“I’m really bad at this.” Oriel grimaced.
Tajael shook his head with infinite Patience, and surely Oriel was testing it. “No, you’re not. It hasn’t even been a day.”
Indeed. He’d known Elizabeth Robinson—his charge, the better part of his soul attempted to remind him—less than twenty-four hours, and he was already feeling the heat of Sin burning inside him.
Oriel scowled at the floor. “Markos should have put someone else on Guardian duty for her.”
Tajael glanced at the door to The Point, the secret research company which the humans were using to push the boundaries of interdimensional space—their boundaries. It was precisely because of the dangers which lurked on the other side of that barrier, including every manner of immortal creature, that the boundary existed in the first place. But it was not Oriel’s job to question the decisions of the Angels.
“Every angeling has their role,” Tajael said, once he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard. He had switched to angeltongue nonetheless. “Besides, Markos trusts you.”
“He should not.” Oriel ran his hand through his hair, the urge to pull at it overwhelming. He changed to angeltongue as well. “I am less suited to be among humans than many others… others who have far more experience with Guarding and have already Fallen from their Lust.”
Tajael smirked. “You have me as a role model.”
Oriel glared at him. “Your enthusiastic lovemaking with Charlotte is not the kind of role modeling I need, Taj. The sound carries, you know. I’m only two doors down.” Oriel had spent the night in Lizza’s apartment—cloaked, of course—and there were wards raised to keep out shadow angels and fae, but neither the walls nor the magical barrier kept out sound. And with an angeling’s sensitive hearing… plus the brilliantly shining soul of Lizza nearby… the night was an endless and lonely torment.
Tajael’s expression softened with Kindness. “I am sorry, my friend. We shall attempt to be less… noisy.” Was it his friend’s strength in the Virtues that allowed him to engage in sexual activities with such… vigor… without Falling? Oriel had thought long and hard about it but still had no answers.
He sighed. “Angels of light, Tajael, I know not how you endured your time Guarding as long as you did. I was there, and I still had no idea. It’s a wonder to me that you didn’t Fall with Charlotte.”
“I consider it a small miracle myself.”
“But such things are not my destiny.” His body was unmarked, as his friend well knew, unlike Tajael who still carried a magical tattoo from his time in the shadow realm. “I do not bear shadow ink. I have only heard tale of the vast misery and Sin of that realm, notably from you. But I have no desire to Fall and spend the rest of my days there.”
Tajael nodded solemnly. “You are needed here.” At least, they were agreed on that.
The war between the immortal fae and angelkind was still raging in the streets of Seattle. They had rescued Charlotte from the fae’s clutches, but she had brought back news of the scope and evil nature of their plans. And now she—and Lizza—were pushing forward with their research to breach the barrier between the realms. It was folly, Oriel was sure, but he would do his duty as required… unless the entrancing new physicist that was his charge tempted him into a Fall. In which case, he would be rendered useless to the cause. It was not as if the other Guardians of other physicists hadn’t Fallen—they had. Oriel himself had tried to warn Markos, the angel leader of the Dominion overseeing this effort, that the danger to Guardians was dire. Yes, some remained in the light. But not most. Tajael was alone in having loved a human and still retaining his white wings.
Oriel sighed again. “She is as beautiful as any angeling.” He peered at Tajael. “Could not Markos have found a less attractive human in need of Guarding?”
Tajael’s smirk crept back. “The fates are what they are.”
Oriel snorted and shook his head. It was a question without need of answer, but that answer suited. And his fate may well be sealed by this assignment. But he would resist it to the last.
The elevator down the hall dinged its arrival, and he and Tajael instantly went on alert… but it was only the sandwich delivery Oriel had ordered. Not for himself—angelings had little need for food—but in desperation for Lizza. The woman had been working relentlessly from the moment she arrived at the office early this morning, and it was now halfway through the afternoon. Oriel had studied all the Guardian knowledge. He knew she needed to eat frequently. Not only did he have to worry about immortal threats of any number of kinds and his own Lustful urgings, but he had to make sure she ate as well?
The fates—if such things existed—were laughing heartily at him.
