Page 108 of Kiss of Wrath

“He thinks we’re down in the basement playing videos,” Ben told him with way too much pride in their deviousness.

“We took the bus,” Larry of the freckled face said. “Whoo-boy! It took us two hours to get here.”

Harek sighed deeply, sensing that he was going to be blamed for the kids’ misbehavior, as well as his gambling. “Where is Miranda?”

“At work.”

Harek turned to Mike to ask if he should take them there, or would he? But Mike was already gone. Not that his heavenly mentor wouldn’t deal with Harek later. No doubt about that!

A short time later, Harek arrived at Miranda’s psychiatric clinic with five oddly dressed little people in tow.

The secretary, whose jaw dropped when he asked if he could see Miss Hart, just waved them on.

Miranda had been reading some document when they walked in.

“Um, Miranda, I have a little present for you. Five presents, actually,” Harek said.

She glanced up, then stood abruptly, almost knocking over her desk chair. “What have you done?”

He wasn’t sure if she was addressing the children or him.

It didn’t matter. They were all in big trouble.

Nineteen

Beware thou ruffling the feathers of an archangel . . .

Mordr was cleaning his nails with the tip of his sword in the tower room of the Transylvania castle, bored to the point of berserkness. Really, this was a new situation for Mordr. Never before had he felt like breaking out into a rage of violence from the tedium of his own dull company.

He was worried about Miranda and the children. Oh, not their safety precisely. His brothers would have saved her from Roger’s evil clutches, and he was fairly certain there was no Lucie presence in Las Vegas anymore. What he was worried about was how Miranda and the children were taking his absence. Oh, he’d warned Miranda that their relationship could end at any moment. That didn’t make it any easier to bear. He’d thought he would have time to at least say good-bye. And the children . . . ah, the children! They would not understand how he could suddenly go away. Their hurt must be immense.

Mordr hadn’t bathed or shaved in more than a week. Food was passed to him in silence through a slot in the door several times a day. Apparently the residents of the castle, his fellow vangels, had been forbidden to speak to the “prisoner.”

He recognized the cackle of Lizzie Borden, the cook, on a few occasions when food was delivered. Lizzie never did like him very much, and must be taking extreme pleasure in his discomfort, as evidenced by her serving him peas with almost every meal. He hated peas, and Lizzie knew it. Not to worry. He had amassed quite a collection of the now dry peas which he was using to aim like bullets at a large spiderweb in the corner.

He had just flicked his last pea when he sensed a presence behind him.

Michael.

And he was in full-blown angel gear, too. Pure white robe, gold braided belt, sandals, halo, and, of course, the massive wings. Mordr was in for it!

Shaking his head at the peas scattered about the floor, Michael said, “What am I going to do with you?”

“ ’Twould seem to me that you have already done it,” Mordr replied, glancing pointedly around the dismal tower room. “Besides, it’s just a few peas. It’s not like I’m depriving the poor children of China of their food.”

“I swear, you Vikings have brains the size of a pigeon’s. And that is an insult to pigeons, who are God’s feathered creatures, just as we angels are.”

Mordr nigh bit his tongue through preventing himself from remarking on the foul things pigeons did to holy statues. On a sigh, he asked, “What did I do now?”

“Your insolence knows no bounds. How could you, Mordr? How could you use little children to further your ends?”

“Huh? I was jesting about the poor children of China.”

“Aaarrgh! I am not referring to those children. I am referring to your children, the ones back in Las Vegas who are praying for your return.”

“They are my children now?” he asked, thoroughly confused. Michael was accusing him of doing something related to his children. But then, the rest of Michael’s statement sank in. “They are praying? For me? To come back?” He couldn’t help but smile.

Michael had not witnessed his smiles for more than a thousand years, but he was not touched. Oh no. Not him. And Mordr was accused of being grim!