Curse of Tempest Gate (4 page)

“What was that?” the angel demanded, clearly
not happy with her. “You’ve blinded me, Female.”

She quickly slipped the safety link off her
wrist and stuffed the camera in her jacket pocket. “Nothing you
should be concerned with…and you’re not blind.”

“Says you. I am seeing spots.”

She rolled her eyes. “They’ll go away in a
moment. While I have your attention, I’ll let you know I’m not
going anywhere with you. You’re on your own, bud. I didn’t sign up
for this.”

His wings snapped against his body in
irritation. “Sign up?” his voice was sharp. It looked like he
recovered from his temporary blindness, too, his gaze locked onto
her, pinning her down as if she were a bug trying to fly away and
he had the power to forbid it.

“Yeah, this whole
I am cursed
scenario
.” She waved her hand in an elaborate display. “I’ll
just mosey on out of here.” She pointed toward the gate and took
comfort that she could see it in the distance. Her gaze shifted to
Michael again and she stared at his wings. For a second, she
wondered if he could really fly?

Michael huffed with annoyance. “If I have
been awakened, so has he.” His deep melodious voice drew her
attention to his lips.

Nice full lips that would know how to kiss a
girl. She shook her head at the thought. She should be thinking of
running, not of kissing.
He’s a statue for God’s sake.
Her
gaze did another sweep of the formidable long-limbed man. He may
have been a statue, but he most definitely was not one now. His
gleaming mane of seven different shades of gold framed a face of
masculine beauty, his broad chest tapered nicely down to a tight
waist and slim hips. Hmm, yes, a hard body that beckoned with
sexual promises. Startled at where her thoughts had gone, she
cleared her throat and forced her attention to stay level with his
eyes. “He, as in Samael, has awakened?” Of course he meant his
nemesis. It would only make sense if the legend was real the other
being involved would show up to play, too. Dream, a vivid delusion
or whatever this was, she was
soooo out of here
. She didn’t
wait for him to answer her. She whirled around and bolted for the
gate.

The flap of wings whooshed overhead and she
ducked as the shadow cloaked her. Believing he meant to tackle her,
she covered her head, but instead, the archangel landed in front of
her with his arms crossed over his chest. The expression of
annoyance he wore marred his otherwise perfect features.

Guess that answered her question about
flying.

She tried to move around him, but he
mimicked her steps to block her.

“You know of Samael?” he asked. “How?”

“This is one crazy dream. Yes, I know about
you, Samael, Mary, and the curse my ancestor casted.”

He lost his stance of annoyance and replaced
it with surprise. “You are of Sophie’s blood?”

“Yeah, so you see I know the whole story.
You stay and fight and I’ll be on my way.” She tried to go around
him and again he blocked her escape.

“You believe you dream, but still you want
to run away.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Why take a chance.
Now, move aside.”

“You will not make it to the gate.”

“You want to bet? Let me pass and watch how
fast I hightail it out of here.”

His gaze swept over her as if sizing her up.
He must have read the determination in her features, for he made
the gesture of stepping aside with a wave of his hand. She breezed
by him only to be halted by his words.

“Even if you make it to the gate, he will be
waiting there for you.”

She should just keep on going, but the
reporter in her couldn’t let it go. Clarity had to know what he
meant by that statement. She turned to look at him. “Why would he
care about me?”

“He will sense who you are, as I do.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking
about?”

“You’re a descendent of the witch. I
wondered how I had awakened before the sun completely set. Your
magic is strong.”

“I didn’t awaken you. And for your
information, I’m not a witch.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “You have
the look of her. Those eyes. You have Sophie’s light eyes and a way
of looking at me with displeasure. It is clear you have her blood.
You are a witch whether you have harnessed your power or not. If
you want to survive this night, you must come with me.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I don’t want
any part of this.”

“You have no choice now. The events have
been put into motion. Even if you manage to make it to the gate,
you will not be able to leave. Samael will not allow it.”

She half chuckled, more out of nerves than
thinking the situation humorous. “How is he going to stop me? Do
you think he will try to kill me?”

“I believe you already know the answer. Your
nervous stance speaks louder than words.”

