Messenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels (17 page)

“I’ll do it,” Az said suddenly, straightening from where he’d been leaning against the hearth. “And then I must rest.”

Gabriel didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He was more grateful than words most likely would have expressed anyway.

Max looked questioningly from Az to Gabriel, as did Michael and Uriel. But Eleanore didn’t seem surprised. She’d probably been thinking the same thing Gabriel had. She was a smart girl. Uriel was a lucky archangel.

The others figured out relatively quickly what he was going to do when Azrael gracefully sat down on the rug-covered stone floor in front of the fireplace and began to gaze into the rising flames. He didn’t need something like that to stare into when performing a scry, but it seemed to help, because he preferred it.

“She’s in Luskentyre,” he said a few seconds later. “In the cottage she rented.”

He stood then, in one fluid, unnatural movement, and extinguished the fire with a wave of his hand. At the same time, the torches in their sconces along the wall burst to fiery life. “Now leave. It’s past my bedtime.” He smiled, flashing fangs.

Gabriel watched Max and the others leave. He slowly followed behind them. But before stepping out into the stone corridor that would lead him to the rest of the mansion up above, he turned and looked back at Azrael.

The vampire was watching him steadily.

“Thank you,” Gabriel said.

“You’re welcome,” Azrael replied. “And I should probably also tell you this,” he added. Gabriel waited, tensing up as he expected the worst. “Sam’s been very busy on the enticement front.”

“Wha’s that supposed to mean?” Gabriel asked, gaze narrowed.

“She doesn’t hate him,” Az replied simply. “She’s also not alone at the moment. Lilith is with her.”

Gabriel frowned. Lilith was with Juliette? Why?

Obviously reading his mind, Az shrugged and leapt, very vampirelike, on top of the stone slab upon which he would be sleeping. “Lilith may work with Samael, but her loyalty to him runs through a strange and secret vein,” he said as he lay down and closed his eyes. “Who knows why she does what she does? But my guess is that she doesn’t wish the archess to be alone while the Adarians are yet at large.”

Gabriel felt very torn. He liked Lilith. All the archangels did, and everyone knew that Max had fallen head over heels for her at least a thousand bloody years ago. Gabe was grateful that Juliette wouldn’t be alone right now.

But where did that leave him? Where did he go from here? What was he supposed to do now?

“There’s always the old-fashioned way,” Az said. His eyes were still closed, but a smile was curling the corners of his handsome mouth. “You could make amends. You could
woo
her,” he said before his smile broke into a full-fledged grin, fangs pronounced and gleaming in the torchlight.

“As if that’ll work after wha’ I’ve already pu’ her through,” Gabriel said.

“Women are amazing creatures, Gabriel,” Azrael said as his smile slipped from his face and his features relaxed. He was sliding into sleep. “Give them the credit they’re due. Juliette may surprise you.”

* * *

Juliette had never liked Tuesdays. They were worse than Mondays as far as she was concerned. On Monday it sucked because you had the entire week ahead of you, and you were relentlessly bombarded with all the crap that everyone was able to think up over the weekend. But Tuesdays were brutal because you were already tired from Monday, and you still had four long-ass days ahead of you, and it was a safe bet that you didn’t get half of the stuff you had to do on Monday finished anyway.

But this Tuesday was different. It wasn’t harried or frantic—it was surreal. And if it and the Monday preceding it were any indication of what the rest of the week would be like, she was going to have to take up drinking. Or sniffing glue.

“Okay,” Juliette said, placing her hands palms down on her lap and taking a deep breath. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight.”

Lily, or “Lilith,” as she’d told Juliette her real name was, had been in the rental cottage for the last four hours, telling Jules the truth about Samuel Lambent—also known as Samael—and his very tricky contracts. She had also filled Juliette in on the other archangels and the Adarians. And so far, everything but the news about Samael had been a repeat of what the archangels had already told her.

“The Old Man made me for Gabriel—and then tossed me down to Earth to protect me. And this was two thousand years ago?” Lilith nodded. She raised her teacup to her lips and took a sip. Juliette frowned. “Where have I been for the last two thousand years, then?”

