A Heavenly Kind of Love Read online

  The door swung open, and Carlyle’s expression changed from irritation to concern the moment he looked at Gabe. “What’s happened?”

  “I think she’s going to die.”

  “Slow down,” Carlyle gestured for him to enter and tugged the door shut. “What did you see and why didn’t you ask one of the sentries on watch? Why come here?”

  “The blasted gray aura, it’s charcoal, I can scarcely see the gray through the black.”

  “Fuck,” Carlyle dragged a hand through his short auburn locks.

  “I didn’t know you spoke so harshly.” It wasn’t the time for amusement, but he was shocked one who pretended to be as pure as Carlyle would speak with foul language.

  “When there is a time where no other words suffice, I will.” Carlyle grabbed a phone from off the bookshelf he stashed it in his pocket. “Show me.”

  He couldn’t be certain if Carlyle were telling him it was all right to break the rules, or if he meant for them to go to the Watch Hall—Gabe took them to Uganda.

  Carlyle walked straight up to Cassandra, muttering something as he waved a hand through the ominous light surrounding her. When he turned, the angel’s coffee-colored eyes were filled with remorse.

  “We need to go to your father.”

  Such a simple sentence, and yet, it knocked him backward. Gabe crashed into the wall he’d stood next to as the words weighed down on him. He’d been right. Cassandra Marks’ life was in danger. The concept shouldn’t have made him as nauseas as it did. He had a job to do, emotions had no role except to fuck his attention over. If he failed, he’d be letting down all the future children she might one day help find homes.

  “How do I help her?” He reached out and put his hands on Carlyle’s shoulder, giving a firm shake. “How do I save her?”

  Carlyle rolled his shoulders back and flicked his wrists, breaking Gabe’s somewhat loose hold. “We go to your father. We are given warnings before the worst comes. Your father, and sometimes others make decisions on what is done next.”

  Stealing one last glance at Cassandra, he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. She was laughing, her hair swishing around and her eyes closed tight in amusement. Cassandra had no clue of the danger that was surrounding her, no idea that her life would soon be over if he didn’t do his job correctly.

  Suddenly, watching over her was about more than getting back his battle wings, it was about saving a human life. He’d protected countless before, fighting alongside them in battle and killing the demons that hung around scenes of war. Yet, nothing had felt as important as saving this one life.

  “Why do I want to save her so badly?”

  “She is your charge. A link, albeit a small one, connects you together. You desire her safety. It is natural.” Carlyle looked back at Cassandra. “I assure you, you’re fine. She is as wonderful as any charge, yours is no more special than any other.”

  Gabe nodded, torn between slugging the angel for saying it, and for knowing what Gabe was concerned with. Without another word, he flashed to the hallway of the Watch Hall and banged on his father’s door.

  There was no answer from within. Common sense was not present once again. Twisting the handle, he let himself in and was face-to-face with three Archangels, matching scowls on their faces.

  “Gabe,” his father warned with a look in his eye that cautioned him to be careful.

  “My charge is dying.” He hadn’t expected the grief-stricken tone that came from his mouth. “Her aura is almost black. Tell me how to save her.”

  Michael and Uriel hung their heads.

  “Apologies for a rough start to your new career.” Michael still did not look upon Gabe, likely due to the fact that Michael had cast the final vote that had changed Gabe’s fate.

  “What do you know about the situation? We will go from there.” Gabriel looked at him, a fatherly concern in his expression.

  Impatience rode him hard and explaining himself would waste more time. “The aura has been darkening as I mentioned. The color now so close to black it is hard to see the gray shade. Carlyle saw it and said I go to you for decisions.”

  “We have some time then. A black aura indicates death is coming; not when or how. Your work is truly beginning now, Gabe. When a Guarded’s aura shifts from white to black we have time—not much—but some to work out the cause of death and how to stop. Your job as her Guardian Angel is to go to her. Protect her in any way you can; guide her from the path of moving cars, keep her from angering anyone carrying a gun.”

