Messenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels (28 page)

I’m gonna die,
she thought hysterically.
I’m gonna die and I never got my PhD. I never even did the research. The only thing I even read at all was that stupid half of a page that Law somehow slid into my cottage room closet—

The magical, absolute darkness she had been draped in lifted then, casting her into sudden moving color that matched the sounds she’d been hearing. She unshielded her face in time to see the blond, blue-eyed Adarian who had attacked her at Callanish go sailing into the side of a peat-bog-carved hill. His back collided with the brown grass and freezing mud, sending a cascade of the muck high into the air. It had been Uriel who had tossed him into the moor—Uriel, who now sported massive black-feathered wings that allowed him to hover several dozen feet in the air above them.

Juliette’s jaw dropped and she gasped, pulling frozen air deep into her lungs and searing them with cold from the inside out. She coughed violently and hugged herself, her eyes hurriedly skating over the scene, taking everything in.

Gabriel and the large black Adarian were fighting hand to hand once more. Both men were bleeding in various places and Juliette’s heart ached at the sight. The blond and Uriel were going at each other, the blond apparently possessing some ability that allowed him to move bodies around in space. Uriel landed, his giant black wings folding behind him and then disappearing altogether before he and the blond rushed each other at full speed. They collided, each with his hands clasped tightly around the other’s neck.

Juliette ripped her gaze off them to find Michael battling not one but two Adarians. His clothes were singed in places, mementos from the lightning, but he’d obviously healed himself, and as he finished dealing with one Adarian, knocking him to the ground with a blow or a shove, another attacked, taking on his immense strength and skill. Juliette was incredibly impressed with the former Warrior Archangel. He obviously still had most of that warrior within him.

But the cold was getting to her now; the temperature was continuing to drop. She was losing the feeling in her fingers and toes. She looked away from Michael and his opponents to find the dark-haired Adarian from Callanish standing twenty yards away, staring at her once again. The expression on his face as he watched her was both intense and unreadable. He looked troubled. His black eyes sparkled like obsidian ice in this new field of hard winter. He was the one controlling the temperature. He was making it hard for her to think, to move, and probably making it difficult for the archangels to fight.

Lightning bolt him,
she told herself. But even her mind seemed to be stuttering now, slow and sluggish in the freeze. She looked up at the pitch black above her and tried to focus on the clouds she couldn’t see. The ground bucked beneath her, throwing her back into the car behind her. She hit hard, the wind knocked from her lungs, and stars swam in her vision.

Why doesn’t he just kill me?
she wondered then, as she slid against the car and curled her legs up to her chest. The dark-haired Adarian was powerful enough to stop her from fighting back. He controlled the air they breathed and the ground they walked on. What was he waiting for?

She blinked away the pain from her impact and looked up at him again. Still, he watched her, his expression one of utter fascination. She felt like he was inside of her, listening to her thoughts and feeding her fear. She glared at him, hoping that for that brief, painful moment he actually
could
read her mind.
Bite me,
she thought at him.

“He will, little one, when it’s his turn.”

Juliette spun on the ground, her head snapping up to meet a pair of ice-blue eyes. A black-haired man hovered nearly upside down above her, unmoving in the freezing air. He was uncommonly handsome, reminding her instantly of one of the four favored. He smiled, flashing two elongated, wickedly sharp fangs.

Juliette screamed. A bloodcurdling howl of horror escaped her throat as she felt the earth drop down beneath her. Ten feet. Twenty. All at once, she was breaking through the bonds of gravity as the man with blue eyes and fangs ripped her away from the world and took her into the heavens.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“J
uliette!” Gabriel saw Juliette being ripped from the ground and torn through the sky, but there was nothing he could do about it. His opponent took advantage of his brief lapse in concentration, taking him by the throat and tossing him to the ground so that the wind was knocked violently from his lungs. Gabriel rolled across the frost-covered ground, shoved himself back up, forced his lungs to expand, and called for his brother.

