The Angel of Death (The Soul Summoner Book 3) (33 page)

Nathan held his hand up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. That’s over the line, Az.”

Azrael smacked Nathan’s hand away. “I wasn’t talking to you, McNamara.”

What the…

I jumped out of my seat and walked around the table till I was in the angel’s face. “I don’t know where you get off, but while you were out playing
Marco Polo
with the
father of life and light”
—I used air quotes for dramatic effect—“
McNamara
was busy protecting the life of your precious granddaughter!”

“She’s not his responsibility!” he roared, taking a step toward me. “You failed her, and you failed yourself!”

My hands were shaking I was so angry. I turned to stalk back to the camper.

“That’s right. Run away, Sloan,” he taunted after me. “You were right when you said you weren’t capable of saving anyone. You aren’t capable of—”

I whirled around to lunge in his direction, but he was knocked sideways and backward off his feet by an invisible force radiating from my fingertips. The Archangel of Death crash-landed into the center of the picnic table sending the skillet, eggs, and bacon flying in every direction.
 

I froze, my hands in mid-air.

Nathan’s mouth was gaping.

Azrael started laughing and clapping his hands wildly in the air.

“Holy shit,” Nathan muttered.

The angel sat up. He was still clapping. “Congratulations.”

I dropped my hands. “What is wrong with you?” I shrieked.

He pushed himself up, walked over, and put his hands on my shoulders. “You must stop doubting yourself, Sloan. You are more powerful than you know.”

“You are a madman!” My fists were balled at my sides.

He leaned toward me, smiling. “You will be ready,” he said. “I promise.”

I shook my head. “You have egg in your hair. I can’t even take you seriously right now.”

Nathan was still mesmerized at the table. His eyes fixed on me, he pointed at Azrael. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can’t either,” I said, reclaiming my seat beside him.

Azrael shook the scrambled eggs out of his black hair. “It really isn’t complicated.” He looked at me and pointed to his head. “Did I get all of it?”

I nodded. “Egg free.”

“Not complicated?” Nathan asked. “How do you figure?”

He sat across from us and motioned between himself and Nathan. “What’s between us right now?” he asked.

“Uh, the table,” Nathan answered.

Azrael put his hands on the table. “Correct. What else?”

Nathan looked curiously around. “I dunno. About three feet of space.”

Azrael didn’t laugh. “Yes, and that space is made of millions of particles.” He counted on his fingers. “Oxygen, nitrogen—”

I raised my hand. “Carbon dioxide.”

Azrael nodded. “Yeah. Methane and argon. What else?”

Nathan and I looked at each other, confused.

“What about dust?” Azrael asked.

“Pollen?” Nathan asked.

I looked at him. “Not at this time of year.”

He chuckled.

“Close your eyes,” Azrael said. “Breathe in.”

We obeyed.

“What do you smell?”

“Pine,” I answered.

At the same time Nathan said, “Smoke.”

“All those things are particles that make up what you perceive as the empty three feet of space between us,” Azrael said.
 

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “OK.”

“If I were to stand and push this table, you’d feel it, right?” Azrael asked him.

Nathan cringed. “Probably more than I’d want to. Please don’t throw the table at me.”

Azrael smiled. “What if I push the air? Would you feel that?”

Nathan smirked. “Sure. If
you
did it.”

Azrael looked surprised. “Really? Then what’s the purpose of fanning your face when it’s hot outside? Your hand creates force against the air, causing those particles to move.”

I held my hands up. “Hey, that’s true.”

Nathan looked impressed.
 

“What Sloan did to me is no different, except she—instead of the hand—is the force against the air.”

A wide grin spread across my face. “That’s badass.”

Nathan laughed, but he nodded in agreement. “That’s definitely badass.”

I leaned my elbow on the table. “So why did you say all those mean things?”

“A few reasons,” he said. “Adrenaline makes it easier, as I told you the day I shot the gun in your kitchen.”

I scowled at him.

“And you were visualizing exactly what you wanted to do to me if you could get your hands on me fast enough, correct?”

“I wanted to backhand you across the face,” I admitted.

