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Authors: Heather Killough-Walden

Avenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels (8 page)

BOOK: Avenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels
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If Max, the bracelets, and the mansion hadn’t been lost to the archangels during their descent to Earth two thousand years ago, Michael would have been able to slap one of the gold bands on Azrael. It would have trapped both his archangel and his vampire powers within himself and given him the breathing space he needed to cope with his change. As it was, however, Max and the archangels hadn’t found one another for quite some time after their descent. And Azrael had been smothered in both need and power, ruled entirely by the turbulent magic coursing through his veins.
But since nothing supernatural had seriously threatened them in centuries, they hadn’t seen the bracelets in as long. It had been thousands of years since those first tentative steps upon the mortal realm, and the archangels hadn’t had need for the bracelets for the last several hundred. It had been a while since any other supernatural creatures had put in an appearance, so the archangels had more or less forgotten about the bracelets.
After a few moments, Uriel cleared his throat. “What are you suggesting, Max? That I use this on Eleanore?”
Max stopped what he was doing, placed his hands on the counter, and sighed. “Play nice first. But realize that, if she even believes you in the first place, she may not take kindly to the idea of being created solely for the satisfaction of another being—much less a male. What will you do if she decides to continually blast you with lightning?”
Uriel didn’t have an answer to that.
Max continued. “Remember that Samael is about to make a move. You need to protect Eleanore from him. You need to bring her here to the mansion. If she doesn’t come willingly, you won’t have any choice but to take matters into your own hands.” He glanced at the bracelet and nudged it closer to Uriel. “Think of this as a precaution. As a plan B.”
Uriel stared down at the gold band. It was a stunningly beautiful piece of jewelry. But the most impressive thing about it was the intricacy of the magic woven within it. Once donned, only the one who placed the bracelet on a being’s wrist could remove it. Otherwise, the being was bound to wear it always.
He wondered, as he reached down and fingered the bracelet with tentative fingers, what Ellie’s reaction would be if he used this on her. If she was already against the idea of being his archess, then trapping her powers within her body probably wouldn’t warm her to him any.
But like Max said—it was a plan B. And Samael did pose a threat.
“Right,” he said softly. Then he lifted the bracelet and placed it in the front pocket of his jeans. If the way Ellie had stood up to him in the bookstore was any indication, his archess was almost as likely to slap this on his wrist as he was to get it on hers.
CHAPTER FOUR
 
A
t around ten o’clock, Eleanore finished showering and eating and sat down at her desk. She logged on to her computer and signed on to her IM server. Then she waited for Angel to log on to the chat box on her end; when she saw her initials, she began typing.
E: You wouldn’t believe who’s here right now, signing autographs in my store.
 
 
A: Okay—autographs? I’m officially on the edge of my seat!
 
E: Christopher Daniels.
There was a long pause while, on the other end of the connection, Angel obviously processed the news.
A: You’re shitting me.
 
 
E: lol Nope. I’ve been off work for two hours, but Mister Jonathan Brakes is probably still there, wondering which of his adoring fans he can sink his teeth into for dinner. Or would it be breakfast?
 
A: I have never been more jealous of you than I am right now.
 
E: I thought you hated that movie.
 
A: Oh, I do. With a passion. Am I the only one creeped out by the thought of someone several hundred years old going after someone who’s barely twenty??? Talk about robbing the cradle. But Christopher Daniels is freaking HOT. Did you get to talk to him at all? Get his autograph?
Eleanore gazed down at the screen and smiled a wry smile. She’d more than spoken to him.
E: You know how I am. I wasn’t really interested in an autograph.
 
 
A: You’re kidding me! You WORK there, for crying out loud! You could have at least shown him where he was supposed to park his mega-fine ass!
 
E: I did do that. Sort of.
 
A: Oh? Explain.
Eleanore hesitated.
A: Now!
 
She laughed at the screen and shook her head. There was no way she could tell Angel exactly what happened, of course. Not with the storm and the little girl and all that. After six years of communicating electronically, she felt she knew Angel better than she knew herself, and she was closer to her than she’d ever been to anyone in her life. They were best friends, of a sort, though they had never met nor had so much as a phone conversation. They both hated talking on phones and had sworn it off right at the start. They’d met in a chat room for a vampire romance novel and hit it off.
There were days when Eleanore was certain that she could tell Angel anything. She seemed to empathize with everything that went on in her life—except for the magical power thing, which Angel didn’t know about because Ellie had kept it hidden all these years. If Ellie told Angel the truth, then Angel would be just as burdened with keeping her secret as she was.
Eleanore continued to stare at the screen, biting her lip as she did so.
A: You there?
 
 
E: Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. Just thinking.
 
A: About Daniels?
 
E: Sort of, but not really. More of a general spacing out, I guess.
 
A: That’s my Ellie.
 
E: What’s it like in the North Pole right now?
Angel lived in Minnesota and as far as Eleanore was concerned, it had to be one of the coldest places in the world.
A: Cold. White. Caught the change of subject, btw. Nice try. I still want all of the juicy details about vampire boy.
 
 
E: Okay. Fine. The truth? He asked me out on a date.
It took a minute for the reply to come back this time.
A: He what?
 
