Angel in Training (The Louisiangel Series, Book One) (15 page)

I bit my lip, shifting uncomfortably under
his stare, but I refused to look away.

“Well?” Joshua demanded.

“You told me not to tell you if it was
anything to do with that ‘angel crap’,” I said, using finger
quotes.

Joshua rolled his eyes, dropping the folder
on the desk. “Really? You’re still using that line?”

I nodded. “Only because it’s the truth.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice laced with
sarcasm.

I nodded again, much firmer in my action.
“And I think I’ve worked out part of my job, it means that I’ve got
to help you.”

“And how do you propose you’re going to do
that? Because I’ve just done a coffee run.” He held up the paper
cup he had been grasping in his right hand, as if to prove a point,
and set it on his desk, before resuming his defensive position with
his arms folded.

“I’m not your personal tea girl,” I informed
him dryly. “And for the record, I have an idea, but I’m going to
have to check on something first.” And with that, I turned on my
heel and walked calmly out of the building, calling goodbye to
Curtis as I walked past.

My idea took me back to the convent. I left
my belongings in the car and remembering to take the response from
my trip to Baton Rouge, I took the back entrance. I went straight
up to Michael’s room, this time waiting for a response before
entering. When I went in, I couldn’t help but smile.

He was relaxed on the couch, his suit jacket
draped over the back of his desk chair, while the top few buttons
of his shirt were open. He was also listening to some music, which
surprised me. “Motown?” I questioned, amused.

Michael opened his eyes. “That surprises
you?”

“A little,” I admitted as I walked over to
hand him the note. “I’m sorry I haven’t given you this sooner.”

“You are forgiven,” he nodded solemnly,
taking it from me. “You have been a little distracted.” He got to
his feet, and I stepped back to let him pass, but he paused in
front of me. “I take it your aunt is accepting of the terms?”

I did something then that he wasn’t
expecting. I threw my arms around him, holding him tightly. “Thank
you,” I muttered into his chest.

When he started to awkwardly pat my back, I
let go and stepped away. He was looking a little uncomfortable to
say the least. “I wasn’t expecting you back so early,” he told me
as he quickly retreated behind the safety of his desk.

“Sarah suggested that I might need to help
Joshua in order for him to trust me,” I told him. “I called in on
my way back here.”

“And?” Michael queried. “Did you discover how
you might help him?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I saw a case file on
his desk and got a little sidetracked. It was Callie Edmunds. The
girl we saw in the hospital,” I added at his lack of response.

Michael exhaled deeply and sat down into his
leather chair. “Ah.”

“She was stabbed in an alley off Bourbon
Street,” I continued. “Like me. Were you there for her too? Were
you going to make her an angel?”

“Had we been there in time, then yes, she was
going to be asked the question,” he agreed, laying his hands on the
table, joining his fingertips together.

“You were? What happened?” I asked,
surprised.

“We were too late. There is only a short
window of time that question can be asked. It is why Lilly was
there.”

He indicated to the seat opposite him and I
quickly slid into it. “When we were in that hospital, you asked me
if I could see ‘it’. What?”

It took him a long time to answer me as he
watched me carefully. In a handful of minutes, he had gone from
seeming relaxed, to very weary. “Her aura,” he said,
eventually.

“What does an aura have to do with anything?”
I asked him.

“Do you know what an aura is?” he asked me,
instead of replying to my question.

I shrugged. “An invisible light that
surrounds a person?” I offered.

“It is more than that,” he said, shaking his
head. “The light differs from person to person, reflecting their
state of being. No two auras are the same, although they can be
similar. The colors, the brightness, the intensity – they allow us
to obtain information about that person’s quality of consciousness,
their thoughts, and their emotions – even their abilities.”

“So what makes mine and Callie’s special?” I
asked him, holding my arm in front of me, trying to see…
anything.

“It’s a shame you can’t see it,” Michael
sighed, watching my failed attempt. “It is glorious.”

“Is that what connects us?” I asked him. “Is
that how the person who stabbed us was picking us out?”