A chill ran down her spine and her eyes
flickered warily. With the wild imagination, she possessed, she
conjured up all types of scenarios in her head of what Samael would
have planned for her.

A movement caught her attention and her gaze
shifted to Michael’s feet where fog floated and swirled over the
ground. It was like she entered a black and white horror flick and
she was the star. Eerie music was the only thing missing.
Desperation to reach the gate and what she believed was safety gave
her strength. “I’m out of here.” She took off at a sprint and
didn’t turn around to see if Michael pursued her.

Leave before the fog rolls in,
Mr.
Donner’s words echoed like a taunt. She thought the statement odd,
but now seeing the low clouds swirling at her feet like a live
entity, she realized too late the old man’s words were meant as a
warning. A warning she hadn’t heeded.

She didn’t slow down and hoped to God she
didn’t trip over a headstone on her way. She almost reached the
gate, but the fog whirled up in front of her like a gray wall,
causing her to slide to a halt. Then the cloud of gray molded and
took shape, revealing the man concealed within its depths. He stood
there tall and strong with the chiseled looks of a god.

“Hello, lovely lass.” His voice was smooth,
but with a slight vibrating purr. He was the perfection of beauty
and didn’t appear threatening in the least and yet, her skin
crawled as if evil whispered over her skin.

“Samael, I presume.” She made the conclusion
since she had already met Michael. Who else could this be?

He bowed with a flourish. He wore dark
robes, which made his shoulder-length hair appear almost white.
“You presume correctly.” He closed his eyes and inhaled, as if
trying to take in all the scents around him, filling him until he
seemed satisfied. His eyes popped open and his cold stare latched
onto her, greediness illuminating in the depths of his eyes.
“You’re part of her—the witch.” The last word was drawn out, the
tone insulting. He took a step toward her, or rather, he floated
toward her. With the fog lingering around them, she couldn’t see
his feet, but his movements were smooth as if his body hovered over
the ground.

She glanced beyond him, where the gate stood
like a beacon of hope. She had to reach it, but to do so she had to
run past Samael. The look of determination lighting his eyes told
her she couldn’t reason with him as easily as she reasoned with
Michael to let her go.

She backed away and tripped over a low
headstone. He was upon her in a flash, his cold hands on her. She
rolled away, scrambling to get away.

“You cannot run, witch.”

She really didn’t like how they all assumed
she was a witch. Samael grabbed at her again and she thought he had
her, but his hand slid through her as his corporeal being lost
substance.

So, Samael couldn’t hold his form. Good to
know.

She ran for the gate with Samael cursing her
escape. She would have made it to safety, but Hester Higgins stood
on the other side. Her hands on the iron bars, she shut the gate
and slipped a lock into the latch.

“What are you doing?” Her panic was obvious
in the way her voice rose.
Got to keep it together, Shaw. Think
this through. Don’t make rash decisions.

“You have to stay,” Hester told her as she
clicked the padlock shut and slipped the key into her sweater
pocket.

“No.” Clarity ran to the gate, her hands
gripping the iron bars.
So much for playing it cool
. “Let me
out.”

Samael’s low chuckle had her whirling
around. She pressed her body against the iron bars. Samael was in a
solid state again, obviously recovering from his
fade-to-nothing-episode
.

“Hester, you did well,” Samael praised
her.

Clarity’s brows furrowed. She chanced a look
at the receptionist from the hotel, making sure to keep Samael in
her line of vision, also. “Why would you help him?”

Her shoulders slumped, her worn face flushed
pink, and her eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “I had to.” Hester’s gaze
shifted to Samael’s with unease. “Do you remember the names I gave
you earlier? One of the names on the list is my niece’s. She hung
around with a rowdy crowd, but she was a good kid. The kids dared
her to sit on the devil’s chair. She’s never spoken again since her
night here. Samael promised to release his hold on her if I helped
him.” Hester looked at her now, her gaze pleading for Clarity to
understand, as if she expected her to forgive her.

“And so I shall help your niece,” Samael
promised her with a solemn nod of his head.

Clarity knew she was in deep trouble, but
then her eyes caught sight of Mr. Donner walking toward them. “Mr.
Donner.” She waved to him. “Hester won’t let me out of here. She
has the key. You have to help me.”

