Archangel of Mercy (8 page)

Chapter Eleven

A
URORA
stood outside Gabe’s office and glanced over her shoulder, guilt nibbling deep in her gut. She didn’t know why she felt guilty. It wasn’t as if she intended to steal anything.

If he’d just answered her questions she wouldn’t have dreamed of invading his privacy. But since she had no intention of sitting on her backside, chewing her fingernails until he deigned to return, then she’d raid everything she could until she found out what she needed to know.

She sat on the huge swivel chair, the leather worn and somehow comforting. His timber desk was massive, curved and worryingly tidy. There wasn’t even a laptop. And while she knew it had been a long shot, she’d harbored a hope he might have left his laptop on. Then she could send her parents an email telling them not to worry about her. She glanced at the windows, where the forest was a stark silhouette by the light of the moon, and then looked back at the filing cabinet beneath one end of the desk.

Rifling through stuff on his desk was one thing. But actually opening drawers and rummaging was something else. She knew she was being ridiculous in her distinction but couldn’t help it. And so before she could freak herself out anymore with her warped perception of morality she pulled open the top drawer.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to see but it certainly wasn’t a small pile of seashells. They were nothing special, quite ordinary. And yet they sent shivers racing along her arms, as if they were somehow . . . significant. The only other item was a photo frame.

A sense of foreboding inched along her spine. There was nothing in here that could help her. This was intimate, private, and she had no right poking through such personal things.

But still her hand reached out. Still her fingers curled around the frame. It felt as if the front was edged in similar shells and another ripple of doubt claimed her.

For a few agonizing seconds she hesitated and then, deliberately recalling the way Gabe both ignored her questions and insulted her, she tightened her grip and pulled the frame out of the drawer.

Disbelief slammed through her, punching the air from her lungs. She dropped the frame onto the desk and keeled forward, her mind reeling.

It was Gabe. She clung onto that irrefutable fact. She’d recognize his golden hair, his impossibly fabulous eyes and distinctive beauty anywhere. But even as her chest contracted with disbelieving panic, she couldn’t block out the rest of the picture.

This Gabe had wings.
Wings the color of clotted cream, with delicate streaks of pale gold glinting through them. Heavenly highlights brushed each individual feather.

Wings.
The man had wings.

They were folded behind his back but were clear enough. He had one arm around a black-haired woman who was laughing up at him, and in his other he held a small child whose tiny hand was entangled in his hair.

Gabe was laughing too. As if he hadn’t a care in the world.

And he had fucking wings.

She collapsed facedown on the desk. One word pounded through her brain but that was crazy. Impossible. He couldn’t be.

There were no such things as angels.

Squeezing her eyes shut, all she could see were the horrific scars on his back.
Exactly where wings would be.

She ignored the wild staccato of her heart and forced herself to look again at the picture. In case she’d been hallucinating. But the evidence was there in the incredibly lifelike painting. Happiness radiated from the three of them, so real and uninhibited she could almost feel the emotion spilling into the stark, silent room.

And there was more than happiness. Love saturated this scene, as if it was a living entity and not confined to the boundaries of the frame. Their love glowed from their eyes, spun a magical web around them both that encompassed and illuminated the child.

Their child
. Had to be. There was no doubt in Aurora’s mind whose daughter she was, even without the additional clues of the little girl’s golden hair and silver-and-blue-streaked green eyes.

Gabe had a family. He was an
angel
and he had a family.

She had almost had sex with an angel.

Her stomach churned and she pushed herself from the desk and slumped against the back of the leather chair. For all her life she’d been aware there was more to the world than science could prove. She believed in an alternate dimension because it was part of her heritage. She knew it was possible to travel through those dimensions.

She accepted the reality of telepathy since she and her mother had shared that special bond until a few years ago. But angels, like fairies and unicorns, belonged in the realms of fantasy.

Clearly, she had just entered that realm.

No wonder he was so arrogant. No wonder he considered her questions beneath his dignity to answer.
He was an immortal.

And he lived on an island in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle.

As if drawn by an invisible thread she once again gazed at the exquisitely rendered painting. It was so realistic, like she was looking out of a window at a real scene. In the background there was a stone villa and she frowned, caught by its odd familiarity. And then it hit her.

It looked like the villa she was in right now.

Her heart jackknifed, the pain more than merely physical although she couldn’t think why. He’d brought her to his family home? And then tried to
seduce
her? What kind of morals did angels have? Weren’t they supposed to be good and holy and radiate a heavenly benevolence?

