Archangel Rafe (A Novel of The Seven Book 1) (14 page)

“Ah, Ange?” Janine’s sultry voice came from behind her. “You guys might want to tone it down a little. You’re at Grammy’s wake.”

Her dry comment shocked Angelina back into awareness. She blinked and looked around at all the people who were trying very obviously not to ogle her and Rafe. Even Gary, the man slut, was frowning at her.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks.” Embarrassment flushed her face. “I was a little faint.”

Janine drawled, “That’s not all you were, sugar.”

Suddenly a big blond giant of a man walked in. He had perfectly shaped eyebrows, incredible blue eyes, dirty-blond hair clubbed into a stubby ponytail, cheekbones Rodin would have killed to sculpt, and not a glimmer of friendliness on his face. A blue button-down shirt contained his broad chest. The muscles in his thighs bunched and released beneath crisply pressed khaki pants as he strode toward them.

Rafe swore under his breath.

“You know him?” Her words more breathy than she would have liked.

“Yeah.”

Of course he did. His shape and his swagger looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. “He’s not....”

“Who?” Janine turned around slowly. Angelina could see the exact moment the buff dude’s presence registered on her man-meter. “Oh my.”

“Hey.” The blond giant acknowledged Rafe, with just a hint of an accent, German or Russian? Then he clicked his heels together and executed a slight bow toward Angelina. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

This blond giant seemed aggravated. A certain anger simmered under the surface but Angelina had no idea if the emotion was directed at her or someone else. Then she decided she was being paranoid. She’d never met the guy, it couldn’t be her.

She fell back on etiquette. “Umm, thank you.”

“Angelina, Janine, this is Uri.” Rafe tipped his chin up.

Janine just stood there looking back and forth from Rafe to Uri, blinking as if she couldn’t take it all in. Her eyes rounded although her forehead didn’t move.

Uri was completely oblivious to Janine’s intense perusal. “Your loss is the world’s loss.”

His obvious sorrow disconcerted her. Uri’s gaze bored into Rafe as if he was trying to communicate telepathically. Could they even do that? She didn’t have any idea what Archangels could do.

“You would be wise to prohibit another such loss.”

What the heck did that mean? Another loss? Was he threatening her? Angelina couldn’t get her vocal chords to work. She glanced at Rafe but his attention was focused one hundred percent on Uri.

Rafe shoulders suddenly seemed broader. His face took on the smooth hardness of a statue. She had the thought that if Uri punched Rafe right now he would break his hand on the granite of Rafe’s body. “Not here, my friend.”

The tension in Rafe’s body convinced her they really were friends.

Uri toned down the animosity. “Your grandmother was an amazing woman.”

“You knew Grammy?” Her eyebrows rose and she hoped Janine didn’t catch on to her stress. Should he really have admitted that in front of a--whatever they called people who didn’t know that Angels existed. Janine was too busy drooling over Uri to notice their strange conversation.

“Many years ago.” He paused. “We worked a humanitarian effort together.”

“Sign me up.” Janine sighed.

Angelina stifled a snort of laughter.

Suddenly a warbled cry came from the other side of the room. In slow motion, Mrs. Hooper began to topple to the ground, her head perilously close to the row of folding chairs by the casket.

“Trouble,” Rafe barked.

TWENTY-ONE

As one, Rafe and Uri leaped across the room as chairs fell like dominoes. In unison, they each caught Mrs. Hooper’s arms and torso, and kept her from hitting her head.

Gary pushed his way through the crowd around the frail, unconscious Mrs. Hooper. “I’m a doctor, let me through.”

We need you
, Rafe mouthed at her.
Now
.

“I’d better go check on Mrs. Hooper.” She tossed off to Janine, and then Angelina ran toward them. Angelina was almost to them when it hit her.

The diabetes. Something must have happened.

“She just overheated,” Rafe said to Gary. It was a cool sixty degrees in the viewing room, but Gary nodded in response. Carefully Rafe lifted the older woman. Her body seemed even more fragile in the bulk of his muscular arms. He strode out of the room while Gary trailed behind him like a baby duck after its mama.

She led Rafe to the private room reserved for the family in case they needed a moment to compose themselves.

He laid Mrs. Hooper, still unconscious, on the burgundy velvet chaise that to Angelina looked uncomfortably like the inside of a coffin. Gary attempted to get through to the old woman but Uri blocked his way. Rafe beckoned to her.

