Chapter 1

ONE

Willow

In the past three weeks, I've gone from a boring adjunct college professor dreaming of tenure to seeing my own ghostly doppelg?nger around every corner.

All because I got close enough to an ancient book to activate magic I never knew was inside of me.

Now, a secret government organization is trying to force me to wield my power for the vilest of tasks.

Just as they're about to bring the pain, I'm saved by an honest-to-God—yes, that God—angel.

He smells nice. His voice is like spun gold. And when his hair billows in the wind? I'm ashamed to admit…I swoon. But I can't trust anyone.

Not even a celestial.

I'm so screwed.

Three Weeks Ago

Willow

I shiver, despite the heat of the early October afternoon. When my department chair heard I hadn't yet visited St. Mary's Cathedral, he insisted I take the small group of graduate students on today's tour.

"You specialize in the occult and you haven't seen the vault at St. Mary's?"

I didn't tell Anton that I'd tried to visit the cathedral a dozen times since I'd moved to San Francisco five years ago. But something always kept me away.

Warned me away.

I don't know where the thought comes from.

"Dr. Saunders," Ruby says, "we're going to be late."

She tosses her dark curls over her shoulder and links her arm with Candice, her research partner. The two women are only a few months away from masters' degrees in architecture, and Ruby's writing her dissertation on the great 1906 San Francisco earthquake and how it affected the look and feel of the city.

I stare up at the tower, the Gothic spires piercing the clear blue sky. Time clings to the ancient red brick walls, their cracks and crevices swelling with a power I feel in my bones.

"I wonder if we'll see any of the ghosts who haunt this place?" Ruby whispers as we step through the heavy wooden doors.

"This is still a working church," I chide. "No talking about ghosts until after we leave."

Or…ever .

I might be the only person alive with a doctorate in the occult who gets the heebie-jeebies when she thinks about ghosts.

The doors creak loudly, almost groaning through the weight of their heavy, rusty hinges. Rows and rows of well-worn wooden pews stretch out across the vast, dimly lit nave. Incense —along with something older and way more sinister—fills the air, so thick it's almost choking.

Along one wall, a rack of votives casts flickering shadows, creating the illusion of movement where there should be none at all.

"Are you Dr. Saunders?" An older nun with a few strands of gray hair peeking out from her habit hurries over, her sensible shoes making almost no sound on the threadbare red carpet. "I'm Sister Cecilia. Father Shin sent me to greet you. He's still busy with the previous tour group. Welcome to St. Mary's."

"Thank you, Sister. Is it okay if my students take a few photos while we wait?"

"Of course!" She beams as she turns toward the sanctuary. "The cathedral is well-loved—and well-used—but she is still a stunning building. When I was first assigned here, I would spend hours sitting in the pews this time of day. The light is breathtaking."

I don't have the heart to tell her that's not the word I'd use. That the three frescos painted behind the altar are cast in an eerie glow. The cherubs and angels seem to almost fly off the wall.

The sun beating against the stained glass windows to my left should be warm. But instead, it leaches the heat from my limbs. My stomach does backflips, and I swallow hard. I need to sit down.

Sister Cecilia takes Ruby and Candice up to the altar and starts telling them all about the paintings, but back in the pews, an oppressive silence settles over me. Disoriented, I drop my head into my hands. I shouldn't have skipped lunch. Or…breakfast, for that matter. But I've felt off all day. Allergies, maybe. Or a POTS episode threatening. The vascular disease causes dangerous drops in blood pressure when I stand up too quickly.

If I'm not careful, I can even pass out.

I dig a hard candy out of my crossbody bag and pop it into my mouth. The strawberry sweetness usually helps.

It's a full ten minutes before Father Shin emerges from a door behind the altar. He's pale. Dark bags swell under his eyes. Deep lines etch his forehead. Sister Cecilia startles when she sees him, crosses the cathedral, and rests a hand on his elbow. He looks like he feels as awful as I do. Maybe he needs a candy too.

The priest stares up at the golden crucifix behind the altar and makes the sign of the cross. After a moment, he runs a hand through his thinning salt and pepper hair, shuffles over to me, and forces a smile.

