Repent in Love (11 page)

God help me
.

* * * * *

When she could see and make sounds again, Morta found
herself surrounded by an array of overstuffed, sumptuous, colorful pillows and
she was sitting on a silky, soft carpet covered in a riot of birds. The rug was
so finely crafted each bird appeared to be alive and in flight. Running her
fingers around the designs, she sniffed at the air, pushing the flap of a large
tent back and forth. It was warm and smelled like jasmine.

“You’re in my desert domain and you’re absolutely safe with
me.”

Morta jumped inches from the floor at the sound of his
voice. She flashed up and turned to see Marmaroth, his shoulders slouched,
looking out of an opening at the back of the tent. He no longer wore pants or a
shirt. His lose fitting caftan looked like cotton and the threads weaved
through it were a rainbow of color.

Her first thought was to flee back to her heavenly domain.

“Don’t. We need to talk.”

“We could have done that above, why bring me here?”

“In my desert you can’t use any of your frosty toys and your
sisters cannot interfere.” He turned to peer directly at her. “Being an angel
is trying as hell.”

Mort’s breath hitched in her throat when she saw the sadness
in his eyes. He must have heard her thoughts, because they quickly became blank
slates before he returned to staring wistfully out of the tent.

“But I imagine having sway over life, death and all that
happens in between is a real bitch too. No pun intended.”

“What?” She seemed to be asking that a lot. Nothing was
making any sense, yet calmness and warmth stole into her body. She removed the
soft shirt Nona had given her to ward off the cold and tossed it on a nearby
divan.

“Do you know why the Father allowed me to mate with a human?
Why he didn’t smite me like he did the others?”

“I’ve heard stories about your one true love, but I have a
feeling you’re going to tell me more.” No longer afraid, she moved to stand by
him. Morta followed his gaze across the desert and saw nothing as far as she
could see.

“Because I asked—it was that simple.” Marmaroth’s voice
softened to a whisper and she strained to hear him. “I loved the human woman I
spent a lifetime with. Her lifetime anyway. She loved the desert.” Loneliness
laced the words.

“Our Father is kind and loving to all in his universe.”

“You think so?”

She waited quietly knowing there was more.

He continued. “I couldn’t stay up there anymore. You see,
the woman I loved down here, she wasn’t my
one
true love as all believe.
Neither was she my first love. I cherished her, needed her even, because she
made me forget.” Marmaroth paused and straightened his shoulders.

Turning from the opening, he went to a table full of bottles
in every size, shape and color, some gilded in gold and silver, others
decorated with jewels. He ran his fingers over one sparkling with sapphires
before he lifted it and pulled the stopper out. He poured an amber liquid into
a glass. “Would you like some honeyed wine? It’s been blessed.” His eyes grew
darker with deep, moving shadows. “Everything on Earth has been sanctioned and
blessed by Him.”

Marmaroth’s voice washed over her, mesmerized her with its
soft, steady tone. “Yes, please.” She waited for him to continue.

“There is a plan for all life and for it to work we must all
follow the rules.” Handing her the glass, he stared at her as she took a
swallow. “Even angels and Fates. None of us can be treated as special, Morta.
It would throw things awfully out of balance.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

After watching her take another sip, he sighed. It sounded
so final, sad even. “Do you know how Uriel got the scar he wears?”

She remembered Luke asking the same question and was getting
damn tired of hearing it. “No, and I wish everyone would stop asking me if no
one plans to tell me.” Morta turned from the entrance and went to sit back in
her spot on the carpet. She gulped the remainder of wine and rested her back
against the mound of pillows. Her body grew limp and hot. The only time she
felt enough heat was when she was in Uri’s arms, so this surprised her. Trying
to focus, she looked closely at the beautiful shirt Nona had given her. The
silver threads glittered and danced against the black as though it were alive.

Shit!

“Ahh, you’ve finally realized what has happened. It’s a
potion.” He walked to stand above her. “This love you have for an archangel
can’t be allowed. It would throw Heaven into turmoil should he gain any of your
power.”

“Bastard,” she hissed as tears scalded a path down her
cheeks.

