Chapter 25

TWENTY-FIVE

Gabriel

I cannot sit still. My shoulders ache with tension. Willow has not said more than a few words to me since we woke this morning. Breakfast was utterly silent save for the scrape of silverware and the low din of others dining around us.

Now, we are safely ensconced in our room once more. My phone rings, Sinclair's name flashing across the screen. I snatch the device from the table and put it on speaker.

"Tell me you know where the Blade is," I snap before he can say a word.

Zoe murmurs something that might be, "Calm down," and Sinclair clears his throat.

"We have leads. Nothing definitive yet. Of the eight DNA matches in the United States, only four are east of your current location. Two of them were dead ends. The Bureau coordinated with local human law enforcement to investigate. One was a young man with zero interest in family heirlooms, and the other perished in a fire last year."

"Fuck." I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the long strands to the point of pain. "And the other two?"

"It takes time—and tact—to convince a small-town police department to question one of their citizens, Gabriel. Lieutenant Eve is doing her best. After everything she—and the rest of the Bureau—have dealt with of late, we're lucky she has not taken to the sky, never to return."

Regret creeps up the back of my neck. "I suppose since I directly contributed to those…issues, I cannot complain."

"For fuck's sake," Sinclair grits out. "Yes, you were an ass. Yes, you should have restored my memories long before you deigned to do so. But despite all the pain Zoe and I have endured, we are together. We survived. Stop blaming yourself so we can all move on."

I am about to tell him I will never escape my guilt when Zoe says his name.

"Sin, we got addresses for the other two DNA matches. One of them isn't far from McCook, Nebraska. The other one is in the middle of nowhere, Arkansas."

I check the train schedule tacked to the wall next to the door. "We will not reach McCook until after dinner. Willow, how strong is the Blade's call?"

She rubs her hands up and down her arms. I woke to find her shivering against me this morning, and no amount of coffee or blankets have been able to warm her.

"Very. But…it changed this morning. Like it's actually in pain now." The stress in her voice worsens every hour. "Or…maybe that's just me." Tears shimmer in the corners of her eyes.

The air in the room stirs, and her whisper floats through the wall to hover in front of her.

"She feels it too."

"Arkansas is much further away, yes?" My knowledge of the geography of the United States is minimal, at best.

"About a thousand miles," Zoe says. "A little more than the distance from where you are now to San Francisco."

"I can't take much more of this." Willow shudders, and a single tear tumbles down her pale cheek. "It can't be all the way in Arkansas. It just…can't be."

"Then Nebraska it is. We will disembark there." Scanning the schedule, I nod. "The vampires should be awake by then. You and Zoe will meet us there?"

"We are one stop ahead of you at the moment," Sinclair says. "We'll keep that pace. Update Mad, Killian, and Kunchin. Zoe needs to eat, and I see a diner up ahead. Stay safe."

Willow

Gabriel tucks his phone back into his pocket, turns, and arches a brow at my whisper. "She is freezing. Move so I can hold her."

She does, floating to the window and peering out at the snowy landscape. We're headed high into the mountains today, and though the sun is so bright, it hurts my eyes, the temperature isn't much above freezing.

Sinking down next to me, Gabriel settles back against the cushions. "Come here. Please?"

I let him wrap his arm around me and arrange the blanket over my lap.

"Something isn't right," I say, my head tucked under his chin. "When I woke up this morning, it wasn't this…painful. But right before breakfast, it changed."

"How?" He rubs slow circles over my back and presses kisses to my hair.

I shrug, too tired—and confused—to find the right words.

"I have been told that ‘talking it out' can often help solve difficult problems, deliciae. Try?"

His fingers move to my neck, kneading gently. Well, I guess if he's going to give me a massage…

"After the grimoire gave me its oh-so-generous magical gift, I could… hear the Blade. Have you ever had an earworm?" I ask, peering up at him.

His eyes widen, a look of disgust twisting his features. "Are they common? If so, how do I avoid them? Forever."

