Chapter Thirteen

 

 

Later that afternoon, while I was watching TV with Kirill and Lesya, a commotion from downstairs drew our attention. Re had gone to check on Sekhmet, Trevor had gone to check on our club, and Odin had gone to check on his dead Vikings; leaving me alone with Kirill. Kirill grabbed Lesya, and we hurried down to the first floor to find the Intare gathering around a furious angel. The lions parted for Kirill and me; revealing a rumpled Azrael with blood splattered across his T-shirt, and an equally stained Macaria.

“What in all the hells happened?” I growled.

“All hells!” Lesya mimicked me.

“Take Lesya to Sam, please,” Kirill passed our daughter to Lucius.

“Daddy,” Lesya whined.

“Lesya!” Kirill snarled.

Lesya went petulantly quiet as Lucius carried her upstairs.

“Tell us,” Kirill said to Azrael.

“We were fucking lynched by the Angel Mob,” Macaria answered before Az could.

“What?!” I shrieked.

“It was just a bunch of Virtues,” Azrael muttered. “They think they know better than everyone else.”

“Virtues?” I asked. “A bunch of angels who call themselves 'Virtues' attacked you?”

“Yeah; I thought it was pretty ironic too.” Macaria chuckled.

“Virtues—or Strongholds—are angels who are meant to supervise the cosmos; they make sure the Universe remains orderly,” Azrael explained.

“Except the Universe functions all on its own,” I surmised.

“Right,” Az headed into the dining hall.

The Intare (including Kirill), Macaria, and I followed.

“They don't have anything else better to do, so they stick their noses into every angel's business,” Azrael went on. “They have appointed themselves supervisors of angelic conduct.”

“Conduct,” I murmured the word with narrowed eyes. “I take it that they don't approve of yours?”

“I have failed Humanity, the Heavens, and the Host,” Azrael announced as if he were reciting it from memory.

“The three H's,” I noted. “It must be bad if they used alliteration.”

“They are the most pompous bunch of pretentious assholes in all the seven heavens.” Azrael sat heavily in one of the wooden chairs around our crazy-long dining table.

“And there were twelve of them,” Macaria added as she took a seat beside Azrael.

“Twelve?” I asked. “Like the apostles?”

“I told you they were pompous.” Azrael sighed.

“They're also idiots if they think that twelve of them would be enough to take you down,” I said as I took the empty chair on his left. “Are you all right, Az?”

“I'm fine, Carus,” Azrael said gently as he took my hand. “Though, I'm grateful Mac was there.”

“Mac?” Kirill asked.

“Macaria.” Az waved to the Greek Goddess. “She saw them sneaking up behind us and blasted one of them before he reached me.”

“Thank you,” I said to her.

“No biggie.” She shrugged. “Like I was going to sit there and allow my coffee companion to get lynched? Please.” She rolled her eyes. “It was my pleasure to knock some sense into those fuckers.”

“Vas zis in Human Realm?” Kirill asked in concern.

“It was,” Azrael said grimly. “I had to call in a cleaner.”

“A cleaner?” I asked.

“An angel who takes care of situations like this,” Az explained. “Cleaners are a part of the lowest tier of the Host; angels who deal with humans. He cleaned the memories of the human witnesses, and then he cleaned Starbucks.”

“You had an angel clean Starbucks?” Aidan—one of my lions—asked with a chuckle.

“And carry off the comatose Virtues,” Macaria added.

“It sounds like Macaria's joke is accurate; the Host is like the Mob.”

“They can get a bit cliquish,” Azrael said. “And you have to remember that half of them are still on Jerry's side. After I invaded Heaven with Dad, I became another target for their animosity.”

“You invaded Heaven?” Macaria asked.

“With the demons of Hell,” I said with a tender look at my husband. “He came to rescue me.”

“That's so fucking bad-ass and romantic that I can't even process it.” Macaria shook her head. “What I wouldn't give to have seen it.”

“It was something,” I whispered. “Death himself striding down the golden avenues of Heaven with all the demons of Hell at his back.”

“I'd invade every Heaven in existence for you,” Azrael whispered back.

“And I think that's my cue to leave.” Macaria chuckled as she got to her feet.

“You don't have to take off,” Azrael said.

“Yes; stay for dinner,” I offered. “The least we can do is give you a nice meal.”

“Thanks, but I really do have to go,” she said apologetically. “I got plans.”

“Thank you again,” Azrael stood and hugged her. “For the advice and the assistance.”