“Morta, you won’t remember loving Uriel.”

Everything went black again.

“You motherfucker! You knew.” Uri stood so quickly his chair
toppled backward and the table flipped over. “He has taken her to his domain.”

Yael appeared in a shower of blue light and grasped Ramiel’s
hand. “Uri’s correct. I felt her fear but I don’t any longer.” He saw her brow
pucker in thought.

“If he’s harmed her…”

“That would never be allowed,” Ram said softly. “He was only
supposed to talk to her.”

“I’m going to get her, Ram. Don’t try and stop me.”

“Uri…”

The surprise written across Yael’s face told him something
else was wrong.

“What, damn it, tell me. Is she hurt?”

“No, and she’s back home. Morta’s safe.”

“Cut the bullshit. You two together are probably stronger
than Michael and you read minds better than Raph. Tell me what the hell is
happening?”

Ram’s eyes darkened. Uri saw pity in them and his chest
constricted with pain.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You can’t and it wouldn’t matter.” Ram’s voice dropped an
octave. “She won’t remember loving you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s administered the potion.”

Uri’s mind twisted like a hurricane and his thoughts jumbled
together. It took him a minute to register that Raphael stood behind him. The
table was back in place and his chair sat as though it had never moved. Normal
bar sounds went on all around him. He watched mouths open and close, faces
light with laughter. Couples danced close together, whispering in each other’s
ears. No one noticed them at all and it dawned on him that Raph controlled the
people’s minds. So they suspected he’d be out of control and harm their safe
little universe.

The noise became unbearable, yet all he could do was stand
there and blink. Uri moved his hand to touch his cheeks and felt tears
streaming down his face. When he opened his mouth to bellow his pain, there was
only silence. Twirling like a dervish, he blended with the particles of dust in
the room.

Streaking through the air toward his heavenly domain, Uri
sensed Ram, Yael and Raph close behind him as he cried out in devastation.
Stars flashed and glittered, scattering before him.

The others followed him into his home and stood quietly
waiting for him to speak.

“I’m fine. I don’t intend to tear your world asunder or
anything.” He sat down and put his head back in the chair. “This is for the
best. Now no one can harm her because of me.” The pain squeezed his heart like
a vice, but he wouldn’t let them know that. He kept his eyes closed and
struggled to bring order to his mind.

“Will you be all right alone?” Yael’s words were soft,
caring.

“Yes.” He was afraid to say anything more or make eye
contact. Taking loud draughts of air, he managed to gain a semblance of
normalcy. Enough to fool them for a while. Opening his eyes, he peered at them
standing there and wondered what they’d do if he did go mad. Right now that
felt like a possibility. Being without Morta, seeing her and not being able to
have her ever again burned a hole into his heart like a hot poker.

Calm. Uri needed to remain calm. Think.

“I meant what I said. No harm can come to Morta if she has
no connection to me.” He looked up at the three of them. “That and the boy are
my only concerns and I want to be the one who returns him. The child’s soul
remains with Yael for now. Promise me that, Ram.”

“We’ll take care of him.”

“Thanks. I want to be alone.”

“Look, if you need to talk, I understand.”

He couldn’t keep the pretense up for long. “You don’t
understand shit.” He glared at Ramiel and moved his eyes to take in Yael.
“You’ve got everything you wanted in the world. Get out.”

Uri’s head throbbed as he struggled to keep his thoughts to
himself. His safeguards here were strong and impenetrable but below the earth’s
crust he would be better able to keep even the strongest angel out of his mind.
As soon as he no longer felt their essence, he morphed into dust again and
blazed a path to his earthly domain.

There was an answer for this and he’d find it. He was
prepared to do everything possible to get to the woman who belonged to him,
with
him.

He had no intention of living without Mort.

Entering his domain, he felt the presence of Marcan and knew
instantly the Nephilim child of Marmaroth still held the key. Uri would use him
any way he could to take back what was his.

Without Morta—life meant nothing.

Michael stared across the green expanse of lawn and didn’t
even see the riot of colorful flowers that dotted the landscape. The silence
was deafening.