"Dr. Saunders, please accept my apology for being late." The middle-aged priest has an easy way about him, despite how rattled he'd looked only seconds ago. "The previous tour had many more questions than usual."

"It's no problem, Father. You're doing us a favor. The woman I talked to at the rectory said you'd stopped giving tours a few months ago."

He offers me a weary smile as Ruby and Candice finish taking photos of the frescos and head over to us. "I had. The cathedral needs renovations, and the work was to begin this week. But there was a delay, and when your call came in, I'd just scheduled with the previous group. The scaffolding will go up soon. I'm afraid this is the last tour I'll be able to give for the foreseeable future."

The two young women are eager to get started, but my stomach is still in knots. So I hang back and pull another hard candy from my bag.

Father Shin leads Ruby and Candice through the sanctuary, his voice almost reverent as the cathedral's history spills from his lips. I gaze up at the vaulted ceiling, intricate designs almost coming to life in the shadows.

The stained glass windows, though beautiful, depict macabre scenes. Saints and sinners, their faces twisted in expressions of torment and ecstasy, are bathed in hues of crimson and gold by the setting sun.

I can't shake the feeling of wrongness here. I grew up in churches like these back in Boston. My parents baptized me and sent me to a Catholic grammar school. They believe in a higher power. Though I suspect more in the general sense than one true God.

The strange sensations skittering down my spine grow stronger with each step. Awareness prickles along the back of my neck. I glance around, my shoulders hiked up to my ears, but the few parishioners seem oblivious to anything out of place, and Father Shin prattles on about the fire that gutted the church more than a century ago.

"After the earthquake, the flames burned so hot, they destroyed everything but the bell tower and the walls. The marble altar melted ," he says, his voice reverent.

"Stone can melt?" Ruby presses her hand to her throat with a gasp.

"I was as surprised as you, my dear. But yes. It can. There are only a few grainy photos from that time, but it must have been a sight to behold." Father Shin pulls a heavy, purple velvet drape behind the altar aside to reveal a narrow alcove. "Now, watch your step. The stairs down to the antechamber are steep, but this is one of the most interesting parts of the entire cathedral. And one of the most mysterious."

A cold blast of air washes over me, carrying the scent of the bay. Salty. Dank. Old .

I should stay in the sanctuary.

Where it's safe.

"Dr. Saunders? You have to see this!" Candice calls. The girls were so excited to come here. Even happier when I agreed to go with them.

There's no reason to be scared. It's a basement. Nothing more.

I find a scrap of courage and make my way down the winding steps. As I reach the last one, I falter, grab onto the metal hand rail, and suck in a deep breath through my nose. Father Shin's voice fades as a strange, almost imperceptible hum fills the air. My body vibrates with it. Something deep within me strains to break free.

My hesitation burns away in a heartbeat. Suddenly, I'm desperate to keep going. To get past Shin, Ruby, and Candice and find out what's just beyond the reach of the dim bulbs running along the ceiling.

The world tilts on its axis. I stumble toward the far corner of the space. My vision blurs and the room starts to spin. A haunting melody seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

I reach out. I'm so close. My fingers ache. There's so much power here. Power I need. Power I want. Power that's mine .

Everything goes soft and dark, and an ethereal whisper from somewhere beyond is the only thing I can hear.

"Welcome, Whisper Keeper. We have been waiting… "

"Dr. Saunders? Willow?" A woman's voice cuts through the fog swirling around me. Someone touches my neck. I jerk away—or try to—but my limbs feel like they're encased in cement. "Take it easy. Try opening your eyes first, dear."

Oh. Right.

The old light bulbs swim in and out of focus over my head. The scent of the bay—of salt water—is so strong, it burns my nose. Under it, the subtle spice of incense and something else. Something familiar. From long ago.

Sister Cecilia kneels next to me, her face ghostly pale. Ruby and Candice hold onto each other over her shoulder. Candice's cheeks are stained with tears. Ruby—always the calm, composed one—is shaking.

Father Shin sits on the steps a few feet away, a rosary clutched in his hands.

"What…happened?" I croak. My throat is dry. Scratchy. Like I've been screaming for hours.

"You just…collapsed," Ruby says. "You went all pale, then the whole room got cold, and you…went down. We tried to catch you, but… It all happened so fast…"

I struggle to sit up, and Sister Cecilia slides her arm around my back to help me. My head spins for a brief moment, but after a hard blink, the dizziness subsides. As does the knot in my stomach.

