Chapter 11
The Hereafter was as white as ever. No surprise.
“Honor Ward.”
“Mercy!” Honor startled and spun around. “Aaron.” Honor scowled as she gathered her scattered wits. “You frightened me.”
Aaron grinned, his perfect teeth matching the brilliant white backdrop. “Apologies, Honor. Are you here for rest?”
She shook her head and swallowed, dismayed when she couldn’t feel the lump that stuck in her throat. “No.” To her shame, her voice wobbled and her numb eyes welled with tears. Honor swiped at the corners with her fingertips to keep them from spilling over.
“Oh my. What is it, young one?” Aaron shushed her and gently led Honor by the elbow. She found herself in his office, lowered into the same white chair she used every time she’d visited.
“I-I...” Honor flicked her gaze to Aaron then dropped it back to her useless hands. “Mayhap it is possible I made a mistake. A grave one.” Honor’s lower lip trembled, and she pulled the numb flesh between her teeth to hide her weakness from Aaron. Undeterred by the lack of release, her body found another way to shed the overwhelming grief and with no way to stop them, the tears overflowed, trickling down her unfeeling cheeks.
“Now there, I highly doubt you have done anything so terrible it necessitates tears.” Aaron’s voice was soothing as was his kind demeanor. “Here.” Honor accepted the proffered handkerchief—white—and dabbed at her nose and cheeks, or somewhere about the proper area. She couldn’t be sure.
“S-sorry.”
“As I said, I require no apologies and I’m certain there is no need for concern. Tell me, what is it you believe to have done?”
Honor sniffed and gathered her courage. Inhaling deep, she started at the very beginning. At the appropriate times, Aaron nodded, such as when Honor spoke of intervening with Death—though Aaron already knew of that humiliating incident as it had been reported to Gabriel. Aaron gasped and clutched at his robes when Honor described the time at the infirmary, when Michael grabbed her wrist and confronted her. She continued on, leaving out nothing—how she Watched Michael each night, gathered the nerve to touch the male whilst he slept, the erratic flickering of her life force and its bizarre reactions to Michael, all the way up to this morning and the blinding pleasure that morphed into excruciating pain.
Aaron, bless the Fates, listened intently, not once interrupting. When Honor finished, she sagged, exhausted but renewed, relieved of the burden of holding everything inside. Sharing her troubles with Aaron lightened her heavy load, and she appreciated having an ally to help sort them out.
Eventually, Aaron responded to her confessions. “Well, that’s… quite an interesting set of circumstances.” Honor held her breath whilst Aaron peaked his fingers and tapped them together in front of his mouth. What felt like an eternity later, he finally spoke. “What worries me most is that the subject, the Protector, somehow knew you were present. This is the first time that I know of that it has happened. Angels cannot see or detect Watchers. Not unless the Watcher allows it.” Aaron studied Honor and she frowned, a bit ruffled that Aaron would think she would deceive him after spilling her guts so thoroughly.
“Not once did I permit Michael see me if that is what you’re insinuating. Besides, it wasn’t like that, exactly. He didn’t see me. It was almost as if…” Honor skimmed through every interaction with Michael in which she swore he sensed her presence. “It was as if he felt me. As if…” Honor crushed her lips together and shook her head. “It will sound as if I’m going mad.”
Aaron’s gaze softened. “You are not going mad, dearest Watcher. Prithee, divulge your thoughts. I give my oath not to think less of you.”
Honor scrutinized Aaron and found only sincerity reflected in his eyes. She lowered her gaze and took a deep breath for courage, then blurted out what she had yet to admit to another. “It was… somehow… as if Michael’s soul called unto mine, and mine unto his.”
Honor peeked at Aaron through her lashes to see if the immortal believed her insane. His face remained unchanged, as if Aaron were carefully holding his features in place to keep her from knowing what he thought, which was concerning, but Honor must continue else she’d never find the mettle to speak of this again. “My life force,” she placed her hand over her breast under which her lilac light shone bright. “It wanted him. To… to join with his.” Her cheeks burned and Honor lowered her gaze to her lap once more. Nervous, she smoothed her hands over the silky robes where they draped across her thighs, annoyed that she couldn’t feel the soft material. “In truth, you can tell me. I am descending into madness.”
