Refracted (The Celadon Circle Book 2) (22 page)

Xander quickly explained what happened.

“And Mazie couldn’t tell what was inside?”

He shook his head.

Jordan took up position to the left side of the door and listened as Ivy and Xander discussed strategy. She couldn’t talk. If she so much as opened her mouth, she would lose what composure she had. But she felt something – a strange familiarity she couldn’t comprehend, like something she’d tasted before but couldn’t remember the name. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to explore it now. Her sister was in there. The house had gone mysteriously quiet. What were they doing?

If they hurt her, I will kill them. I’ll boil them from the inside out.

With that thought her power surged and she welcomed it, letting it fill every part of her to the point of pain.

From inside, a voice shattered the silence. Whiney, nasally, it set her teeth on edge.

“Come inside, Jordan. Don’t you know it’s rude to stand on the porch?”

And with that, her rage shot through the roof. Jordan glanced at Ivy, not trusting herself to be able to tell the difference between reality and ghosts from her past.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Ivy confirmed her suspicions.

At least she wasn’t crazy…yet.

Taking point, Jordan opened the rusty screen door and peered inside. She couldn’t see much – a small, cluttered living room with worn furniture, stacks upon stacks of moldy newspapers, empty beer cans, fast-food wrappers and containers, tons of trash, and roaches.

“Gross,” Ivy whispered directly behind Jordan. “I hate anything with more than four legs.”

Jordan edged around the refuse and creepy-crawlies. She wished for a jumbo-sized can of Raid and some Febreeze. Not only was the house an entomologist’s wet dream, it reeked.

Behind her, bringing up the rear, Xander also held his formidable gun. He covered one side of the room while Jordan swept the other. Ivy walked with her hands at the ready. They, she claimed, were the only weapons she needed. Jordan didn’t argue.

The living room was enclosed except for a narrow hall. From her vantage point, Jordan saw several doors – some open, some closed.

“What do you think?” Xander whispered. “Do we go farther in?”

The desire to run through the house in search of her sister was overwhelming but Jordan knew that was exactly what they wanted. They wouldn’t hurt Mazie. She was their bargaining tool.

“No,” she said, “Let them come to us.”

It didn’t take long. Heavy footsteps preceded the group. The hallway was so narrow they had to walk single-file.

A tall man emerged from the gloom first. He had broad shoulders, bald head, and a blank expression. His black uniform and boots resembled military fatigues.

Behind him, with Mazie held tight in hands so large they looked like they could crush rocks to powder, came a twin of the first man. He had the same bald head, clothes, build, and dead expression. The only difference between him and the first guy was race. This one was African American.

Mazie struggled in his grasp. When she looked up and saw Jordan, she screamed, “Get out of here! Run!” 

“Are you okay?” Xander asked.

“Run!” Mazie yelled. “Get Jordan out!”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” Confused, Jordan trained her gun on Baldy #2’s head. “Let her go.”

The first man stepped forward and Xander’s gun followed him. “We will let her go if you come with us.”

There was no inflection at all in his voice. The guy was disturbing in a way Jordan couldn’t explain.

“How about you let her go and I won’t put a hole in your forehead.”

“Your weapon cannot harm us,” he replied in his robot voice. “I would advise you to rethink your decision and choose more wisely.”

Jordan thought about putting a bullet through his thigh just on principal. “Yeah? Well, I would advise you to shut your yap.”

“Who the hell are you?” Ivy asked.

Eyes flashed electric blue. From deeper in the hallway, a familiar voice said, “They’re angels.”

Jordan’s anger reached a new high. Ivy snarled.

Gina’s high heeled boots ticked along the wooden floor. Red lips curved in a seductive smile, she sashayed to where the angel held Mazie.

“Hello again, sister.” Her eyes danced. “Your kinsmen have come for you. I’m so happy I could help them out.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Gabriel

“Ah. It’s the pigeon that flew the coop,” Illyria teased. “Michael is extremely angry with you for disobeying orders.”

Gabriel never took his eyes off of the Aeon, ready to strike the second she let her guard down.

“Aren’t you worried about your precious humans inside?”

She circled. He matched her step for step.

“Gabriel, be reasonable. I have Michael’s blessing to do whatever it takes to retrieve
The
Oraculum
. That book belongs in Heaven, not with wretched humans whose family tree runs with demon sap.”

“These wretched humans, as you call them, have put their lives on the line to keep this world safe. How easily you and Michael forget everything they’ve done for us.”

Illyria laughed. It was a throaty, almost primal sound that made his skin crawl. “I never said humans couldn’t be useful. So are pack mules, but we don’t entrust them with holy relics.”

She repeatedly reached back to play with the handle of her sword. This quirk did not go unnoticed by Gabriel. He had to keep her distracted. Quinn needed time to hide the book and get out of her range of detection.

Though he didn’t anticipate any danger for himself, Gabriel was not so foolish to believe things always go as planned. Illyria was a soldier who thrived in battle. An archangel’s power was far greater than hers, but one well-placed blow with her sword would be the end of him – and his family.

