The Angel At The Gate: The Keeper Chronicles, #2

By Marla White

When Lucifer is your brother, all hell can break loose.

 

The ex-archangel Gabriel, now living in Riverside, California, struggles to find his new normal.  However, a surprise visit from his older brother, Michael, brings disturbing news. There's a key to the backdoor of hell and if their errant brother, Lucifer, finds it, he'll unleash a horde of blood-thirsty zombies on humanity.  Zombies? Seriously? Can Gabriel not get through his identity crisis first?

 

Abby Campbell is a newly minted Keeper—the guardian of one of the heavenly Books of Knowledge. The ancient relic might contain the cure to save her dying mother, but searching the pages could reveal the key that Lucifer seeks. 

 

As Gabriel and Abby, along with his former-demon lover and her all-too human boyfriend, chase the clock to stop the ravenous zombie horde, they face betrayal, heartbreak, and familial dysfunction of the highest order.  Even the best-intended choices have consequences while the fate of heaven, hell, and earth hangs in the balance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marla White
• Release date: Jul 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201608323

Book preview

Chapter One

For weeks now, an overwhelming sense of doom had taken a firm hold of Gabriel St. John and refused to let go. He blearily studied the distant desert landscape from the roof of the Mission Inn. The barren land thick with brush seemed to creep closer, threatening to devour the medium-sized town of Riverside, California, like a malevolent being.

Now you’ve gone completely daft, he muttered, shaking his head.

Sleep had become impossible of late. Nightmares of swords and screams haunted him the moment his eyes closed. The Inn’s rooftop garden was his nightly escape, his refuge. Once again he was lost in a hundred bleak thoughts but tonight the loud meows of the sleek tuxedo cat interrupted them.

He squatted to scratch the wee cat under the chin, earning him a rumble of purrs. The cat drifted in and out of Gabriel’s life over the last three months, almost from the day he ran up the steps of the historic hotel barefoot, wearing borrowed clothes, panicked that something terrible was about to happen to Abigail Campbell. And it almost had.

We’re going to have to name you, eventually.

The cat appeared unbothered either way.

Since the feline made himself a guardian of sorts to Gabriel, some strong, angelic name would be appropriate. Which should have been easy since Gabriel was once a guardian angel himself. The names of his coworkers should have offered lots of choices. But Gabriel’s memory of his life before he found himself unceremoniously dumped in the desert remained fuzzy and full of gaping holes. The only thing he could clearly recall was how he’d watched over Abby Campbell her entire life. She’d been in danger, but also turned out to be the key to saving the world from a fierce, plague-spreading wyvern set loose by a desperate man hell-bent on rebooting the human race. They’d saved humanity and yet Gabriel was still here, abandoned and alone.

Why hasn’t my Father taken me home? Deep down, he feared he already knew.

Because you, Gabriel St. John—he let his Scottish brogue roll thickly—are no longer an angel or a human. You’ve become something else. Worries about exactly what left his stomach churning.

When sorting out how to save the world nearly cost him his life, Evie, his friend, ex-lover and powerful demon, infused him with some of her energy to save him. The maneuver worked, but changed him somehow. Now his human form possessed some of his angelic powers—or some of her demonic powers? Or both? He’d give anything to ask Evie about it, but for the crime of helping them save the world, his younger brother, Lucifer, had summoned her back to Hell. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since.

The cat gave a short sneeze as if allergic to Gabriel’s moodiness and trotted away. He rose with a grimace and leaned against the rough-hewn stonewall running the length of the historic, beautiful, but eclectic, Inn. Between all the brooding and pining, he supposed he hadn’t been much fun to be around lately. Abby continued to try, but everyone else at the Inn had learned to steer clear of him. To be fair, the twin scars from the dragon’s claws raking down the left side of his face from eyebrow to below his prominent cheekbone kept strangers away. Before she’d gone, Evie remarked the scars improved his boyish face, but apparently she was alone in her opinion. Whereas, many people found this human form pleasing prior to the battle, now most glanced at his face and quickly averted their gaze. Or it could be, as Abby gently chided, because a scowl had become his constant expression. Plus, these bloody things don’t help. He glowered at the intricately detailed feathered tattoos covering his arms and, of course, the ones on his back covered by his shirt. Their dark colors stood out against his pale skin and drew unwanted attention.

