Messenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels (12 page)

It took her a disoriented moment to figure out where she was. There weren’t many big cities or even towns in Scotland, and this certainly wasn’t one of them. A sign inside of the station house marked it as the Muir of Ord Railway Station. So she must be in Muir of Ord. Wherever that was.

At least she knew it was somewhere between Ullapool and Inverness. She was in the Highlands. This was where her mother’s side of the family was from, the MacDonalds.

Now what?
Her mind ran somersaults inside her skull; she needed transportation, she needed a map, and she needed to get away from the train and its windows as soon as possible. Her feet moved of their own accord, eating up the ground at a desperate pace as she made her way off the landing, down the ramp that took her from the station, and around the brick building. She would ask the station manager or director, or whatever he was called, for help. But first she would hide.

The women’s bathroom was as good a place as any. She would wait there until the train took off again. It was a shitty plan, but it was better than no plan at all.

* * *

Gabriel’s blood was on fire in his veins; he’d never felt like this before. Juliette was ripping him apart inside. He’d felt her give in to him, he’d won her surrender with his kiss, and he knew that if he’d wanted to, he could have taken her right there on the seat on the train. Not that he would have. Well, maybe.

But then he’d felt something else. It was a vibration in the air, a thickness to the atmosphere, charged and negative and wrong. And he would recognize it anywhere. The Adarian was on the train. Not only was he on the train, but he had been in that coach with Juliette, invisible and lying in wait like an unseen serpent. He might even have been sitting across from her—watching her all along.

Gabriel wasn’t sure why he hadn’t sensed it at first. It might have been that he was so focused on Juliette, nothing else registered. It might have been that the Adarian was so good at hiding, Gabe hadn’t felt the change in the air until the man moved right by him.

That
he had felt. It was a shift in the air, like sandpaper molecules of oxygen and carbon dioxide, scraping along his flesh and soul as the Adarian moved past him and down the aisle.

He had no idea what the man was waiting for. He could only guess that the Adarian hadn’t attacked Juliette outright because there would be no easy way to get an unconscious body off the train without being seen. And then Gabriel had shown up and most likely thrown a wrench into the Adarian’s plans. He’d left the coach while Gabe and Juliette were kissing. And now he was somewhere—somewhere on this train. And Juliette was alone in her car and Gabriel wasn’t an idiot. He knew she would try to escape. He knew that once he gave her enough space to think, she would come to her senses and a good, hard, healthy fear would set in. She had no reason to believe that his intentions were pure. She was right about the way some men set women up with the good-guy, bad-guy routine. Michael had come across many a rape scenario in his line of duty as a cop in New York, and he’d shared enough of those stories over the years.

Men could be monsters. And Juliette had a good head on her shoulders. She would run. He’d seen the thoughts in her eyes as he’d left her. He could threaten and try to scare her all he wanted, but it wouldn’t work. In the end, she would flee.

At least there was nowhere she could go on a moving train. She was too smart to try to jump off it, and the doors wouldn’t open in that fashion while the train was moving anyway. For the moment, she was stuck, giving him the time he needed to track down the Adarian.

What was confusing Gabe, however, was the apparent absence of any of the other Adarians. Where was the General? Why hadn’t Abraxos made his infernal appearance yet? What the bloody hell was going on?

Gabriel strode through the aisles of the train, honing his senses for that familiar spark of negativity that would tell him the Adarian was near. He cursed his luck that just as he was finding the woman he had searched two thousand years for, his enemy had found her as well. At least he didn’t have to deal with Samael the way Uriel had when he’d found his archess months ago. Small blessings.

Nonetheless, witnessing the Adarian’s intrusion was like watching the Roman army lay siege to Gabriel’s homeland. She was his—and
only
his. It was time to deal with the intruder once and for all.

Gabriel ignored the stares he got as he passed through the compartments. He was too focused to pay them any heed. But the farther down the train’s length he got, the more agitated he became. The air was clean of the feel of the Adarian. There was no static, no thickness, no wrongness—not like there had been in Juliette’s cabin. Where had the intruder gone?

And then something niggled at the back of Gabriel’s brain—and the train began to slow.
No.