“Illyria,” he began, trying to appeal to her human side (if she still had one). “Please reconsider. The Baileys have done nothing wrong. They’ve followed every order and worked hard for the Circle which, in turn, has left Michael’s army free to protect Heaven. Deep down, you know this. Why not use your skills to help me? For once, fight on the right side.”

She stopped circling and turned her face to the stars. Gabriel couldn’t read her expression. She looked pensive, sad, and he wondered if his words struck a chord.

“It isn’t that simple.”

Illyria’s voice was soft and…neutral, with no trace of her chronic hostility. Gabriel could imagine it belonging to anyone. When she looked at him, he couldn’t detect the soldier within. What he saw was an angel torn between doing what was right and what was easy. She was not comfortable with going against the grain – going against Michael. That feeling was all too familiar.

“Why not?” he asked, hoping there was something inside her that could be saved.

“Jordan isn’t human. She’s part demon. Michael ordered me to retrieve her and the book. I must follow orders.” Her voice was distant. She was sliding away.

“There is more to it than that, Illyria. I overheard the conversation between you and my brother the day of our meeting. Michael has a secret, one that could be his undoing. But it’s
his
secret,
his
problem, not yours. You were once known as God’s Sword, striking down sinners who committed abominable acts against others – a vigilante for justice. Where is that Illyria now?”

“She almost went to Hell!” Her face twisted into a grimace. “I did the right thing once and look where it got me. If it weren’t for Michael, that reaper would have carted me off to an eternity of torture – and for what? Because I enjoyed the kill? Those people got what they deserved. Michael understood. He stood up for me.” She stared him down with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “You say I was a vigilante for justice, yet you’ve shown nothing but disgust for me. If that is truly how you feel, then where were
you
the day of my reckoning?”

“I was right where you are now, following orders and being what I thought was an obedient angel! Michael told me allegiance to God and Heaven meant compliance, so I turned away from what I truly believed. It was endless resignation – never questioning what I was told.”

His chance to get through to her grew smaller by the second. It had been difficult for Gabriel to break the chains that bound him to Michael. Aeons were not only discouraged from forming opinions, they were kept in isolation, trained through relentless discipline and brainwashing to make sure they didn’t. Illyria’s chains were much thicker than his had been, and their reach was long.

“Loyalty to Michael isn’t our job,” he said. “We’re supposed to protect our Father’s children and the world He created for them. If we falter, we should make it right.” Gabriel searched her face. “Michael tripped. I don’t know how and I don’t care. Instead of owning his mistake, he’s hurting others, and you help cover it up.” He sighed. “I did that for years. Does it make me a bad angel or a naïve one? It isn’t too late, Illyria. Be better than that, better than I was.”

Her laughter was shrill, full of hate and lunacy. She pointed at him.

“Oh, Gabriel, it’s so easy for you. You were Michael’s lapdog, his servant, his wind-up toy. Then one day, you grew a pair of wings, flew away, and turned into a motivational speaker.”

Illyria dropped her smile, making him wary.

“God doesn’t pull the strings where Aeons are concerned – Michael does. He is
our
father, our
savior
. We don’t have options like you. As an archangel, it would be difficult to explain if you suddenly disappeared. Michael could strike down every member of his army and no one would be the wiser. We are invisible, expendable. I’ve seen it happen, and don’t plan to become one of his statistics.”

“We could tell someone – a Virtue, perhaps – and I could help keep you safe. It doesn’t have to be this way, Illyria.”

“Yes, it does.” She pulled her sword from its sheath. Bright silver cut streaks through the night as she took a few swings, handling it like the warrior she was. “I’ll stay loyal to Michael as long as he stays loyal to me. He’s not the only one who can pull strings.”

Maybe it was her eagerness for battle, but instead of taking to the air or teleporting, Illyria charged, her sword at the ready. Gabriel waited until she was almost upon him, then teleported to the other side of Casen’s car and hid from view. Because of the ward, she was unable to detect his position. Still, he needed the element of surprise in order to avoid her blade.

Hunkered beside the driver’s door, he listened for her stealthy approach. There weren’t many places to hide. Nathan’s car, Casen’s even bigger car, and a rusty Suburban were the only options nearby. Illyria had to know Gabriel wasn’t far away. Lucas would have alerted her if he’d teleported inside the house. She had the advantage, knowing he’d never leave his wards tied up and at her mercy.

There was a pop of gravel – the sound of someone measuring each step before putting their full weight down. Gabriel peered underneath the carriage and saw Illyria’s boots on the other side of the car, slowly making their way around.

He saw his chance.

He teleported and materialized behind her. The sound of displaced air caused Illyria to turn. Gabriel grabbed the arm that held the sword, flooding it with raw power, hoping to make her drop the weapon. 

Instead of pulling away, Illyria shoved him, using the power of her legs to knock him off balance. As soon as he hit the ground, the sound of her sword split the air. Gabriel rolled but wasn’t quick enough. The blade sank into his thigh. White-hot pain seared from within as its poison spread like napalm, climbing higher, devouring him inch by inch like some sort of holocaust monster.  If he didn’t heal himself soon, he would die.