“Not madness,” Aaron said. The awe in his voice made Honor lift her head to stare at Aaron. Aaron sat at his desk, palms flat on its surface, his mouth hanging open. “Not madness,” he repeated. Aaron suddenly shot to his feet, nearly tipping over his chair, and scurried around his desk toward Honor. Excitedly, he grabbed both of her hands in his. “We must go to Gabriel, posthaste.” Aaron kept hold of one of Honor’s hands and all but dragged her out of his office chambers.
“Why?” All sorts of horrific repercussions Gabriel could impose upon her for her failure, for her disregard for the rules, assaulted Honor’s overtaxed mind. “What is it? Am I to be… punished?”
Aaron abruptly stopped and his brows flew so high they disappeared under his hair. “Punished? There are no punishments in the Hereafter.”
Oops. Aye, in truth, Gabriel did mention that.
Honor pushed her concerns out of her mind and stood straight. If she were going to meet with Gabriel to ask he recuse her as Michael’s Watcher, Honor would do so with her head held high. “All right, then. Let’s go.”
A few minutes, and a winding trip through endless, identical white corridors later, they stood outside the Archangel’s chambers. As Aaron lifted his hand to knock, Honor gasped and stumbled back as intense power penetrated her core.
“What? What is wrong?” Aaron asked, abandoning the door to grip Honor’s shoulders. “Are you injured?”
Aaron’s gaze traveled up and down Honor’s body to seek out any injury.
“N-no. It’s… it’s my life force.” Indeed, the brilliant sphere nestled deep within her chest surged into a frenzy of activity. It grew and flared, lilac sparks shooting off the swirling core. Tendrils of light zapped and broke free to snake down her arms to her fingertips. Their sizzling energy pushed Honor forward, insisting she burst through the door to Gabriel’s chamber as whatever it—they—wanted lie on the other side. She flexed her fingers and shook out her hands, but the threads of crackling light remained. Honor met Aaron’s worried stare. “It’s happening again.”
Aaron squeaked and hurried to rap on Gabriel’s door. When the Archangel said, “Enter,” Aaron wasted no time grabbing Honor by the hand and yanking her over the threshold. Unlike the previous times Honor visited this room Aaron remained at her side.
“Gabriel,” Aaron began. “We have a prob—”
Honor cried out as her insides pulsed with an enormous surge of power from her malfunctioning life force. The impulse to reach out and touch, to run forward and collapse into a pair of strong, capable arms, was impossible to ignore. Honor stared across the room, and as if reading her mind, those very arms spread apart, wide and inviting, exposing the broad chest on which she longed to rest her cheek. At that moment, Honor realized there was no other choice to make. There never was. This was her Fate.
Honor released Aaron’s hand and bolted across the room to land directly in the comforting embrace of Michael Caelum, Archangel, Protector, warrior, immortal, and… the love of her life.
* * *
“Jack, I beg of you, help me get out from under my father’s tyranny. You are the only one I allowed to have knowledge of the full extent of my shame. You are the one who stood bravely by my side as I sank lower and lower into despair. Great Infernum, Jack, I’m so damn desperate here, I’m willing to accept banishment for myself if it is left as my only choice to be free!” Dante faced his best friend, his amicus, an immortal he’d known for most of his existence, and waited with bated breath for Jack’s response.
Without Jack’s pledge of support, Michael would refuse to join Dante and his cousins in the battle to banish the Daemon Kings. Fates, the wraith was the key to everything. Jack held Dante’s very existence in the palm of his hand, and though he was reluctant to admit it, Dante wasn’t wholly confident Jack cared enough about him to enter a war in which the wraith had no vested interest.