 
E: He asked me out. To some sort of event on Thursday. But I turned him down.
 
A: He what?
 
E: Very funny. You heard me the first time.
 
A: He what what?
Eleanore laughed.
A: Okay, now I know you’ve gone around the bend. I can’t freaking believe Christopher Daniels asked you out. I really can’t. And you turned him down. I’m leaving the computer now to go and scream into my pillow. My eyes are turning green.
 
The chat box grayed out and Ellie smiled, shaking her head once more. She closed down her e-mail program and pushed away from the desk. It was time for bed. And she had a strange feeling her dreams would be interesting. At the very least.
 
When Eleanore put the coffeepot in the fridge and the carton of soy milk on the coffeemaker the next morning, she finally had to admit to herself that she hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. It was Sunday and it was a good thing she didn’t have to go in to work that day, because her dreams had been plagued all night with images and flashes and impressions of Christopher Daniels. It wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of the actor. It was just the first time the dreams had been so vivid that she’d had to kick off all of her covers in order to breathe.
She shook her head, pinched the bridge of her nose where she felt a headache coming on, and tried again. Soy milk in the fridge, coffeepot on the coffeemaker. Flip the switch.
Nothing happened.
“No, no, no, not now.” She bent and eyed the electrical outlet to make sure it was plugged in. It was. The coffeemaker was old; it had been in its death throes of late so she’d taken to heading to Starbucks for her caffeine fix. She just really didn’t feel like getting out of her pj’s at the moment.
She tried the switch again, and again nothing happened. “Come on, girl. Don’t die on me yet. Please—just one more pot. Just this morning, come on.” She tried coaxing the coffeemaker as she flipped the switch a few more times, but it was unresponsive.
Ellie sighed and let her chin drop to her chest.
There was a knock at the door. Her head snapped back up and the alertness she’d been trying for all morning slammed into her. No one ever knocked at her door, and certainly not this early in the morning. She stood motionless in front of the coffeemaker, listening intently. There was no sound beyond the door; no voices to give the visitor’s identity away.
Ellie knew she was being cowardly, but she couldn’t help it. She knew that if she stayed still long enough, whoever was there might go away.
The knock came again, this time a bit more persistent and solid.
Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, swore under her breath, and headed toward the front door. Whoever had come to call better not be offended by the fact that she was in her pj’s. Not that they had any right to be offended, paying her a visit this early and without warning.
Ellie slid the peephole cover back and peered through.
Christopher Daniels stood on the other side of the door, a large paper cup of coffee in each of his hands. He was standing in profile, his gaze trained on something in the distance, but after a few seconds, he straightened and turned toward the peephole.
He smiled and mouthed “Good morning” as if he could see her.
Ellie’s world tilted a little.
Oh my God,
she thought.
There was no way Christopher Daniels was on the other side of her door. It was unbelievable enough that the famous actor had managed to find her home. That he had cared to look for it in the first place was even more surprising. Unless . . . Was it possible the interest in her he’d shown at the bookstore was genuine?
Questions spun in her head. She thought of the way he’d mentioned the storm and how Jennifer had slipped on her secret. Either he was being sincere about his interest in her—or he wanted to get close to her because of her powers. The only reason he could have for wanting to do that would be so that he could turn her over to someone else—someone with the intent of abducting her and using her abilities for their own gain. Someone who had been chasing her across the country since she was fifteen.
She had to admit that the scenario seemed more than unlikely. Daniels was rich and famous and had no reason to be working for some covert operation. But she couldn’t get a handle on him. He’d really thrown her for a loop.
“Coffee’s getting cold,” he said from the other side, his voice coming through clearly.
Eleanore ran a hand through her hair, fisted it there, turned in place as if she were going to walk away, and then faced the door once more. She was the embodiment of indecision.
“I know I’m a good actor,” Daniels said, “but I’m really not a vampire. I promise if you let me in I won’t bite.”
Ellie blew out a sigh, rolled her eyes dramatically, and then unbolted the door. She popped it open and glared at him. Her glare faltered, though, at the sight of him unhindered by the glass of the peephole. He was so tall. His long-sleeved thermal shirt was pushed up to his elbows, exposing strong forearms. It drew tight across his broad chest as if painted over the expanse of hard muscle there.
A small gold band of a bracelet was wrapped around his left wrist; it bore intricate designs and seemed to fit him perfectly. Distractedly, she wondered how he’d gotten it on. His jeans were just as form-fitting as his shirt and called far too much attention to the long, lean power encased there.
His dark brown hair was slightly damp from the cold November morning and curled against his forehead in thick waves that begged to be touched. She caught a whiff of him, like soap and cologne, and felt herself instantly flush. The scent of coffee came next, erasing what was left of her scowl.
Suddenly she felt ridiculous standing there in front of the famous Christopher Daniels in nothing but pj’s and a nasty expression. Her gaze slipped from his impossibly green eyes to the coffee in his hands. Curls of steam rose lazily from the sip holes, beckoning her. She suppressed a moan and turned a slightly apologetic look on the actor.
BOOK: Avenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels
3.79Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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