Lilith put her cup in the saucer in her hand and tilted her head to one side. She studied Juliette closely, and not for the first time, Jules was struck by the way Lilith looked so young, though her black eyes looked ancient. “I think that’s a very good question, Juliette.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well.” Lilith shrugged slightly and turned to look out the window at the turquoise water at the shore. “Where do you feel like you’ve been?” she asked without looking at Juliette.

“Nowhere,” Jules answered without thinking. It was a weird question. There couldn’t be a correct answer for it.

But Lilith turned away from the windows and pinned her with that dark gaze once more. “Are you sure about that?”

Juliette blinked several times. And then she looked away, picked up her own teacup, and hurriedly brought it to her lips. The truth was,
no
—she didn’t feel as if she’d been nowhere. For years she had been haunted by dreams filled with images of crumbling castles overlaid with the transparent impressions of what the buildings had looked like thousands of years ago. She’d dreamed of cemeteries both old and new, streets made of cobblestones and yet paved in asphalt.

She’d always wondered why she had these dreams. She wondered why, when she picked up a book with a photograph or painting of the past, it felt familiar to her. It was the reason she had focused on history and ethnography in school, and it was why she spent so much of her free time in libraries or online, browsing books and maps and pictures of what had been long ago.

She didn’t feel as if she had never been anywhere. She felt as if she’d been
everywhere
. Or, at least, every
when
.

“What about Eleanore Granger?” she asked, wanting to take the attention off herself. “Why wasn’t she found before now? If what you all tell me is true, then archesses are coming out of the woodwork after two thousand years. Why?”

“That’s a good question, too,” Lilith said, smiling a strange, secret smile. “But I’m afraid I don’t have an answer I can share with you.”

Juliette mulled that over, wondering whether it meant that Lily didn’t have an answer at all—or just wasn’t going to share the one she did have. Finally, she changed the subject entirely and asked, “If Samuel Lambent is actually Samael, is this deal he made with me even real? Do I still need to collect this information for his show?”

“Oh, it’s real,” Lilith said, setting both her cup and saucer on the coffee table in front of them. “He is a media mogul, after all. He may not be human, but he’s lived amongst them for thousands of years. One thing he’s always been good at is multitasking.” At this, Lilith chuckled softly. “He might be turning the world upside down with one hand, but at the same time, he’ll be making money with the other.”

“So this miniseries he wants is on the level? It wasn’t just a ruse to get me to meet with him?”

Lilith considered her words carefully. “He will definitely follow through with the miniseries, and most likely, it will get great ratings. Everything he creates does. But he’s not opposed to killing two birds with one stone, and yes, he did initially use the proposal to bring you to him.” She stopped and considered something else, and then shrugged. “Not that he couldn’t simply meet you whenever he wanted to without any kind of scheme.”

Juliette put her teacup down on the table. “But the business about the warlock . . . that’s all a lie, isn’t it?”

Lilith shook her head. “Every untruth has at least the tiniest amount of truth to it,” she said. “For all intents and purposes, archesses do possess a special kind of magic. And there is another being of immense power out there who wishes to take that magic from you.”

“But it isn’t Gabriel, is it?” It wasn’t really a question. Juliette already knew the answer. Lawrence McNabb had said the warlock had black hair—and eyes of a different color. He hadn’t come out and said those eyes were silver. According to Gabriel and his brothers, Abraxos, the leader of the Adarians, had black hair and blue eyes. It was the Adarian General who wanted Juliette’s power. He was the warlock—not Gabriel.

Lilith shook her head, her eyes twinkling. “No. I think it’s safe to say that Gabriel wants something entirely different from you, Juliette.”

A rush of warmth thrummed through Juliette at those words. It was akin to a best friend telling you in high school that your crush is crushing right back. But this was stronger. She ducked her head, rubbed her hands on her jeans, and changed the subject again. “Lilith . . .” She trailed off as she thought about how best to put forth her next question. “Gabriel and the others . . . they dislike Sam greatly. Is Samael a bad man? Is he that dangerous? He’s never been anything but kind to me. And if he was talking about the Adarians when he made up that warlock story—then he was in fact warning me, wasn’t he?”

Lilith straightened in her seat and gazed steadily at Juliette. The look in her dark, dark eyes was suddenly so intense, Juliette felt uncomfortable there beneath it.