Wraiths are odd creatures, and very, very rare. In truth, Jack believed himself to be the only one remaining on the Earthly plane, though Dante thought it nonsense. There must be more even if their numbers are so few they thus far encountered no others. Michael and his Guard banished the rest of the wraiths centuries ago, and not without reason. To put it bluntly, wraiths are parasites. Having no solid Earthly form of their own, themselves being nothing more than thick, black smoke, wraiths must needs possess the body of a human to survive, and when they did, the human’s soul died. That was the angelen’s main point of contention with Jack’s kind, plus the fact that angels and saints feared wraiths, as they should. Wraiths are one of—if not the—the strongest, most powerful immortals in existence. Incidents of wraiths possessing immortals have been reported, but as there were never any witnesses to such events, immortals weren’t entirely certain what was truth and what was mere fable.
The angelen and sancten’s opinion—as well as most immortals from the Hereafter, the Earthly plane, and the Underworld—was to err on the side of caution. They agreed, the fewer wraiths on the Earthly plane, the better. No immortal wanted to take a chance should any of the frightening lore turn out to be true, lest they end up possessed. The resulting fear of the unknown meant wraiths were pretty much an island unto their own. Bigotry and hatred came at Jack from both sides of the immortal world. None of the three factions—immortals from the Hereafter, Underworld, and Practitioners of the Earthly Plane—trusted his kind. Dante befriending a wraith was an anomaly in itself, one none of his friends and cousins understood.
Jack popped the last bite of a biscuit dripping with honey into his mouth and Dante gave Jack an irritated glare. “Can you not go five bloody seconds without eating? My entire existence hangs in the balance here, Jack. I’d appreciate you take me seriously, if only this one time.”
Jack chewed and swallowed his biscuit, then brushed his hands together to rid himself of the sticky crumbs. “I take everything seriously, Dante.” The wicked grin that followed made Dante roll his eyes.
“You think life to be nothing but a game, Jack. Don’t attempt to manipulate me, it won’t work.”
“Hmph. In truth, you must needs relax. I remember a time when you were actually fun.” Jack placed his folded hands behind him to rest at the base of his spine. He began to pace, long-legged strides that devoured the length of the room quickly. Dante held his tongue. He knew whenever Jack paced the wraith was deep in thought.
As with the Archangels, Dante and his half-daemon cousins, stood at great heights, towering over most humans. Dante himself was somewhere around six and a half feet tall. Jack, who required taking a human host, complained endlessly of his woes in finding quality males to possess. Arrogant and proud—and in Dante’s opinion, not wanting to appear less powerful than either Dante and his tall and outrageously handsome cousins, or the enormous and equally beautiful Archangels—the wraith insisted upon possessing a human with not only an attractive exterior but an excess of height. Each human body Jack claimed, however, continued to age despite Jack’s occupation of the host. The aging process, combined with Jack’s outrageous narcissism, required the wraith to hunt down a new human once every decade or so to retain his youthful appearance. Dante had already witnessed Jack go through roughly nine humans since they met. In truth, he had no idea how old Jack was.
“Relax?” Dante muttered, annoyed by the unsolicited advice and impatient for Jack’s answer. His irritation grew and Dante spun on Jack to get up in the wraith’s face. “You try to relax when your choices are either banishment or an eternity of humiliation and pain!”
Jack’s lips curled back, exposing gleaming white teeth, teeth that could at any moment turn into razor sharp fangs. Well, Dante had fangs and claws as well, and considering how on edge he’d been of late, Dante would welcome the fight, if only as an outlet for his frustration and anger.
“You spend too much time with Pride if you think I don’t worry every. Single. Fucking. Day,” Jack snarled. The wraith moved closer, until their noses almost touched. “Don’t forget, amicus, the angelen and sancten would gladly see every last one of my kind banished. In truth, they have already banished more of my kind than any other on this forsaken plane!” Jack’s voice rose to a shout and Dante took a step back.
Deus, I should be bloody ashamed of myself. How could I forgot about the prejudice Jack faces every day?