My snort kicks off a laughing fit. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I struggle to catch my breath. "Oh, my God. You're hopeless, you know that? An earworm isn't an actual worm. It's a song that gets stuck in your head. You can't help singing it or humming it or just hearing it over and over and over again. Nothing you do makes it go away."

"And this is what the Blade's call was like?" he asks, the furrow between his brows easing.

"Yes. It was part of me. Mine. As much as my heartbeat or the sound of my own voice. It got louder when I didn't immediately leave to find it. Sadder too. But still comforting. Like a flute or maybe a violin."

"I wish I could have heard it through your ears," he murmurs. "Or taken this burden from you entirely."

Regret roughens his tone, but he heaves a deep breath and returns his fingers to my neck.

"Once the train started moving, the Blade knew. The tone changed. It was happy. Excited. Every hour or so, I'd feel this little tug on my heart. Always east."

He digs his knuckle into a hard knot of tension between my neck and shoulder. The pressure is too much and not enough at the same time. I let out a tiny moan.

"And now?"

I don't want to tell him. Saying the words makes them real. But Gabriel hasn't left my side since he rescued me from the cathedral, and after yesterday…what I feel for him is so strong— so much more than I ever thought possible—I won't hide from him.

"The Blade is scared. And Gabriel?" I tip my head back to meet his gaze. "So am I."

The next few hours are some of the longest of my life. Gabriel tries to distract me, telling me about the celestial realm, about some of the pranks he and Lucifer used to play on the other archangels before the devil was banished to Hell, and about his travels across the world these past few weeks.

"I visited towns that were dying, and others so prosperous, the buildings were adorned with gold. Everywhere, I found men talked the most, but it was the women who had the most to say. I think the men enjoyed the sound of their own voices too much."

I lie in his arms under a pile of blankets, but I'm still shivering. He hasn't stopped touching me for even a minute. I wish he'd strip me naked and ravage me, but with the Blade's fear a constant, bitter taste in my mouth, sex probably isn't the best idea.

"You're tense," I say, wriggling until I can get a hand free to touch his cheek. His beard is getting softer. With his long, wavy hair, he'd look like Tarzan—if it weren't for how precisely he dresses. He seems to favor button down shirts and khakis, and I wonder. What would he look like in jeans and a t-shirt? A sweater vest. Or…naked. In my bed back in San Francisco.

His sigh isn't reassuring. He stares out the window at the snow-covered trees. "I wish we had more time."

I close my eyes so he can't see how close I am to crying—again. "I've lived more in the past two days than I have in years."

"So have I, love . I am not ready to give this new life of mine up."

Craning my neck so I can meet his gaze, I put the pieces together. "Are—shit—are you being like…summoned or something?"

He shakes his head with a soft chuckle. "No. Not yet. Though I expect it will happen soon."

My stomach twists itself into a pretzel. "What if we haven't found the Blade by then? I can't do this without you, Gabriel." My hands start to go numb as my heart races and I fight to get my breathing under control. "I don't…I can't…shit…"

"Shhh, love." He pulls me close, his fingers threading through my hair, and seals his lips to mine. Kissing Gabriel is a religious experience—and not just because he's an angel. The man has the most talented mouth I've ever seen. Or felt. In many different ways. But this is the kiss I want to remember at the end. Because in this moment, I fall in love with him.

Gabriel

The air crackles with electricity, and I wrap my arms around Willow, putting my body between her and the window a split second before Azrael appears in the center of the room, his black wings on full display.

"Gabriel. It's time."

"Wh-what's…happening?" Willow sways on her feet. If I had been any slower, Azrael's appearance could have caused her serious harm.

"Willow? Do not be alarmed." I steady her with my arm around her waist. "Azrael does not understand how his presence can affect humans. When he visits this realm, it is usually to carry a soul to the afterlife. The dead do not care if their eardrums burst."

"The…oh, God. The Angel of Death? Is…are you here for me?" Her voice is little more than a squeak, and I kick myself for not thinking how my words would sound to her.

"No, deliciae. Azrael is hoping I see reason and allow him to take me back to the celestial realm."

Azrael snorts. "See reason? You wouldn't know reason if it punched you in the face, Gabriel. And you don't have a choice. You're coming home with me. Now."