It hardly mattered what the myths and legends said about them. Because Gabe appeared to be the reality, and he behaved more like a testosterone-fueled demon than any angel in the fairy tales she’d read as a child.

She looked at the woman with her lavish earrings, jewel-threaded hair and bangle-adorned arms. And then at the child, her waist-length hair a mass of untidy ringlets. Neither had wings. Was the woman not an angel? What did that make the child? Elusive fragments spun through her mind but before she could grasp their significance, her tired gaze caught on a gold chain that glinted around the little girl’s throat.

Disbelief stabbed through her.
It couldn’t be
. But, suspended from the delicate chain, a shockingly familiar butterfly sparkled, and gold dust and minuscule rainbows were trapped in the tiny, flawless wings.

It was identical to the necklace she had worn for the last five years.

The necklace that had haunted her dreams for as long as she could remember. Recurring, endless dreams of rainbows and gold dust and magnificent jewel-like butterfly wings had been her nightly companion as a child. And as an adult she had sought to capture the dream, to make it a reality. To her dad’s horror she’d used a good chunk of her grandmother’s inheritance to commission the piece from one of the top London jewelers.

She’d never seen anything similar to it before. Yet here, in an angel’s treasured painting, was her beloved butterfly necklace’s twin.

It couldn’t be coincidence. There had to be a connection even if for the life of her she couldn’t imagine what.

Besides, it was a lot easier to focus on that than the mind-shattering reality that she’d been saved by an
angel
.

Chapter Twelve

E
TA
Hyperium was a shithole. And that was an understatement. But since it was the hub of the slave trade for the technologically advanced mortals of the Sextans Galaxy, it was never going to be anything else. Even the weather had given up millennia ago and now the surface was a bleak landscape of withered trees and stunted wildlife that scavenged beneath the dying red sun.

Gabe materialized in a dark corner of the vast lot outside the major auction block. He could’ve arrived directly inside but he didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. The place might look as if it was decrepit but that façade concealed phenomenal security. And although the owner knew damn well who and what he was, Gabe had no inclination for the general clientele to guess.

His cover as a megalomaniac half-blood demon always worked, and he shouldered his way inside. No one would assume he was an undercover archangel. Not in this savage sector of the universe.

Thick, noxious smoke offended his senses, melded with the scent of greed, depravity and prohibitively expensive alcohol. The auction parlors were separate from this main drinking den, accessible only by going through another rigorous security check, and the lighting was dimmed as if that might disguise the nature of the place. He swept his glance around the crowded tables, searching for his contact, Eblis.

A hand slammed onto his shoulder. “Hey, Gabe. Been a while.”

Gabe turned. “Got a minute?”

Eblis rippled his pearlescent wings and lesser patrons scattered hastily out of the way. No one wanted to draw Eblis’s attention toward them. Not only was he one of the most feared slave traders in the Sector, he also happened to be one of the most powerful demons in existence.

He was also the sole owner of this complex, but that was something very few were aware of.

Eblis jerked his head and they approached a crowded table. The muscled occupants fled before the demon had to utter a word.

“So what’s the deal?” Eblis undulated his wings as they sat down and indicated with a flick of his finger to a half-naked waiter they required drinks. “Found a way to get back at her Celestial bitch-fuck?”

“Not yet.” Gabe relaxed against the circular sofa and hooked his arm over its back. If there was one species in Creation who had cause to loathe his goddess even more than the archangels, it was the demons. But much as he usually enjoyed countless hours getting drunk with Eblis and sharing visions of agonizing ends for that particular Alpha Immortal, tonight he just needed info because he had to get back to Aurora.

Huh.
What
?

The hell he did. He needed to get the info, and then he and Eblis could find a few females and he would finally be rid of the scorching need burning his blood.

“You here for business or pleasure?”

Despite his best efforts Aurora’s blue eyes invaded his mind. Fury,
disbelief
, at her continued rebuffs and incessant demands thundered through his brain and frustrated desire pounded the length of his cock. He had no intention of returning to her until he’d been well and truly laid. “Both.”

“Spill.”

“Heard of any child slaves from the Andromeda Galaxies being traded recently?”

Their drinks arrived, the sizzling alcohol so potent one sniff of its fumes was enough to send weak-minded mortals comatose. Eblis drained half his tankard before smashing it down onto the table.

“None of these Sextans bastards can reach the Andromedas, Gabe. They can’t get anywhere without their crazy little spaceships. You know that. They couldn’t even get to the Milky Way and that’s their closest neighbor.”

