Angel Eclipsed (The Louisiangel Series Book 2) (21 page)

The rest of the kitchen took that as a sign to continue with whatever part of breakfast they were cooking, and I took the peeler off Veronica. She pulled open a drawer and took out a second peeler, and joined me attacking the large pile. “For a convent full of angels who don’t need to eat, that is a huge pile of potatoes,” I muttered.

“It’s lamb shanks and Dauphinoise potatoes for dinner,” Veronica told me. “It’s a huge building to maintain so we try to get as much of the food prep done in the morning.” She handed a potato to me, and took one for herself. “There are two types of sigils; light and dark. Light sigils are at their strongest in the shape of a cross, but any shape will do, provided it has been blessed. The problem with them is that they’re limited in size, usually to a building – cathedrals and mosques tend to be as big as they can go. They’re powerful, though. The Fallen wouldn’t be able to willingly cross the line, unless the sigil was broken, and that has to be done on the inside.”

“So why not create light sigils around houses?” I asked. “Seems like something mankind would benefit from.”

“They’re ridiculously hard to make and maintain. You remember that protective circle we cast over the city during Tabitha?” Veronica asked. I nodded. “Ideally a smaller version of that needs to be in place when the structure is built, but we would still need a dozen angels and time. These days, they’re limited to holy buildings.”

I finished off the potato I had peeled and reached for a second. At the rate buildings were popping up, that was a no go. “Alright, so there’s a sigil around Bee’s now. How does that stop you appearing in there?”

“Dark sigils are created by the Fallen. They’re created through death, usually in the shape of a five pointed star. The dark sigil will protect a dwelling or small area from being stormed by angels. Like a light sigil, they are used as power conduits.”

I paused in the peeling, staring at the white flesh, before looking over at Veronica. “You can’t teleport yourself in there, but you can walk through the door? Surely all I have to do is find the back exit and open the door for you?”

She shook her head. “It’s not that simple. Yes, we can cross the line, but only when we’ve been invited in.”

“How do you expect me to get in?” I asked her.

Veronica shrugged, looking sheepish. “We figure buying a ticket will do it.”

“You figure?” I repeated, dubiously. I was about to go walking into potential enemy territory based on the guess it could be done by buying a ticket? “What if that doesn’t work?”

“We’ve not exactly tried this before,” Veronica told me. “But buying a ticket is essentially accepting an invitation. If it doesn’t work, then we’ll try something else.”

I set the potato down and turned to her. “Assuming that it does work, how are you going to get in?”

“You buy extra tickets,” she suggested, as though that were obvious.

I tried hard to keep my face neutral, but failed at keeping the sarcasm from my tone. “Sure, I’ll just buy seventeen extra tickets, because that’s something people do all the time and won’t look the slightest bit out of the ordinary. Then, after that works, I’ll just stick my head over the balcony and throw them down like beads so you can all walk in. Obviously, because once you have tickets, none of you will be ID’d.”

“Okay, so the plan needs a little more work,” Veronica snapped.

I took a step back and wiped the dirt from my hands onto my shorts, forgetting that they were white until the smear marks appeared. I glanced down and sighed. “I need to meet Raphael. I could probably get one ticket without it looking too odd, and then let you in through a back door, but you guys need to work out how the rest of you are going to get in there. And don’t forget that the majority of you look like you’re stuck in puberty.”

The last comment wasn’t necessary, but I couldn’t stop myself. I left the kitchen to find Raphael waiting for me in the gym, two swords in his hand. “Is everything okay?” he asked me.

I looked at him, ready to tell him that everything was fine, but found concern in his eyes. Combined with his easy going nature, I wanted to spill everything to him. Only when I tried, nothing came out. The oath was a good idea: Raphael would have gone straight to Michael and told him what I was up to, and then Michael would have forbidden me from going to the bar. I still hadn’t gotten inside of Bee’s and found any concrete evidence.

As Raphael looked at me, expectantly, I gave him a small smile. “My charge is a detective. I’m helping him with a murder case.”