“Uriel!”
he bellowed, but he needn’t have bothered. Uriel had seen Abraxos take Juliette. His black and emerald wings exploded from his back, stretching to their full, impressive length in a heartbeat.

The former Angel of Vengeance leapt into the night sky, shooting across the darkness like a raven rocket. He didn’t get far. As suddenly as he’d taken to the air, he was ripped from it, yanked to a halt by another insidious force field that wrapped around his airborne body and flung him to the ground like a rag doll. Uriel had enough foresight to brace for the impact and roll as he struck down, but the hardened air wrapped around him once more, picking him up and slamming him back down into the ground with vicious force.

Gabriel knew it was his own opponent responsible; he could see the man’s amber eyes glowing like double suns, burning with power as he flung the force field at Uriel. Gabriel shoved himself up from the ground, rushed the black man, and called his own power to the fore at the same time.

As they collided, the force field evaporated and Gabriel braced his hand against the Adarian’s clothing, weaving gold into it with unearthly speed. The Adarian bellowed in agony as the gold began to sear his flesh.

Thirty yards away, Uriel once more pulled himself up off the ground and leapt into the sky. Gabriel watched him go with a mind-numbing sense of ambivalence. He wondered whether it was too late.

Azrael!
As Gabriel wrestled with his smoking opponent, he once more called for his vampiric brother. Azrael hadn’t come through the portal with Uriel and Michael, and neither had Max. They hadn’t made it home yet; only Uriel and Michael had seen the wreckage of the mansion’s main room and immediately put two and two together to come after Gabriel.

But Gabriel needed Az. If anyone could track down an Adarian turned vampire, it was an
archangel
turned vampire. Azrael was the very first vampire in existence; his powers measured greater than those of his brothers’ combined, and he could perform scries at will.
Az! I need you!
Gabriel had no pride in that moment.

He picked his opponent up off the ground and flung him with all his archangel strength against a nearby boulder. The man went flying through the air, leaving a trail of smoke behind him like a failing jet engine. He struck the stone, cracking the rock beneath him with immense force.

Another Adarian was upon Gabriel in the blink of an eye. There were half a dozen of the powerful First Angels to contend with and Gabriel was already injured. The wounds would heal at a faster rate than they would for a human, but not fast enough to give him back the strength he needed for this fight.

A shard blast went off, striking Gabriel in the back of the leg. He roared with rage—with more anger than pain at being wounded with the formidable, damnable weapons yet again. He spun, ready to face the man who had attacked him, but Michael was already on the guilty Adarian.

Gabriel’s leg buckled, sending him to the ground in a spray of rimed mud and torn, crystallized turf. He gritted his teeth as his new opponent took advantage of his position and kicked him in the side, sending him skidding several feet across the ground.

Again, Gabriel rolled, coming to his hands and knees, but his right leg wouldn’t cooperate; it was turning to stone from the knee to the hip.

“Gabriel!”

Gabriel blinked, recognizing the voice that barked his name. His head snapped up in time to find Max coming through a portal from the mansion and stepping away from the iced-over door of the car he’d just transported through. He was dressed in the same black fatigues he’d worn during the battle outside Dallas four months ago. Gone were the suit and glasses, and he carried a satchel over his left shoulder. Azrael was not with him. How had Max been able to find their location without Az?

And then Gabriel remembered Juliette mentioning Sam.
Lilith,
Gabriel thought. She must have told Max where they were.

Disappointment arced through Gabriel; Az was invaluable in a situation like this. But the disappointment was quickly overshadowed by a sense of relief nonetheless. Max had something black and silver in his hand. He threw it toward Gabriel, tossing it through the air with such superhuman speed that it blurred, forbidding anyone else from stopping it.

Gabriel reached out and caught it, ignoring the intense sting it brought to his hands as he did so. He recognized the weapon instantly. When the Adarian came at him once again, Gabriel spun and leveled the gun on the man. He pulled the trigger three times.