He accepted the white paper bag and thanked the delivery person. Then he gave Tajael a look that mirrored the harried feeling tumbling around inside him. “Wish me luck.”
“If you’re in danger of Falling from Lust in the middle of the office, it’s even worse than I thought.” His friend seemed beset with the need to laugh.
Oriel scowled and marched to the inner door to the office. He really should stay closer to his charge. There were wards up around the entire floor and a host of angelings keeping watch outside, and there were human guards, but if all went wrong, and the fae attacked—as they already had once—then he and Tajael and the two other angelings stationed inside the wards would be the office’s last defense. And in Truth, they were not Guarding the machines or the experiments or anything material inside these walls. Even most employees of The Point were unnecessary to the progress of the human’s research. For that, Charlotte was key—and a primary target of the fae. And now, from everything he’d seen, Lizza was critical to their success, too. Which meant she would be a tempting target for the forces of evil as well.
If only her soul didn’t provide such allure for him—he could sense it across the field of cubicles even before he could see her. He gripped the bag of lunch, took a deep breath, and steeled himself to make his approach. He’d avoided contact with her for most of the day—she needed to work, and he needed to not have his gaze resting upon her—but her well-being was his duty, and he would make sure of both.
When he arrived at the entrance to her cubicle, she didn’t even look up. Her long red hair was cascading down, covering her face as she bent over a collection of papers and a drawing pad. Technical papers stacked on her desk, around her neglected computer, and spilled out onto the floor. It was as if she were a volcano of knowledge, and the papers had erupted from her bright-shining soul only to slip and fall to rest around her. Her thin fingers clutched a pencil that paused midway through a sketch—her pad was covered with mathematics and the small drawings that illustrated them. One finger skimmed the paper she was intent upon, tracing each line with her touch and her concentration.
The ferocity of her intellect—her righteous pursuit of Truth—made her soul shine. And there was the physical beauty—the female curves, the flawless skin, the luminous blue eyes. If Oriel didn’t know her to be human, he could easily have mistaken her ethereal beauty for angelkind. But that wasn’t what threatened to snare him in Sin. It was the unevenness of her soul which captivated him. For as much as she shone with the Virtues—Diligence, Patience, and Humility in her work, Charity in her fervent pursuit of Truth, and as far as he could tell, Chastity and Temperance as well—it wasn’t Virtue alone that drew him. Although that touch of Kindness the night before, when she had sensed his awkwardness in feigning human, had sent a wave of warning through his system. But it was the darkness which tinged her soul that spoke to him, drawing him with a relentless pull, a Gravity of Lust that left him breathless.
There was something broken inside Elizabeth Robinson.
Something angelkind were born to fix.
And, oh, how it called to him!
He cleared his throat to catch her attention.
She shrieked and bolted upright.
He stepped back, heart stuttering. “It’s just me.” He held the bag out, almost like a shield, then pulled it back, feeling foolish.
“Holy crap!” She pressed her hand to her chest. Oriel could hear her heart pounding. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“I’ve been standing here for approximately half a minute.” Why did the words always feel so awkward in his mouth when he spoke to her?
“You have?” She was breathless, chest heaving, face flushed with the pounding of her heart. The sight was not good for him.
He fixated on the bag. “I brought you some lunch.” He frowned and forced himself to look up and meet her gaze.
She was staring quizzically at the bag. “You brought me food?”
“It’s well past the time the others have eaten.” He could feel the defensiveness creep up his back. “Do you not eat as they do?” He was suddenly filled with doubt, glancing at the bag and wondering if he had erred in the entire endeavor.
She wiped a hand across her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. You’re so kind, you’re bringing me lunch, and I’m being a twitchy spaz.” Her gaze met his, and something inside him tightened as she crossed the short distance between them.
“A twitchy spaz?” he asked.
She stood in front of him, peering up at him with those big blue eyes. “Oriel, where are you from?”
“I… what?” He was getting lost in her eyes, not tracking her words.
She frowned. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to help being rude today.” She sighed. “You are so sweet to think of me. I mean, I know it’s your job, but wow… you don’t have to do this.” She glanced down at the bag. “What did you bring me?”