"Fuck you."

I ease Willow down to the couch and take her hands in mine. "I gave you my word that I would not leave until we destroyed the Blade. Azrael will honor my promise. But the discussion we need to have first…it will not be pleasant."

She huffs out a breath. One corner of her mouth twitches into what might be a weak smile. "Is that angel-speak for ‘you're going to knock him on his ass'?"

"Yes . Perhaps more than once. Stay here and keep the door locked. We will not be long." I press my lips to her forehead and inhale her scent, then drop my voice to a whisper. "When I get back, I will strip you naked and worship your body until you cannot remember your own name."

She shivers, then casts a quick glance over my shoulder at Azrael. "He looks pretty pissed. Be careful."

"Always. Cover your ears and turn toward the window. I am taking him somewhere…private."

"I am not going anywhere—" Azrael loses his words as I tackle him, focusing my thoughts on the train's luggage car.

We appear amid racks of suitcases, duffel bags, and cardboard boxes. "You piece of shit. Appearing in front of humans can cause them serious harm. You could have hurt Willow." Shoving him with all my strength, I send him flying halfway across the car.

"Your time is up." He smooths his hands down his bespoke black suit, then plucks a speck of dust from his sleeve. Did he find a soul to give him fashion lessons since we last spoke?

"Seraphiel is on a rampage," he says. "If you don't come with me right now, I'm afraid he'll go to the Almighty and demand she take your wings."

For two days, so many of my thoughts have been consumed by one question. Would I give up all I have ever known for the chance to be with Willow?

Facing off with my brother, I find my answer.

Yes.

I straighten my shoulders and look Azrael in the eyes. "Let Seraphiel do his worst. This is where I belong."

"Gabriel, the earthen realm is exciting. I don't blame you for wanting to stay. But you have responsibilities to fulfill. We all do."

"My responsibilities have always been to the people of this realm. But I cannot fulfill them from," I wave my hand toward the ceiling, "up there."

"You have to." Azrael advances on me, his eyes glowing with power. Frigid air races through the car as the train speeds around a curve. "Celestials do not walk among humans."

I punch the Angel of Death in his smug, perfect face. "This one does."

A suitcase tumbles off one of the racks and lands between us. The momentary distraction is all Azrael needs to tackle me. We hit the ground, trading punches until I taste blood and his left eye is starting to swell.

"Why will you not see reason?" he growls and throws me onto the top rack. My head hits the ceiling. Stars glitter at the edges of my vision.

"Reason? There is no reason archangels should be confined to the celestial realm. There is no reason we cannot accomplish our duties while living among humans. But most of all, there is no reason for Seraphiel to be such a complete and total twat, yet here we are."

My back aches, the telltale prickle I only feel when my wings demand to be freed spreading out from my spine.

"Fuck. Not now," I mutter. Blood spatters my blue dress shirt, and several of the buttons popped off as we battled. I jump down and pull the stained material over my head.

Deep bruises mar my torso. Azrael is leaner than I am, but the full strength of the celestial realm clings to him, while I have been on earth for weeks.

"Seraphiel is a dick," Azrael says. "But he is one of the Seraphim. He has the right to call you home. As you are unable to return on your own, you will come with me. Now."

My wings burst forth, the light reflecting off them blinding in this dimly lit train car. Pure white, with hundreds of new feathers no longer burned, blistered, or broken.

I turn sideways, extending them to their fullest—and whacking Azrael in the face. No pain. Nothing but raw power that begs to be unleashed. Only yesterday, they were so ruined, I feared they would never be whole again. That I did not deserve to call myself an angel. That when Azrael came for me, I would need to beg for his indulgence.

"I am the Archangel Gabriel. The bringer of justice, the revealer of truth, and the interpreter of the Almighty's plan," I roar so loudly, I would not be surprised if even the vampires woke from the sound. "I have free will—as do all in this realm—and I am exercising it now."

Folding my wings against my back, I stalk over to the Angel of Death, grab his lapels, and get right in his face.

"Tell Seraphiel—and the Almighty—that I quit."