He pointed at me. “And by taunting you, I made you specifically think about accessing your power the way I showed you.”

I nodded, impressed with his teaching skills. “That’s all correct.”

Nathan winked at me. “I feel safer already.”

“Ha.” I smirked and rolled my eyes. “It’s all well and good that I can throw one angel across a table, sure. But we’ll need a lot stronger supernatural power than just me.”

Azrael got up from the table. “Speaking of strong supernatural powers, I need to find my son. I suggest the two of you get some rest.”

When he was gone, Nathan looked over at me. “What do you think he meant by leading the demons here? How will he do that?”

I thought about it. “Well, Samael said the whole spirit world can see me now. He made it sound like this baby is some kind of supernatural homing beacon.”

He picked up his coffee cup. “I don’t think so. If it were that easy, Azrael wouldn’t have had people out looking.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Nathan pointed toward the woods in the distance. “You haven’t told Warren yet, have you?”

“No.”

“Are you going to?” he asked, not meeting my eyes.

I shoved my hands into the front pocket of Nathan’s sweatshirt I was still wearing. “Of course. I don’t want to lie to him.”

He shook his head. “I don’t either, but who’s going to do it?”

“Want to flip for it?” I asked, smiling as I nudged him with my elbow.

He laughed out loud. “Hell no. I already died once because of you. It’s your turn.”

* * *

While Nathan took a nap, I sat at the table and practiced picking up and putting down the iron skillet without touching it. After an hour, I was able to lift it into the air, move it all the way to the steps of the camper, and bring it back to the table without so much as a wobble.

“Very good, my little protégé,” Azrael said from behind me.

Startled, I dropped the pan, and it crashed onto the metal camper steps.

“Geez, you scared me!”
 
I spun around to see him clapping.
 

“My apologies,” he said.

The camper door flew open, and a red-eyed, squinting Nathan stumbled outside. “What’s going on?”

“Sloan’s throwing pots and pans,” Azrael said.

“Nathan, look!” I held my hand up, and the pan flew into it with so much force it stung my palm.

He nodded. “Nice. I’m going back to bed.”

“Hold up,” Azrael called out. “We have a camp-wide meeting in five.”

Nathan groaned and disappeared back into the camper.
 

“Mortals need their sleep,” I said, cutting my eyes up at Azrael.

Azrael’s finger pointed up at the sky. “No time for sleep. Do you hear that?”

The sky was gray with clouds, and there was a low rumble in the distance. “A storm’s coming?”

He walked past the table toward the campfire. “You could say that.”

I got up and followed him. “What’s going on?”
 

“That isn’t thunder.” He put more logs into the fire pit. “That’s the sound of company arriving early.”

I listened again. “Are you sure?”

“One of these days you’re going to trust me.” He clenched a fist, and when he opened it, a crackling flame danced in his hand. He knelt down and lit a small pile of kindling on fire.
 

“Whoa,” I whispered.

He dusted his hands off as he stood.

“Where’s Warren?” I asked.

His head tilted toward the field beyond the campers. I looked out to see three of Azrael’s soldiers and Warren
 
carrying shovels and duffel bags toward us. Nathan appeared at my side, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.

I turned my palms up. “I don’t know. Azrael says the thunder isn’t really thunder.”

Nathan sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s not.” He looked at Azrael. “What now?”

“Nate, I need you to grab chairs out of the blue camper, and Sloan, bring the picnic table over here by the fire so no one freezes to death,” Azrael said.

“Are you joking?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It’s twenty-four degrees out here.”

I put my hands on my hips “Not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant. Bring it over here.”

“Az, that thing’s made out of concrete,” I said.

He shrugged. “And?”

Nathan looked at me and laughed as he folded his arms over his chest. “I want to see this.”

Blowing out a sigh that puffed out my cheeks, I turned toward the table and raised my hands. My fingers strained and trembled as I tried to move the table. It wouldn’t budge.

“Close your eyes,” Azrael said behind me.

My index finger whirled in his direction. “I swear to God I’ll kill you if you fire a gun near my head.”

The Angel of Death chuckled. “Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and relaxed my shoulders.