“It is done.” Decima’s words held no joy.

“Why can’t I feel him?” He swiveled in the chair to look at
the Fate responsible for the length of life.

“He’s returned below. Uriel’s safeguards there were always
stronger because of Lucifer.”

“Luke wouldn’t dare lift a finger to help him.”

“Are you sure of that?” Decima whispered.

They were both afraid God would hear them. Yet Michael knew
that, as in everything, he’d already know. “No.”

He asked, “The boy?”

“Ramiel has promised to keep him for now.”

“Shit. What has happened to us?” Michael hunched forward in
his chair. “It’s as though I have no control over any of them anymore.”

“That’s not true. You’ve always chosen to use your powers
only when necessary. Marmaroth has made sure you don’t have to.” Decima walked
to the chair nearest his desk and sat down with a thud. “It is tiresome
watching them all the time. Angels are like children.” A deep sigh slid through
her lips. “But then they are God’s children.” She glanced out the window and
saw Ram and Yael’s daughter, Jayel, running with a ball toward her parents’
palace. “Do you think she feels the presence of the being that follows her
everywhere?”

Michael peered over his shoulder and watched his
goddaughter, who was closely followed by the ghostly essence of the one she
belonged to. “That is something we don’t have to worry about for quite a few
years. His soul is in good keeping with Nona. His father, Ezekiel, would have
it no other way.” He turned back to Decima. “Ram and Yael were brought together
to create Jayel for a reason only God knows and though his mating with Jayel
will one day solve the dilemma for man and beast on Earth, what of ours here
and now? Something tells me Uriel is only biding time.” His fingers drummed on
the desk. “I believe his and Morta’s meshing has already taken place. If she
regains any part of her memory, I’m afraid there will be no keeping them
apart.”

“Then you will have to use your powers.”

“The devastation that will ensue will take its toll on all
of us.”

“There is always Samael.” Sadness poured from Decima’s mouth
along with the name neither of them had wanted to say. Michael loudly expelled
the breath of air he’d been holding.

“Yes, there is always death.”

* * * * *

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I don’t
know
anything.” Marcan slouched in the chair across from Uri. “You can bang me into
walls, break my limbs or beat the shit out of me and it wouldn’t matter. I
don’t
know
what you want.”

Uri watched the gangly Nephilim twist and turn in his seat.
He respected that the kid wasn’t afraid of him. Why couldn’t these cretins just
leave the humans alone? Uri wouldn’t care if they stole each other’s souls or
shared their own blood. It was the harm and pain they caused to those weaker
than they were. It wasn’t fair.

“Life isn’t fair.”

Marcan’s eyes crinkled up. “What?”

Uri hadn’t realized he had spoken out loud. Out of the blue
it dawned on him he’d done the same thing to Marmaroth’s son. All those years
ago, he’d done it to Goliath, one of the first Nephilim. He’d paid for that.

He was an archangel and wielded power over many beings and
had often used it to benefit no one but himself. Seldom if ever had he tried to
understand them or know what they felt or needed. Brute force was much quicker
and easier.

Oh God damn! Don’t go all soft now.

But something clicked inside him and it was too late. Uriel
had changed and he didn’t realize it until this instant. When had it happened?

Morta. Loving her had changed everything.

The answer lies in loving her.
Ram’s words ran slowly
through his mind. He peered at the giant across from him. “Marcan, I don’t want
to spend the rest of forever chasing your sorry ass around the globe. Do you
understand that? You’re one of the strongest of your kind I’ve ever had to deal
with and you could damn near have anything you want. What more do you need in
life?”

“Huh?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re not stupid.”

“Yo, fly-boy. Careful with the language. Gramps could be
listening.”

“You care about my using Jesus’s name in vain?” He pressed
his lips tight to hold back the sarcasm. “What about Gramps’s children? What
about the humans you harm?”

“Hey, they’re just power, you know…”

“No. I don’t know, explain it to me. How much power do you
need over someone who is already weaker than you are? What does it prove?”
Uriel watched him closely.

