The information wasn’t of interest to Lore.
“She’s asleep.” He waited for whatever brought the archangel here.
Michael didn’t seem inclined to talk. He crossed to a machine on the counter, picked up a glass pot with dark liquid, and headed for the sink.
Lore studied the archangel who had lost his wings while rescuing a band of hardheaded fallen gods incarcerated in the hellish pits of Tartarus millennia ago. Without those appendages, most treated him with disdain despite the work he continued to do for the realm.
With the clean pot back in the machine, Michael rattled through the cupboards and found a jar. He scooped spoonfuls of brown granules into an attachment and pressed a button.
Lore might be a level above Michael in the angelic hierarchy and powerful, but he suspected Michael was even more so after becoming the Guardians’ leader. And while Lore might be a loner, he wasn’t sure what the archangel was anymore.
But Michael had been the one who’d set him on his path. He’d guided a newly formed stripling awakening in the angelic world, without guidance, on how to tap into his inner strength and his capabilities to survive against other newbies and land the much-coveted Power position.
He owed the archangel for that.
And that was why he now protected a potential target.
Michael leaned against the counter, arms folded over his chest. “What happened?”
“A powerful demon’s after her. I reached into his mind, but he cut me off. Just got his obsession with the female?—”
The machine spat, dripping the dark liquid into the glass pot. The familiar smell of coffee he’d encountered a time or two permeated the air.
Michael grabbed a mug from the shelf above and poured some. He didn’t offer Lore any since angels didn’t eat or drink earthly nourishment. They simply existed on a heavenly nectar, consumed when needed.
Mug in hand, Michael swallowed a deep gulp of the steaming beverage and sighed. “Needed that.”
“Our nectar doesn’t work for you anymore?”
“Maybe it does, but I hardly ever go to the Celestial Realm, so I do what I must for sustenance when I need it.”
Indeed. Lore brought the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Why does the demon want her?”
Michael slowly rubbed his scruffy jaw. “It’s a known fact demons become fixated on a human because of the light their souls carry…”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
Michael laughed, his shattered blue irises flashing like lightning. “Still sharp as a tack, just like when you were first formed. I knew I made the right call when I steered you toward the Power for your trials.” He sipped more of his coffee, then said, “I’m not sure. Still putting the pieces together. I will let you know once I have an answer…” His gaze lifted to the ceiling, in the direction of the bedroom where Lore had settled his charge. “I sense a buzz in her.”
“Yes.” Lore strolled to the head of the long table. “I felt it when I scanned her. Nothing has emerged yet.”
“If what I suspect is true, it will emerge soon enough. Until then, keep her safe.”
“Is she one?”
Michael finished his coffee and set his mug in the sink. “Better to wait first before tagging her. I’ll be by in a few days to talk to her and will probably take her to the castle. Do not say anything to her about what she could be, and especially who she is, until I give the go-ahead.”
Lore frowned.Who she is?“But she will need to know she’s psionic.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Michael eyed him for a second. “I’m surprised you haven’t made the connection yet, having seenher. No matter.” With that cryptic comment hanging in the air, he left in a scatter of molecules.
Lore shook his head, not interested in unraveling whatever that puzzle was. A few days for this job? It was a mere blink for him, and he would be gone.
But until Michael departed with her, he had a job to do, and Chamuel’s instructions to keep an eye out for?—
Lore went motionless.
Something is amiss.
