Angel in Training (The Louisiangel Series, Book One) (7 page)

Cupid snatched the paper out of my hands and
tossed it behind him. “Yeah, yeah. Get your butt off my reception
desk,” he ordered, slapping the body part. “I will just have to
teach you the other part in your free time.”

I jumped off and followed him into the
building. “You mean I get free time?” I asked him.

“Not anymore you won’t,” he informed me,
grinning.

He led me to the locker room, where I stood
in the doorway, eyeing up rows of lockers. “So which is mine?” I
asked him.

“What’s your room number?” he asked me.

Without answering him, I located the locker
numbered 238 and pulled it open. It dawned on me that I had yet to
find a door that was locked in this building. It was one thing to
trust other angels, but what if someone else got in the
building?

Inside the locker were two pairs of bright
white Nike’s, and three sets of gym clothing. I pulled them out.
They consisted of a white sports bra and a pair of white Lycra
cycle shorts. I turned to give Cupid an unimpressed look. “White?”
I moaned. “I can’t keep white clean.”

“Evidently,” he agreed, nodding at my
clothes. “Get changed. I will meet you in the gym.”

I slammed the locker door shut and stormed
off to the changing rooms, pulling the clothing on. I have no idea
who kept acquiring my clothing, but they were doing an excellent
job in getting my size right. Dressed, I made my way into the
gym.

Like the rest of the rooms I had seen, it had
dark wooden floors and the walls that were empty were cream. As
soon as I had the time, I was buying some paint and painting my
room sky blue. Assuming that wasn’t breaking any rules, of
course.

The gym was a large room. All down one long
side stretched the windows, while the other was covered floor to
ceiling in mirrors. The room had been split into two with a glass
wall and the half of the room I was in was a large hall. The other
side was equipped with weight machines, treadmills, cross trainers,
and a punching bag that someone was sending flying back and
forth.

Whoever it was, Cupid was busy watching them,
his head cocked. I stepped through the open doorway into the far
side of the gym, and discovered it was Veronica. She was wearing
the same workout outfit as me, and it was a little strange to see
her in white. That being said, the eyeliner was still there.

“You were holding back on Cupid earlier,” I
noted.

She paused in her punching, and nodded.
“That’s because his vessel bruises easily.” She resumed her
punching, the bag again flying. There was some serious exertion
going on there and she hadn’t even broken a sweat, much less
started breathing heavily.

“I thought the cherubim weren’t allowed to
fight?” I asked Cupid.

Veronica paused again. “When the war comes,
I’m not hiding in a kitchen. Michael is going to need all the help
he can get.”

“And that means you,” Cupid told me, linking
his arm through mine. “Catch you later, Ronnie,” he called over his
shoulder as he dragged me outside.

In the garden he had set up a large target
about forty feet away from us. He marched over to a small table
that had been erected close by and pulled a quiver over his
shoulder, resting it between his shoulder blades. Next he pulled on
some form of leather pad just above his wrist. Finally, he picked
up the bow. It was enormous and a lot more extravagant then I had
been imagining.

My mind had conjured an image of a simple bow
used by someone like Robin Hood – a bent piece of wood with some
string. By comparison, this one was made of some type of metal and
looked military grade. It had three different strings, pulleys and
some complicated sight contraption.

Cupid took his position, gave me a quick
wiggle of his eyebrow, as if to say
look at what I can do
, and released the bow. With movements as
fluid as water, quicker than I thought could be possible, he
released arrow, after arrow, after arrow. When he finally stopped,
his quiver empty, he kissed the bow and laid it back on the table.
My attention turned to the target. Every single one of the arrows
had met their target, all fixed in the small centre circle – the
bulls eye.

“Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed in awe.

“He was good, but he wasn’t as good as me,”
Cupid beamed.

I eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t say
anything. As far as I was aware, there wasn’t a chapter in the
Bible entitled,
the day in which Cupid kicked Jesus’ ass at
archery
, but as I hadn’t
read the book, I wasn’t going to say anything. And who was to say
that they hadn’t had a friendly match one day when they were lazing
about in the clouds.