“It’s a Number Two Special.” He swallowed. This was the closest she’d been since the night before. “I’m honestly not sure what that is.”
She smiled, and Oriel added full, delicate lips to his inventory of the most beautiful physical parts of her. They couldn’t compete with the attractiveness of her soul, but somehow focusing on her physical attributes distracted him from that other, more deadly, allure.
“A surprise, then.” Her smile widened as she took the bag. Then she retreated to her desk.
Thank all the angels in heaven.
She quickly settled in, placing her sandwich and apple on top of the paper and drawing pad she was so intent on before. The sandwich was unwrapped fast, and she took an enormous bite. She closed her eyes in what seemed like pleasure and moaned. “So good!”
He was transfixed, horrified by his racing pulse, but unable to move.
She opened her eyes. “Thank you!” she mumbled around another bite, but blessedly, she wasn’t making the moaning sound any longer. She quickly swallowed. “Man, either I’m starving, or this is the best corned beef on rye on earth. How did you know that’s my favorite?”
He blinked. “Lucky guess?” He should leave. He should definitely leave. Yet, he was held hostage as she took another bite and made a humming sound almost like angelsong, although not nearly so loud. Then she waved him in and reached her foot out to hook a rolling chair propped to the side of her small office.
She wanted him to join her. Against what shreds of better judgment he had left, he took a seat in the chair. It was entirely too close.
She noticed his stare. “Oh, I’m sorry! Jeez, I’m a jerk today.” She offered the sandwich to him. “Would you like some?”
“Uh… no. I’ve already eaten,” he lied. “Besides, you are enjoying it so much.”
She grinned and partly laughed, still chewing.
He dropped his gaze to her drawing pad—just to avoid the dancing merriment in her eyes. It contained not just mathematical figures, like he expected, but also tiny single-horned creatures. Then he remembered something in her things in this morning… sure enough, the brightly colored, small, stuffed animal was perched on the stack of papers, imperiously overlooking her note-taking.
“What is that thing?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
She followed his gaze. “The monstrous paper reading I have to do to catch up?”
“No, the creature.” Was he not being plain in his speech?
“Oh, that’s just…” She waved at the stuffed animal like she might will it away. “Unicorns are good luck, right?” She seemed flustered, but he couldn’t figure why. Not that he had much experience with reading human faces and expressions—unlike Tajael—but it was obvious that she was struggling for the right thing to say.
“Is that why you’re drawing them?” He leaned forward in his chair to peer a little more closely at her sketches. The unicorns seemed decorative, but they showed up all over her paper.
Lizza sighed, drawing his gaze back to her, then she bit her lip.
He didn’t know why that affected him, but it did. Maybe because her lips were one of the beautiful parts of her, and she was tormenting them… worse, it was something he had caused.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Your business is, of course, your own.” A great urgency to stand and possibly flee the cubicle possessed him.
“No.” She raised a hand to stop him from almost-rising from the chair. “It’s just… I haven’t had anyone ask me about it in a while.” She took another bite of the sandwich then set it down on the white bag. When she picked up the unicorn, it was with great delicacy, like the thing was a precious artifact. It was then that he saw the signs of age and wear. The golden horn was rubbed gray on the tip. The white coat seemed coarse like it had been scrubbed clean, although the whiteness of the fur was dimmed with age. She held it in the palm of her hand, staring at it. Then she glanced sideways at him. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Without question.” He scarce could breathe.
She smiled a little, then it turned sad. “When I was sixteen, my parents died. Both of them, just a few months apart. This was my mom’s actually. She named him Mr. Charley—I still have no idea why—and hung him from the mirror in her car. The car that crashed and killed her.”
Oriel drew breath, but only torturously. “I’m sorry.” It was a bare whisper because blaring in his mind was a singular thought—this was it. This was the darkness haunting her soul.
Lizza nodded, her bright gaze wandering back to the unicorn. “I barely made it out of that car myself.” She sent him a blazing smile that jolted his heart to life. “Three months of hospital food. Trust me, I will never take a good corned beef on rye for granted again!”
He was dazzled by her—there was no other word for it.