“Apologies, amicus,” Dante said sincerely. “I am selfish to allow my own troubles to overshadow those of yours. You speak the truth. The wraith population has fallen to precarious numbers. I shall not make the same mistake again.” Dante waited until Jack met his gaze to continue. “Why don’t you allow me to reveal the details of my truce with Michael the Protector, before you decide whether to join us.” Dante smiled like the cat that got the cream. “I believe you, in particular, shall be most pleased with the arrangement.”
Jack squinted, eyes piercing, obviously deciding whether or not to listen to Dante’s deal with the enemy. But Dante knew Jack well. The wraith reveled in gossip and secrets. Jack knew just about everything about everyone—and fucked quite a large number of them as well—both human and immortal, in Eastlake Falls, save the Archangels who always seemed to know when a wraith was nearby and fled the area. In truth, Dante found Jack’s obsession with gossip a bit creepy, but there were times Jack’s snooping proved useful. A single tidbit of knowledge could sway someone in your favor when wielded properly. Mayhap Dante did not kill humans, but he was a daemon after all, and not above resorting to blackmail.
Eventually, Jack succumbed to his curiosity and nodded. “Tell me everything. Only then shall I determine if I am to be involved in this…” Jack scrunched his nose in distaste. “This quarrel of yours.”
Dante grinned. He had no doubt Jack would not only join, but do so eagerly and without hesitation when he heard what Michael was offering.
Fates, they were going to go against the Daemon Kings and win. For the first time in a very long time, Dante could see a future. One with something other than torment and humiliation.
* * *
Michael skipped exchanging the usual pleasantries with Gabriel’s assistant and manifested directly into his brother’s chambers. If Gabriel was so underhanded as to have Michael Watched without his knowledge, then the sneaky bastard could deal with Michael barging into his office unannounced. The very second Michael took form, his gaze zeroed in on his target and a furious Michael used his most intimidating, booming voice to address his brother.
“Gabriel!”
Seated behind an immense desk, Gabriel barely spared a glance for Michael before returning to his work, his expression almost… bored?
What the—?
Without lifting his head, Gabriel spoke. “How might I help you, brother?”
Gabriel’s uninterested tone combined with the immortal continuing to read over a stack of papers, not even gracing Michael with his full attention, was Gabriel’s second mistake—his first deceiving Michael by having him Watched. Already fuming, fingers itching for a fight, Michael ground his molars in an effort to control the impulse to strangle Gabriel. Michael was much broader of width and bulging with muscle and was cursed with a very quick temper, yet he knew Gabriel never feared for his safety in Michael’s presence. Most likely because the little shit knew full well that for as much as Michael postured and threatened, he would never actually lay a hand on Gabriel, at least not with intent to do true harm. A little pushing and shoving… well, as angry as he was, Michael wouldn’t rule that out.
Gabriel’s indifference in the face of Michael’s fury only served to agitate Michael further. Head throbbing, Michael took a deep breath before speaking.
“Care to explain your actions, brother?” Michael growled, barely able to contain his rage. He clenched his hands at his sides—resentment increasing at the bloody lack of feeling in his flexing limbs—and strove to think of a reason as to why leaping over the desk to throttle Gabriel would be unwise.
At Michael’s question, Gabriel finally lifted his head and deigned to give Michael his attention. When the corner of Gabriel’s mouth twitched in amusement, Michael stifled a growl.
“I’m quite certain you, of all immortals, understand that it is not I who decides who is to be Watched,” Gabriel replied, calm as could be.
It was that utter calmness which caused Michael to snap.
In two long strides, Michael’s thighs pressed against the front of Gabriel’s desk—not that he felt anything on this blasted immortal plane—and bent his entire torso across the top to tower over his brother.
“And I’m quite certain that you, of all immortals, understand that I am no commoner,” Michael threw back in Gabriel’s face. “How dare you Watch me? The entire concept is beyond ludicrous.” Michael put his palms flat on the desk to hover closer. “Watching an Archangel? Unheard of and insulting to mine own. For what purpose does it even serve?” Michael’s fury rose and he felt his temper reach a boiling point. Michael couldn’t feel his heart as it slammed against his ribs, but he did take note when his vision tinged red. Michael had never been this angry in all of his existence.
Fates have mercy, is this what true wrath feels like?
