Читать книгу Dark Surrender - Alyssa Morgan - Страница 13
ОглавлениеThis was an awkward moment.
Kyriel stood naked in his shower, thinking about Jillian Whitmore under the hot spray of water, when an angel in white robes appeared on the other side of the glass door.
She looked strangely at home in his bathroom, with her white wings and blonde hair amidst all the marble tile, shining glass and golden fixtures. He’d designed the room to look like the Hall of Angels. A place he’d thought he might never see again.
Tonight, however, he wasn’t in the mood for a Heavenly visit. He ignored the angel and ducked his head under the spray, letting the water wash over him and rinse the white lather of soap from his body.
“It looks like I might have interrupted something,” she said in a loud voice.
Kyriel opened one eye to look at her, annoyed.
“With all the women you seduce, I wouldn’t have thought you’d have a need for self-abuse.”
“What do you want, Neriel?” he snapped, shutting off the water.
She had no way of knowing what it was like to be attached to a physical form. One driven hard by demanding needs. As her sweet, sugary, angel scent filled up the bathroom, he couldn’t be angry about her innocence. A Messenger angel, Neriel had to remain pure and untouched to stay in her position. Once a Messenger was compromised, the messages they delivered became tainted.
“I have a message,” she said. “From Gabriel.”
“I have one first.” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it snugly around his waist. “Tell him his source was wrong again. The woman doesn’t have the ring.”
Kyriel never fully trusted the information that came down from Gabriel’s mysterious source. While it was useful and had helped them get ahead in many situations, it wasn’t always accurate. Half the time Kyriel felt like he was running in circles. Like a dog chasing his own tail.
“He sent me to tell you that he fixed the glitch, and the woman will have the ring tomorrow.”
Kyriel stepped out of the shower and grabbed another towel to dry his hair.
“Is there more?”
“He said you have to help the woman guard the ring.”
“Christ,” Kyriel swore under his breath and stopped drying his hair. “Does he think this is a game?”
He threw the towel to the floor and walked over to the bathroom counter to look at his reflection in the wall mirror over the double sinks. He was all for taking risks, but not with someone else’s life.
He glanced at Neriel in the mirror behind him. “She could get killed.”
“Gabriel says she’ll be in danger whether she has the ring or not. He wants you to protect her through the planetary alignment.”
Kyriel turned around and leaned back against the counter, then crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded her solemnly. “I’m a Warrior, not a Guardian.”
Kyriel did battle, not loss prevention.
“You’re neither really,” she said. “You’re a fallen.”
“Thank you for that gentle reminder, Neriel.” It was hard to keep his cool with her brusque directness.
“Gabriel said she’ll need a Warrior for what’s coming.”
Kyriel considered the implications of getting too involved with a human. He wanted to keep his identity secret. He’d made the mistake of letting people know what he truly was in the past, and it had never ended well.
He braced his hands on the edge of the counter and leaned forward to ask, “Will Asmodeus be joining the party?”
He was waiting for the dark angel to make an appearance. As long as Lucifer remained sealed in Hell he was unable to leave in his physical form, so he needed a lackey to do his dirty work on the surface. That was Asmodeus.
Neriel toyed with the gossamer sleeves of her robes, and a wounded look crossed her beautiful face. “He’s been tasked with assisting the humans Lucifer has chosen.” Her eyes drifted up to his. “Please, don’t judge him for what he has to do.”
Kyriel couldn’t understand why she always made excuses for the dark angel. “He’s chosen his path. We all have. He’ll never find redemption.”
“How can you say that?” her voice died away.
“He’d kill you without even thinking twice,” Kyriel delivered a dose of reality as he took long strides over to where she stood. “He’d kill all of us and destroy the world if Lucifer told him to.”
“No he wouldn’t,” Neriel argued, shaking her head. “You don’t know him. He’s not like that.”
“What is he like, Neriel?” It enraged him that Neriel would defend the very monster who fought against them. “Why don’t you tell me how Lucifer’s left hand, the devil’s boot-licking minion, Asmodeus, is worthy of redemption after everything he’s done to us. Tell all the people he’s led down the wrong path. People he’s lied to, deceived, and killed—”
“He doesn’t have a choice,” she said. “Don’t you see?”
“No, Neriel, I don’t.” Kyriel was about to end to the conversation. “You’d better put whatever warm feelings you have for Asmodeus to rest.”