After the man who wanted to save humankind in his weird, twisted way mowed Gabriel over with a car, the mysterious tattoo appeared across his back and continued to change and grow—sometimes darkening, other times adding new layers and length to the wings. When they defeated the dragon, the wings leapt down the length of both arms and his back to end mid-thigh. Whether the tattoos were a talisman to help him or a mocking reminder of the actual wings he’d lost, he didn’t know, but they were a bloody pain in the arse. As the California summer hit Riverside in full force, he could either continue to wear long sleeve shirts despite the heat, or expose his arms and endure the stares, good and bad. So far, he’d opted for long sleeves, rolling them up only when alone. Which happened with increasing frequency these days, bringing him right back to the fact he brooded too much. Even the cat couldn’t take his attitude anymore.

The cell phone in his pocket rang, startling him out of his stupor. Gabriel winced at the intrusion. The more he wanted to be left alone, the more Abby argued with him to keep the phone on him. He was annoyed to think she might use the device to track him. Although moody and lonely after losing Evie, he wasn’t suicidal. He agreed to carry the bloody thing to stop Abby’s worrying. The screen noted the caller as ‘unknown’ but no one except Abby had his number. Intrigued, he answered the call.

Hullo? He instantly brightened at the voice of the caller. Ryan! I didn’t even realize you had this number. How are you?

Ryan Moss, Abby’s childhood best friend, had been in love with her since hormones defined their differences. After the dragon, they both realized life was too short not to act on their feelings and had been together as a couple ever since. And as head of catering, he worked side by side with her keeping the Mission Inn running smoothly.

The pleasure at hearing his voice faded with just three words. It’s Abby’s mom, Ryan hesitated, filling him with a sense of dread. She’s suffered another stroke. She’s stable now, but the doctor doesn’t give her long to live.

Rose Campbell lived in a care facility since suffering a stroke a few years ago. The damnable thing was, she’d been improving. Abby must be crushed by this cruel turn of events.

What can I do to help?

Wry, sarcastic and a bit of a wiseass, Ryan always had some pithy comeback. Today, his voice shrunken by the phone’s tiny speaker, sounded bereft of all life. I wish I knew. I just wanted to give you a heads up. Abby wants to stay here tonight, but tomorrow morning I’m dragging her back to the Inn to get some rest.

Telling Ryan to give Abby his best before disconnecting the call, Gabriel took a long, hard look at his reflection in the black screen of his phone and realized his best right now wasn’t worth much. Shaggy uncombed dark hair, three days’ worth of beard stubble because he didn’t have any reason to shave, and wearing the same rumpled shirt for three days—he was a mess.

No more, he chastised the pale face reflected back at him. No more moping, no more wishing you were home, and definitely no more pining away. If he couldn’t be Abby’s guardian angel anymore, then at the very least he could get off his arse and be her friend.

Chapter Two

Normally, it took two-minutes to walk from the front door of the Inn to the open air of the Spanish Plaza. Today Abby spent twenty minutes negotiating her way through the maze of well-wishers who’d learned about her mother’s sudden turn for the worse. She loved Shelley and Rhonda and appreciated they meant well, but the closer they hugged her, the more the tears fell as they voiced the same questions she kept asking herself. When, how and, most importantly, why had this happened? Why was her mother being taken from her now, when she’d started to make genuine progress from her first stroke? When she was so young and full of life?

She was grateful when Ryan drew her away from their group hug, pleading the need to get some breakfast, not far from the truth. Some people can’t eat when stressed, but she was the opposite. A plate full of buttery carbs and bacon was the kind of comfort she sought right now. She’d worry about the calories another day.