Gabriel pushed back from his chair and rose to his feet. The lithe angel circled his desk to stand next to Michael. He placed an elegant hand on Michael’s arm. Michael glared at his brother’s fingers where they curled around his bicep and tightened his fists to refrain from grabbing Gabriel’s hand and crushing it—Gabriel wouldn’t even feel the pain if he did, which galled him. Mayhap Michael was an angel, but he was also a male, and therefore, flawed. Prone to the same impulsive reactions and mistakes as any other being. It was only Michael’s warrior training and centuries of reining in his temper that gave him the self-control to leave Gabriel unscathed.
“Brother, you already know the answer as to why you were chosen to be Watched.”
Michael stared at Gabriel as if the immortal had gone mad. How would Michael know why his brother—someone held close to his own heart—would betray him? Would invade Michael’s privacy on the most intimate of levels? Not to mention the unspoken agreement among the Archangels to be there for each other, act as the pillars upon which they could lean in times of weakness or need.
And Fates, never have I felt as weak and needy as I do when I have visions of Honor.
Despite skimming through different scenarios in his head, Michael failed to come up with an acceptable reason for Gabriel’s behavior. As Michael struggled to contain the rising urge to strike out with violence, he squeezed his fists so tight his nails were likely digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood.
Gabriel frowned at Michael’s silence, and the smooth skin between Gabriel’s brows formed a tiny divot. “It is not my place to discuss a Watcher’s assignment. Those are the rules under which I exist.”
Beyond furious, Michael ripped his arm out of Gabriel’s hold and loomed over his shorter brother, lips pulled back in a snarl that exposed his teeth. “Rules? How dare you lecture me on rules when you so blatantly disregard the most basic of all!” Michael was literally vibrating with rage and he knew if he didn’t rein in his emotions and get far away from Gabriel, he would do something he would regret. After wrestling with his hair-trigger temper for several millennia, never once attacking one of his brothers—others, aye, but never his brothers—no matter how well deserved, Michael had no desire to sink as low as one of the filthy, immoral daemon scum by allowing hate and fury to overtake his rational mind.
As Michael attempted to gather his faculties and push down his impulses, Gabriel sighed. The sound interrupted Michael’s efforts to smother the wrath that scorched his veins like liquid fire and a low growl rumbled in his chest.
“I cannot reveal specific orders, but mayhap if you give it some more thought. Ponder your most recent actions. It is there you shall find the answers you seek.” Eyes pleading, Gabriel gave Michael time to reflect.
Fury forgotten… for the moment, Michael sifted through memory after memory, searching for an acceptable reason to be Watched. It took several minutes before it finally came to him, and Sanctus infernum! Michael was shamed at how obvious the answer was. Gabriel was correct. Michael knew exactly why the Fates chose to send a Watcher to oversee him.
“The Horsemen,” Michael murmured. He flicked his gaze to Gabriel’s and caught his brother’s tight smile. “I’m being Watched because of the Horsemen.”
Gabriel dipped his head.
“But…” Michael struggled to find the proper words, words he had no desire to speak aloud, but a sudden explosion of anxiety forced him to ask. “If I’m being Watched and it involves the Horsemen, that can only mean…” The despondent expression on Gabriel’s face caused the gnawing anxiety in Michael’s heart to grow tenfold. A tight band constricted around Michael’s soul. “Judgment Day. It has to be. The Horsemen succeed and Judgment Day is coming.”
Gabriel didn’t have to respond for Michael to know he hit the bull’s eye, and his brother’s pinched face and hunched shoulders said more than words could convey.
The worry in Michael’s heart expanded until it felt as if it burned a hole in his very soul. The resulting emptiness grew, leaving him hollow. Michael staggered and gripped the edge of Gabriel’s desk to remain upright. “No. It can’t be. The Guard… we can’t possibly fail. We don’t lose to the Horsemen.” Nausea rose and Michael feared he might be sick. “Gabriel, do we… do I fail to stop the Apocalypse?” Michael asked the question aloud, voice cracking, yet already knew the answer, and the excruciating truth shattered his heart into a thousand shards of sharp-edged defeat.