Raphael’s expression remained serious. “Your charge must come first. If you need to go, you should.”

I quickly shook my head. “Learning to protect him is what I need to do,” I told Raphael. “He’s at work at the moment and he’s safe there.”

“Very well,” Raphael conceded.

Home of a Diablo

“You should not be trying to attack me, you should be trying to defend yourself,” Raphael pointed out as the tip of his blade touched my side.

I grunted in frustration and stepped out of his reach, brushing the stray strands of hair out of my face. I puffed out my cheeks and glared at him. We had started out with the usual of me being flung around the room and righting myself with my sword drawn, but Raphael had finally moved onto the next step. This consisted of me using the sword to shield off a blow. “I thought the point of a quick recovery was to get up, take advantage of it, and attack,” I pointed out.

“If you had at any point accomplished a quick recovery, then we would focus on that, Angel,” he said, grinning. “Until you can recover fast enough that I can’t get a second attack in; you need to turn your weakness into a strength.”

“That’s a good idea, considering how I don’t currently have any strengths,” I grumbled.

“Now that’s not true,” Raphael disagreed, lowering his sword.

At that moment, it certainly felt like it.

“Your weakness isn’t so much that you can’t recover quickly enough, so much as you can’t anticipate Raphael’s next move.” It looked like I could also add ‘being aware of one’s surroundings’ to the same list, as I jumped at Michael’s voice. “Your strengths currently lie in your admirable determination to protect your charge,” Michael added. “You should remember that.”

“Being determined to protect my charge isn’t the same as actually protecting him,” I pointed out, frustrated.

“He is still alive, still in need of a guardian angel, and you are still here every day, despite the fact that you are still so far away from matching Raphael’s skills,” Michael returned.

I held my sword by my hip, chewing at my lip. I was sure that Michael meant that as a compliment, but as with most of his compliments, his delivery often made them feel like an insult was wrapped up in there too. “Shall I go get changed?” I asked.

“I have business to attend to this afternoon,” Michael replied with a slight shake of his head. “You are free to do as you need, but return to the conservatory for dinner at eight.”

I returned my sword to the armory, before hurrying to clean up. I had just pulled on a freshly laundered uniform when my phone vibrated at me.
Café du Monde at 3? Beignets on me.
It was as if Joshua could hear my stomach from his location, miles from where I was.

I had a few hours to kill before it was time to meet Joshua, which allowed for me to take a detour to Bourbon Street and Qube. I had promised Ty that I would be back, but I had yet to deliver on that promise. I also needed to see if the ID was ready: I needed to get into Bee’s tonight.

The streets were starting to get busier with the weekend traffic and the bar
by
was full. Unfortunately, Ty wasn’t working. I waited patiently for the crowds to lull so I could have a chat with one of the guys who was currently working behind the bar.

He didn’t want to give me Ty’s number. I had to wait for him to send a text to Ty himself before he was given permission to pass his number onto me. Conscious of the fact Joshua was paying the phone bill and I’d never bothered to check what plan he had, I dropped Ty a quick text. The response was instant:
Come round
, followed by the address. I returned to the convent once again, to pick up an SUV. After quickly programming the coordinates into the GPS I set off to find Ty’s place.

Ty’s house was enormous. Whatever business his father was in, it paid well. Very well. It was surrounded by a towering wall which had to be at least nine feet high, in front of which were immaculately kept flower gardens. I pulled up to an enormous wrought iron gate and started to wind down the window to press the buzzer, but the gate opened up in front of me. I blinked a few times in surprise and then spotted the security camera. Carefully, I drove up the drive, the gravel crunching beneath the wheels, and pulled up alongside a red, pristine sports car. I parked a few feet away from it, paranoid that somehow I would put a dent in it. I was certain that any damage I did would take an eternity to pay off; assuming it cost as much to insure as I imagined.  