“I should hope not,” Michael quickly
disagreed. “The thing that makes it special, what separates you, it
is only archangels who can see them.”

“Which is why you asked if I could see them,”
I surmised.

Michael nodded. “You are showing some angelic
qualities, but not others.”

I wanted to ask him if there was something
wrong with me because of the qualities I wasn’t ’t showing, but I
didn’t dare. I didn’t want to know the answer and I didn’t want to
know the consequences. “So you think it’s a coincidence?” I asked
him instead.

“Angel, the thing with your aura – it lasts
for minutes. Even if you could see it, you would have to be in the
immediate vicinity to be able to reach that person in time,”
Michael explained.

“Is that what happened with me?” I asked.
“You were in the right place at the right time?”

“I have only been fortunate one other time,”
he confirmed. “The Angels of Death are more attuned to auras, to
the point that if that one opportunity came twenty years before the
person died, they would know. Archangels, on the other hand, can
only see that moment as it happens.”

“So why don’t the Angels of Death ask
them?”

“A candidate is only viable that once, and it
has only been recently that an archangel can ask the question.
Angels of Death have more important responsibilities,” he
explained. I shifted in my chair, chewing at my lip thoughtfully.
“What are you thinking?” Michael asked, watching me.

“It sounds like you’ve always been able to
turn humans into angels,” I started hesitantly. Michael nodded.
“And you’ve only been able to find one other person before me?”

Michael frowned slightly. “I have seen many
other potentials before you, but Lilah was the first I was able to
ask.”

“Well why now?” I asked, curious. “I mean,
Lucifer and the other angels falling – that didn’t exactly happen
last year and the world’s population has been increasing for, well,
God knows how long, but it isn’t like it has suddenly started doing
it,” I shrugged.

Michael suddenly looked tired and he rubbed
his hand over his face. “Do you remember what I told you about our
numbers?”

I nodded. “Once there were enough angels for
every human, but then a third fell and both the numbers of the
Fallen and humans have been increasing since, so we’re outnumbered.
I understand that. I just don’t understand why you’ve waited until
now to start looking for and asking the Potentials?”

Somehow Michael looked wearier. “Do you know
about the Angelic Ranks?”

“You mean the Choirs?” I asked. “How the
first two Choirs are based in Heaven and only the third are allowed
on Earth?” I gestured between the two of us.

Michael looked momentarily pleased.
“Cupid?”

“And Veronica,” I agreed. “They explained a
lot last night.”

“Veronica?” Michael sighed in frustration.
“Well I’m sure she has filled you in on the Cherubim’s views of the
Fallen?” I nodded, watching as Michael’s hands closed into fists.
“Angel, I do not for one moment believe that the Fallen will try to
return to heaven and I do not want you to believe her ridiculous
theory either. That being said, as the numbers of the Fallen have
risen, so too have the numbers of ‘natural’ disasters and freak
accidents. In the past decade alone, there are thousands who have
died that shouldn’t have. Something is making storms stronger,
earthquakes more powerful…” he trailed off. “My brothers and I
began to investigate, relocating some of our Houses to areas which
have seen more trouble than they should.”

I nodded. “Cupid told me where the other
Houses are.”

Michael sighed, his hand rubbing his face
again. “We have agreed that there are higher than normal numbers of
Fallen in our areas. The only way we can counteract their actions
is to have more angels, but the only way we can accomplish this is
to create more angels and archangels. We need more Houses in many
more locations. Angel, the truth is,” he looked down at his hands,
somehow looking much younger – like a child that had gotten too
deep into something. “The truth is, we should have started this
‘recruitment drive’ much sooner.”

If I thought it would have helped, I would
have hugged him. “So the goal is for me to earn my wings, become an
archangel so I can run my own house, and lead an army?”

Michael looked up at me looking thoroughly
upset. “Yes.”

I swallowed nervously. The pressure I had
felt from not knowing what I was going to do after college had
suddenly returned ten-fold. As I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to
that, I did the next best thing and changed the subject. “How does
Lilly fit into this then?” I asked, quickly going over everything
that had been said.