Gabriel shook his head, lips parted to respond, but before he could speak they were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Sickened by grief, Michael wanted whomever it was to take a leap off a cliff straight into the Underworld. He was in no mood to deal with visitors. Not when he just discovered his failures lead to the end of the Earthly plane and subsequent deaths of hundreds of thousands of humans.
Of course, Gabriel being…well, Gabriel, called out, “Enter.”
The knob turned and in a flash, every bit of Michael’s hopelessness and depression vanished, replaced by a vast swell of warmth and affection and love. Michael’s head whipped in the direction of the door and his shrunken soul expanded before exploding in a frenzy of activity. An invisible pull urged Michael to go to the slowly opening door. In the span of a single beat of his heart, Michael’s life force swelled to twice its size and brilliant bolts of lightning broke free, the energy crackling and sizzling as it spread throughout his body. Glowing tendrils shot down Michael’s numb arms to spark and hiss at his fingertips where he could, in truth, feel the buzz of energy. Michael flexed his fingers, astonished as the visual evidence of his shimmering life force followed every movement.
As fascinating as it was to watch, the distraction failed to shake the crushing urge for Michael to grab onto whatever—whoever—stood behind the half-open door. An unassuming male stepped into the chamber, one Michael recognized as Gabriel’s second in command, Aaron. Disappointment slammed into Michael’s soul, and at that moment, he realized he had hoped his female would be the one to enter Gabriel’s chambers. Aaron spoke, but Michael heard nothing, because Aaron he did so, he stepped into the room, which revealed his companion.
Clutching one of Aaron’s hands, eyes wide with fear, was his Honor.
“Gabriel,” Aaron began. “We have a prob—”
Aaron froze as the bright sphere in the center of Michael’s chest—the power that gave him his immortality, contained his very soul—went stark raving mad. Its royal blue glow intensified to near-blinding brightness and as the four immortals watched in awe, over a hundred fragmented tendrils shot out from its core. Michael believed his life force to be out of control before Honor entered the chamber, but what happened thus far was nothing compared to what was happening in this moment.
“By the Fates,” Michael whispered as heat flicked through him, his entire being lit afire from both the inside and out. Mayhap he couldn’t feel his human body, but as an immortal Michael most certainly felt the electric pulses and surging desires created by the storm waging within the center of his soul.
Honor froze in place, still clinging to Aaron’s hand. Michael felt, rather than heard, a deep, threatening growl rise from his own chest. Aaron’s eyes bulged and he dropped Honor’s hand as if she were the lit end of a torch and he had caught fire. Instincts on point, Aaron shifted away from Honor to stand next to Gabriel. With Aaron out of the way, he and Gabriel faded to the background. Only Michael and Honor existed in that moment. The entirety of Michael’s turbulent mind, heart, and soul were hyper focused on the female that haunted his dreams.
Saints above, she was even more beautiful than Michael remembered. Long, auburn waves shone, glossy and sleek in the hazy white glow of the Hereafter. The freckles on her nose and cheeks stood out against pale skin. In the white on white of the Hereafter, Honor’s russet-colored eyes were beyond enchanting. They were heart-stoppingly stunning.
He must needs have her. Claim her. Take her. Own her.
Like a fairy presented with a shiny object, Michael was drawn in by Honor. He took a step toward her maintaining eye contact lest he blink and she vanished like a mirage. Honor’s eyes widened as he approached yet to his disbelief, instead of backing away, she stood her ground and did something that nearly broke his will. A slick pink tongue poked out of her mouth and swept along the Honor’s lips. His gaze locked onto the full, red flesh, now slick with moisture. The sensual act made Michael’s rock hard length pulsate, a glaring reminder of his burning need, the desire to bury himself within her heat, those wickedly soft and pliant folds.
Encouraged by her response, Michael took another step. Less than a yard of space between them, a single tendril of Michael’s crackling blue energy twisted and pushed its way out of his fingertip. The energy stretched across the distance, seeking out his female. Michael paused, excited if not uncertain what would transpire when the glowing thread reached Honor.