Illyria expected him to flee, to hide somewhere and tend his wound. Instead, Gabriel ignored the radiating pain, teleported one last time, and wrapped both arms around the angel. She screamed when he unleashed his waning energy, writhing like a worm in hot ashes, struggling to break free.

Weak, sick, Gabriel fought to hang on. The aroma of blistering skin filled his head, reminding him who the murderer was now. He wished there was another way.

Toxins raced through his body, consuming his pitiful reserves. Unable to finish the job, Gabriel was forced let go. Swaying on his feet, he watched Illyria’s body fall.

Panting, Gabriel placed a shaky hand over the wound in his thigh and willed the little energy he had to heal it. His life force ebbed and flowed, sucked out of him as it disposed of the poison and then replenished as his grace recovered.

Illyria’s wounds were significantly worse. Large clumps of hair had burned away. Exposed skin and tissue were charred to the point of flaking. Parts of her uniform had melted and fused with the skin.

Gabriel was disgusted with himself. If he’d been at full strength, her death would have been quick. With the wound she’d inflicted, he shouldn’t have attempted at all.

He stared at her smoldering body and she returned his gaze with one good eye, the other lost somewhere in the destruction.

“Finish me,” she whispered. “Let me die…a soldier’s death.” She pointed to the sword lying beside her.

Moments before, he could have – to save his wards, his family. But the image of her broken body made it impossible. In her current state, the Aeon was no longer a threat, and Gabriel couldn’t follow through.

When he shook his head, she laughed weakly. “And here I thought…you’d grown…a pair.” She gasped between words. “I don’t…deserve to die…like…this.”

Turning away, he said, “Death is death, Illyria. Regardless of execution, it all ends the same.”

<><><>

Lucas and his boys surrendered their weapons as soon as Gabriel walked inside. He suspected they’d been watching from the living room windows. None of them were inclined to carry on the fight.

“They promised to bring my wife back. It was business, Gabriel, nothing personal against you or Casen and his family.”

Unmoved, Gabriel gestured to the basement stairs. Lucas and his sons trudged slowly before him.

“I didn’t know what Illyria had planned. She told us to keep Casen and the boys busy while they searched for Jordan and we just followed orders. It was her idea to truss ‘em and rough ‘em up – swear to God.”

Nathan and Casen were bound to chairs with large zip ties. Red faced, they spewed muffled curses behind the duct tape over their mouths.

“I don’t think they agree with your reasoning, Lucas.” Gabriel waved his hand and the bindings disappeared.

Casen rose slowly, rubbing his chafed wrists. A good-sized lump protruded over his right eye. Nathan took a moment to shake the feeling back into his legs. Lucas watched warily from the corner where he and his boys had retreated. Gabriel braced for what was to come.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Casen grabbed a shotgun and shoved the dangerous end into Lucas’ gut while Nathan collared the boys. Wrapping a strong hand around each neck, he raised them a foot off the floor and then slammed their bodies to the dust-covered concrete. If they’d burst open like flour sacks, Gabriel would not have been surprised.  

Doubled over, unable to speak, Lucas held up his hand. After much gasping and groaning, he looked to Gabriel. “Are you gonna sit by and watch the show or stop ‘em? My sons and I are members of the Circle. It’s
your
job to protect us!”

Casen pointed his gun at the man’s chest. “You’re not dealing with him, Lucas. You’re dealing with me,” he growled. “Better pay attention.”

“He’s right.” Gabriel shook his head. “Your wife’s death was no one’s fault. For years, you’ve nursed your anger, ignored your children, and used that night to get easy assignments and a lot of money you didn’t earn. It’s time to let it go.”

Lucas sputtered, as if choking on words that wouldn’t come fast enough. “We do all the dirty work to keep this world safe! You angels cower in your Heaven, cloud-jumping, playing harps, and don’t even bother to keep an eye on our families while we do!” 

It amazed Gabriel how humans twisted their emotions, distorted and rebuilt them until they were unrecognizable, and then pushed them on someone else. He’d seen it first-hand. Quinn took his fear of losing the ones he loved and doctored it the same way he did classic cars. Bit by bit, he replaced all the weak and broken elements, and turned reality into something he could live with.

What Quinn – and now Lucas – failed to remember was that truth can’t be destroyed or changed. Scratch away all the cosmetics, the damage still lies underneath. 

Tired of the criticism, Gabriel stomped over and grabbed the man by the collar. Lucas yipped like a trapped weasel.

“You could have left the Circle. No one is required to serve.” He twisted the shirt tighter. “Why don’t you admit what’s really bothering you – what’s eating at your soul? You stayed for the money. You took easy jobs with little risk and hoarded every dollar while your wife and kids survived on welfare and bread lines. Where was the concern for your family then? The guilt is yours –
own it
.”

Gabriel gave Lucas a hard shake and then let go. To Casen, the angel said, “I know you’re angry, but there isn’t much more you can do to him that he hasn’t already done to himself.” Gabriel considered his own guilt and how all of this might have been prevented if he’d been more of an angel and less of a disciple. “Sometimes, we’re our own worst enemies.”