Michael looked relieved. “Lilly contacted me
a little over a year ago. Since the hurricane, the population of
New Orleans has decreased, and as such, so have the number of
deaths. However, she was surprised at the number of people that had
been dying who had once had the potential to become an angel.”

“And that’s why you came to New Orleans?”

Michael nodded. “Prior to this, I was based
in Canada. It was agreed I would relocate to investigate this and I
obtained permission to change any Potentials should I happen across
them.”

My hand went to the back of my neck, gently
massaging the muscles. “Is there anything else?”

“That is the extent of it,” Michael told me
as the phone rang. He answered it, talking in a tone so low, I
couldn’t hear what he was saying, despite how hard I was trying. He
ended the call and reached for a piece of paper, scrawling a short
note down. Silently, he folded the paper into three and slipped it
into an envelope before jotting an address down that he seemed to
know by heart.

Finally, he handed it over to me. I guess our
conversation was over. The address on this envelope was a lot
closer than the last one – easily in walking distance. I left the
office and headed downstairs.

Cupid sat behind the desk, tidying his things
away. “Where have you been all day?” he demanded.

“You mean Michael didn’t tell you?” I asked,
replying with a question.

“No, he told me you would probably tell me
when I saw you next. So where have you been all day? You missed all
three meals and I had to sit by myself,” he pouted.

I laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”

He shrugged at me, grinning. “Yeah, you’re
right. I didn’t miss you at all.”

“Liar,” I laughed. “I was at my aunt’s.”

“What?!” Cupid exclaimed, dropping the
magazine he had scooped up.

I held up the white envelope. “I have to
deliver this,” I sang at him.

“That’s not fair,” he sulked.

“There’s not much to it. I’m a Dream Walker,
told my aunt I was still alive, and now I get to visit her because
it turns out I technically didn’t break any rules.” I left Cupid
with his mouth hanging open.

* * *

This message had me going to one of my
favorite buildings in New Orleans – the St. Louis Cathedral. When I
first moved out here and saw it, I thought it was a castle as it
resembled something from a Disney movie. Even now, standing in the
moonlight, the white stone glowed, three towers pointing upwards
into the sky; you couldn’t even tell that the floor was sloping as
one corner of the building was slowly sinking.

The clock face in the centre tower told me it
was nearly eleven thirty. I wasn’t sure if anybody would be up
still, but I walked through the metal gates and garden to the main
door.

It’s supposed to be one of the oldest
Catholic churches in the United States, and although I don’t know
how true that is, when I walked in, I found it was hard to believe.
It put St. Mary’s to shame. The white stonework continued inside
with columns lining either side. In short, it was well looked
after.

“You’re a little different from the others he
sends,” a voice noted from beside me.

“You know what I am?” I asked in surprise,
forgetting all my manners.

I wasn’t Catholic and I may have mentioned
that my experiences with the church were limited – I had spent more
time in them now that I was dead, than when I was alive. With that
in mind, and considering the guy was dressed in dark trousers and a
polo neck, I wasn’t sure if I was talking to a member of the
congregation or an archbishop. “Sorry, your, um Excellency?” I
offered, hoping it wasn’t the wrong term.

The man chuckled. “Father Roberts is fine.”
He tilted his head ever so slightly. “I assume that’s for me?” he
asked, indicating to the letter I had managed to forget all
about.

With a start, I glanced down at the name at
the top and nodded, handing it over. He took it from me and quickly
read it before slipping it into his back pocket. When I didn’t look
like I was going anywhere, Father Roberts chuckled again. “Do not
worry. You don’t need a reply from me. It’s just the topic for
tomorrow’s mass.”

“Really?” I blurted out, forgetting my
manners again.

“You seem surprised,” he said, smiling. “Did
you think the message you were delivering was of more
importance?”

“Not really,” I told him, shaking my head.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that the last
message I delivered was to a guy who worked in a casino,” I
frowned. “I’m not sure I should have told you that.”