“So do I get to do that?” I asked him
instead.

Cupid cocked his head, thinking about it.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the bow.

“Um, a bow?” I told him. Wasn’t that
obvious?

“Then the answer is no,” Cupid informed
me.

I stared at him in disbelief. “Then what is
it? A toaster?”

“
Ha,” he said, sarcasm lacing his tone. So
it was only Michael who didn’t do sarcasm. “It’s a
compound
bow. There is a difference.
Today’s lesson is going to consist of learning names. Until you can
learn them, you’re not going to pick a bow up.”

What was potentially going to be an
interesting lesson had quickly become very boring. “Oh, yay,” I
muttered dryly.

By the time Michael appeared in the gardens,
I think my mind was ready to melt again. “I’ll get you a book to
help,” Cupid promised me as the archangel joined us.

“How was your first lesson?” Michael asked,
studying me.

“Not as hands-on as I would like,” I told
him, watching Cupid disappear back into the gym. “And I’m not sure
why I needed to get dressed up for it,” I added, pointing to my
attire.

“That is for your training with me,” he
informed me.

“
You mean I get to play with a sword?” I
asked him hopefully. Listening to Cupid reel off each and every
part of the compound bow, as well as each mechanism’s purpose in
the grand scheme of things hadn’t exactly been exciting stuff. The
prospect of Michael telling me the names of each part of a sword…
well I wanted to
do
something.

He stared at me, and I could feel the hope
drain away with my smile. “Let us see how well you have adjusted to
your vessel first,” he said, indicating that I should go back
inside.

We headed for the machines, stopping at the
punch bag which Veronica was trying to hide behind. Michael
scowled. “You should be in the kitchens getting dinner ready,” he
told her.

Veronica gave him a polite nod, and as soon
as his back was turned, poked her tongue out at him.

“Now, Veronica.”

I was surprised that archangels seemed to
have eyes in the back of their head, but Veronica just shrugged and
walked off. I glanced back at Michael who was looking at me
impatiently. At my puzzled expression, he pointed at the wall in
front of us. The mirror covered wall. I groaned and tried to cover
my embarrassment by jumping on the treadmill.

Michael came to the side and pressed a few
buttons. Before I knew it, I was running at a very fast pace.
“What? No warm up?” I yelped, trying to match my speed with the
machine. I wasn’t a runner and I avoided running at all costs.

“You don’t need a warm up,” Michael informed
me. He moved to the far side of the room and picked a book up off
the side, bringing it and a chair back with him. “How far have you
run?” he asked me as he seated himself in front of my machine.

“I’ve only been running for a couple of
minutes,” I told him. He just sat staring at me until I glanced
down at the digital display. “A quarter of a mile.”

“For the record, you’re capable enough to
have run a couple of miles by now,” he said, stretching his feet
out and opening the book.

I nearly fell off the treadmill. “A
couple
of miles? I thought a four
minute mile was good and I’m nowhere near capable of
that.”

Michael flicked through the pages, finding
his place. “Angel, as a human you may not have been capable, but as
a Potential possessing a vessel, you are capable of much more than
the average human. You just have to realize that.”

I was already at the stage that I was
struggling to breathe, so I kept quiet and instead glared at him. I
reached up and wiped the sweat off my forehead.

“You should also be able to do this without
looking like you’re going to keel over,” he added, without looking
up from the book.

I have mentioned that I want to punch him,
right? Or take that big thick book of his and use it to smack him
around the head. I wouldn’t of course. But right then, I
really
wanted to grab that book and
use it as a weapon.

When I saw he was reading Paradise Lost I
nearly fell off the machine for a second time. I decided to
concentrate solely on my running. I managed twenty minutes, running
as though I was being chased, and then I could feel my legs begin
to wobble. “Michael,” I panted. “I can’t go anymore.”

“You can run for hours at this speed,” he
corrected me, flicking a page. “As soon as you let go of your
humanity, you will see this.”

