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 wasnotpart 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 incubusdemon 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 andhumans. 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, butwestood 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 mydamaged 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.”
“Donotdisappear 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 ofOthercrime. 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.