“You get the occasional trader who can cross galaxies.” He paused for effect. “Foreign slaves always ratchet up the price.”

Eblis didn’t argue. He didn’t have to. They both knew that slaves who originated outside the Sextans Galaxy were smuggled in by the unscrupulous who weren’t restricted to spaceship travel. They were descendants of gods and demons, who had inherited their immortal ancestors’ ability of interstellar teleportation. And Eblis allowed it, so long as he received a hefty profit of any sale.

“Got details?”

Gabe showed him an image of Evalyne.

“She’s a native of Medana.” He placed the small star map globe on the table and opened the holographic image of the Beta Spiral of Andromeda. Medana was, after all, an insignificant little planet hidden within an obscure solar system. He didn’t expect the demon to know the place offhand.

Eblis shifted, his feathers ruffling in a nonexistent breeze, and Gabe zoomed in further, suns and planets and moons shooting by until the six-planet solar system of Evalyne’s birth hovered above the table.

“I recognize this system.” Eblis raised an eyebrow and glanced through the planet at Gabe. “Saw some pirates from the Fornax Galaxy plotting the chart about, what, three months ago.”

—

AURORA JERKED AWAKE,
her heart pounding. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She’d intended to wait up for Gabe’s return and then ask him, outright, whether he really was an angel. Even in her own head it sounded like a ludicrous question but she’d seen the evidence. She was
not
going mad, no matter how outrageous everything appeared.

Still curled up on the sofa, she squinted at the glass doors. Dawn had broken and, for a second, as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she thought she saw the outline of a shadow peering in at her. Her mouth dried as the suspicion coalesced into certainty.

Someone was watching her.

As if her thought acted as a trigger a pale beam of light illuminated right outside the doors. And the shadow solidified into a huge male shape. And god almighty
he had wings.

Paralyzed with terror she could only stare at the stranger who was looking directly at her, his evil grin seeming to bore into the center of her brain. Then he raised his hand and knocked on the glass, and her petrifaction shattered.

She swung her legs off the sofa, never taking her mesmerized gaze from him. He appeared to be dressed in black leather and if it weren’t for the
wings
he’d look exactly like a stereotypical drop-dead gorgeous Italian heartbreaker.

Before she quite realized she’d even moved she was standing in front of him, with only the glass separating them. She flapped her hand at him. If he thought she was letting him in, he was insane.

“Open up, Aurora.” He sounded as if her theatrics amused him. And how did he know her name? “Gabe’s told me all about you.”

Her question now answered, she hovered uncertainty. There was no reason to doubt he was telling her the truth and yet every nerve she possessed screamed at her to retreat.

But suppose Gabe had sent this . . .
angel
to make sure she was okay? Perhaps he was some kind of servant and was going to take her to his master?

And in the end did it really matter if she opened the door or not? If he wanted to get in there was nothing stopping him from smashing the glass.

Only as she slid open the door did she realize there were no locks in any case.

He strode inside, a darkly majestic presence, and she stumbled back a step as a truly awful thought hit her. Suppose, like a vampire, he had to be invited in? And suppose, like a vampire, he now intended to end her life?

“Who are you, then?” Panic made her sound belligerent. But that was probably better than collapsing into a terrified heap at his feet. “One of Gabe’s minions?”

The leer on his face froze, as if she had just leveled an unimaginable insult his way. And even though he didn’t move toward her she retreated another step, unnerved by the palpable wave of malignancy that pulsed in the air between them. He didn’t respond, at least not verbally, but as his black eyes narrowed a knife’s edge of burning pain slid into her brain.

She clutched her head, fury swamping the encroaching fear. She didn’t care if he was an angel, a demon or figment of her imagination. He had no right to invade her mind. “Get the fuck out of my head.”

Mephisto was so astounded at being unable to penetrate the outer layers of Aurora’s mind that he scarcely acknowledged her insolence. Sure, it would take no effort to smash her psychic barriers and have a leisurely wander through her memories. The only thing stopping him was Gabe.

Yesterday, after Mephisto had watched Aurora ascend into the astral planes and then witnessed Gabe’s inexplicable arrival, he’d assumed Gabe had left the human on Earth. But a half hour ago he’d discovered, from fellow archangel Zadkiel who had just received an irate visit from Gabe, that Gabe had done no such thing.

Apparently, Gabe had temporarily lost his mind and when the Guardians had come looking for Aurora, instead of leaving her to her fate he’d
rescued
her.