Three gold bullets embedded themselves in the chest of the Adarian, knocking him backward and bringing him to his knees. The man threw back his head in rage and pain, clutching at his chest with clawlike fingers. He bellowed his agony into the night as the gold bullet ate him up from the inside.

Gabriel leaned forward and tried to stand. Pain shot through his body from the shard-blast wound; his leg literally crackled when he put weight on it. He grimaced and shifted, placing his standing weight on one foot. There was a flash of light and he looked up to see the Adarian he’d been fighting disappear. The light swelled and then receded and with it went the injured man.

Gabriel’s eyes widened. Another flash of light took one of Michael’s opponents. Michael spun, ready to face the one behind him—but the Adarian stood back from Michael and allowed his hands to fall to his sides. He wore an enigmatic look on his handsome face, a knowing smile. His stark eyes flashed with secrets.

Another blinding flash and he disappeared as well.

“No,” Gabriel muttered
. No, no, no.
They were leaving. They’d come for Juliette—and now they had her. Their task was done.

The Adarians were all stopping now, ending their struggles. The four remaining stepped away from the archangels and Gabriel’s heart hammered painfully. He knew, in his heart, that as they dwindled in number on that rain- and ice-soaked field, so did his chances of finding Juliette again.

A fourth Adarian vanished in a flash of light. The temperature began to warm back up. Gabriel looked at Michael and their gazes met. As one, they ran toward the nearest Adarian, intent on trapping him there. However, the Adarian flashed out of existence before they’d made it halfway.

Gabriel had no idea how they were simply disappearing as they were. But he vaguely recalled them doing something similar after the battle in Texas. One by one, they had been recalled from the field—even the injured and unconscious. As they were doing now.

Desperation clawed at him. These vanishing men were his ticket to finding Juliette. And then a familiar sound had him whirling around to face the two cars that lay, almost forgotten, in the passing space beside the road. The door to the nearer car began to swirl, warping and vanishing behind an opening portal.

Gabriel froze, hope stubbornly burgeoning to life within him once more.

A black mass shot through the portal, creating a blast of wind that nearly knocked all three archangel brothers and Max to the ground. Gabriel could have shouted with joy as he straightened and tried to follow Azrael’s streaking form. He would recognize the feeling of Az’s power anywhere. It was like his signature—dark, potent, and fierce.

Az came to a sudden stop, hovering in the air before Gabriel.

“Abraxos took her,” Gabriel told him without preamble. Azrael’s golden eyes were glowing like fire, brutally stark in his perfect, angelic face. His long black trench coat hung around him like a holocaust cloak and blended with the pitch blue-black of his shoulder-length hair. He was a living shadow, punctuated by the intense, turbulent light of twin suns.

Gabriel looked him in those glowing golden orbs and whispered, “Please find them. Before it’s too late.”

Azrael did not waste time replying. He simply shot through the night with a second blast of wind so strong, it knocked Gabriel backward and temporarily blinded him. Gabriel lowered his arm and turned, looking in the direction that his brother had disappeared. There was no sign of him, of course.

He glanced around the road and its adjoining field. Michael, Max, and Uriel stared back at him. There was no sign of any of the Adarians either. The three archangels and their guardian were alone.

* * *

Their flying speed was dizzying—impossible. The wind was immense, buffeting her so hard she couldn’t breathe unless she kept her head ducked and her face hidden in the curve of her captor’s neck. He was holding her fast and firm against him, his right arm around her waist, his left hand behind her neck, bracing her almost gently. His thumb and fingers pressed threateningly to her pulse points.

This was Abraxos. She knew this now. It could be only he—the leader of the Adarians. But none of the archangel brothers had warned her that he’d become a vampire. And he was very much a vampire. She could feel the dark essence of his transformation like a label: “I am vampire.” He wore it well. His tall, black-haired, blue-eyed badness was effortlessly scaring the shit out of her.