I got out of my SUV and walked over to the car, pausing to take a glance back at the house. I then moved towards the sports car. I had no idea what it was that I was looking at. I’d never really had any particular interest in cars, much less sports cars; however this was beautiful. “You like that?” Ty asked.

I had been staring at the car in awe and hadn’t even heard Ty walk up behind me. I let out a squeal of surprise and jumped around to find him laughing at me. “Not funny,” I told him. “And yes, I do like it. What is it?”

“That is my dad’s most prized possession,” Ty informed me. “And unless you want to lose a limb I wouldn’t touch it. It’s a Lamborghini Diablo: one of the last ones they made.”

My hand had been hovering over paintwork so shiny it was like looking into a mirror, but I quickly withdrew my hand at Ty’s statement. “I’d never have guessed,” I said, quickly trailing off.
I could feel my cheeks redden
as I turned to face Ty. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

“I’m a photography student working part-time in a bar,” Ty shrugged. “This is not where I would expect someone like me to live either.”

“I’m sorry I had to bail the other day,” I told him, quickly changing the subject. “I know I said I would be back sooner, but I couldn’t get away.”

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” Ty admitted. “But I’m glad I have.”

“I said I would help you with your project,” I reminded him. “I was going to suggest that maybe we could pick up where we left off?”

Ty tilted his head and examined my outfit, his lips pursed. “This could work, I have an idea. Do you want to come in while I grab my camera?” he asked. I nodded and followed him into the house.

I’d gone three steps into the hallway before I stopped, my eyes wide as I stared in amazement at the marble floor. “What did you say your dad did?” I asked. My eyes met Ty’s and I flushed. “I’m sorry, that’s my really rude way of saying your house is beautiful.”

Ty stopped and turned back to me, chewing on his lip. “Actually, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, feeling terrible. “I really didn’t mean to offend you; I just couldn’t engage my brain before my mouth. Honestly, I didn’t mean-”

“Angel, it’s okay,” Ty assured me, holding his hands up. “I just know what I want to do in the photographs and it will need you changing into a dress, and me convincing my girlfriend that she should do your makeup.”

He didn’t sound convincing at all. “Ty-”

“Tyrone, who is this?” a booming voice echoed around the room. The resemblance between Ty and this man was so strong, I had no doubt in my mind it was his father. He was just as tall and had a thin beard which circled his mouth. Ty had mentioned he did something with events: combined with the car, his clothes, and the house, I was beginning to suspect his father worked in the music industry.

I caught Ty wincing before he turned to face his father. “Dad, this is Angel.”

Ty’s dad looked at me, recognition setting in. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said. His tone was pleasant but the way he was looking at me left me feeling uneasy.

Not wanting to offend again, I cast Ty a suspicious look, before turning back to his father. “Nice to meet you,” I said, offering a hand. When he didn’t take it, I dropped it, awkwardly. “I’m Angel. A friend of Ty’s… Tyrone’s.”

Ty’s father stared at me for a moment longer, and then looked towards Ty. “You have things to do.” With that, he disappeared back into his house.

We stood there in silence before I awkwardly shifted on the spot, the movement breaking Ty from his trance. “You should go.”

“I didn’t mean to cause any problems,” I told him, wondering what I had actually done to create the atmosphere.

“It’s not you, it’s…” he trailed off and frowned, brushing his hand through his hair. “Meet me at Qube around ten. I’ll have that ID for you,” he told me, herding me to the door. When I walked out onto the step and turned back, he looked sad. “Angel, I’m sorry.”

Before I could say anything, he had shut the door on me. I stood there, dumbfounded, staring blankly at the door. Did I completely miss something there? I shook myself out of the daze and I headed back to the SUV, pausing in front of the Diablo. Had his father seen me hovering around it?

I glanced back at the house, and then got into the SUV, hoping I hadn’t done something which would cause problems between Ty and his father.

I had intended on waiting for Joshua, but the smell of fresh coffee and warm beignets was too strong and I ended up ordering. As such, I was just finishing up a serving when Joshua took the seat opposite, complete with two fresh to-go mugs and two paper bags.

