Chapter 2

TWO

Gabriel

The lights of San Francisco twinkle like some sort of celestial disco beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sinclair's penthouse. I should have left eighteen hours ago—as soon as I knew Sin and Zoe were safe. But my wings burned and blistered so terribly, I will not be able to fly for weeks, and much of my angelic strength is gone.

After hours of rest, I am finally well enough to travel. Yet I have also found myself with two "minders" who huddle together across the spacious living room, talking in muted whispers.

"He's going to get himself killed," Maddox says.

"Or worse." The half-breed angel's mate, Killian, shakes his head. "He'll come back covered in tattoos, pierced, and with a raging case of syphilis."

"Fuck me. The Almighty will smite us for not taking better care of him." Maddox's cheeks drain of all color. "We can't let him leave."

"Do you want to try to stop him?" Killian asks. "He's a bloody archangel!"

"You do know I can hear you, yes?" I straighten to my full height, wincing as searing pain lashes across my back. Perhaps I am not as recovered as I thought I was. A strange feeling—almost a shudder—rolls through me.

My existence could have— should have—ended in Hell. But the collective power of five other angels gave me the strength to help Sinclair and Zoe escape with their lives.

Maddox draws in a quick breath and clutches Killian's arm. "I knewyou should have cast a spell first."

I arch a brow. "As if that would have stopped me. I can eavesdrop from halfway across the world. And you, of all the beings in the earthen realm, should know that."

Maddox bristles. His mate presses a kiss to his cheek. "He's baiting you, luv."

"He's an ass."

I chuckle. "That I may be. But I am also the bringer of justice, the revealer of truth, and?—"

"The interpreter of the Almighty's plan. Yes, we know ." Maddox runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands until his eyes crinkle with pain. "But while you're here in the earthen realm, you're subject to earthenrules. You can be injured. Killed."

I brandish the tip of one wing. A single burned feather falls to the floor. "Obviously. I am not an idiot, half-breed."

Killian steps in front of Maddox. "You have seen what I can do, Gabriel. Insult my mate again and you and I will have… issues ." Power glows from within the warlock, crackling over his fingers. "I may not be able to stop you, but I can make your existence quite painful before you end me."

In all truth, the warlock probably could stop me. Creating a magical tether to anchor Sinclair to the earthen realm so he could pull his mate from Lucifer's endless torment should have been impossible, even with the help of six archangels. Yet Killian managed to do so without dying.Though it cost him. The dark circles under his eyes have not faded, and he looks almost…hollow.

"Apologies." I force the foreign word from my lips. In the celestial realm, I am revered. By most. Seraphiel would like to see my end, I am certain. But the others...I have cultivated my reputation carefully over millennia. The lesser angels know not to challenge me. It does not end well.

"Are we done here?" I smooth my hands down my white robes, dispelling the last of the soot into thin air. "I do not wish to dawdle. Immersing myself in this realm will occupy me while my wings heal. And perhaps allow me to better understand those I am tasked with watching over."

"No. Not even close." Maddox thrusts a wad of green paper at me.

"What is this?" I wrinkle my nose at the scent. It reeks of…old. Of greed and desire and sweat from hundreds—if not thousands—of humans. I can sense them all. Different races, ages, religions. Their stories race through my mind. None of them linger for more than a blink. Unimportant, yet…not, at the same time.

"Money," Killian says. "You will need it for everything. Lodging, food, travel?—"

"I am an angel. I do not need lodging. Or food. Or to rely on humanmeans of transportation. Nor do you, for that matter."

Killian links his fingers with his mate's, a small smile curving his lips. "I have rather mastered teleportation. But you cannot simply appear and disappearin front of humans, Gabriel. They will talk. A lot. And your power alonecould kill or injure them."

"Then I will ensure I am away from them first." I try to hand the money back to Maddox, but he rolls his eyes.

"For the love of all that is good and holy in both realms, listen to us," Maddox says. "This is the longest you've ever spent here, Gabriel. Your powers...change once you leave the celestial realm. Trust me. Please."

The muscles in my back ache with a bone-deep pain, and my stomach has felt hollow all day.Maddox is not wrong. It has been a millennium since I passed more than a few hours in the earthen realm. And this time, I am not on a mission from the Almighty.

In truth, she may not even know I'm here.

Last night, after Maddox directed me to one of the guest suites in Sinclair's penthouse, I thought I chose to sleep. To experience this very humanactivity as part of my education about this realm. And to speed my healing. But did I? Or did my body simply...give out?

"Fuck."

"Did no one explain what would happen?" Killian asks.