  “That’s impossible! She can’t see or hear me.”

  “It is difficult, that is certain. If you try hard enough, she will pay attention. This is how it has been since the dawn of time. Hundreds of Guarded have been saved this way before. Go to her, go save your human.”

  My human. Just the sound of the words spurred him to action. He had heard her mention she was leaving to return to Boston. A plane could go down, luggage could fall on her, the possibilities were infinite, and he was going to prove to his father he was not a failure or a burden on the family name.

  Nodding, he took note of the respectful way all three angels regarded him. “I’ll pack my belongings and leave for Earth, so I am always by her side.”

  If that was not the way of things, no one spoke on it.

  Three

  With a sigh, Cassandra dropped onto her rather plush bed. “I will never understand why I choose to leave you,” her hand tenderly ran a circle over the top of the bed. “You’re so soft!” Rolling over, she buried her face in the bed. “I could sleep for days!”

  With a chuckle, she turned back to her back, eyes cast up to the ceiling. Any time she came home the jet lag was so severe she slept for almost a day. A tiredness that couldn’t be explained to anyone who didn’t experience it was common after weeks or months abroad working all day.

  Though she was grateful for the cushy bed beneath her, the studio apartment felt desolate. A familiar emptiness from her youth settled around her in the quiet. She was all alone, and most adults would appreciate that, but she missed the loudness and busyness of an orphanage full of kids. The laughter, and even the tears, let her know she had others in her life on a constant basis. Ever since her foster parents had passed away, she’d hated their decision not to adopt her even more. A thirty-year-old shouldn’t be an orphan, but she was. The family she’d thought cared about her vanished with one careless car accident.

  “That’s why you’re working yourself so hard.” She looked at her cell phone, smiling at the wallpaper she’d uploaded on the T just before it went underground. “You have an entire family, they’re just thousands of miles away.”

  Stretching her arms above her head, she winced. “Airplanes.” Her body ached something awful - tight like a rubber band waiting to be snapped, yet loose from too much use while at work. The bruise on her thigh hadn’t changed in color or size, which worried her, but it was likely she’d re-injured it somehow and didn’t realize it.

  Sleep threated to close her eyes even though she’d spent a good portion of the flight from London to Boston in dreamland. Not able to stop a yawn from escaping, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her without so much as changing out of her travel clothes.

  Gabe didn’t like it. The entire sixteen-hour commute from Africa back to America had been flawless. Cassandra hadn’t even so much as hit her finger into something. It had been a full flight, so he’d been left standing in the aisle, continually dodging anyone that needed to piss or stretch their legs to avoid them sensing him. Guardian Angels were invisible; they weren’t noncorporeal.

  “Should she be this tired?” As he leaned against the doorframe that separated the kitchen from the overall living space, he let his eyes travel over her body. Gabe moved slowly, assessing her for any visible damage. “Was she this slight three weeks ago?”

  He’d been intrigued by her curves the first time he’d met his charge. Now, while her figure was still present, it appeared thinner. Her hips and br
easts were still there, but it appeared as if her arms and legs—maybe even her stomach—had lost fat. Taking a step closer, he chewed the inside of his cheek as he stared at the dark fucking cloud surrounding her.

  Halfway back from the London her aura had gone black—utterly and completely black. He’d panicked, but had stayed by her side. He felt the weariness of too much work. Still, he found himself unwilling to leave her side.

  “But she’s asleep—it’s not like a car can drive through her apartment on the third floor.” Transporting back to his house, into his new office—a space he had never needed as a warrior—he moved the mouse to wake his laptop.

  The boot up was quick; nothing like heavenly speeds to make a computer perform.

