess now not only had the
protection
of Azrael’s vampires during the day as well as the night, but she also had their
gratitude
. In becoming vampires, they had all lost something very precious, and Sophie Bryce had given it back to them.

There were issues the four brothers had yet to contend with. Gregori was out there and none of them could tell what exactly he had planned for them. The consensus was that Michael’s archess would most likely be in great danger, since stopping their mating would stop the “Culmination.”

There was also a general awakening of the supernatural world to come to grips with. Monsters of all kinds were coming out of hiding. The world was reverting to what it had been thousands of years ago, and the human race was as unsuspecting and ignorant as ever.

These creatures were on the offensive, and controlling them would most likely call for everything the archangels could throw at them. Dragons were not normally dangerous on their own; they were not inherently evil, just as Nightmares were not. However, dragons that worked for fallen angels were another matter. And rogue Nightmares bent on seducing their way across an army of innocent women were no small problem either. Michael and his brothers had their work cut out for them.

And then there was Samael to consider. The Fallen One’s deal with Azrael had taken Michael’s power—a power that Michael had yet to regain. Michael knew that this wasn’t normal. He knew that were it not for Samael’s infernal, blood-signed contract, his healing ability would have returned to him days ago. Samael was keeping it from him somehow; it was yet another magical ability belonging to the Fallen One that Michael and his brothers could not comprehend. Sam was just too powerful.

And enigmatic. For instance, what in the world had Samael meant when he’d told Azrael to convey to Michael that if he wanted to find the rapist in New York, he should “take a walk in the park”?

Michael could only sigh heavily and shake his head. He had no idea. But he imagined he would soon find out.

However, for now . . . At this
very
moment . . . The sun was coming up over San Francisco Bay. Across the vast expanse of blue, the first rays of the massive star began to creep over the water. The priest at the prow of the boat glanced over his shoulder, caught the glint of light on the waves, and turned back to face the bride and groom. The father was smiling; he was another of Azrael’s vampire creations. He hadn’t acted as a priest for a hundred years, but what he had once been was good enough for Az and Sophie, who smiled back at him now.

The ceremony began.

As the newlyweds exchanged rings and vows and then leaned in for their kiss, Uro pulled a guitar out of a case behind him and began to strum. To the sound of “Hallelujah,” Michael and the rest of the wedding party—the priest, Gabriel, Uriel, Max, Eleanore, Juliette, Devran, Mikhail, and Rurik—disembarked, leaving only Uro, Azrael, and Sophie on the boat.

Sophie and Az continued to kiss. Uro continued to play. On the pier, Gabriel unknotted the ropes that moored the
Angel
, and the sails unfurled on their own. The wind caught them, stretched them taut, and those still on the docks waved, though the new husband and wife aboard the boat were unaware, as they were still kissing.

The ship sailed slowly from the dock, heading straight for the rising sun.

Beside Michael on the pier, Randall McFarlan took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. Michael watched as the retired cop took off his sunglasses, closed his eyes, and turned his face up to the sun. Monte patted him on the shoulder in solidarity, the same knowing smile on his own face.

“Beautiful day,” said Uriel beside Michael.

Michael turned to regard his brother.

Uriel’s green eyes were vivid in the morning light.

“Indeed it is,” agreed Michael. “Indeed it is.”