After the Fall (Broken Angel #2) (17 page)

BOOK: After the Fall (Broken Angel #2)
11.46Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

It’s true.
He moaned. That’s why Raphael loved Jeremy. Jeremy was Raphael’s true son, and he...he was a bastard.

“Ah, I see you have accepted your fate. You’ve never really fit in with Raphael and his family, heavenly or earthly. I regret that I did not take you in sooner, but I was young then, and my sole focus was to build my empire. By the time I was ready for you to join me, you were gone.” He clapped his hands together and smiled. “Well, that’s all in the past. Now we can start over. And with Naomi and you in our little family, we can defeat anyone who decides to challenge us as I move toward my total domination of Earth.”

Lash’s eyes flashed open. “I told you, she’ll never join you, and neither will I,” he seethed. “I don’t care who you are. You can kill me, and still, Michael and the others will defeat you.”

Lucifer laughed. “I do not fear Michael’s army. His belief in the free will of man, or shall I say men and women, is his downfall. Oh, I’m very secure, and my association with Senator Jane Sutherland guarantees it. It is she who will lead us to the victory I seek.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Lahash, I’m shocked. Surely, a seraph would have taken the time to learn human spiritual writings. Even Saleos here knows the prophecy. Tell him, Saleos.”

“It is foretold that ‘a woman, known as the whore of Babylon sitting on a scarlet beast, will make herself drunk with the blood of saints and will be the leader among leaders on Earth.’ Anything else I need to teach him?” Saleos scowled.

“No, I’ll take the liberty of telling him the good part,” Lucifer said. “It is written that ‘the beast’”—he grinned, tapping his broad chest—“‘will hate the whore and will burn her with fire.’ Hate is a strong word. Maybe not hate, but I do admit she’s turning out to be a handful lately.”

What have I done?
Lash felt the blood drain from his face. All those years ago when he was on that plane, he had thought he was saving two children, instead of just the one he was assigned to. He thought he was saving a kind-hearted little girl, and now she turned out to be what humans considered the antichrist? Was this all his fault?

No, he had to believe that Michael would’ve had someone else go after her if they thought she was a threat. “That’ll never happen. Michael will stop you both.”

“Ah, but it has already begun. Although I will miss my dear sweet Jane once she has served her use.” He looked intently at Lash. “My son, there is no need for
you
to have her fate. I ask you one last time. Will you join us?”

Lash glared at him. “No.”

Lucifer’s lips tightened into a thin line, and his eyes narrowed. “So, be it. Saleos, head out to the press conference in Gardenville. No one is to touch our precious Jane. Hear me?”

Sal nodded.

“You two,” he snapped at the pair of dark angels. They went to him quickly and bowed. “Bring Naomi here. Alone. Have your way with her, then kill her.”

Two pairs of black eyes turned to Lash, giving him an evil smirk.

“No!” Lash roared as he jerked on his chains. “Don’t you touch her!”

Lucifer turned to him, his eyes cold. “Make sure he is kept alive long enough to see it.”

18

N
aomi stood at the entrance to the hospital room, watching Chuy as he slept. His large body was sprawled over the chair in the corner. On the other side of the room, Megan slept on the edge of Emma’s bed, clutching her tiny hand. The only sounds in the room were the beeps and whirls of the machines and Chuy’s soft snoring.

When she returned to the room, she had found Chuy and Megan planning how they would turn the media’s attention to the damage Prescott Oil was doing to Gardenville and other small towns in Texas. Chuy had told her that Lalo was close to getting all the information they needed and would give it to them at the press conference, which was to be held in an open field just outside of Prescott Oil’s business offices. Megan had made one final call to Emma’s father, making sure that he would be there by morning to watch over her. It seemed everything was set and all they had to do was wait for morning.

The sun peeped out of the horizon, turning the sky into a haze of pink and purple. Naomi glanced at the clock and frowned. Jeremy wasn’t back yet, and in only a few more hours, Chuy and Megan would be leaving to the location where Senator Sutherland was making her presidential announcement.

Jeremy had been gone for what seemed like a long time. She warred with the thought of going after him. But then she took one look at Chuy―long curly eyelashes fanning his brown face, his mouth slightly open as he slept, looking like a helpless little boy rather than a man―and she couldn’t take the chance of leaving him. He was in danger. Jeremy’s voice echoed in her mind. He was there for Chuy.