“Good and evil are subjective, Juliette,” Lilith said, her tone much more serious than it had been a moment ago. “But as to whether or not Samael is dangerous . . . let’s just say I wouldn’t take him lightly.” She paused a moment, then added, “Ever.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

L
ilith stayed with Juliette until a few hours later, when there was a second knock on the door. Angus Dougal stood on the doorstep, his hands on his hips, his green eyes turned out to sea.

“Ah, the chief inspector,” said Lilith as she stood from the dining room table, where she and Juliette had just finished sharing a light Scottish brunch. “Quite a few women in Harris and Lewis have their eye on that one. Unfortunately, he’s still pining over the lovely young woman he’d been dating until a month ago. She broke his heart.”

She moved around the table as she told Juliette all of this and Juliette could only listen in faint surprise. How the hell did Lilith know all of this?

Juliette got up and joined her then, walking to the edge of the kitchen. At that point, Dougal turned and looked through the glass doors. Juliette met his gaze.

Lilith leaned in and whispered, “I’d imagine that entertaining such a guest would make Gabriel’s blood boil.” She straightened, an enigmatic smile on her lovely face. And then she winked, pulled on her humongous parka, and headed to the glass doors, Juliette on her heels.

Juliette opened the door and Angus nodded at her. Something flattering flickered clearly in the depths of his jade green eyes. She took a deep breath and asked the chief inspector in. At the same time, Lilith nodded her good-bye and saw herself out. Juliette shut the door and wondered where the woman was going. Would she take a car? Or simply pop out of existence? Come to think of it, Juliette had never asked Lilith what
her
story was. Why did she work for Sam? And as what?

“Miss Anderson, I’m sorrae tae intrude on yae withoot notice,” said Angus, his deep voice heavy with accent. “But I was in the area and saw yer lights on and wanted tae check up on yae.”

Juliette turned to face him and felt dwarfed. He was as tall as Gabriel, and as broad as well, and she had to crane her neck a little to look up at him. “I’m fine, Inspector,” Juliette said. “Can I get you some tea?”

“Please.” He smiled a friendly smile that gave him a pair of dimples and softened his otherwise hard expression. “It’s a wee bit nippy with the wind as it is.” He began to shrug off his jacket, once more revealing his shoulder holster and the guns it held. “Oh, sorrae.” He looked embarrassed for a moment. “Do yae mind if I—”

“Not at all,” Juliette assured him, gesturing to the coatrack in one corner. He nodded and strode to the rack, his long legs eating up the distance in a meager three steps. Once he’d hung his coat, he turned to regard the peat fire in the stove. After a moment, he nodded, seemingly satisfied that it was burning well, and then turned an appreciative gaze on Juliette again.

“Ye’ve built a nice fire,” he told her as the firelight reflected in his eyes. “Ye’d do well livin’ here, if I may say so.”

Juliette had nothing to say to that. She ducked her head, a touch ashamed that she hadn’t, in fact, built the fire at all. But she wasn’t about to tell the inspector that the blaze had leapt to life of its own accord. “Your tea,” she said, holding out the cup she’d poured for him. “Cream or sugar?”

“Nae.” He shook his head, his thick wavy hair brushing the collar of his shirt and curling on his forehead like Superman’s. “Thank yae. It’s fine as is.” He strode back across the room and gently took the mug from her. Then he took a sip and cocked his head to one side, studying her carefully. “Have yae had any more trouble with Black?” he asked. His green gaze was penetrating as he waited for her reply. She remembered that look—the inspector was very observant. He wasn’t missing anything in that moment.

Juliette wasn’t sure she could hide the thoughts she was thinking, so she ducked her head and turned to regard the view beyond the sliding glass doors. “No,” she said. “I haven’t had any more trouble from him.” It both felt and sounded like a lie and there was nothing in the world she could do about it.

“I see,” Dougal said softly. Juliette could feel his presence behind her. She felt like a specimen beneath a microscope; the heat from the lens was burning a hole through the back of her neck. “That’s good tae know, Juliette,” he said, using her first name this time.

She turned to face him and was struck with a hard, green gaze that pinned her to the spot. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he continued. “Because we’ve learned a few things aboot Black lately that tend to the troublin’ side.”

