Lyda Morehouse Archangel 03 Messiah Node

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"What are you talking about, Michael? Why wouldn't you want to go back?"
"I have family here," I said with a shrug. Then, I stood up suddenly, "Oh,
shit. Amariah."
"Who?"
"My daughter."
"Daughter," Morningstar repeated, as if I'd said something alien. His jaw
tightened when he added, "Well. Congratulations.''
His words couldn't have sounded more insincere if he'd tried. He face
darkened, and he looked away. Just then the wind rattled the window. The
blanket hung unevenly off its hanger and a sliver of light showed through.
Through the spatters of rain on the glass, I caught sight of a familiar white
dome in the distance.
"Sacre Coeur," I said. "We're still in Paris?"
"We?" Morningstar laughed. "Certainly I've been here. I have no idea where
you've been lately. Not Heaven, by the sound of it."
No. I hadn't been to Heaven. In fact, it seemed as though I might have been
moving closer to Hell, to Morningstar. Perhaps that was why I'd ended up in
Paris in the first place.
But it also meant that I wasn't that far from Amariah. "My daughter," I said.
"She's lost. I lost her."
"Tragic," Morningstar said without any sympathy.
"I need to go find her," I said, looking around for a door. "She's been
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infected with the Medusa."
"Then go. You're the one who came to me," he said, returning his attention to
the woman lying on the bed. She moaned, and he bent quickly to smooth a dark
curl away from her brow. It was a loving touch. I found myself frozen with
fascination.
I'd never known Morningstar to take any interest in mortals at all. Though he
spent most of his time here on Earth, away from Heaven, in my experience with
him he had held nothing but contempt for the creatures God had populated His
world with. Mostly I imagined he hated them out of jealousy. We were meant to
serve mankind, and & well, Morningstar and servitude had never really mixed.
"Is your friend all right?" I asked, when the woman thrashed out, startling
Morningstar.
He barely glanced at me, and when he spoke his voice held a tremor of worry.
"I don't know. Usually she's completely still. This is new."
Standing up, he shouted out, "Mouse! Get in here!"
Mouse? Mouse had been a friend of Deidre's before & before God sent me here,
and everything changed. I'd thought he was in prison.
The woman on the bed thrashed again. She slammed a fist into the headboard and
shattered it. Morningstar hesitated, clearly torn between going to find Mouse
and staying by his friend's side. "She's going to hurt herself if she keeps
this up," he whispered.
"Maybe there's something I can do," I said, stepping up to the bedside.
"You?" Morningstar straightened, as if considering defending her from me. When
she moaned again, his resolve crumbled a little. When he spoke again, he
sounded less accusatory. "What can you do?"
"I don't know," I admitted. But he stepped aside to let me try.
I found myself inspecting her more closely. Her body sprawled on the bed. She
wore part of the uniform of an Inquisitor: black reinforced-leather pants,
jackboots, and a sleeveless scoop-neck shirt that showed off a muscular body.
The only thing missing was the armored jacket, which would hold a symbol of
her station. Her face was severe like a marble statue, yet softened by wisps
of black curls. Her eyes were open, but unseeing.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" Morningstar said, following my gaze. "Like an angel."
I started at Morningstar's comparison. The beauty of the angels could drive a
mortal insane. It was a fierce, destructive power like an atom bomb or the
sun. And yet I could see a bit of that fire in the woman, even unconscious.
Then I understood.
"You've found her & 'a woman clothed in the sun, and the moon under her feet.'
" The Whore of Babylon, a signal of the coming of the end.
He laughed softly, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. His fingertips
caressed the toe of her boots. "Emmaline is far more than that." His thin
mouth turned up in a smile. "But if you feel like calling her a whore, just
remind me to step back."
I put my hand on her shoulder, and her tight face relaxed a little.
"Then who is she?" I asked.
"My lover," Morningstar said simply. When Emmaline sighed, he frowned at me.
"Your touch does seem to calm her, brother. Maybe God hasn't abandoned you
completely." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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