It was ironic that the only reason why Mephisto had missed Gabe make a total fool of himself was because he’d had to attend the centennial meeting with the Guardian elite. It was a mind-numbingly repetitive duty but absolutely essential in order to yet again ratify the terms of peace between all sentient beings in the universe—and the Guardians.

It was also off the record. Not even his fellow archangels knew of his diplomatic ties with the Guardians and that was the way Mephisto wanted it to stay. The treaty had been hammered out eons before he’d been created and a lot of the clauses were morally repugnant. But at least they served to muzzle the Guardians’ otherwise insatiable urge to annihilate all forms of existence that didn’t conform to their own.

If Gabe had gone to so much trouble to keep her from the Guardians’ clutches there was no way he’d ignore it if Mephisto shredded his pet’s cortex.

Even if she did deserve it.

And how had she repelled his probe?
Since when did humans possess such psychic control? Maybe that was the reason Gabe had given protocol the finger. Because it was definitely worth investigating.

At no point during the last couple of years had it occurred to him she might have something of such interest lurking between her ears. He’d only been interested in the outcome of her theories.

Aurora glared at him as if his presence no longer awed and terrified. He unfurled his wings and shimmered his magnificent feathers but if anything the look on her face darkened even further.

“I see you’ve managed to drive your lord and master elsewhere.” He folded his wings since the display hadn’t reduced Aurora into a quivering heap at his feet, although he still wasn’t sure why. Most primitives either prostrated themselves or devolved into stuttering imbeciles at such a glorious sight. “Got tired of your acid tongue already, has he?”

“Oh.” She flicked her glance over him as if he was some kind of gargoyle. “I doubt
that
.”

Mephisto smothered the flare of irritation. It was rare for a mortal to rub his feathers up the wrong way but Aurora was doing a damn fine job of it.

Zad had told him Gabe had been en-route to visit their disreputable cousin on Eta Hyperium. There were only two reasons why anyone would willingly go to Eta Hyperium and since Gabe had no need of slaves that left the other option. Very dirty sex.

Up until a moment ago, Mephisto hadn’t decided whether it would be worth his while taking Aurora to that shitty little planet. But she was so damned annoying it would serve her right if she saw what Gabe got up to when he wasn’t rescuing her from the outcome of her ignorance.

He offered her a mocking smile. As he intended, she visibly bristled with offense. “Would you like to know where he’s gone?”

He could feel tension radiating from her. It was obvious she was dying to know where Gabe had gone, and equally obvious she hated the fact that Mephisto held the answer. Finally her curiosity won. “Did Gabe send you to check up on me?”

It irritated the hell out of him that she kept inferring he was somehow under Gabe’s jurisdiction. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced at his wings as if she couldn’t quite believe their magnificence. “Who
are
you?”

His headache resurfaced. It was always painful communicating with obliviously ignorant mortals. “You, human, may address me as the Lord Mephisto.”

She hunched her shoulders and eyed him as if trying to work out his ulterior motives. Her fingers curled around a necklace that was hidden beneath Gabe’s shirt as if it was some kind of talisman. “Mephisto?” She sounded as if she was talking to herself. She’d better be. No mortal addressed him so casually and survived to repeat their error. “Are you able to take me to Gabe?”

He only just managed to hide his shock. She
wanted
him to take her to Gabe? He’d been preparing a strategy to persuade her to go with him. That way Gabe couldn’t accuse him of abduction, but if she was willing to trust him without him having to make any effort then that was fine by him. “Since you asked so nicely.” Sarcasm dripped from every word but if Aurora noticed she chose to ignore it.

“All right then.” She sounded as if she was the one doing
him
a favor.

“In that case you need to change.” He slung the bundle he’d collected from his palace at her feet, immensely satisfied by his choice. In fact if he’d known how belligerent she was he would have chosen something even less concealing.

She prodded the outfit with her toes and he watched her expression slide from uncertainty into shocked disbelief. “I’m not wearing any of that. Are you
mad
?”

Did she talk this way to Gabe? He couldn’t begin to fathom it.

“Babe, where we’re going you’ll stick out like a virgin sacrifice wearing Gabe’s shirt.”
Had Gabe actually given her his own shirt to wear?
“Trust me, in the leathers you’ll blend into the wall.”

—

AURORA STARED AT
her reflection in Gabe’s bathroom mirrors, seeing but not quite believing. If the outfit had looked outrageous when she’d picked it up, it now looked completely disgusting.

She could cope with the black fishnet stockings and six-inch stilettos. She could even accept the crotchless G-string since the scarlet micro-mini leather skirt just about covered her bottom.