I arch a brow at him. "Who, exactly, do you think would bother? Seraphiel? He hates me with his very soul. The Almighty is too busy to care—though I suppose she might have made the time if I'd told her what I was planning."

Maddox gapes until Killian elbows him in the side. "He may be a proper arse, luv, but you told me the story of the first time you visited this realm."

The half-breed's cheeks flush bright red. His embarrassment should not bother me, but I avert my gaze. Why? I care nothing for the warlock and his mate. A strange sensation rolls through me, and I ask, "What happened?"

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Maddox pins his gaze to the floor. "Sinclair took me to a bar. I had never tasted whiskey before. I had no idea it could lead to...poor decisions. And vomiting. So much vomiting."

"I will remember this. Whiskey can cause vomiting."

Killian shakes his head. "Only in large quantities over short periods of time. The point, Gabriel, is that there is much you do not know about this realm, and you cannot simply take offand hope for the best. If you do, you will quickly find yourself injured, dead, or worse."

"Worse? What fate is worse than death?" I ask.

The two men reply in tandem, "Marriage."

I stare from one to the other, confused. They are mated—the supernatural equivalent of marriage. And yet they are opposed to the institution? This must be some sort of humanjoke I do not understand.

"I do not enjoy being fucked with, warlock. I have had enough of these delays. Helping Sinclair and Zoe convinced me that I know too little of this realm. As I cannot return to the celestial realm until my wings are fully healed, I have decided to spend some time on earth among those I am tasked with watching over to better understand them. After a week—perhaps two—I will return to the celestial realm for the rest of eternity."

In truth, understanding humanity is not my only motivation. The past several days have been some of the most interesting of my existence. I am not ready to go back yet. I want…more.

I shove the crumpled bills into the pockets of my robes and step back so I do not injure the two men when I disappear.My power has been known to burst ear drums and render even the strongest of humans unconscious for hours.

"Wait!" Killian snaps and grabs my wrist. "You need more than money."

"What else?" I ask, bored of this conversation."Get on with it quickly so I may be off."

Maddox shakes his head. "And I thought I was naive when I came to this realm."

Killian chuckles and presses a kiss to Maddox's temple. "You were, luv. But at least you knew what pants were." The warlock looks me up and down. "What do you think? Thirty-four long?"

"At least. Maybe thirty-six. He's taller than either of us." Maddox drops to one knee and jerks the hem of my robe up to expose my feet. "Holy fuck. Size twelve shoes. No. Thirteen."

"Is there something wrong with my sandals?" I wrench the robe from Maddox's hand. "They are comfortable."

"It's October." Killian shakes his head. "San Francisco may be mild this time of year, but the rest of the country is not. And if you visit Canada or Russia or Iceland…" He shudders. "You'll find rain, sleet, snow…"

"I am an archangel. Rain will not touch me. Snow will melt at the very sight of me. Enough of this fussing. I am certain Sinclair and Zoe need some sort of assistance. Perhaps you should…check on them?"

Maddox rolls his eyes. "When I knocked on Sin's door this morning, he said, and I quote, ‘Fuck off.'" Killian gapes at him, and he adds, "He did text me five minutes later and apologized. But Zoe hasn't woken up yet, and he doesn't want to be disturbed until she does."

"He's lucky I wasn't the one who checked on him," Killian says, "or he would have found himself turned into a raccoon for a few hours. I know he's worried about Zoe, but after what we did for him…"

The warlock's shoulders slump. He expended so much magical energy creating the tether from this realm to the Underworld, I was almost…worried about him.

"He's been alone for a long time." Maddox scribbles on a small pad of paper, tears off a sheet, and hands it to his mate. "I think this should do it. Do you want to go? Or shall I?"

"I'll take care of it," Killian says. He embraces Maddox, slides his fingers into the half-breed's hair, and kisses him for so long, I wonder if Maddox is breathing. Angels do not need to breathe, but with a human mother, Maddox's angelic powers are surely muted.

I let my senses blanket the room. Desire. Arousal. Love. An undercurrent of annoyance—with me—and much worry. Sinclair is half angel, half incubus demon. He left his body in the earthen realm when he traveled to the Underworld, so he was not physically injured. But Zoe had been beaten, starved, and branded by the demon Thorn. Though she is the daughter of Seraphim, her body is outwardly human. She will heal, but it will take some time. The strength of Sin's fear—along with the love he has for his mate—causes a physical ache inside me.

The two lovers part, and Killian tosses a glance at me over his shoulder. "If you leave looking like that, angel, you will regret it. Stay here until I return."

Seconds later, he closes his eyes and disappears. Impressive. He can teleport without an incantation. Not many witches and warlocks are that powerful.