  In the immediate hours after her aura turned, Gabe held his breath. Now, with her safely home and on the ground, he realized Cassandra was not about to meet her untimely end through a disaster. Which is preferable to her passing away from something he couldn’t predict and save her from. If he was going to earn back his wings, her death within the first month was not on the table. Because the way she interests you has no bearing on why you worry about her dying.

  Snarling, he typed “bruises, weight loss, and death” into the search bar. The parameters of the search were a little bleak, but he did not mince words.

  “Fuck!”

  Gabe’s fist crashed into the desk, sending the external mouse flying off. The first article that popped up, “Fifteen Cancer Symptoms Women Ignore” did nothing to ease his concern.

  With a quick swipe of his hand, he grabbed the mouse off the floor and continued to scroll. The list of article headlines were less than comforting—even though he’d known he was looking for things that could kill her, Gabe had been hoping for diseases that could kill but were easy to cure. All he was staring at was a compilation of various cancers and tumors.

  “Fuck,” the curse came out as he fell backward onto the desk chair. “Cancer. What if this is right?” She’ll die if she doesn’t get herself looked at, that’s what.

  “Carlyle!” He bellowed as he transported to the Watch Hall, not bothering to see if the other angel was even present.

  A sea of heads turned to look at him, most with annoyance blasting across their expressions. At least thirty Guardians sat watching their charges, and thankfully he saw Carlyle standing at the front of the hall.

  “Gabriel,” he hissed, “you know this is a place of focus and quiet.” He transported directly in front of Gabe. “What brings you hollering?”

  “Cancer.”

  Carlyle’s arms crossed over his chest. “I’m going to need more context than that. I’m not a soldier under your command. I am also not a mind reader.”

  His hand twitched with the urge to smack the other man across the face. “My charge. I believe she has cancer.”

  For the briefest of moments, sadness crossed across Carlyle’s features. As quickly as it had come, it was gone. “That is unfortunate. As you know, we have no control over disease. There is no way to fight and protect when the damage is internal.”

  Red dotted his vision. He knew the damned rules, but he wasn’t going to sit back and let her die. “Would you accept that?” Gesturing around the room he took a step closer, so they were nose-to-nose. “Would anyone in this room?”

  Carlyle’s shoulders sagged. “Not at first, no. We would all seek to find other explanations.”

  Gabe nodded. “Good. Then how to do I do that?”

  “You convince her to go to the doctor. Move things around, try to guide her path in front of doctor’s offices; anything of that nature.”

  “These rules are infuriating. In battle, we simply protect the humans and kill the demons spurring them into war. Why in the hell can’t I just make myself visible, pretend to be a doctor and call saying she needs some bullshit annual checkup so she goes in and I get confirmation?”

  “Because,” Carlyle’s voice rose an octave, “angels that make themselves visible to humans fall. Period.”

  Gave let out a snarl because he knew that was the rule, and it was one with no loopholes. All his life he’d done what was right, and to gain his wings back, he wanted to skip that and do what was necessary. “Fucking rules.” He muttered under his breath as he turned.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Gabe. I promise it’s not a good idea. I’d hate to see you fall—others look up to the children of Archangels, don’t let them down again.”

  His nostrils flared at the words, but he was well aware of the simple voiced fact. Admiration and trust had granted him the position of General over his battle unit. It was the same reason he had not been subjected to falling. The angels feared exiling him would trigger other angels joining him. When Lucifer fell, many went with him. No one wanted to run that risk. Blowing out a long breath and then another, Gabe attempted to calm himself.

  “Fine.”

  “Gabe, I mean it. Don’t do anything to endanger yourself. I know how the connection feels -”

  “I want my wings,” he snapped, even though he also wanted Cassandra alive because of whatever strange link he had with her. She was a fantastic example of humanity—her death was unnecessary.

  Not interested in another engagement, he transported back to her house. She lay there, snoring peacefully. She did not look sick; her eyes were not sunken in, and her complexion was not pallid. A normal person would never have a single clue the woman lying before him was on her deathbed, or about to be.