This time of year, a brilliant magenta curtain of bougainvillea flowed gracefully from the three-story tan stucco and wrought iron tiers of the plaza. As a child, the large, burbling, tiled fountain in the middle and sweeping architecture of the top floors made the place seem like part of a magical castle. Time had done little to diminish its effect on her. Then there was the Inn’s famous clock, recently repaired, so the historical figures once again made their way around, marking the quarter hours with the chiming of its bells.

The plaza was, as usual, filled with the cheerful chatter of birds and the laughter of customers as they finished their breakfasts and made plans to shop or sightsee. Most days merely being there filled her with contentment, but today, as if her head was wrapped in layers of wool she was numb to life going on around her. Then she glanced at the table tucked away in the corner the staff had unofficially reserved for her. She gasped. Gabriel stood at the table waiting for them, dressed in a charcoal grey Savile Row suit and elegant navy tie. The suit hung loosely off his frame, highlighting how much thinner he’d gotten since he first arrived. But his face was clean-shaven, and his hair was back to its gravity-defying spikey upsweep off his forehead she hadn’t seen in weeks. Despite concern about her mother, her spirits rose at the sight of him.

Did you know...was this part of your... Abby fumbled to string the right words together.

Ryan shook his head as if mystified. I called him, but I had no idea he’d come out of his hermit cave to join us.

Gabriel had maintained a good front those first couple of weeks after the dragon disaster, wearing his suits and a chipper smile like armor, keeping morale up as the town recovered from what was assumed an earthquake while deflecting questions about his well-being. After the initial shock, he dropped the forced smile masking his pain and all but disappeared. At first, Abby gave him space. As the weeks ticked away, however, she’d grown concerned as he became more withdrawn.

And yet, when she needed him, here he was. Pale, with shadows under his large brown eyes, but he bore a compassionate smile rather than what had become his habitual scowl.

I’m sorry, it’s been a while since, well, this. Gabriel gestured at the suit, his Scottish burr sounding more pronounced as emotion filled his words. But Ryan told me what’s happened and I’m here for you now, whatever you need.

Abby stared open-mouthed for a moment. A powerful desire to throw her arms around him threatened to overwhelm her, but one more hug, especially hugging her lost angel, would set off a new waterfall of tears. A headache already brewed from spending the night next to her mother’s bed, crying on Ryan’s shoulder. So she gave a polite but heartfelt nod in what she hoped was something close to his adopted Scottish customs. He was an angel so he wasn’t actually Scottish, but that was the human form he preferred. It’s good to see you.

Good to see me or the breakfast I ordered for you? His face lit up with a crooked half-smile as he pulled a wrought-iron chair out for her, welcoming her to dig in to a stack of her favorite chocolate chip pecan pancakes. Still warm from the pan, the pats of butter melted from the top in lazy drizzles down the side. Next to them were enough plates of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, pastries, and coffee for an army. Plus, a pot of steeping tea, of course.

As the three sat down, Ryan joked, It’s nice to see you looking all James Bond-y. He stole a small piece of bacon, but abstained from anything else. Even though sometimes the two men in her life butted heads, she knew Ryan was also relieved to see Gabriel almost back to his old self.

Oy, I hope you mean the proper Sean Connery version, not the rough, put away damp, Daniel Craig look you’re sporting. What happened there? He pointed to Ryan’s face.

A warm flush of embarrassment mixed with pride heated Abby’s cheeks.

Ryan groaned.

After the dragon incident, he put her through daily training sessions so she’d be able to defend herself. Her fighting skills improved to the point that a few days ago she’d gotten the better of him and accidentally clocked him on the forehead with her elbow, leaving a sizable goose egg. She suppressed a smile as she bragged, I kicked his ass; that’s what happened.

Hang on, Xena, you cheated, Ryan protested. She kicked me right in the screws. At the horrified grimace on Gabriel’s face, he blurted out, In my leg. The screws holding my leg together.

Abby cringed, remembering her stomach churning remorse when she realized what she’d done. Apologizing a dozen times only made him more defensive, so she tried something else. If I’m Xena, does that make you Joxer? She’d meant the reference to the goofy character from the old TV show as a joke but regretted her words as the grin left his face. Joxer was better than calling him Gabrielle, right? She guessed she should have led with Hercules. Honey, I’m kidding.