Maddox strides into the kitchen of Sinclair's apartment, finds the coffee pot, and pours himself a cup. "You want one, Gabriel?" he asks. "I need the caffeine hit, and Sinclair has terrible taste in tea."

"I do not require food or drink," I say, returning my focus to the glittering lights of the city outside the windows. "Or caffeine."

"For fuck's sake. Coffee is delicious. Try some." He sets two cups on the glass table in the center of the living room, then sinks onto one of the black leather sofas. "And sit down. You look knackered."

I fold my damaged wings, banishing them from view with a wince. Pain is a new experience for me—one I do not enjoy. Perhaps sitting would be wise. The cushions are soft, and the rich scent of the leather comforting.

I do not care for how the warmth from the mug makes my burned fingers ache. I almost spill some of the dark liquid when I switch from holding it in two hands to gripping the handle.

I choke on the first sip. Disgusting. "Humans drink this willingly ?"

"Millions of gallons of the stuff," Mad says with a smile. "Trust me. It gets better."

I am skeptical, but to my chagrin, the second taste is much different. "Interesting. You are certain I need…new clothes?"

"Yes, mate. Absolutely. You want to blend in. Robes won't cut it."

Straightening, I set the coffee down and narrow my eyes at Maddox. "I do not plan on cutting anything. I am an angel—an archangel, to be precise—and I can hide myself anywhere I choose."

"Really? You're an archangel? You never mention it." Mad runs a hand through his light brown hair and sighs. "Hiding won't let you experience the world, Gabriel. You need to talk to people. Listen to them . Have real conversations."

"As opposed to…?" I pick up the mug again, and this time, the taste is pleasant. With a subtle jolt I find…odd. Azrael would enjoy this, I think. He was the one to rally the others to join us. I should call him down here for a cup before I return to the celestial realm.

Maddox drains the last of his beverage and leans back against the cushions. "All you're doing is making excuses for why you know better. But you've only spent two days here. You've never been hot or cold. Hungry or full. You've never wanted for anything. I have. All humans have. Is it so unfathomable that Killian and I might have some wisdom to impart?"

I push to my feet, stifling my wince. My eyes are gritty. The scent of burned feathers grates on me. Perhaps I should avail myself of Sinclair's bathing facilities.

A subtle power stirs the air before I can snap back at Maddox, and Killian appears with several large bags clutched in each hand.

He sways on his feet for a moment, and Maddox jumps up from the couch. "Fuck me. I should have been the one to go. Why didn't you tell me you were so weak?"

The two hold onto one another for several seconds before Killian straightens. "I'll be fine, luv. Nothing a solid night of sleep and a proper meal won't cure."

The warlock does not look fine. He looks as if he is about to fall over. "Give me those." I take the bags from his hands and peer inside. Trousers, shirts, a jacket, two pairs of shoes, and a dozen other items I do not recognize.

Maddox points to the hallway. "Take a shower before you put on any of those clothes, Gabriel. You reek of Hell. I'll order us some food. If you hope to survive the next week, you're going to need it."

"Can you think of anything else we need to teach him?" Maddox asks. He pours his mate more wine, then offers me the bottle, but I wave him off. The rich, red liquid tastes of berries and tobacco and spice, but my head started to feel odd after the first glass. Much like my stomach.Not in an unpleasant way, though.

The meal—pasta in a heavy cream sauce—was interesting. Rich and smooth. Almost sweet, but not. I must remember to ask Azrael if he has ever partaken of a meal. If he has not, I will suggest he remedy the oversight. Quickly.

I stare at the unfamiliar items around me. A small leather pouch contains a toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant. Several changes of clothes are folded neatly in a duffel bag on the floor. And a dozen bills of various denominations are spread out on the glass table. "I suppose I can always use these to pass the time should I find myself…bored."

Across from me, the two men stare at one another, horror in their eyes. "No strip clubs," Maddox snaps.

Lifting a brow, I pick up one of the five-dollar notes. "I was referring to origami. The Japanese art of paper folding?" Creasing the bill in half, then in half again, I spend the next few seconds creating something that almost resembles a crane.

"He knows origami, but not money." Killian shakes his head. "He's a lost cause."

"I know many things, warlock." I set the crane on the table. The new clothes feel…strange against my skin. Not unpleasant. Different. I am not accustomed to wearing pants. Or socks. Or underwear. The shoes, at least, are comfortable. Maddox called them loafers.

With a yawn, Killian rests his head on Mad's shoulder. "He knows how to use his mobile pay. Text messaging. We explained hotels, taxis, brushing and flossing, and the odd obsession the United States has with tipping. Anything else, he's on his own."