Juliette swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “Like what?” she asked, trying to sound as carefree as possible.

Dougal’s smile never wavered. He turned away from her and made his way to one of the couches. He took another sip of his tea, then leaned over and placed the mug on the coffee table. “Gabriel Black is the benefactor for qui’ a few charitable projects goin’ on in Harris a’ the moment,” he told her, taking a seat and draping his thick arms over the back of the sofa.

“Funds from ’is account are buildin’ a new children’s home, among other things. The thing is, this account of ’is seems to have nae backin’. There’s nae trail to tell us where this money’s comin’ from,” he said. “Black’s job as a firefighter in New York can no’ accoont for the lo’ of it. An’ though ’e’s go’ the Glasgow banks in ’is pocket, we’re dubious.” He leaned forward on the couch then and rested his elbows on his knees. “A man doosn’t hide his past without good reason, Juliette. Charity is a cover for many a criminal. Black may be a verrae dangerous man.”

You have no idea,
Juliette thought. Her heart was hammering. Her head was beginning to pound. She knew that Angus Dougal had no doubt come to her cottage that day in order to convince her to stay well away from Gabriel Black. He had some kind of problem with Gabriel. She was willing to bet it was personal. But she knew where Gabriel’s money came from and it wasn’t what Dougal thought. She knew that Black could take any object in the world and turn it into solid gold. It had been one of the demonstrations he and his brothers had given her back at his mansion last night and early that morning.

His wealth didn’t surprise her.

What took her breath away was that Gabriel Black was using that money to help homeless children. Beneath the hard edges and angles of the black-clad archangel, there appeared to be a genuinely good man. And she’d most likely misjudged him in the worst possible way.
She
—judging
him
. An archangel, of all things.

“What else?” she asked suddenly.

Dougal frowned, tilting his head a little, clearly not understanding the question.

Juliette swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “I mean, what else is he funding? You said he was funding several charitable operations.”

Dougal’s gaze slowly narrowed. His body was stock-still as he replied, “Black’s money has restored several crofts across Harris an’ Lewis.”

Juliette thought of the peat bogs she’d seen on her drive from Stornoway into Luskentyre. She knew a lot about them; she’d done her homework. Their winding lines carved the landscape of the Western Isles and much of the mainland as well. They were quintessential Scotland; people on the Outer Hebrides had been making their living that way for centuries. But peat crofting and sheep raising were a failing way of life as well. Crofters were a dying breed. It was an incredibly hard living and the younger generations more often than not opted out of it. They would head to Glasgow for other work, leaving behind generations of history. Eventually, the family land and home were sold or left to rot—empty and useless reminders of what once was.

Gabriel Black was trying to change that. He was trying to preserve a piece of history and save Scotland’s way of life. Juliette’s heart melted a little in that moment. She was very fond of Scotland; she felt a kinship to it and its people somewhere deep, deep inside. Gabriel was using his gifts to give its children a better life and save what was left of its legacy. What had his brother Uriel done with his gifts? Become a famous movie star.

There was a depth to Gabriel that others didn’t have. And up to that moment, she’d all but missed it.

On the couch, Angus Dougal straightened, his expression dark. He stood and picked up his mug and moved around the coffee table to approach the kitchen. Juliette watched him rinse out the mug and place it in the sink. Then he turned, leaned against the sink, and crossed his muscular arms over his chest. He cut a handsome figure and Juliette was reminded of Lilith’s parting words.

To take the heat of the subject off Gabriel—and because Juliette really was curious—she asked, “I’ve been told that you’re unattached at the moment. Is this true?”

Angus’s eyebrow shot up and he went very still where he stood. It was clear that he wasn’t sure whether to entertain the question at first. But then he uncrossed his arms and placed his hands palm down on the counter. His gaze left hers and settled on the floor. “It is.”

“Did you break up with her or did she break up with you?”

It was a long while before Dougal replied to this one. He was no doubt wondering how much Juliette had heard about him. And from whom.

“She left me,” he said then. Juliette could hear the pain in his voice. She also recognized that he was trying very hard to hide it.

She paused for a respectful amount of time and then quietly asked, “What happened?” She knew she was crossing a line, but she didn’t care.