Ryan gave a tight-lipped smile that never reached his eyes. It’s fine.

Even without the terse tone, she recognized his forced smile. Something more than his leg bothered him. Something that dulled the edges of his normally upbeat, confident charm, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Like now. Conversation ceased, and instead the awkward silence filled with the clatter of knives and forks. She wasn’t sure if angelic manners or British ones caused Gabriel to take smaller bites, doing the upside-down fork thing she never quite figured out.

After drinking enough coffee to feel almost human again, she hesitantly opened with, Hey so, I’ve been thinking about the Book.

Gabriel’s fork suspended halfway to his mouth. What about it?

Squashing the maelstrom of emotions welling inside, she needed to plead the case she’d been considering since seeing her mother last night. This last stroke was pretty bad. The doctor said it wouldn’t be long before— Abby’s throat closed, making it impossible for her to finish her sentence. It won’t be long before she passes on. As if the doctor not saying dies made it any better. What if there’s something in the Book that can help her?

The day the dragon attacked their small city changed their lives forever. Ryan would probably have a permanent limp, Gabriel his scars, and she’d found out she was a Keeper, a guardian of a powerful Book she still didn’t quite understand. There were ten Books of Enoch, originally guarded by the angels. When one went missing, God entrusted a small, select group of humans called Keepers to keep them hidden away.  This Book was protected by whoever managed the Inn, including Abby’s mother, for most of her childhood, unbeknownst to her. The Book contained the writings of hundreds of years of Keepers cataloging information they’d learned, holy relics they’d found, and some poetic passages reading like invocations—a sort of grimoire written in Enochian, the ancient language of angels. And God owned the Mission Inn.

After a night of watching her mother grow paler, tugging at her clothes as if her spirit was trying to shed this mortal life, Abby became obsessed with searching the ancient pages for a medical miracle. Being a holy relic, miracles should be its stock in trade.

The Book told us how to stop a plague-spreading dragon. What if there’s some spell or artifact listed in it that can save my mother? The awkward silence hanging over the table while Ryan and Gabriel both gaped at her with the same dubious expression was unexpected. What? Come on, it’s worth a shot, right?

Ryan cleared his throat. Is that really the way it works? I mean, isn’t the Book a catalog of all the weird stuff in the Inn?

Gabriel arched an eyebrow at him, shooting daggers with his gaze. "And by weird he means holy, but that’s not the point. He turned his chair toward her and leaned elbows on his knees so his brown eyes, brimming with sorrow, were level with hers. Abby, I understand what you’re going through, I truly do. From the way he choked back a sigh, she believed him. And I realize it doesn’t help you at this moment to say this life on Earth is merely one step on an amazing journey, but it’s true. Even if the Book could alter that, interfering that way wouldn’t be wise."

But it’s my Book, right? I can try if I want to.

The deafening silence at the table dragged on for what seemed like hours until the buzzing of Ryan’s phone interrupted.

He glanced at the readout and cursed. Babe, I’m sorry I forgot all about this interview I scheduled for a new bar back. He rose, trying hard but failing to hide how much he favored his left leg, and brushed his lips to her cheek. Don’t do anything crazy ‘til I come back, okay? And get some rest?

Gabriel’s somber eyes blazed with interest. A job opening? Can I help?

Ryan’s response was somewhere between a snort and a choking sound. No, thanks. One angel in the bar is enough.

Abby furrowed her brows at his remark. What do you mean?

That bartender? The one Gabriel pointed out was another guardian angel? She’s still working days in the Presidential Lounge.

But I don’t understand. Didn’t the human she guarded die in the whole—glancing around the crowded restaurant, not daring to finish with dragon incident —you know what?

"Yeah, but there we are. Don’t get me wrong; she’s a hard worker, one of my best. The only issue I have is she’s useless whenever you’re around. He pointed at Gabriel. So no, it would be a terrible idea for you to work anywhere near her."

