Angel's Awakening

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREECharouth was exhausted. She sat on a backless leather sofa in front of a fireplace big enough to roast an elephant. Her wings stretched out behind her trailing on the spotless floor, elbows resting on her knees. Across the room Remiel scribbled on parchment at his mahogany desk.

Charouth’s body ached from the showdown with the hellhound and the Fallen, mind reeling from seeing Azazel. Alive all this time? The mind boggled. Where had he been? Why hadn’t he come to her? So many questions and a big fat nothing for answers. If not for Remiel’s aggravated summoning they’d still be down in the murky tunnels wrapped in each other’s arms. Or maybe somewhere else naked. Which was so not what she needed right now. She’d suffered enough for that man. No more. Maybe it wasn’t even him. Sure, the guy looked like him. Black eyes with red flecks dancing in them. How those flecks swirled with intensity when he held her. She knew the many moods of those eyes well. The spiky modern cut was new but did nothing to dampen his handsome features. Smoldering eyes. Sensuous lips. A tongue that could...whoa. Stop right there. Focus!

Remiel stopped scratching notes on the scroll in front of him and folded his hands. Dollars to donuts he’d just gotten the unabridged version of her thoughts. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to induce concentration.

“Are you ready to continue, Charouth?”

“Yes, Sire.”

Back to the mission. While Azazel’s whereabouts for the past few millennia were still a mystery, Charouth didn’t have such luxury when it came to her own MIA status. Tightness around the mouth belied Remiel’s casual tone. He didn’t believe her. Maybe an up close and personal view of the scar on her side would change his mind. She rubbed the area absently.

“We've been at this for hours.” She fingered some wayward feathers on her wings.

“You will give me details. I shouldn’t have to remind you of your current situation. You’re the one who has to explain herself. The questioning will continue until I am satisfied.”

Boy, oh, boy. She didn’t need reminding. Although it seemed to come up each and every time she received an assignment. Her probation was almost over. Two thousand years of paying for one sin. A sin she thought would never tempt her again. A sin with dangerous eyes that made her heart race and a touch that set every nerve ablaze. Oh, gods. She was in trouble.

“I've given you everything I remember.”

“Go over it. Again.”

“I was flying to my assignment. I took the shortcut. You know the one. We all take it. Ran into some Titans having it out with each other. Iapetus nicked me with a nasty sharp object. Angel went boom.”

“The Titans have been peaceful lately. Are you sure it was them? Perhaps it was the Olympians. They're always at each other’s throats.”

“I've been at this job long enough to tell the difference between a Titan and an Olympian, Sire.” She skated the line between familiarity and impudence. Wrong? Yes. Avoidable? Not so much. Her injuries throbbed, and her need for long soak in the healing baths made her cranky.

Remiel made a clucking noise with his tongue. “Lose the attitude, Charouth. Now focus. Were the Titans just fighting each other?”

Charouth chewed on her bottom lip. Memories from her abrupt decent were hazy but a few tidbits came back.

“Ok, maybe not. No, definitely not. The opponent wasn't Greek at all.”

“Good. What else?”

“Iapetus was fighting someone big. Guy was huge. And blond. And there was cursing. Norse cursing. Odin maybe?”

For a long moment the crackling fireplace was the only sound in the room.

“The Titans were fighting the Norse?” Remiel’s voice trailed off as if he was talking to himself.

“Yeah. That's what I saw. Iapetus and Kronos versus Odin and another I didn't recognize.”

Remiel scribbled on parchment, his expression grave. A second later another angel popped her head into the doorway. Onomata, the newest of the Elites. Though she’d only been in service to the archangels less than a thousand years, Charouth had known her for twice that long. The purple pigtailed female winked at her before addressing Remiel.

“Sir?”

“Give this to your Sire,” he directed her. “Return here and bring Graphathas with you.”

With a flurry of purple and white wings, Onomata rushed to do the archangel's bidding.

“So, after the incident?” Never missing a beat, Remiel continued working at his desk.

“I fell. Hard. Broke everything. Luckily, I fell into the Order’s backyard. Guy named Jack took care of me until I was back on my feet. I felt I owed him, so when he asked for help on their next mission, I agreed.”

“How generous of you.” The way he said it made Charouth think he was less than pleased with her decision, but she pushed on.

“We went underground to flush out some flesh eaters and that's when I ran into Azazel.”

Remiel's bronze eyes met hers. He stopped working and leaned forward in his chair, copper wings rustled gently before settling down.

“You didn’t mention that before.”

She was stuck. Now she had to tell him everything. If she refused, Remiel had ways of extracting the information from her. All of them unpleasant. Oh, Azazel. Thousands of years later and he still continued to get her in trouble. Years ago she’d let love get the best of her, and Remiel had punished her for it ever since. Her status had barely protected her from full demotion, but no one held a grudge like an angel. At least he was the more lenient of the archangels. If Michael had discovered their affair? Charouth shuddered.

“Azazel's dead. How can you be sure it was him?”

“I know it. Without a doubt.”

“You sound rather sure of yourself.”

“Well, yeah. Do you know anyone else besides Raphael who knew that Fallen like me? Believe me. It's Azazel.”

“It figures.” Remiel frowned and muttered something under his breath.

Onomata returned with Graphathas in tow. They both stood in the doorway awaiting permission to enter.