He never found out.
Gabriel leapt in front of the female, blocking the strand of Michael’s life force, and shouted, “You must take your leave! This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.”
Instincts, deeply buried, primal instincts, more powerful than Michael ever thought possible roared in fury. Gabriel stood between Michael and what was rightfully his and there was no bloody way Michael was about to allow that, brother or not. Michael let loose a loud roar and lunged at Gabriel, determined to knock him aside and take his female in his arms.
“Mine!”
“Michael, stop!”
Single-minded in focus, Michael ignored Gabriel’s command and with a powerful shove his brother tumbled to the floor. Michael locked eyes with Honor—later he would swear to the Fates he found his own burning desire reflected back—a split second before she dematerialized.
Michael’s arms closed around the now-empty space and his forward momentum caused him to stumble. He caught himself before tripping and whipped his head this way and that, seeking the female who set his insides on fire and touched his very soul, but she was gone. Michael’s life force shook as the dozens of vivid tendrils winding through his body retracted into his core. A wave of emotion crashed into him and Michael staggered under its sheer strength.
Michael was devastated. He struggled to breathe and narrowed his gaze at Gabriel, his previous red-hot fury returning ten-fold.
“You!”
“Aaron, take your leave. I shall find you in your office.” Aaron nodded at Gabriel and scurried out the door, but not without giving a seething Michael a very wide berth.
“You sent her away,” Michael said in a low voice. His chest heaved and he flexed his fingers. Michael’s life force returned to its normal state, a pleasant blue glow suffused throughout. He hated it. “How dare you!”
“It is how it must be, my brother.”
“Who are you to decide my future! You are no divinator!” Michael stalked toward Gabriel, but the other male stood his ground, undeterred by Michael’s much larger, more muscular physique, not to mention the raw fury etched on Michael’s face.
“I decide nothing, brother.” Michael sensed Gabriel’s own anger rising. “I am a mere soldier in this fight. I have orders to follow. Not all of us have the luxury of freedom to do whatever we want, when we want, Michael,” Gabriel spat.
The venom in Gabriel’s words made Michael take pause. Never had Michael heard his brother raise his voice, let alone tear into someone. But beyond Gabriel’s reprimand, what stung the most, was that Gabriel was right. Michael did make all of his own decisions on the Earthly plane. Aye, at times he received orders as to certain issues that required his attention or specific immortals to pursue, but for the most part, Michael was the ruler of not only his fate, but that of the Guard as well. As furious as he was that Honor slipped through his fingers, it wasn’t fair to put the entire burden on Gabriel.
“Apologies,” Michael said, ignoring the need to have Honor as his. “I just…” He glanced skyward as he gathered his thoughts. “The female, Honor, she is important to me. I don’t know how or why, I simply know.” Michael put his fist on his chest, directly over his life force. “In here.”
“I understand.” Gabriel’s eyes didn’t meet Michael’s and Michael’s brows rose.
“I think you know much more than you care to admit, brother. Who. Is. She?”
Gabriel sighed and rubbed his face. As weary as Gabriel appeared, he still appeared no more than twenty in human years. Even after all this time, it was disconcerting to see such a youthful face on one who carried such heavy burdens, not that other immortals were all that different. Michael, like the others, stopped aging at twenty-three. Gabriel’s twenty-three simply happened to look more boyish than most.
“The Fates hand selected her, Michael.”
Michael knew not what to make of Gabriel’s statement. As far as he knew, the Fates did not become involved in minutiae, especially on the Earthly plane.
“For what purpose?”
Michael suspected he already knew the answer, and the droll look on Gabriel’s face all but confirmed he was correct, yet he wanted—no needed—Gabriel to say it out loud. As he waited, Michael felt torn. He wasn’t sure which answer he wanted—to feel relieved to have guessed correctly or to feel furious at the torture and confusion he needlessly experienced over the last few weeks.
“Why to be your Watcher, of course.”
Unsurprisingly, Michael felt both.