She could see the moment the confusion hit Gary. “You need to let me check her.”

Angelina knelt on the floor, her skirt rode up her thighs. Once she was in position, Uri stepped out of the way but stayed in the small room, feet apart, hands clasped in front of him, acting like a bodyguard.

The familiar scent of Chanel No. 5 and bleach hit her senses. She braced then reached for Mrs. Hooper’s hand and curled her fingers around the old woman’s wrist. Before she could put her hand on Mrs. Hooper’s chest, vertigo, shocking and intense, nearly blinded her.

“She doesn’t need someone to hold her hand,” Gary sneered. “Let me through.”

She heard Rafe ask, “Any idea what’s wrong?”

“She has diabetes.”

“How do you know?” Gary asked as he took Mrs. Hooper’s pulse from her other wrist, then lifted her eyelids.

“We discussed her health when she came in.” She gasped as the debilitating pain hammered at her.

“Aspirin,” Gary muttered.

She could hear him as if she were in a wind tunnel and the words blew by at warp speed. Her body was ripping apart, the pieces flying. She focused on getting the words out. “Could be a stroke.”

Electricity ripped through her head like tiny needles poking into her scalp until her hair follicles radiated with excruciating pain. She could visualize the electrical pulses sending dangerous levels of energy through Mrs. Hooper’s brain. Blood tried to push through her blocked and constricted blood vessels. Her head throbbed in time to the deadly rhythm.

“I don’t know what to do.” Her thoughts popped out of her mouth.
I can’t do this.

“Just hold her hand and shut up.” Gary dialed his cell as he shoved aspirin into Mrs. Hooper’s mouth.

“Help me,” she whispered to Rafe while Gary was on the phone. “I don’t know what to do.”

What if she made it worse?

Rafe put his hand on her shoulder. “Just open your mind.”

She tried again to open and look into the quantum physics of Mrs. Hooper’s body. “Hurts.” She forced the words out, her throat so closed she could barely suck in any air.

Rafe’s fingers squeezed her shoulder. His touch lessened some of the pain, and drew the energy from her and into his body. “Concentrate,” Rafe encouraged her gently.

“What are the physiological effects of a stroke on the body?” she asked Gary through gritted teeth.

“Now is not the time for a medical lesson,” Gary sniped.

“What can it hurt?” Rafe asked.

“Fine. Blood vessels constrict, limiting oxygen to the brain or completely cutting it off. It can be the result of a blood clot.”

Clot. That was it.

A clot had cut off Mrs. Hooper’s oxygen, which was probably why she couldn’t breathe. Angelina let her mind guide her through Mrs. Hooper’s body. The pain and the inability to breathe began to affect her body functions.

Finally, finally Angelina found the obstruction in Mrs. Hooper’s leg. She imagined the clot breaking into little pieces slowly, very slowly, so that a big chunk didn’t break loose.

She could see the small pieces dissolve and float into the blood. As if the stranglehold on her veins had been loosened, they plumped back up with life-affirming blood. The electricity arcing through Angelina quieted to an imperceptible buzz in her bloodstream.

An ambulance wailed in the background as Gary fussed with whatever he had been doing.

She began to feel the toll from dissolving the clot while she concealed the effort from Gary. Lassitude stole through her body. “She will live.” Her words came out slurred as if she’d been mainlining scotch. She asked Rafe, but Gary took his attention from whatever he’d been doing.

“You sound terrible.” Gary frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” The word was long and drawn out.

“How much have you had to drink?” He was totally exasperated. “You know you can’t hold your wine.”

“Angelina?” Mrs. Hooper squeezed her hand.

“Hey, Mrs. Hooper.” She squeezed back gently, her strength nearly depleted. “How are you feeling?”

“Why...I feel great,” she rasped. “Thank you, dear.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Ma’am, the ambulance is here.” Gary directed the paramedics over to Mrs. Hooper.

“Oh, but I feel fine.” She smiled serenely.

The paramedics bent down and began to assess her condition. They took her blood pressure, checked her pupils, and hooked her up to the equipment. She pushed up into a sitting position. Gary’s jaw dropped. The paramedics asked her to answer some basic questions, her name, the day. She answered correctly. They asked her to smile which she’d done for Angelina and Rafe. Then they had her lift her arms above her shoulders. She did all of that with no problems.