“So the unicorn,” he ventured. “It’s to remember your mother by.”
“No.” She shook her head for emphasis. “I have other ways I remember them both—my mom and dad. No, this guy…” She carefully placed the unicorn back on the stack of papers. “He reminds me to keep my promise to them.”
“What promise?” A horde of shadow angels couldn’t have torn him from hearing the answer.
She looked back at him, capturing him with those luminous blue eyes. “That I would do something great with my life. With science.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “That I would make them proud of me.”
“I am certain they were already proud.” He could hardly imagine it otherwise.
Her mouth opened, but instead of speaking, she dropped her gaze and moved the sandwich and papers around for a moment. He didn’t need Tajael’s insights to know that he had affected her with his words. That should be sufficient for him—he should leave—but a strange magic held him in place. Wanting more. That should have been danger enough to drive him off… but it wasn’t.
Instead, he waited.
She sniffed and sent him a small, embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I just…” She shook her head and cleared her throat, staring intently at the papers on her desk. “This job is very important to me.” Then she turned back to him, eyes blazing. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone? It would just be… embarrassing.”
So the story of her promise was not the secret? There was more? He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped, and gave her his most earnest look. “I would never break your confidence.” And by all that was magic, he meant every word of that.
She smiled, and it was so sweet, it made something ache deep in his chest. She leaned forward, too, eyes alight. They were almost huddled together. “I believe you.” She took a breath, then added, “Someday, I’m going to be the first person to travel.”
He blinked, momentarily confused.
“In the machine,” she added then glanced back at Mr. Charley. “And he’s coming with me.”
Oriel leaned back, struck by this. “That could be dangerous.” He had no idea how far off they were in their research or how feasible human travel was through the machine. He knew interdimensional travel was perfectly safe—he traveled all the time, as did all of angelkind, and the fae as well—but that was different. That was traveling by tapping the interdimensional energy all around them. By magic. He didn’t understand how it all worked, but he knew he could take Lizza anywhere in the world—magical and otherwise—that she wished. Safely.
The idea made his shoulder twitch. For as soon as he thought it, he wanted it. Far too much.
Lizza had leaned back, the closeness of her secret-telling dispelled. “I’ve already almost died once. I’m not afraid. In fact, I’m pretty sure the whole reason I’m alive is to basically do this one thing.”
“There is more to living than a single act.” Although he could see the bravery. Her soul shone with the Charity of risking her life for the world-changing science she wanted to push forward—as she believed, for the betterment of all mankind. Her intention was pure, and it was breath-taking to behold.
She gave him a small smile. “Not for me.”
He had no response to that, and before he could conjure one, a knock came from the entrance to her cubicle, startling them both. Oriel quickly rose, uncomfortably aware that as her Guardian he had been taken unawares by this entrance. It was only Daxon, the sponsor of the research Lizza and Charlotte were conducting, but still. Embarrassment flushed through him.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Daxon said breezily, stepping into the cubicle and extending his hand to Lizza. “Daxon Hamilton, the guy who pays for stuff around here.”
Lizza quickly rose to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Her smile for Daxon surged up an entirely irrational pulse of Envy deep in Oriel’s chest. There was no call for it, and no concern of any sort—Daxon was an honorable man. Oriel had worked extensively with him to repair the lab after the first assault by the fae and the shadow angelings, but he’d convinced the billionaire tech entrepreneur that the fae-caused destruction was a simply a human-caused explosion—and more importantly, the man did not suspect the immortal war nor its entanglement in his research.
“Well, Charlotte speaks incredibly highly of you,” Daxon said to Lizza with a smile. “I’m only here for few minutes, but I’d love to hear more about your research.”
“Absolutely.” The flush of excitement on Lizza’s face surged more Envy.
Oriel stepped aside to allow Daxon the seat he’d just risen from. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” he said quickly to Lizza, but her attention was captured by her eager patron. Which was to be expected—entirely unexpected was the growing ache of Envy in his chest as he quickly strode away.
Tajael was right where Oriel left him, just outside the etched-glass doors of The Point, only now busy on his phone.