Kyriel stared hard at the beautiful angel. Of course she was tempting, especially to a fallen like Asmodeus. She was the embodiment of Heaven, with glowing streaks of silver in her long blonde hair, radiant skin, and eyes bluer than the sky. The flowing, diaphanous robes she wore held no shape, but Kyriel knew God had created her to be perfect. Asmodeus would surely destroy something so precious and beautiful.
“Did Gabriel say anything else?” Kyriel lightened his tone.
“You mean about getting your wings back?”
“Did he?”
“Helping the woman is a big part of it, that’s all I know.”
Kyriel walked back to the bathroom counter and stared at his reflection in the mirror. “Gabriel has to stop changing the rules. He said I’d get redemption to stay here and watch for the signs, then it was redemption for the three rings of the Magi, and now it’s help the last living Keeper.” He sighed heavily.
“Get used to it,” Neriel said with a smile. “He does it to me all the time.”
“I thought it would be easy.”
She raised her brow in surprise. “You thought redemption would be easy?”
Yes.
No.
Kyriel was tired.
“Your redemption comes at a high price, and it must be earned,” she said. “But if Lucifer wins and manages to escape from Hell, it won’t matter anyway. He’ll come after all of us.”
Kyriel shifted his gaze across the mirror to look at her. “You have a funny way of sweetening the deal.”
Neriel winked. “And it worked, because you’re going to do what Gabriel wants.”
“Yeah.” Kyriel resigned himself to the fact. “I’ll do it.”
“I knew we could count on you.” Neriel faded out, disappearing as quickly as she’d arrived.
Her sugary sweet angel scent lingered in the air.
“That was enlightening,” he said to his reflection in the mirror.
Kyriel ran the water in the sink, swiped some shaving foam onto his face, and dragged his razor over his stubbly beard. After he rinsed his smooth face and patted on some aftershave, he ditched his towel for a gray silk robe and walked down the hall to his library.
He headed across the dark wood floor towards the bar in the back corner and poured a generous glass of the oldest scotch he had on hand. He threw back the entire drink, then quickly poured another.
He didn’t get drunk like the humans. Since he was an angel, but in physical form, it took him three times the amount of alcohol to feel the effects. He poured a third full glass and brought it with him to his desk, where he sat in the high-backed leather chair and kicked his feet up on the dark mahogany desk.
He sipped his scotch as he gazed around the room at the many Holy relics in his collection of Holy relics. Golden swords he’d found buried in the rubble of great battles in which God had ordered the angels to take out an entire city of sinners. An original manuscript of Paradise Lost, signed by the poet Milton as a gift for telling him tales about fallen angels.
The mind is its own place, and can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
Kyriel’s favorite piece was the golden shield hanging on the wall above the fireplace. On it was the image of a rearing horse, one leg held high in the air. Centuries ago he’d helped the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse out of a jam. The Horseman War had damaged his shield in the fight, and after the five of them were standing on the leveled battlefield, victorious, War had given it to him for his bravery and skill.
The shield was a reminder of what he’d once been.
The stack of mail centered on the desk stared at him as he took another sip of his drink. His butler, James, had left it out for him before going to bed. Kyriel didn’t care about the mail. He cared about redemption.
On the other hand, he’d lived on Earth for a long time, and there were many luxuries he’d gotten used to having that he would no longer find in Heaven. No more enormous feasts or aged scotch. No naked women in his bed. No Egyptian cotton sheets or silk suits. What about his Corvette? It was custom built, the only one of its kind.
And what about his collection?
He couldn’t dream of leaving his Holy relics behind. He’d spent centuries traveling and bargaining—and in some cases stealing—to gather it all together. He’d done it because he wanted to feel close to Heaven, and now that he had the chance to go back, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Kyriel didn’t know what he wanted.
He threw back the rest of his drink and set the empty glass on his desk. Tomorrow he had to get the ring from Jillian Whitmore. The first step to keeping her safe was making sure she didn’t have the ring in her possession.
He wondered what she would think of his collection. His home held more lost treasures of the Bible than her little museum. For once, he’d met a woman who could understand and appreciate the work he’d put into procuring every piece. It wouldn’t be stuff or old junk to a woman who shared his same dedication to art and history. A woman who was hosting an exhibit full of Holy relics in her museum.
And that’s when he got the idea. He knew exactly how to get the ring away from Jillian Whitmore.