He wouldn’t tell her what he meant by saying that. Of course he wouldn’t. Even though he had admitted to being in love with her, he still wouldn’t break the code of silence when it came to their assignments.

She leaned against the doorframe, wondering what Lash would’ve done. There was no doubt in her mind that he would’ve told her, even if it meant getting in trouble for it. To Lash, the people he looked over were more than assignments. He cared deeply for them. It wasn’t that Jeremy didn’t care. It was just that his loyalties were in a different place.

At the thought of Lash, her hands shook and her heart pounded. She quickly pushed the thought of him to the back of her mind. She’d go crazy if she didn’t. She felt her nails dig into her palms as she clenched her hands into fists. It was taking every ounce of strength to wait for Jeremy. Only Chuy’s safety was keeping her there.

Chuy stirred in his seat, and the sleeve of his T-shirt rolled up, revealing his tattoo. She wished she had been there to see the look on Welita’s face when she found out about it. She could see her now, chasing him around the house with broom in hand, threatening to smack sense into him. Chuy probably would’ve pretended he was afraid and apologized profusely to her, promising to never do it again. Although Naomi knew he would’ve been planning on his next one even as he said it.

She sighed. Chuy was too young, too full of life to die, and Welita needed him. Maybe she could warn him, somehow. Even if she risked appearing to him like she had with Welita, what would she tell him: “Be careful and don’t die anytime soon”? “Lash’s brother is the archangel of death, and he’s waiting around for something to happen to you, so don’t die”?

She shook her head. She didn’t want this kind of life. She didn’t want to have to choose between saving Lash or saving Chuy. She hated being pulled in different directions. It felt like she was being torn in two. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Chuy shifted in the chair again, and a cell phone fell out of his lap. She glanced at him, seeing if the sound would wake him, but he continued to sleep.

There was only one person who could understand her. And she desperately wanted an answer.

She looked around the corridor, and seeing no one, she glided to Chuy. Standing over him, she willed herself to change into her human form.

Without making a sound, she picked up the phone and stepped out of the room into the hallway.

With a swipe and a few taps, she found Welita’s number. She probably shouldn’t be calling her. She had already crossed the line by visiting her, but she needed her.

“Que paso? What’s wrong, Chuy? You’re never up this early.”

Naomi swallowed thickly at the sound of Welita’s voice.

“Chuy?” There was a pause. “Naomi.”

“Welita,” she whispered, holding tightly to the phone. “I’m so sorry. I had to hear your voice one more time.”

“What’s wrong, Mejita?”

“I know something that I’m not supposed to know, and I want to do something about it. I want to tell that person, but I shouldn’t, and I still want to...but...but what if the... thing is supposed to happen?”

“I haven’t had my coffee yet. You’re not making sense.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I think someone is going to die soon.”

“Who?”

“It’s... It’s...” She couldn’t lay that kind of burden on her. “I can’t tell you.”

Naomi heard Welita’s breath hitch, followed by a muttered prayer. She didn’t have to tell her. It was as if Welita knew just by the sound of her voice. “Are you sure this person’s life will end soon?”

“Yes. What do I do?”

There was silence at the end of the line. And then her voice came out soft yet firm. “You let God’s plan unfold.”

“But, Welita. I can do something about it. I’m an angel. Why shouldn’t I help? I can’t just stand by and watch him die.”

“Ay, Mejita. We all die. Even if you were still here with us, someday you would’ve had to watch me die, bury me, and mourn for me.”

She closed her eyes, and a single tear slid down her cheek. It was a cruel angel’s fate to have all these powers and still not be able to stop the heartache of watching her loved ones die. “Why? Why is this so hard?”

“De la espina y el dolor nace la flor,” Welita said gently.

“From the thorn and the pain a flower is born,” Naomi repeated the Spanish proverb. It was Welita’s favorite.

“You have hardship now, but in the end, I know that something wonderful will come of it. Not only for you, but for all of us.”