“Now lift it,” he said.

I could feel the weight of the table as it lifted off the ground.

“Good,” Azrael said. “Now open your eyes so you don’t clunk anyone over the head with that thing.”

When I looked again, the table was floating inches off the ground. I pulled it toward me…and it came. Nathan was slowly clapping beside me as I turned, moving the table around us toward the fire. Gently, I set it down on the grass.

“When the hell did you learn how to do that?” Warren asked, walking up on the other side of the fire pit with his mouth gaping in awe.

I smiled as I sat down at the newly positioned table. “Lots has changed since you’ve been gone, Mr. Parish.”

He straddled the bench next to me and leaned in for a kiss. “I like it.”

Azrael gripped Enzo’s shoulder when he approached. “Get the map for me.”

Enzo nodded and carried his load toward his camper.

Nathan unfolded a few metal chairs around the table, then sat on the other side of Warren. The other soldiers unloaded their equipment before joining us.

I leaned toward Warren and lowered my voice. “I feel like there were more army dudes this morning.”

“There are more of them,” Azrael answered. “And they’re not
army dudes
.”

I forgot he could hear everything.

“Some of his guys are already in position around the perimeter,” Warren said, swinging his leg over the bench and leaning his elbows on the table.

Enzo walked over and spread a large topographical map on the table, then went and stood beside his boss.

Azrael used his finger to draw an imaginary circle around the map. “This is where we are. Approximately four hundred untouched acres with one road in and one road out. I’ve got five armed guys watching the perimeter, and we’ve got cameras posted here, here, here, and here.” His finger moved to four different spots around the circle, then he looked out over the mountains on the horizon. “They’re coming in from the east.”

“How do you know that?” Nathan asked.

“The thunder,” Enzo answered. “It’s in the east.”

Nathan’s brow crumpled in confusion. “What?”

“When spirits cross into this world, it creates an effect similar to the sonic boom of an object breaking the sound barrier.” Enzo’s answer was so nonchalant he might as well have been explaining the process of making our morning scrambled eggs. “To us, it sounds like thunder.”

Warren’s head fell to the side, baffled. “How the hell do you know that?”

Enzo seemed equally puzzled. “You don’t?”

Azrael held up a hand to silence them. “I’m sorry. I believe proper introductions are in order.” He pointed around our group. “This is Enzo, Special Operations Director of SF-12.”

I turned my ear toward him and raised an eyebrow. “SF-12?”

Enzo turned toward me. “SF-12 is a covert division of Claymore, kept completely off the corporate books and out of the main organizational structure.”

“Like
Ocean’s Eleven
?” I asked with a grin.

“Twelve, Sloan,” Nathan corrected me.

I giggled but forced a straight face. “It has a nice ring to it,
Azrael’s Twelve
.”

Azrael wasn’t amused, as usual. “SF-12 works directly with me. Most of them, like Enzo, have been with me almost since the company’s inception.”

“They know what you are?” Nathan asked.

“Yes,” Azrael said.

Enzo looked at me. “And we know what you are.”

My heart stopped when I met his gaze. Enzo knew what I was because he could see me. He could
really
see me. And he had one blue eye…and one green.

25.

Had I not been sitting, I would’ve fallen down. I gripped the side of the table and stared at the concrete while my mind raced in a thousand different directions. Only one other person I’d ever met had eyes like Enzo’s, and she’d been the first person ever to call me an angel.

Kayleigh.

“What is it?” Warren asked, concerned.

I looked at Azrael. “Enzo is like Warren’s mother.”

Azrael nodded.

“It’s the eyes?” I asked him.

“It’s the eyes,” he said.

Warren rubbed his forehead, squinting in confusion. “My mother?”

I gripped Warren’s arm. “Enzo can see angels. So could your mother. It’s called a discerning power.”
 

Nathan glanced around. “Will someone please explain what they’re talking about?”

I beckoned Enzo to come closer, then I pointed to Nathan. “Nathan, look at him.”

Nathan and Enzo stared at each other. “His eyes are blue and green,” Nathan said. “That means he can see angels?”

“Yes. And who else has eyes like that?” I asked.