“The meeting will take place as soon as you are finished with us here,” Onomata said to Remiel.

“Thank you.” He motioned for them enter. As soon as they settled in he glanced at the mahogany door. It closed. A slight wave of his hand and the room became cloaked in silence. Even the fire in the fireplace ceased crackling.

Oh, damn. This is big, thought Charouth.

“Not a word of this to anyone,” said Remiel. That includes your Makers, the rest of the archangels and the other Elites.”

Scary big. Charouth swallowed hard.

“Of course,” Graphathas said calmly from his post beside the fireplace. He leaned against the black marble, arms crossed over his chest. Creatures from Heaven and Hell called him Ghost. He was the Man in Black before Johnny Cash or those Hollywood alien movies ever existed. Clandestine activity was second nature to him. “What do you need us to do?”

“Charouth’s unscheduled absence has yielded some interesting information.”

She winced. Way to make light of her experience. Remiel shot her a blood-chilling look.

“Azazel is alive.”

Jaws dropped. Eyes bulged. The unearthly silence in the room deepened.

“I thought he was dead?” Graphathas didn’t look so casual anymore. His posture stiffened.

“He’s very much alive and I have good reason to believe he’s behind the disappearance of Constantine’s emblem.”

“He can’t be. Demons couldn’t keep something like that secret. I would’ve heard something.”

“It’s true, Graph,” said Charouth. “I saw him today. He was with a Fallen named Zarek.” She turned to Remiel. “The emblem’s missing? How? Why do you think Az did it?”

“Don’t be dumb, Char,” Graph glared at her. “Stealing is what he does.”

“Untrue! He finds things. Same as you.”

“How can the emblem be lost? I thought it was in the Hall of Wisdom vaults,” Onomata said breaking her silence.

“It’s not lost. Someone stole it. And replaced it with a very good counterfeit. There’s only one who could pull off a heist like this.”

Lucifer. The only archangel to Fall and number two badass in Hell after Satan.

“Lucifer never dirties his hands with actual work. Azazel is his lackey and a master thief. You can figure out the rest.”

“But how? Fallen can’t access Heaven.”

“Good question, Onomata. I’ll be handling that part of the investigation.”

“The emblem’s gone, but it's got to take more than that for Satan to escape.”

“You're correct, my child. There are four other pieces needed to complete the spell. As long as we had the emblem, the cross, ankh, cup and sword weren’t a priority. None of it works without that item.”

“Let me guess. Those are missing too. What a disaster,” Graph said flatly.

“To say the least. No telling how long it's been gone. It might've gone unnoticed indefinitely if Charouth hadn't run into her old lover. Now we know it's out there. You guys have to find it before Azazel does.”

Charouth spoke up. “I’m not convinced Az is guilty.” Why did she feel the need to defend him? It’s not like they were still together. A quick cuddle in a dirty tunnel did not a reunion make.

“He's Fallen. He has no loyalties,” Remiel said. How typical for an archangel to act as if his opinion was the only one that mattered.

“He abandoned you,” Onomata started. “He reappears after all this time. Flashes those sexy eyes at you. I know you’re not considering—”

“Leave the gossip for later.” Remiel cut Mata’s rant short. “Here's what you three will do. Graphathas, hit the marketplace. Work your demon contacts. Dig deep. Do the natives know what’s going on? Do they support Satan? I want your finger on the pulse of the Netherworld. Onomata, put your Hall of Wisdom experience to use. Find anything you can on the location of the emblem and the other artifacts. Spare no resources. Use unofficial channels if necessary.”

Onomata gave a short affirmative nod.

“Charouth.” Remiel turned his full attention toward her. She cringed. No one had the power to make her feel as small and insignificant as though she was a human. “You seem to think Azazel is innocent. Prove it. Become his shadow and report everything he does to me. Nothing is trivial.”

“What about the thief?” Graph asked.

“None of your concern.”

“I can help on that front.”

“Stick to your assignment, Graphathas. And keep your mouth shut to Gabriel also. Your relationship with your Maker already crosses the line into impropriety.” Remiel looked at them each in turn. “I don’t want to take any chances. Find all five relics. Bring them here.” Charouth’s Maker took a deep breath and leaned forward. “You understand how serious this is?”

“Yes.” All three answered in unison.

“Good. A residence in New York will be available to you. You will have no contact with anyone here except me. I will not have this mission compromised with celestial gossip and politics. Be quick. I don’t want this dragged out. Now get to it.”

He waved his hand and the bustle of outside returned to the room. They all filed out, Charouth bringing up the rear.

“Charouth, a moment.”

She stopped in her tracks at his command. A moment, a quiet rustle of wings, and he was by her side, his hand on her shoulder. Her body thrummed with energy. An archangel's touch was a powerful thing. They didn’t share it often.

“Sir?”

“You've taken quite a beating this week.”

“An understatement.”

He grasped her arm where the hell hound’s bite still flared an ugly red. The skin returned to normal. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you , sir. You didn’t mention the Titans and Norse fight to the others.”

“The other Elites can handle that. This is your only priority now. I don’t have to tell you how important this job is. Success might convince the rest of the archangels to end your probation early. I want you at your best.”

Another brush of his fingers on her ribs. The angry puckered skin where Iapetus stabbed her lightened, but didn't disappear completely. Even an archangel's power had limits. After healing her he turned his attention toward the scrolls on his desk without giving her another glance.