"Welcome, Whisper Keeper."

The strange voice is only a memory now. What the hell is a Whisper Keeper?

"I thought I heard someone…calling to me."

"God protect us," Father Shin whispers.

"From what?" I turn carefully, hoping I won't pass out again.

He shakes his head as he pushes to his feet. "The tour is over. I'm sorry. You all need to leave. Immediately."

Sister Cecilia frowns. "Father, Dr. Saunders is in no condition?—"

"Now, Sister Cecilia." Gone is the kindly older man who was so excited to tell us about this place. He lowers his voice to murmur, "Observe the time and fly from evil," before fleeing back up the winding staircase and leaving the four of us staring after him.

Ruby called a Lyft to bring me home—even offered to ride with me—but all I want is a chocolate chip cookie and my bed.

My nervous system hasn't worked right I was a teenager. A rare form of cancer stole any chance of having children and gifted me with one more lingering side effect—POTS. For years, I've tried to keep the symptoms in check. Stay hydrated, don't get up too quickly, don't skip meals… But postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome doesn't always play by the rules.

I drop my keys on the kitchen counter, pour myself a glass of water, and pull two cookies from the tin. There's a flicker at the edge of my vision—a shadow that shouldn't be there.

A trick of the light?

But then it happens again. The cookies slide from my hand as a gauzy form hovers between the kitchen and my tiny living room.

It's me . Or…a ghost of me. Her eyes are filled with sorrow, despite being mostly translucent. The water glass hits the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces, and when I look up again, the ghost is gone.

Gabriel

Crumbling bricks pop and crack as they hit the ground. Sparks from the twisted electrical conduits rain down at the edges of the destroyed power station.

My wings are in tatters. The scent of burned feathers makes my stomach roil. Flying through a magical portal and into the fires of Hell was reckless beyond measure. But only an angel could have saved Zoe and Sinclair from Lucifer's endless torment and lived to tell about it.

I am overwhelmed by the suffering all around me. And very angry. Only an hour ago, Thorn, one of the worst demons to ever walk the earth, and his fae concubine, Regina, were auctioning off the use of six women. He'd held, starved, and tortured them for days, then branded them with spelled ink so their minds belonged to him and him alone.

A pure-bred incubus, the asshole had fed off their fear. Until Zoe—a daughter of Seraphim—had fused her consciousness to his and dragged him to Hell. Sinclair, her mate, had risked his life—and his soul—to save her.

Across the destroyed space, Sin cradles Zoe in his arms. She passed out moments after I yanked their souls from the Underworld and has yet to stir.

Along another wall, a panther shifter named Dion sobs in a mage's arms. "I can't! The mark…you have to remove the mark!"

I stride over to the young mage. The woman looks entirely overwhelmed trying to comfort the hysterical shifter. "Can you not see the rune, magic bearer?"

Dropping to one knee, I tear a strip of cloth from the sleeve of my robes and gently swipe it over Dion's forehead. The mark fades slightly, but whatever the incubus bastard used to create it is strong, even now that he is dead.

"Water. Or alcohol," I demand. "Now!"

Dion shudders and a fresh wave of tears tumble down her cheeks. "Who…are…you?" she whispers.

My shoulders straighten, sending waves of pain rolling down my back. "I am the archangel Gabriel. The bringer of justice, the revealer of truth, and the interpreter of the Almighty's plan."

Her bloodshot, amber eyes water. "The Almighty's plan…for me…fucking sucks."

"I swear to you, shifter, this was not part of any plan." Her emotions are almost too much for me to bear. My angelic senses are wide open—have been since I, along with Michael, Azrael, Rapheal, Ariel, and Cassiel, lent our powers to one of the most powerful warlocks in all eternity—and I cannot seem to close them off to the suffering in this room.

Lieutenant Grayson Eve, head of the Bureau of the Occult and the Other, strides over to us with a bottle of vodka in her hand. "You wanted alcohol?"

"Yes." I take the bottle and pour a generous splash over the cloth. "Whatever that bastard used to put that rune on her forehead is resisting me."