  “How do I get you to go to the damn doctor?” Gingerly, he sat down on the edge of the bed. There were so many obvious answers; write a note on a calendar, pretend to call from a doctor’s office about a checkup, even place his hand on her back and physically move her there. “Too bad you’re not allowed to do any of them.” His snort was louder than he’d intended and do to his proximity and their connection, she heard it.

  Her eyelids fluttered open for just a second before she slid over onto the bed, lying on her back. Be more careful. If she truly noticed him, they’d have his wings for not following along. Because of course, we can’t help in an obvious manner, how else would someone save a damned life?

  The gentle sound of her snoring distracted him from his anger. He let his eyes roam over for at least the third time since he’d arrived. Her beauty matched every angel’s, inside and out. She didn’t deserve to die.

  That is not the appropriate train of thought. Gabe chided himself. Angels were not supposed to claim their charges were more worthy or better, they were merely to see a person’s worth and understand it required protecting.

  “Okay then,” he murmured, his eyes glancing down to ensure she did not stir again. “Figure this out before you start to feel like a creep for watching her sleep so often.”

  He knew humans rarely went to the doctor unless they did not feel right; unless they were on annual checkups. Cassandra went more than usual given her travels out of the country. Which is why it doesn’t make sense that cancer suddenly appeared.

  “That’s it!” Smirking, he stood up and walked the small distance to her ridiculously mail cluttered desk. She may have just returned home, but if he could get her interested in another trip, she would schedule an appointment that would require blood work as part of the testing. “Pretty damn clever, Gabe. Maybe you do have a knack for this.”

  Still reveling in his excellent idea, Gabe conjured up a briefing packet on a real orphanage in Cambodia. Cassandra had shown an affinity for Africa, but she didn’t only help on that continent. “A brochure.” He hadn’t the foggiest if she ever got brochures, but a brightly colored photo trifold would draw her eye over to it; he hoped.

  Setting down the pamphlet, he stepped back toward her bed and gazed at the desk. “Brilliant.” With a smirk, he crossed his arms over his chest. Bright and obvious amongst the stuck of papers, the pamphlet had to grab her attention at some point in time in the next few days. “Fuck. Envelope.”

  Gabe quickly conjured up an envelope so it appeared the information h
ad come in the mail—otherwise she would likely panic at not knowing how it got there. The last thing she needs is to think someone broke in while she was sleeping.

  “Now I wait.” He sat in her swivel chair and gave it a spin. “I suck at waiting.” The words were grumbled as impatience crawled over his skin like a line of ants. Battle Angels rarely waited; they got their orders and took action. “Nothing like how you live your life now.”

  Cassandra’s world appeared to be a never-ending stream of selections and waiting. She selected which trips she wanted to attend. She waited for confirmation. She waited for medical. She waited for the travel date to come. She finally got to her destination and waited for children’s lives to improve in any fashion. Then she came home and did it all over again.

  Huh, guess I could learn a little patience from my Guarded if I tried. He chuckled. Not happening. Angels were not without fault, but he saw no reason in changing an element of himself that would be useful once he’d convinced the Archangels to give him back his gold wings.

  “So, now you need to wake up so I can gently guide you to your damn desk.”

  * * *

  His eyes snapped open the moment he heard Cassandra’s voice. He’d drifted off and hadn’t realized it. Tossing his arms over his head, he pushed his chest out and let the stretch roll through his muscles. Sitting shouldn’t have been so damned painful, but his body was tight from it.

  She was fully upright, tugging her shirt over her head and talking to herself about getting out of travel clothes. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as her skin became exposed. The perfect curve of her breasts made his mouth run dry. Women were beautiful in any species, and Cassandra was stunning.

  “Another one?”

  Her cry of displeasure shook him from his staring, and he allowed his eyes to drop lower. An angry pitch-black bruise marred the left side of her body. It was small, no bigger than a thumbprint, but so very dark.