“I would recommend you go to the hospital for a complete check.” The paramedic said slowly, “But you seem fine.”

“She was fully unconscious.” Gary sputtered. “Unresponsive.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to go get checked out. Maybe have them check my blood sugar this time,” Mrs. Hooper said. “Thank you again, dear.”

“I just held your hand.” Angelina still knelt beside Mrs. Hooper. Angelina wanted to move but she couldn’t have gotten up to save her life.

The paramedics loaded Mrs. Hooper onto the stretcher. Gary watched with a bewildered look on his face as Mrs. Hooper waved before the doors closed. “She was close to death.”

“Maybe it was a miracle,” Rafe said.

“Miracles are a myth,” Gary snapped. “Modern medical science cures people.”

Uri snorted. At least she was pretty sure that it was him. “Could have fooled me.”

Gary scoffed. “No way.”

Rafe extended his hand down to Angelina. She concentrated on lifting her arm, focused on the physical effort, but her arm felt disconnected from her body. Even though her brain was sending signals, nothing happened.

Angelina had questions for Rafe. That had been amazing and scary all at once. She had felt as if her breath was cut off. As if she didn’t clear that clot, she would have passed out. And now she could barely move.

Rafe’s hand touched hers. As if she’d been zapped, energy jolted her. Rafe’s arm snaked around her waist, even though she could stand without the support now.

She smiled a thanks and then turned to her ex-husband.

“You never know.” She shrugged. A few weeks ago, she would have agreed with him. But now she knew better. The world was full of anomalies that could not be explained with logic and science. “Miracles do happen.”

“When did you turn into a fruitcake?” Gary snarled.

Rafe subtly moved to protect her from Gary’s scorn, partially blocking her body. She’d been protecting herself for a long time but his action caused something tender to unfurl within her.

“Maybe it was me all along,” she retorted. “I just waited until you left to express myself.”

She blinked. Gary leaving wasn’t part of the angel healer plan, was it?

Gary just shook his head and wandered off, looking a bit dazed.

“Why didn’t you just heal her?” she asked Rafe softly when Gary was far enough away.

“I can only heal those in the Angelic Realm and my Angels. I can’t heal humans. However I can offset the healing effects you experience,” Rafe explained, “by balancing your energy after you heal.”

This was why she could function better if he siphoned off the excess energy when she healed someone. Then the truth of his words sunk in.

“You mean....”

“If you hadn’t been here she would be gone.”

Gone. Dead. Deceased.

Her actions had saved Mrs. Hooper. That truly was a miracle. The reality that she had saved a life hit her. It started with little tremors, so small she thought she was the only one who noticed.

“This did emphasize an important fact.”

“What’s that?” To inhibit her teeth from clattering, she clenched her teeth so tightly her molars ground together.

“We have to finish your training quickly.”

“Why?” She wrapped her arms around her waist, and hoped she could hold it together just a little longer. If she gripped hard enough, her arms didn’t shake.

“You are incredibly powerful,” Uri spoke from behind her. She squeaked again. For a big guy he sure moved quietly. “The Universe may have need of your skill.”

Strangely, that sounded ominous.

“Your ex-husband was correct,” Rafe said. “She would have died if you had not fixed the blockage.”

Angelina sensed the open tension between the two men. Angels. Archangels. Whatever. Apparently Archangels could suffer from an overload of testosterone just as easily as humans could.

“But that power will serve no one if she isn’t trained.”

“Working on it,” Rafe growled.

“Work harder.” Uri assessed her, like a bug pinned to a display board.

Primal heat poured off Rafe’s body, warming her and calming her. She eased closer to Rafe, and drew strength from him.

“Train her, then get rid of her,” Uri said grumpily.

She waited for Rafe to defend her, to defend himself. Instead he responded, “You’re right.”

No way would she be pushed aside quietly. She shoved her fists on her hips. “Hello, I’m right here.”

Uri said quietly, “You are dangerous.”

“How am I dangerous?” The idea was preposterous.

“I can see the affection you have for each other. But you must forget this attraction.” Uri cocked his head as if he listened to some inner conscience. “No good can come of it.”

He bowed to her. That little formal click of his heels and dip to his chin. “I must go.”