“I’ve just had some beignets,” I told him, indicating to the empty plate.

He grinned at me, pushing the bag over to me. “I know. I spotted you before I ordered and figured you would want a second helping.”

Far from being offended, I scooped up the bag, pulled out one of the pastries and started to eat it. One bite in, I regretted it. Not because it didn’t taste good: beignets were little bites of heaven. The problem was the icing sugar they were loaded with and my haste had managed to transfer most of that sugar down myself.

Joshua grinned and offered me a napkin. I took it and did my best to look graceful while wiping my face. “Busy morning?” I asked.

“Things to do,” he said vaguely as we vacated the café.

We strolled down the street, and I was focused on trying to eat and walk at the same time. The French Quarter was full of tourists again, snapping pictures of everything while inconveniently stopping right in front of us to do so. “What were you up to?” I asked him, as we dodged around one such person.

“Radio Joshua didn’t tell you?” he asked, keeping his attention on the crowds.

“No,” I said, slowly. “I mean, I know you were in the west of the city, and I’m fairly certain you were doing something that you didn’t like. Dentist?” I pulled a face. “Radio Joshua makes me feel creepy,” I admitted. “I don’t mind alarm bells when something is wrong, but knowing where you are all of the time is weird, so I really don’t try to work out where you are.”

“I was at the physiotherapist,” he replied.

 “You’re going to a physiotherapist? Are you okay?” Radio Joshua had informed me he had been going to a specific location a couple of times a week, but I really hadn’t bothered to narrow down the location closer than the most western part of Mid-City. I’d never had a flash that he was in pain there so I didn’t think it was that important. I glanced at his shoulder, remembering where he was stabbed, and winced. I had assumed that when he had been released from the hospital everything would be fine, especially as he was back at work.

“Relax, darlin’,” he insisted, reaching for my hand. When he could see this wasn’t something I wasn’t going to drop, he indicated to his shoulder. “It healed fine, but I still need to see a physio for a few more weeks.”

“Oh, Joshua,” I sighed. He shouldn’t be seeing a physiotherapist in the first place had I done my job properly.

Joshua’s jaw twitched, and then he abruptly pulled me over to the side of the street. A passerby swore at him, flipping him the bird, but Joshua only had eyes for me. “Stop that right now.”

I blinked. “Stop what?”

“A deranged archangel stabbed me. Not you. A deranged archangel kidnapped me. Not you,” he leaned over, his face inches from mine. “And it was the same deranged archangel who chose to do both. Not. You,” he added, firmly.

“Okay,” I said, nodding slowly.

“I mean it, darlin’,” he told me. “Even if I have to tell you that every day until you believe it, I will.” I leaned forward and kissed him. When he pulled away, he was grinning. “We should go back to mine.”

“Joshua!” I exclaimed.

The grin quickly turned into his infamous smirk. “I didn’t mean that, but I think how often your mind goes there speaks volumes.” I poked my tongue out at him. He laughed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Hold that thought,” he said, reaching into his pocket and plucking out his phone. “Hi, Maggie,” he answered cheerfully.

I ducked away to allow him to take the call, wandering a little further down the street to examine a window display aimed at the tourists. “Ms. Connors.”

I looked up, finding Leon standing over me. I eyed him warily. “He’s not working,” I pointed out.

“Not yet,” Leon shrugged. “But Asmodeus will be providing him with overtime tonight. It’s the Luke Goddard concert and I know Joshua will not turn it down.”

“Luke Goddard?” I repeated, the name sounding vaguely familiar: he was probably one of the countless country music stars that Joshua had on repeat in his car. I shook my head. “I have plans this evening anyway.” I stepped back, out of the shade provided by the shop and into the sunlight. As I did so, Leon’s eyes flashed blue. “Leon, are you okay?” I asked him, warily, wondering if I was hallucinating again. The shade of blue was kinda freaky – like the color the eyes on a corpse go. And his eyes had just
changed color
.