Gabriel stopped in the aisle and turned to face the direction from which he’d come. The LCD screen at the end of the car read “Muir of Ord,” and a few people were grabbing for their luggage. Gabriel broke into a near run, brushing rudely by the people who had claimed space in the aisle. The doors opened for him as he neared them and he shot on through.

But by the time he reached Juliette’s car, the train had been stopped completely for several seconds and his fears were confirmed.

She was gone.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“M
itchell, tell me what you hear,” Ely instructed as his dark eyes scanned the faces of the passengers disembarking from the train.

Beside him, the tall Greek Adarian nodded his assent and began scanning the faces as well. The dark of his eyes sparked with what looked like stars in a night sky as he concentrated. Ely glanced at him, noting the change. He’d always been fascinated by his fellow Adarian’s ability.

But Mitchell fell silent as he worked, and Ely began to feel anxious. He was tired; the flight had been long, and he’d never dealt well with idleness in the first place. He, Luke, and Mitchell had traveled to Scotland as soon as Luke and Mitchell had managed to combine their powers in order to perform a makeshift scry on Daniel.

The fact that it had worked was shocking enough. The fact that no one had thought of trying such a thing until now was even more stunning. The possibilities it opened up were potentially endless. All it required was the consumption of blood.

Blood. In the end, it always seemed to boil down to blood.

“I don’t hear him,” Mitchell spoke beside him. Ely and Luke turned to face him. “But I do hear something interesting.” He nodded toward a car at the front of the train, and Ely looked to see a stunningly beautiful petite woman disembark. She stood around five feet and two or three inches and was as slender as a dancer. Her skin was flawless and tanned a light gold, her features delicate, her green-brown eyes large and bright in her lovely face. She was in a hurry, her long thick waves fanning out behind her as she moved quickly and purposefully through the crowd.

Ely wasn’t a fool. There were attractive people in the world, and every now and then a true natural beauty came along. But this woman was different. She had an aura around her that Ely instantly recognized. It was too pure, too magnetic. She didn’t even notice the men stop to stare as she passed them by.

“Let me guess,” he said, his low voice rumbling as he watched the woman turn a corner and disappear from sight. He turned to face Mitchell again, and the dark-haired man flashed him a smile. “Daniel’s been holding out on us.”

Luke chuckled darkly beside them. “An archess. And a lovely little lass at that.”

“We’re in Scotland, so if I had to place a bet, I’d say she’s Gabriel’s,” Mitchell said as he dug into the inside pocket of his sport coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He always did this after scanning people’s minds. Either he would smoke, or he would drink. Ely had asked him about it once, and Mitchell shook his head and said, “Believe me, you would, too.”

“Nice try, Mitchell,” Ely said. “I would be impressed if it weren’t for the fact that you just read her mind. She’s got the archangel on her brain, hasn’t she?”

Mitchell smiled again, put his cigarette between his lips, and then ignited his lighter. “She has a beautiful mind,” he said. “Open and honest.”

“And I bet that just turns you on like mad, doesn’t it?” Ely asked. He knew how Mitchell felt about honesty. It was as refreshing to the Adarian mind reader as water in a desert. He could tell already that Mitchell was going to claim
this
archess as his own.

Mitchell didn’t bother replying to the insinuation, but he didn’t have to. His secret smile was response enough. “She’s afraid of him,” Mitchell continued. He spoke around the butt as he lit the cigarette and repocketed his lighter. “She plans to hide in the women’s restroom until the train takes off, and then hitch a ride into Inverness.” He took the cigarette out of his mouth, blew a cloud of smoke, and then replaced it. His dark eyes were shining.

“Gabriel is here, then,” Luke deduced, his light blue eyes suddenly flashing with hyperawareness as he scanned the faces of the passengers with renewed interest. The other two men turned to join him, and as if on cue, a sable-haired man dressed in black stepped off the train and onto the platform.

“And we have visual,” Luke muttered.

As one, the three men stepped back and into the shadows of the alley between the train station and its neighboring houses. Once they were safely sequestered in the relative darkness, Ely turned up the collar of his coat. “Daniel’s here somewhere; I can feel him. He can see us and we can’t see him, so pinning him down won’t be easy.”

“It’ll be easy if we take the archess. He’ll follow her like a fly to honey,” said Luke.