Marcan leaned his head to the side and rubbed his cheek. “I
guess it’s just something to do.”

“Do you ever feel sorrow?”

The young man looked down at his hands. Embarrassment flamed
bright red in his face. “Yeah, but I can’t stop myself.”

God loves you, God forgives you and I absolve you of all
your sins.
Tears threatened the boy’s eyes. “Go before I forget how many
people you’ve truly hurt.” Uri waved his hand to release his safeguards.
“You’re free, but know this—I will watch your every move.”

Marcan made a loud noise as he slipped into nothingness and,
undoubtedly, headed back to Earth. He had released the one person who could
help. The pain in his heart hadn’t lessened; it had grown far worse. But as
much as he wanted Morta, he needed something else.

Everyone had been right. The way he was, what he planned,
would only bring harm to her family, the world, and everyone in it. Even
worse—pain and misery to the one person he cared about.

Morta. He didn’t deserve her or her love.

Repent all you sinners.

Now it was his turn.

* * * * *

Morta was empty inside. The cool air instantly put goose
bumps on her arms and legs when she rose from the steaming water. Fashioning a
soft gray turtleneck with long sleeves, and jeans, she slipped them on but she
was still cold. And hungry as hell. She decided to cook the old-fashioned way
today. She hadn’t spent much time with her sisters lately but when they smelled
the aroma of fresh fish, they’d both come running. Fates didn’t need food, yet
it provided a comforting way for them to sit together and talk.

Curtains billowed at the window of her bedroom and caught
her attention. The filmy lilac material drew her closer. Decorating. Morta had
the inexplicable impulse to change her room. Never one to relish performing
homelike duties, she had no idea where the thought came from.

Later she’d talk Nona into shopping. The need to get out of
the house had her jumpy.

“You could just fashion them with magic.” She spun around to
catch Decima watching her with glistening eyes.

Why had she been crying? “I know but I want to get out. I
want to see and feel the rows of colorful cloth. It may give me some ideas.”

“Why the sudden urge to redecorate?” Her sister’s eyes
followed her.

“I…I don’t know. Why the sudden interest in what I want to
do?” Something wasn’t right. The emptiness inside threatened to consume her.
“Would you care to join me? Nony’s probably busy spinning and weaving life.”
Air huffed from her body as she flounced into the nearest chair. Morta’s duties
usually came at night. Funny how human souls didn’t cry out for relief often
during daylight hours. She wished right now they did. It would give her
something to do aside from playing with bolts of cloth. She stood so quickly
the chair rocked on its legs before bouncing with a loud knock back to the
floor. “Never mind, I really want to be alone.”

Mort twirled quickly, allowing her essence to dissipate into
the air. She streaked toward one of her favorite haunts on Earth. A drink and a
man were what she needed. Someone to hold her and ward off the chill that had
burrowed into her like a tick.

Her foot swung idly as she sipped her drink and gazed around
the bar. She didn’t understand how her sisters could go without male touch. Two
consenting adults soothing and warming each other was a blessing they were
allowed to have. They just couldn’t get entangled.

Drawn to a secluded corner of the club, Mort strained to see
who it was that glared at her. The heated look mentally touched her body from
head to toe. Sniffing, she caught the scent of animal mixed with…vampyre. Just
what she needed. Someone who’d be a little rough, someone who’d bite and nibble
at her nipples, tease her clit with his fangs. Maybe take her blood. Everything
she loved in a man.

So why wasn’t she hot and bothered?

Because you belong to someone else.

What the hell! She should have sensed anyone strong enough
to enter her mind. I
don’t belong to anyone.

Follow me.

A vacuum of air sucked her right out of the room. Mort
soared behind the strange winged creature. It had been a million years since
she’d seen a bird of fire. Why was he on Earth? Worse yet, why didn’t she want
him?

The firebird dropped down onto a grassy knoll and took on
the appearance of a man. Her feet lightly skimmed the ground as she landed
beside him. Long, oddly silver and black streaked hair pulled into a ponytail
touched his waist and emerald-green eyes sparkled at her. A sly smile curved
his lips.