Mr. Donner’s features clouded with regret.
“I warned you to leave before the fog rolled in.” Yes, he had. She
glanced at the whirling mist circled around her ankles. “I tried.”
Her fingers curled around the bars. She cringed when Samael spoke
again.

“Mr. Donner is of Michael’s blood, but alas
he did not survive his visit here and he couldn’t save
Michael.”

She looked at Samael, her brows furrowing in
confusion. “What do you mean he didn’t survive?”

Samael waved his hand toward the ground
where he stood. The mist parted for him and he pointed to a mound
in the shape of a body. It couldn’t be what she thought.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and
shook her head in denial. “Mr. Donner?” She turned to look at him,
hoping he would tell her what she wanted to hear. That he was alive
and this was some kind of sick joke.

Samael’s low chuckle forced her to see the
truth, but Hester’s words confirmed it.

“He was nosing around where he shouldn’t,”
Hester bit out, her eyes narrowing. “But it seems Mr. Donner helped
us out by convincing you to join us. After we spoke and you went
upstairs, it dawned on me who you looked like. There’s a portrait
of a young Sophie Peabody hanging in the historical museum in town.
You look a lot like the witch, minus the earring in the eyebrow of
course.”

She only half listened to Hester’s long
drawn out deductions. She couldn’t get past the idea that Mr.
Donner was dead. He didn’t look like a ghost or, at least, what she
thought a ghost would look like. He looked as solid as she was, but
then Michael and Samael should be dead, but they were haunting the
graveyard, looking very much alive, too.

“Where is Michael?” Mr. Donner directed the
question to Clarity. “I would have thought he’d keep you by his
side.”

“Oh, yes, where is my good friend?” Samael
chuckled. “This won’t be a real party until he arrives.”

She didn’t bother to reveal she’d told
Michael to take a hike. Well, not in those exact words, but close
enough. “Why do you need me? I don’t have anything to do with all
this.”

“Oh, but you do. You’re the sacrifice.”
Samael didn’t even bother to sugarcoat his intended evil act. “I’ve
been waiting for a descendent of the witch. Every fool who sat in
my chair fell short, but not you. I felt the energy humming through
your veins. With your blood, I’ll finally be released from this
hell.”

Mr. Donner drew closer to the gate, his eyes
focused on Samael. “You forget Samael that Michael can use her
blood, too.”

“Hold on one moment,” Clarity spoke up.
“Blood? My blood? I don’t think so.” She bolted, using the fog for
cover. She might not be able to use the entrance gate, but there
had to be another way out of here.

Chapter Four

Michael took the path away from the front
gate, intending to wait for Samael at the old caretaker’s house.
They would fight. The curse forbade them to do otherwise, and the
fight would be to the death. Only they were dead, were they not?
Frozen in time and let loose only on Halloween night to repeat
their fight. They couldn’t leave the grounds. He had walked the
boundaries, looking for a loophole, but there were none. He had
paid for Mary’s death over and over again, but still it would not
bring her back. He may not have given the deathblow, but his
selfish actions brought her in harm’s path. He deserved the hell he
was forced to live.

Mary loved him, of this he was certain, but
she also cared for Samael and didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He
should have stepped aside. He knew Mary would never consent to
marriage, not as long as Samael had feelings for her, but he’d been
selfish. He wanted her. He flaunted his visits in Samael’s face,
hoping the man would lose his temper and Mary would see his true
nature. With his actions, he had been no better than Samael. “You
should have cast us both aside, dear Mary. We were not worthy of
your love.”

The unearthly mist swirled around his feet,
cloaking the ground. Samael had surely risen. He shouldn’t have let
the stubborn woman who awakened him go, but she didn’t want his
help and he could do nothing for her if she didn’t ask him to
intervene. “Stubborn as Mary had ever been and just as beautiful.”
Her light eyes framed with dark thick lashes were a lovely contrast
to her hair, the color of a moonless night. He halted his steps in
surprise as his body stirred in a most human way, a very male way.
He rubbed his face and inhaled deeply, hoping to clear his thoughts
and focus.