Surprisingly, Angus didn’t seem to care either. He looked back up at her. “She wanted bairns bu’ could no’ have them. She’s unable.”

Juliette frowned. That made no sense. Why would a woman leave a man because she was unable to have children?

“I never cared,” he continued as if he could see the confusion in her expression and didn’t mind clarifying. “Bu’ she thou’ I did. An’ it scared her. I know she felt she could never make me happy.”

“So she ran away.” Juliette put two and two together then.

Angus nodded. Another long moment of silence passed between them. And then he straightened again. “Yae’re a kind lass, Juliette,” he said. “A trustin’ lass. An’ tha’s wha’ scares me.” He strode out of the kitchen to the coatrack, then pulled his coat down and shrugged it on. All the while, Juliette watched the muscles flex and ripple beneath the material of his clothing.

She imagined Angus Dougal could have his choice of women in the Western Isles. That he wasn’t currently attached must mean that he cared for his ex-girlfriend a great deal.

Dougal turned to face her again. “Juliette, I’ll give yae fair warnin’,” he said. “Gabriel Black has made ’is forsaken way through many a woman on these isles.” He shook his head slowly. “There are no consequences for tha’ man, lass. I don’ trust Black an’ I don’ think yae should be trustin’ him either.” With that, he brushed past her, and a gentle wave of aftershave wafted over her. The inspector made it to the door and opened it himself. “Good day, Miss Anderson,” he said, reverting at once to formality. He stepped through and began to close the door behind him. But before he shut it all the way, he stopped and turned to glance at her over his shoulder. “An’ please be careful.”

Juliette watched as he shut the door and descended the stairs from her cottage, turning around the corner on the first floor and disappearing from sight.

When he was gone, she leaned back against the wall behind her and closed her eyes. “What do I do now?” she asked softly. Gabriel Black was confusing the crap out of her. He was a tomcat and a rake and he kissed like he’d kissed ten thousand women for practice. But he was also kind. She had Angus Dougal to thank for showing her that much. But it wasn’t just that. Juliette’s entire world had been turned upside down. Gabriel and the other archangels aside, Juliette had more mundane and real-life issues to consider as well.

Did she fly home now? Throw in the towel? Run back to Pittsburgh and move in with Sophie for a while? Did she call it quits with her career and forget about her PhD because she’d just learned that she was an “archess”?

“No,” she whispered to herself, putting her hand to her forehead. She wasn’t ready to give up on all of that. She loved history. She loved Scotland and its past. She had wanted this so badly for so many years, she could taste it.

She was in danger. The Adarians were out there somewhere looking for her, and they’d found her once already. Going home wouldn’t ensure they didn’t find her again. They could track her down in the US as easily as they could here. And if she was with Sophie . . . she could put her best friend in danger.

“I’ll stay,” she told herself. She would remain in Scotland—at least for the time being. But if she was going to stay there, do her research, and write her thesis to graduate, she would need to take safety measures. Remaining in that cottage might not be so wise. It was too remote in Luskentyre; she was too alone. She needed to move somewhere with more people—surround herself with protection.

Juliette pushed off the wall and ran a hand through her long, thick hair. “All right,” she said. “Time to pack.”

* * *

It was late afternoon and Juliette was just finishing packing everything she could get to fit into her suitcase. She was still wearing the Burberry jacket. She was indoors, but the aviator’s coat was so beautiful, she found she couldn’t take it off.

Juliette’s head cocked to one side when she heard a motorcycle’s engine draw closer outside. She paused in her work and listened. The roar of the bike didn’t die down; it got louder as it approached, obviously turning onto the side street that ran to her cottage.

And then it shut down altogether and she froze in the following silence.
Someone’s here.
Cortisol and adrenaline flooded her blood system, putting her stomach in her throat and momentarily causing her heart to race. Footfalls, determined and certain, made their way across the gravel driveway to the sidewalk. Juliette swallowed hard and looked toward the small windows of the cottage bedroom. But she was on the second floor and they would show her nothing.

She thought fast. There were no weapons in the cottage. In fact, other than the two guns she’d seen on Chief Inspector Angus Dougal, Britain gave the impression of being firearm free. An entire bloody kingdom and not one weapon.