Juliette tried not to tremble. She tried not to break down and cry. But she didn’t want to die. She had lived so many lives—and all of them had been wasted. Because not until now—not until
this
one—had she finally come to realize who and what she was.
Why
she was. Not until now had she found Gabriel.

And now she was ensnared in the arms of her killer. Before her was the evil vampire. Behind her was a thousand-foot drop into the unknown. She was trapped.

Trapped.

. . .
 
she willed her magic to remain within herself. She trapped it there, deep inside, forever denying the wizard her essence. . . .

Juliette frowned where she pressed her forehead to Abraxos’s shoulder. Why was this line replaying in her head? Why now? Ever since Samael had leaned over to whisper in her ear, she’d been recalling the short paragraph she’d read in the history book Law had left in her cottage. What could it possibly mean?

Abraxos slowed, still clutching her tightly in his arms. Juliette chanced a look up, lifting her head. They were landing. The wind was changing. Juliette’s hair whipped about her face for a moment as they descended and her stomach leapt up into her throat. She held her breath and hid her face again, unwilling to watch the ground come up to meet them.

In a few seconds, she felt the tips of her boots touching down and she braced herself. But Abraxos brought them in gently, setting her steadily on her feet before releasing his grip around her waist and neck.

“You can look now,” he teased her softly. His voice was deep and pure and powerful and Juliette recognized that kind of resonance. The Masked One had it as well. Azrael.
It must come with vampirism,
she thought
.
Still, she’d heard Azrael say only a few words before he’d disappeared to “get dinner” after kidnapping her from the elevator in Sam’s hotel, but from what she’d heard, Az was special even in this. The former Angel of Death’s voice was literally mesmerizing.

Juliette took a shaky step back from Abraxos and glanced around. They were standing on a craggy, moss- and grass-covered cliff overlooking a turbulent North Sea. “Wh-where are we?” Her mouth wouldn’t move quite right. She was either still very cold or terrified out of her mind. Probably both.

“We’re on the cliffs just south of Stonehaven,” he told her calmly. He gestured to the land behind him. “There’s a golf course just over that rise.”

She knew where that was. They were on the mainland now. Somehow, in the space of a few short minutes, Abraxos had crossed not only the water that separated the Hebrides from the rest of Scotland, but most of Scotland as well. They were now in the heart of eastern Scotland, a short drive from Aberdeen.

She felt her jaw drop open as she looked up at the Adarian vampire. Three hundred and fifty miles in five minutes. If he could do that—what else was Abraxos capable of? And how the hell was she still in one piece? Shouldn’t the trip have ripped her hair out or frozen her solid or something?

Abraxos threw his head back and laughed, the sound deep and wonderful despite Juliette’s fear and disbelief. “It is rather fascinating, isn’t it, little one?”

Juliette blinked. “You’re r-reading my mind.”

“Of course,” he admitted easily, shrugging his broad shoulders. He was dressed in a navy blue thermal shirt that set off the color of his eyes and black jeans with a black leather belt. To hear Eleanore speak of him, he’d always been the military type. But it would seem that turning into a vampire had brought out the
GQ
side of him.

Again, he chuckled, and the sound wrapped around Juliette like invisible velvet. “Are y-you gonna k-kill me or wh-what?” she stuttered, hating the way she couldn’t stop trembling. She was about to die. It was a hard realization.

Abraxos watched her for a long, silent while, his sapphire eyes sparking with blue fire. “Why so eager, little one?”

“I don’t l-like being tortured.”

Abraxos raised his head in understanding, nodding to himself. “Something of which you would know much about.”

So he knew about her past lives. She didn’t know why, but for some reason that brought her some small sense of satisfaction. She wanted someone to know—to recognize all that she’d been through. Even if it was her killer who vindicated her.

“I am truly sorry for all that the Old Man and his four favored have put you through, little one. And I am sorry that it has to end this way in this life. You have something I very desperately need.” He shook his head, shrugging as if helpless. “There is no other way.”

“So do it, then,” she hissed at him. She was growing tired of being told she was going to die. It would almost be better to just get it over with.