Surprisingly, Gabriel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Was he really so desperate for money? She assumed his retirement plan from God would have been generous. Had his boss forgotten about him? Hey, if you need money we can always—

It’s not about worldly needs, he corrected. It’s about having a purpose, being needed. I think... He paused, his entire being vibrating with heartache. It wouldn’t hurt so much losing Evie if I bloody well had something to do besides miss her.

Ryan shot her a quick you’re probably not going to like this expression as his fingers danced across his phone. I’ve got a high school buddy, Andy Simons. He manages this little security company, which means he bosses around a bunch of mall cops. He needs a night security guard for a warehouse downtown. I can give him a call if you want.

Gabriel’s eyes gleamed like a kid on Christmas morning. Guarding things. Now that’s something I can sink my teeth into! The enthusiasm in his voice was genuine, which was exactly why Abby wasn’t bowled over by the idea. Sometimes his fervor overrode common sense and got him in trouble. Plus Andy Simons was an idiot even back in high school. She understood now the reason for Ryan’s shifty gaze.

At night? Alone? I’m not sure about this, I think he’d be safer if we found him a job here.

Ryan snorted again—how did he make such a rude sound so cute? Where? Working down at the spa with Michelle where he’d get Weinstein-ed on the daily? Abs, he’s spent a few millennia guarding people. I’m sure he can handle a few cardboard boxes full of crap.

Please be careful. How ironic after finding out he’d been guarding her all her life, she was fiercely protective of him now that he was here among them as a vulnerable human.

It’s not like he’s going to carry a gun or anything, Ryan assured her. He’ll be fine.

Unconvinced, she grimaced. Famous last words.

Chapter Three

One call to Ryan’s friend and the next thing Gabriel knew, he’d exchanged his suit for an itchy, navy blue, gabardine security guard uniform. They didn’t have anything to properly fit his tall thin frame, so his trousers ended a good three inches above his squeaky black shoes, but it didn’t matter. His badge was cheap embroidery on his sleeve, but this sense of delivering justice felt right somehow. He vanquished the recollection of his disturbing dreams wielding a sword out of his mind and focused on filling out the paperwork his new boss, Andy Simons, had given him, barely registering the two friends’ small talk.

Hey,—Andy continued as he swiveled away from Gabriel and turned to Ryan—you know who I heard from the other day? Winnie!

If Gabriel hadn’t glanced over when he did, he would have missed the pained expression flash across Ryan’s face. No kidding, what’s he been up to?

Worked his way to commander with that Stillwater outfit. I always figured you’d go off and work with him when you came home instead of a pussy job at that hotel. The private G.I. Joe shit he’s doing pays dumb money, son.

Not wanting to start off on the wrong foot with his new employer, Gabriel worked hard to squash his rising anger at Andy for belittling what Ryan did, not to mention trying to sound like a twenty something frat boy when those days were shadows in his rearview mirror. Fortunately, he got handed off to an underling, leaving the two men to relive their glory days and stories of Winnie.

* * * * *

By five o’clock, Gabriel was comfortable behind his desk in a dusty corner of a massive warehouse after completing his appointed rounds several times. Ready to guard against any criminals, he fidgeted, stoked and eager for action.

By seven o’clock, he realized the only thing he’d be guarding against would be mind-numbing boredom. Being attacked by robbers would be a welcome break in the monotony. As a guardian angel, he was at his best when using his powers to nudge his charges to make better choices, not sitting around with his thumbs up his arse watching a back door no one ever came in or out.

Well, aren’t you pretty in your snazzy uniform, commented a man in a dry sarcastic tone.

Gabriel’s hand flew to the Taser at his belt as he spun around to see a man in worn jeans and a plaid shirt standing behind him. With his dark-rimmed glasses and mop of mussed brown hair, he resembled an older version of Harry Potter—if adult Harry wore a snarky expression permanently carved on his face instead of a lightening bolt on his forehead.

Oh please, don’t shoot me with your little toy thingy, he raised his hands in mock terror, his voice sounding vaguely familiar.

I’m s-sorry, Gabriel stammered. Do I know you? Memories of the stranger flickered at the edge of his brain. He tightened his grip on the Taser just in case.