There was going to be some form of poetic
justice when I beat him to death with that book. I managed another
minute, and then my leg cramped. I went flying backwards, into the
cross trainer behind me with a scream.

“Angel?” Michael asked, peering over me.

“I’m done,” I groaned, trying to untangle
myself from the machine. He tried to help but I jerked my arm away.
“I can do it myself,” I told him between the gasps for air as I
tried to get my breath back. I got up and took a step forward, only
to go crumpling to the ground with another cry of pain.

Ignoring my objections, Michael dropped to a
crouch and gently prodded my ankle. At my wince, he looked back at
me, disappointed. “It’s just a sprain. You will be fine.” He got up
and turned the machine off, before offering me a hand which I chose
to ignore again.

“I’m going for a shower,” I grumbled. I
turned and stalked out of the room as best as I could while
limping, bypassing the locker room. It took me a while to hobble up
the stairs, clutching at the banister, but I finally made it to the
top.

I was at the opposite end to my room and had
to pass all the other bedrooms on the way. Unlike the previous
times I had walked the hallway, a lot of the doors were propped
open, angels coming and going between the rooms like we were back
in a college dorm. Although most of them stared at me, none said
anything.

I can’t say I blamed them. I was one hot
sweaty mess. I could feel the sweat trickling down the side of my
face and neck, and down my back. I was also pretty sure that my
face was the same color as my hair. On top of that, I was limping
and still trying to catch my breath. All while they remained
visions of perfection.

I made it to my bedroom, slamming the door
shut behind me. It didn’t take me long to peel the sweaty clothes
from my body, dumping them unceremoniously into a heap on the
floor, before jumping in a cool shower. I got out, wrapped the
towels around me, and collapsed on the bed.

There was a very good chance that being an
angel was going to kill me.

A Detective in
Training

I awoke from my nap feeling much better. The
pain had gone from both my ankle and my cheek and I no longer felt
exhausted from the running. It was also dark outside now, although
I wasn’t sure of the time. Amongst the things that I needed, a
clock was definitely up there.

I rose, contemplating getting changed into
the nightdress and getting back into bed, but I was far too awake
now. Instead I opted to see if I could find Joshua, by myself.
Considering my previous failure with Joshua and my epic fail in the
gym, I really didn’t want to see the disappointment I kept seeing
in Michael every time I got something wrong.

I headed back to the bathroom to dry my hair
and was pleasantly surprised to discover that despite the fact I
had fallen asleep with it wrapped up in a towel, it still flicked
out. I had a feeling that the novelty of that would wear off
quickly when I wanted to do something different with it though.
Back in the bedroom I explored the contents of my wardrobe and
drawers. They were well stocked – possibly because someone knew I
was never going to keep the outfit looking smart – but they were
all variations on what I had been wearing earlier. It also hinted
at the fact that I was going to be permanently working. I would
have to ask Cupid if angels really did get a day off, like he
alluded to earlier, and what they usually did on them.

For now, I pulled on a pair of trousers,
opted for a lilac shirt under the waistcoat, and a pair of shoes.
This time, when I left the room, finally looking presentable to the
beautiful men I shared a floor with, there were none in sight. Once
again, all the doors were shut. Oh well. Maybe an eternity without
relationships would be easier if I couldn’t drool over the eye
candy I lived with.

I headed downstairs, and ducked behind the
reception desk to look for the car keys. They weren’t hard to find.
They were in the top drawer... unlocked like everything else in the
building appeared to be. As there didn’t seem to be anything to
sign them out with, and Cupid was nowhere in sight, I scribbled a
note on a Post-it and left it in the space where the key had come
from.

Outside, the humidity had yet to subside,
even though the sun seemed to have long since set. The gardens were
buzzing with the chirping night insects, and I had to swat away a
few mosquitoes that had yet to disappear for the night. I could
still hear the noise drifting over from Bourbon Street, but
otherwise, it was a nice, peaceful night.