“Anytime, Az,” Macaria said as she slipped away. “Ta-tas, everyone.” She headed out to the tracing chamber.

“Did she just say 'ta-tas'—as in boobies—instead of tah-tah?” Aidan asked with a smirk.

“Boobies rule!” Macaria shouted from the other room.

“I believe that she did.” Azrael laughed.

“I think I'm in love,” Aidan said wistfully.

“Azrael, what the hell is going on?” I ignored Aidan—as usual.

“The question is; What in Heaven is going on?” Azrael said. “It looks as if Jerry's using my retirement as an excuse to come after me.”

“He's such a wanker,” Bruce—one of the few British lions I had—huffed angrily.

“And a dumb-ass,” I added. “Besides Azrael's considerable strength, and that of his father and all of his demons, he has the support of several other powerful groups. I thought Jerry was smarter than this.”

“I thought so as well,” Azrael agreed. “He seemed completely cowed after we stormed Heaven.”

“Could it be another rogue angel?” Kirill asked. “Like ze angel who took Vervain?”

“Gabriel? Possibly,” Azrael murmured. “It's too soon to know.”

“Az!” An anxious male voice came from the tracing room. “Azrael, you here?”

“In here, Mike!” Azrael shouted back.

The Archangel Michael came rushing into the dining room wearing black leather pants. Matching black leather straps crisscrossed his chest, and a dog collar was buckled around his neck. Mike's blond hair was slicked back, and his blue eyes were lined with black kohl. We all gaped at him.

“Thank goodness!” Michael exclaimed when he saw Az. “I just received the most alarming text.”

“Where were you when you received this text?” Azrael's lips twitched as he looked pointedly over Michael's ensemble.

Mike froze, looked down at himself, and then blushed. “I... uh.” He cleared his throat. “I've met someone.”

“Someone into black leather straps?” I asked with glee.

“Among other things.” Mike smiled brilliantly. “She's fucking awesome, but never mind that. One of the Earthers texted me that his buddy had to clean up a Starbucks after you were jumped by a bunch of Virtues.”

Azrael went grim.

“No fucking way!” Michael shouted. “It's true?”

“What's an Earther?” I whispered to Az.

“An angel who works on Earth,” he said quickly before he answered Mike. “It's true. They were offended by my retirement.”

“We warned you, buddy,” Mike shook his head. “I mean; you know I got your back, but we told you this was going to make waves.”

“I don't give one flying fuck if it makes a damn tidal wave!” Azrael snapped. “Fuck them all! I deserve a life.”

“You do,” Mike said gently. “And that's why you have my support. I just had to get my 'told you so' in since I so rarely get to say that to you.”

Azrael's angry expression broke, and he smiled at his friend. “Thanks for coming to check on me, Mike.”

“Of course,” Mike huffed. “I love you, Bro.”

“I love you too,” Azrael said softly. “Except it feels really awkward to say that when you're dressed like an emo pervert.”

Michael winked at Azrael.

“What in all the fucks is going on in here?” Re roared as he entered the room. “First Odin shaves, then I hear someone spouting off the L word, and now there's an angel wearing bondage gear, standing in my fiance's dining room.”

We all gaped at Re.

“I wear the pretty face and the bondage gear in this family; is that clear?” Re snarled.

“Um, Re; this is Michael,” I introduced them, though they'd already met. “And since he's an archangel, I think he can wear whatever he wants.”

“Oh,” Re simmered down. “Hey, Mike.”

“Hey, Re.”

“I didn't recognize you in all the leather,” Re went on. “And make-up.”

“It's a new look I'm trying out,” Mike said conversationally.

“It's a good one, but I prefer the woven shirt instead of the buckled straps,” Re waved a hand at Mike's chest. “It doesn't chafe as much.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mike perked up. “I'll have to try that.”

“I'll give you the number of my tailor.”

“Anyway,” I said in a loud voice.

Both of the men turned to me with chastised looks.

“We were just talking about how Azrael got jumped by the Virtue Gang,” I said.

“The what?” Re frowned.

“The Virtues are a tier of angels,” Mike whispered to Re.

“You were attacked by your own pantheon?” Re asked Az with horror.

“My retirement has caused some ill will,” Az said.

“It's about to cause a lot more than ill will,” Re said in a deadly tone. “No one attacks my family and lives.”

“Wow.” Azrael blinked at Re. “Thanks. But let's wait until we know exactly who is behind this before we start killing angels.”

“Also,” I said with a serious expression, “that was totally hot.”

“It would have been hotter if I'd known to wear my leather,” Re grumbled.