Tajael pocketed it and looked up. “Daxon find Lizza? He was asking after her.”
“Yes.” Oriel worked to calm the tight feeling in his body. How could he be envious? Except he knew the answer—for he had felt the brilliance of her gaze when it was focused on him. What’s more, he knew now the darkness that shadowed her soul. “But I’ve discovered something that… Tajael, I need your advice on a matter.” He wasn’t sure he wanted advice—for he knew the answer he wanted Tajael to give. Yet, it seemed better to ask in this way.
“Of course.” Tajael’s sharp ability to read faces was now trained on him. Could he see Oriel’s intent written there? Probably.
“There’s something broken in Lizza’s soul,” he said plainly. “Surely, you’ve noticed.”
“I have,” Tajael said cautiously. “Although, I’ll say I’m impressed. She seems not handicapped by it.”
“No, that’s not right,” Oriel said, the fervor rising. “It drives her. She has a singular passion because of it. But she’s broken, nevertheless.”
Tajael nodded, slowly, eyes pinched. “I mentioned it to Charlotte. She had much to say about it, actually. Lizza lost her parents, and apparently, her father was a physicist. It animates her work.”
Oriel nodded. “She wishes to fulfill their dreams for her.”
“A noble thing.”
“But…” Oriel struggled, for he would not betray her confidence. He swore it. “She’s willing to give up everything for it.”
“More noble still.”
Oriel ground his teeth, frustrated. “I could give her a life kiss. It would heal what’s broken inside her.” There—he’d said it aloud.
Tajael’s eyebrows had lifted high. “That’s… not advisable.”
Oriel ran a hand through his hair and paced away from his friend. Of course, it was not advisable. Life kisses were blessings bestowed on humans in need—usually dire need, verging on death. Or demon-healing. And they were, well, passionate affairs, lacking a better word. Done for the right reasons, they were a source of righteous pleasure. But even then, there was a danger of being consumed by that pleasure.
Oriel turned back to Tajael and held out his hands in supplication to his fellow angeling. “There is nothing specifically to prohibit it.”
“That does not make it wise.” Tajael was eyeing him with concern now.
“Is it wise to stand by and let a broken soul do something… unwise?” He was skirting the issue. How to press upon Tajael the danger without betraying Lizza’s confidence?
Tajael frowned. “She is fine, Oriel. She’s doing her work. When I discussed it with Charlotte, she said she understood what it felt like to have a soul that was broken. This was before I met her. She healed herself, Oriel. And that is not an unknown thing. I’ve heard tell of other Guardians who’ve observed it happen. Without a life kiss intervention, mind you.”
“Yes, but this wound is long-standing,” Oriel protested. “If she were to heal herself, surely it would have already happened. On the other hand, I could—”
“You could what?” Tajael cut him off, severely. “Bestow a life kiss upon her and make her shine even brighter than she is now? Because that won’t be alluring at all.”
Oriel scowled at him. “You are concerned I will Fall.”
“I am concerned that you are not concerned.” Tajael’s expression had taken even more gravity.
“Of course, I’m concerned!” But Tajael was strangely accurate in that—Oriel was far more worried about the state of Lizza’s soul than his own. Which, at the moment, seemed entirely logical, even though he knew that his Fall would be dire not only for him but for all of Markos’s tightly-stretched forces. He grimaced. “So, you do not think it is wise?”
“Not only for you but for her,” Tajael said gently. “You said it yourself. This darkness animates her. It informs her work. Perhaps the work itself will be what heals her. You cannot know, Oriel, and your job here is to keep her safe… not transform her life.”
But I wish to do both! Oriel knew that was not the correct answer, so he kept that thought locked inside. But it lurked there, a dangerous mix of Lust and the righteous desire to heal.
“You are right, of course,” Oriel said, ducking his head, hoping Tajael wouldn’t see the deceit on his face. Not that he planned to act on his desires, but his full-blooming struggle was his own shame. One he didn’t need to share.
He was Protector Class, Chastity Faction… and now Guardian in the middle of an immortal war. He would struggle with this, and he would overcome it.
And at all costs, he would do his duty… and nothing more.
No matter how tempting.