The man gave a derisive snort as he shambled around Gabriel, his intense brown eyes contradicting his air of casual aloofness. Wow, maybe getting bounced down to Earth one too many times caused permanent brain damage. That would at least account for the really big thinking that went into this choice. He waved his arms at the surrounding boxes. The guardian angel gig was demeaning enough, but this? This is a whole new level of ridiculous. The man’s nasal, northeastern accent squashed any emotion in his voice, but Gabriel recognized the disdain in his words.

Michael?

Hallelujah, he drawled. You remembered your older brother. It’s about time. I’ve been hanging around for weeks waiting for you to notice me.

Michael’s thatch of dark brown hair, lanky build, and thin nose echoed Gabriel’s, but the similarity stopped there. Whereas Gabriel had near manic levels of energy, his brother kept everything low, reserved to an almost rude degree. Although he was an inch or two taller than Gabriel, his slouching shoulders made them nearly even.

Oh really? Now you materialize out of nowhere and offer your sainted opinion? Where were you when I had a dragon breathing down my neck?

Michael rolled his eyes. Oh please, it was just a wyvern, and you handled it fine all by yourself. Mostly, anyway. He made a vague slashing motion down the side of his face where Gabriel bore the marks of the dragon’s claws with an almost, but not quite, apologetic shrug. Upside, I gather it makes you more attractive to the ladies. Anyway, at least it’s over for you. The dry sarcasm in his voice betrayed a hint of something not easily defined. Jealousy? We get to keep hearing about it over and over. Gabriel saved the world—again—isn’t he great, blah blah blah.

From who? His head reeled. Someone back home in Heaven had been bragging about him? If they were so bloody pleased, why am I still here?

Duh, because—wait, you really don’t remember, do you? Michael stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and rocked back on his heels, appearing to be as perplexed as Gabriel. When he finally spoke again, his tone was quieter and more serious. It doesn’t matter. This is no time to sulk, little brother.

What now? Has another of Father’s little pets escaped? Gabriel frowned, as he tried to think back. Wait. Does He have more beasts like the wyvern stashed away?

Will you quit whining about the baby dragon? Michael snapped. The memory of his brother’s short supply of patience tickled at the back of Gabriel’s mind. You remember the Book of Power you and your little Scooby Gang found? Now that Lucifer knows about it, he wants it.

Not exactly a newsflash worthy of a visit from his brother. He’d assumed their younger sibling would want it simply because Father had hidden it from him, but it didn’t matter. He can’t open it, only the Keeper can. In fact, he wouldn’t even be able to hold it; the searing pain when demon flesh touched a holy object still fresh in Gabriel’s mind from his own experience. He kept that to himself.

Oh, and he’s never tricked or forced anyone into doing his bidding. You’re right. What were we worried about? Michael studied him over the top of his glasses, lips pursed. The you’re an idiot sneer was more than familiar, evoking memories of being on the receiving end of it a lot. Before he opened his mouth to defend Abby, his brother continued on. Any human is vulnerable. It’s the way Father designed them, and this is too important to risk. The Book holds the key to unlocking the back exit to hell.

What? Gabriel’s head swam. Why would anyone put in a back door to hell? That doesn’t even make any sense!

His brother shrugged. You know Father; there’s always a reason. What you have to worry about is keeping the Book out of Lucifer’s hands. No more flipping through it for tea recipes or whatever you were hunting for. Considering your history with losing keys, I suggest you bury the Book in a deep dark hole and forget where you put it.

The memory of his carelessness with a key he didn’t even realize unlocked the wyvern’s cage made Gabriel cringe. He didn’t bother to explain the Book had given them the recipe to defeat the beast, seeing how dragon talk set Michael off. Besides, he had a bigger question on his mind. Why does Lucifer need a key to the back door? He can always unlock the front door. What could it possibly matter?