“Luke’s right. She’s our bargaining chip. And the General wants her, anyway,” agreed Mitchell.

Ely nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

Mitchell chuckled darkly, flicking his cigarette into the nearest trash receptacle. “I know.”

* * *

Daniel watched through narrowed green eyes as the Adarians slipped into the alley. He could follow them and listen to what they had to say, but he’d already pressed his luck enough just being within close proximity. It was sheer fortune that Mitchell hadn’t managed to catch his thoughts. It was like a dart game with that man; sometimes he nailed you and sometimes he didn’t. This time, he’d missed, but if Daniel didn’t get out of there soon, Mitchell would have him pinpointed and everything Daniel had planned would be obsolete.

As would his life.

Silently cursing his luck, Daniel slipped behind the train and followed the tracks a few hundred yards. How the hell had they found him? He’d left no indication of where he was going. And none of the Adarians could scry or divine as he could. What the hell was going on?

A harsh vibration in the air scraped across his skin and he paused. Black was nearby. Daniel bent and peered beneath the tracks to the space on the opposite side. Sure enough, a pair of black motorcycle boots stared back at him. But within a few seconds, they turned and began striding away.

Daniel swore softly and ran his hand over his face. He needed to get to the archess before Gabriel did. Before Ely and the others did. He had seen her heading around the building to where she no doubt intended to hide in the women’s restroom, so he had a jump on the archangel. But Mitchell could read minds; he might have the same information, stolen directly from Juliette’s brain.

This was a royal fucking mess.

Daniel’s mind spun as he attempted to come up with a makeshift plan. Quickly, he glanced at his watch and then glanced up toward the conductor’s seat. The train would take off again in another four minutes.

Daniel made up his mind and broke into a run.

* * *

Juliette was about to duck into the restroom when she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. She stopped and did a double take. It was a taxi. Sitting right there at the curb, its light on, its cab empty. The taxi driver leaned over in his seat and gave her a wave.

Juliette couldn’t believe her luck. But she wasn’t about to waste time questioning it. With but a second’s pause, she waved back at the taxi driver and raced to his car. He got out and made his way around to her side, ready to take her carry-on bag, despite its small size. “Where ye headed?”

“Can you take me all the way to Inverness?”

The man’s eyes widened as he set her bag in the trunk. Then his face contorted a bit while Juliette imagined he tried to hide a mile-wide smile, and finally he nodded. “Aye, boot it’ll cost yae a posh pound or tae,” he replied.

“Do you take credit cards?”

“Aye.” He nodded, opening her door for her. Juliette glanced once over her shoulder and then slid into the back of the car. No sign of Gabriel yet. While the driver got behind the wheel on the right side of the car, Juliette fingered the credit card, license, and folded wad of pounds she had placed into her zip-up hoodie before she’d left the cottage. As long as she could get away with using the credit card, she would, so that she had receipts to show to Lambent’s office. Besides, you never knew when you would need cash.

The taxi pulled away from the curb a few seconds later, and Juliette glanced once more out the rear window. She stifled a gasp as Gabriel Black stepped into the sunlight on the sidewalk beside the women’s restroom. She was at once caught by the arresting profile of his tall figure.

Juliette quickly slid down in the seat and ducked her head. He was either dangerous or insane and possibly both. This was her one hope at escaping him. On instinct, she closed her eyes and held her breath.

After a few seconds, she sat up again and looked around. The taxi had pulled away from the station and was on one of the main roads. Safe for the time being, Juliette exhaled and ran her hand over her face.

“Are ye here on business or pleasure?” the taxi driver asked.

Juliette glanced up and caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked to be a middle-aged man, but as with so many people in Britain his complexion was on the pale side, which kept the wrinkles at bay. His eyes were blue; it was the most common color she’d come across thus far.

“A bit of both, I guess,” she replied, noting a slight tremble in her tone.

The man in the mirror smiled a strange smile, his blue eyes turning more intense. “An’ which would yae be hidin’ from, there? The business or the pleasure?”

Juliette felt the heat rise up her neck and into her cheeks.
He noticed me hiding from Black,
she thought. Of course he noticed. She was being a conspicuous idiot. She wasn’t exactly giving Americans a good name with her behavior.