"She's bleeding all over the place. We need a healer!" Eve shouts.

"I…can heal myself. If…I can shift." Dion's voice is fading too quickly. She's barely holding on. "Please…"

The alcohol helps, and the moment I cut through one of the rune's lines, black fur ripples over the shifter's skin. Within seconds, she sighs and passes out.

"How did you know?" Grayson's nails lengthen into talons as she sweeps her gaze around the remains of the power station.

With a groan, I push to my feet. My body aches, and the act of drawing breath to speak is not one I look forward to. "It was quite obvious. You could not see the mark?"

"See it? Of course, I could. My sight is better than your average shifter, angel . How did you know what it was doing to her?" Her voice takes on a screeching edge, and her blond hair sticks up in all directions with the start of her shift. But after a moment, she regains control of her emotions.

"Millennia of knowledge." Bored with this conversation, I turn, seeking out Sinclair and Zoe. The half angel, half incubus demon sits against one of the crumbling walls, his gaze pinned to his mate's tear-stained face. Their souls have returned, but Zoe will need days—if not weeks—to heal.

She may be a daughter of Seraphim, but she was given a very human body, and Thorn visited horrors upon her that should be beyond imagination.

Sinclair's brother, Maddox, and his warlock mate, Killian, lean against the wall next to them. It was Killian's magic that created a tether to the mortal realm and allowed Sinclair's soul to descend into the Underworld to rescue Zoe's.

Azrael touches my arm gently. His wings flutter against his back, and I am unprepared for the odd pang squeezing my heart. Is that…jealousy?

"Are you coming, Gabriel? The rest of us are returning to the celestial realm. We can bring you with us."

The other angels stand together, shoulder to shoulder. Without the use of my wings, I cannot return to the celestial realm on my own. The only way back is with another angel. I should accept Azrael's aid. I do not belong here. Amid death and destruction and humans . So why do I not immediately agree?

"Gabriel?"

I shake my head. "I…will stay. Sinclair and Zoe might…need me."

Azrael arches a brow. "For what?"

Shoving at the Angel of Death, I drop my voice to a growl. "We did this to them, Azrael. It may have been Seraphiel's plan, but we stood by and let it happen. I will stay until I am certain Sinclair and Zoe are safe. The rest of you can fuck off back to the celestial realm. But tell Seraphiel that if I ever see him again, I will tear the feathers from his wings one by one."

With a chuckle, Azrael smooths his hands down his robes. "Good luck with that plan. Seraphiel has the Almighty's ear. You would be banished before the first feather fell." He eyes my damaged wings, and concern softens his tone. "It could be weeks before you heal enough to return. If you grow tired of waiting, call to me. I will hear you."

I clasp his arm briefly and nod. Of all the archangels, he is the only one I would consider…a friend. Though I do not think he feels the same about me.

"Time to go," he says to the others. "Our work here is done."

"Do not disappear inside this building!" Grayson shouts. "That much power will kill us all."

The angels grumble but make their way outside, and the eagle shifter stands beside me, her hands shoved into the pockets of her tailored black pants. "You know, Gabriel, the Bureau could use someone with your particular talents."

I stare down at her, my brows lifting. "An archangel? Working? For you?"

"Not full time. A…consultant, perhaps?" Amusement dances in her piercing blue eyes. "I'm not sure any of us could take your particular brand of hubris every day. The Bureau of the Occult and the Other handles many different types of Other crime. This case was our worst—ever—but I've seen things I can never unsee. This world has more evil than it should—particularly now. We would be grateful for the help."

Across the room, Maddox and Killian kneel, forming a protective circle around Sinclair and Zoe. Magic crackles in the air, the salty tang stronger than it has any right to be after the amount of power the warlock expended to save them.

The four disappear a second later. I am unprepared for the sharp stab of worry through my heart. Or how very alone I feel, despite the dozen Bureau agents still in the room and their leader at my side.

Turning to the Lieutenant, I shake my head. "I must decline your offer. I have a job, and the Almighty would not take kindly to…moonlighting."

She shrugs and offers me a small smile. "I had to try."

Letting my angelic powers wash over the whole of the world, I search for Sinclair and Zoe. Until I know they are safe, I will protect them. Whether they want me to or not.