His reward was another impatient, condescending shake of Michael’s head. Your memory... He sighed as if Gabriel were doing it on purpose. This is like talking to a two-year-old. The front door is for souls coming in. If Lucifer can unlock the back door, he’ll be able to let souls out. He’ll release an army of souls who’ve been locked down in Hell. They’ll be crazy with blood lust after an eternity of torture. Given an army that size...

Even with his unreliable brain, Gabriel figured out the rest. A zombie apocalypse? Are you having a laugh?

I know, right?

All too slowly, a realization dawned on him. And this back gate to Hell, it wouldn’t by any chance be located here in Riverside, would it?

In answer, Michael extended his hand and from out of nowhere materialized a long broadsword, polished to a brilliant shine. The hilt and blade were gold, with the handle wrapped in ivory colored leather. That’s why you’ll be needing this.

Although drawn to the blade as Michael offered it in outstretched hands, the sight sickened him. This weapon came straight from his nightmares. The vision of him happily slaughtering a mob of people with this very sword came slamming back, so intense he was blinded for a moment. Once his eyesight returned, the stabbing pain in his head remained.

He stumbled a step, raising his palms as if to stop Michael from bringing the weapon any closer. Thanks, but I’m pretty sure I’d only succeed in lopping off something I’d rather keep, so no thanks. His feeble attempt at a joke fell flat as Michael’s eyes blazed with anger.

The gap between them closed in a flash of inhuman speed, and his brother yanked Gabriel’s shirtsleeve up with such force it sent the button on the cuff flying.

Even your wings recognize the sword belongs with you.

Gabriel stared in disbelief as the feather tattoo on his arm twisted and morphed into new shapes. The sensation, creepy, was as if something lived under his skin. His stomach clenched and knotted. He yanked his arm out of Michael’s grasp. To keep from vomiting on the Archangel’s feet, he pivoted away from the sword. When the rippling under his skin stopped, he no longer needed to relocate his dinner.

It’s the demon’s fault, Michael barked, and then in a low voice filled with cold fury, he continued. If it weren’t for her befouling you with her dark grace, you’d be one of us again, clean and whole.

He turned to his brother, his voice lashing out with an equal amount of fury. If it weren’t for Evie, I’d be dead. And where were you, brother? He spit out the last word as if it brought a putrid taste to his mouth. I’ll keep Lucifer from getting the key, but since I’m on my own down here, I’ll do it my way, on my terms. Which means no sword. End of discussion.

You stubborn, pigheaded—that’s exactly the attitude that got you— Michael stopped himself short, as if realizing he’d already said too much.

That got me what? Why was I cast out and forgotten? Gabriel pleaded.

The sword disappeared when Michael took a step closer, raising his arms uncertainly as if to hug Gabriel, then changed his mind and dropped them limply to his side. You have not been forgotten, little brother, and you are never alone. With a helpless shrug, the angel vanished, leaving Gabriel confused and worried about the dangers that lay ahead.  

Chapter Four

Back in high school, Ryan, Andy Simons, and Brett Winstone had been like the Three Musketeers. Which made it hard for Ryan to admit Simons had kind of become a tool. Worst of all, it came as no surprise to Abby.

I always assumed the reason you hung out with those two morons was because they made you seem like a genius in comparison, she teased after he returned from getting Gabriel settled into his new job. Her mood turned serious. Are you sure it’s a good idea for Gabriel to work for him?

Abs, he’s fine. How much trouble can he get into? She opened her mouth to answer before he cut her off. Never mind, scratch that. If it was dangerous, Simons would be the last guy to work there, believe me.  

They strolled across the Inn’s rooftop kitchen garden, pretending to have a good reason to be outside on such a gorgeous, sunny day rather than admit to playing hooky to enjoy a few minutes alone. He let the silence linger, mentally hemming and hawing about the best way to broach the topic that Brett Winstone was back in town when his cell phone rang. Caller ID showed a skull and crossbones with no name, but he had a sneaking suspicion who it was. The timing of the call set off a tiny alarm bell in his head—was Winnie spying on him? He shook it off. Coincidences do sometimes happen. He cast a sheepish glance at Abby as he answered the phone, "Hey Winnie, you dickhole, I was just talking about you. How