She tried a smile, but it came out lopsided. So she shrugged instead.
Pleasure,
she thought, unable to keep the memory of his kisses from her mind. “Neither,” she lied. Hoping that he would get the hint, Juliette turned to gaze out the window, hiding her blush as best she could.

The taxi driver must have caught on that she didn’t want to talk, because he said nothing further and the car was almost painfully silent for the remainder of the trip. When they reached Inverness, he drove her to a car rental shop and let her off.

She tipped the driver well and continued to count her blessings when the rental shop had available vehicles. She chose the cheapest, and then rented a navigation system to go with it. A quick stop at a convenience store for a Diet Sprite and a Wispa bar, and she was on her way once more.

It was late on Sunday night when she finally pulled into the parking garage adjacent to her hotel in Glasgow. This was the hotel in which Samuel Lambent had apparently booked her a room. As uncomfortable as it made her feel to be beholden to someone for a place to stay for the night, at that moment Juliette was enormously grateful that she wouldn’t have to go through the booking process and cross her fingers for a room. The drive had been hard, the day trying, and she was very tired. She just wanted to get into her room, take a long, hot shower, and curl up in bed with a bunch of junk food and the Syfy channel.

When she checked in at the front desk, the woman behind the counter gave her a big smile. She had thick, shining brown hair, flawless skin, and bottomless dark eyes. She welcomed Juliette and very quickly and efficiently logged her into the system. She then handed her the key card to one of the hotel’s four top-floor corner suites. Juliette stared at the card, blinked a few times, and then frowned. “Are you sure you have that right? A luxury suite? I’m just one person—”

“Yes, Miss Anderson,” the woman said with a smile. She was foreign, as far as Scotland was concerned, because she had no trace of a Scottish accent. She sounded more American than anything else. The name tag on the woman’s vest read
LILY
.

“Mr. Lambent has secured the room for you for the next week and has placed a deposit on it so that if you wish to continue your stay, you may, at his expense.”

Juliette stared at the woman. She ran Lily’s words once more through her brain to make sure she had processed them correctly. “A week?” Juliette asked softly. This was a very nice hotel. And the suite had to cost a fortune for one night alone. The last thing she wanted to do was wear out her welcome with the man who was funding her burgeoning dream by taking advantage of him and his money.

“Yes,” Lily said, nodding reassuringly. Her natural, friendly smile was still in place. “And he has left this message for you as well,” she then added, taking a beige envelope from a slot behind the desk and handing it to Juliette.

Juliette turned the envelope over. On the cover was her name, scrawled in black ink with what looked like a calligraphy pen. On the seam on the back was a wax seal, deep charcoal gray. It was a pair of angel wings.

“One last thing, Miss Anderson.” The woman drew her attention once more and Juliette glanced up. “Your meals are to be on Mr. Lambent as well. You can order anything you wish from room service and the cost will be added to his tab.” Lily held out Juliette’s receipt and a second key card for her, but it took a moment for Juliette’s body to move properly. She was still getting over the fact that Lambent had given her the luxury suite for a week. Free meals were yet another shock on her tired brain.

As if Lily understood what was going through her head, she smiled sympathetically and true kindness touched the darkness of her pretty eyes. “If you need anything, Miss Anderson, my name is Lily. Don’t hesitate to call the front desk and ask for me. I’ll be happy to help in any way that I can.”

Juliette managed to nod and return the smile, though she knew that her surprise clearly showed through. She took the things from Lily’s hand and said, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Lily said. “You’ll want to take the South elevator. It will ascend straight to your room.”

Juliette headed toward the elevator with her small carry-on bag. Once inside, she stared warily at the dozens of round numbers on the panel and chewed on her bottom lip.

“Up we go,” she whispered as she pressed the button for the top floor and then slid her hotel card into the slot when the red pass-code light came on. Apparently, not just anyone could get to the top floor; you had to have a key. It was the first time she had ever stayed in a location so exclusive. And though it made her feel somewhat like a phony, on the upside, she felt safer. She doubted anyone with chloroform was going to be waiting in her room in
this
hotel.

The ride up was much quicker than she would have expected. The elevator never once stopped for the other floors. It just shot straight to the top, and Juliette felt as she always felt on “lifts” like these: as if her stomach had taken up residence in her shoes.