There was so much more she wished she could tell Welita and ask for her wisdom on it all: how to show love for Jeremy without having him confuse it for something more than sisterly love; and Lash, my God, she wanted to go after him so badly.

As if hearing her thoughts, Welita asked, “What has Lash told you about this?”

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t even say his name without her heart breaking. She was barely keeping herself together as it was. “Welita, I have to go. Just know that I love you...
we
love you.”

Deep inside, she had already known the answer. All she could do now was rely on faith and hope. Faith that she had the strength to carry on watching over Megan and Chuy, and hope that Jeremy would return soon with an army of angels to save Lash.

And with that, she clicked off the phone.

19

I
t was a glorious morning with not a cloud in the sky, and all Jane could think about was how she wished it would rain. She fingered the material of her cream pantsuit nervously as she sat hidden behind the dark-tinted windows of the SUV, watching the mass of media assemble on the open field. Why had she agreed to do the announcement out in the open like this?

She eyed the Prescott Oil office building, which sat a couple of hundred yards away from the make-shift stage that had been slapped together overnight, compliments of the company’s employees. A giant U.S. flag hung on the front, almost covering an entire wall of the three-story building. It was an impressive sight.

A few employees, dressed in blue coveralls with the Prescott Oil emblem emblazed on the right side of their chests, walked around the stage, doing last minute checks. On the lectern, there was the familiar cluster of microphones from news stations around the country. Behind the stage was a large sign with her smiling face and the words,
Sutherland for President.

There was a steady trickle of people lining up in front of the stage. It was easy to tell the hard-core American Federation party supporters from the Prescott Oil employees who had been given the day off—only if they attended the rally. Members of the AF headed straight to Luke, giving him their congratulations on a good start to the campaign. Members of the community were directed to stand in the front row facing the stage where they were sure to be picked up by the cameras, obviously something Luke and his advisors orchestrated.

A pretty blonde woman wearing a pale yellow summer dress caught her eye. She was talking to one of the stage workers, a heavy-set man, his face partially hidden beneath a blue cap that matched his work uniform.

Jane peered through the window at the object the blonde woman had in her hands. Others in the audience were also waving something.

Oh, my God. They have fans with my face on them.
She rolled her eyes, not knowing whether to admire Luke’s marketing genius or to be embarrassed at watching her smiling face being waved about by dozens of people.

As much as she hated the idea of seeing her smiling face flapping at her when she was on stage, she wished she could have one. It was not even eight o’clock in the morning, and she could already feel the heat of the day.

There was a light rapping on the tinted window. “Five minutes, Senator.”

Jane pressed a button, and the window rolled down. “Thank you, Sal.”

She rolled the window back up and took out a mirror from her bag. Sapphire eyes stared back at her, and she wondered how she got here. How did she get from being an advocate for children’s rights when she was fresh out of college to battling lobbyists in DC and now vying for the presidency? It wasn’t something she ever wanted. She was perfectly happy with her old job working in a nonprofit agency years ago.

Then, she realized it had been Luke who encouraged her, gently pushing her down the path she was on.

She couldn’t get Anita Duran’s words out of her head. She glanced out the window at Luke. His handsome face drew in a small crowd of men and women around him, all wearing what was obviously custom business attire. He had always been charismatic.

Angels and demons. I wonder if that’s why he looks so young.

She shook her head and laughed. She was letting her mind run away. It was nerves. That was all.

She powdered her nose and closed the compact with a click.
Okay, let’s get this show on the road.

Luke flashed a grin as she approached him.

“The stage is ready,” Sal said from behind her.

“Wonderful.” Luke offered her his arm. “Ready?”

“You bet.” She placed her hand into the crook of his arm.

A wave of nausea hit her when she touched him.

“Are you sure? You look pale,” he said.

Jane looked into his gray eyes. They looked back at her, cold. She blinked, and his eyes were back to their normal selves. “I...I think it’s the heat.”

Other books

The Girl by the Thames by Peter Boland
See Jayne Play by Jami Denise, Marti Lynch
Reckless Assignation by Denysé Bridger
Season of Shadows by Yvonne Whittal
The Sellsword by Cam Banks
Trophy Wives by Jan Colley
Speak of the Devil by Richard Hawke
The Viking's Defiant Bride by Joanna Fulford