The Archangel Agenda (Evangeline Heart Book 1) Page 11

  I smiled, relieved that he hadn’t kicked Clay and I out.

  “All right then, so your connections made it easy for Azazel to manipulate your enemies so that he could take Griffin’s soul,” Ralph said.

  “Neither Lucifer nor Azazel have ever followed any of God’s rules. Why would they follow that one?”

  “That rule isn’t a matter of disobedience because the archangels literally can’t cause murder. Doesn’t mean they don’t try, mind you. Every close call a human has ever had is God and His army preventing an attempt on a human’s life. Lucifer is relentless if nothing else.”

  “Really?” Clay said. “These bad-guy angels can’t kill us?”

  “They cannot cause death, but that doesn’t prevent them from using humans to do their bidding. They’re successful more often than I’d prefer.” Ralph took a step back and sat in his creaking chair.

  “War is a perfect example. A single man’s desire to eradicate life becomes a wicked scythe for Death, and a win for Lucifer. Except that every innocent life killed in battle is one that gets escorted to heaven. So by starting war, all Lucifer and the fallen angels do is eliminate more people to corrupt.”

  He shook his head sadly, like a teacher disappointed in a student.

  “Azazel never thinks these things through. Sometimes he gets too giddy at the prospect of wiping human life off the planet. He thinks that will get him to the end result and God will have to repopulate the earth with angels and their offspring like they did back in Genesis.” Ralph sighed. “War everywhere, ones I’ve even participated in, many that I’ve cleaned up after, looking to help the locals make sense of what’s left over. Your mother too, I think.”

  I nodded. “She said that all the time, that she felt a responsibility to help the people understand their past so they could make better decisions about their future.”

  Clay straightened. He’d been listening intently while Ralph and I discuss the relics and their impact on life, and I was curious to hear his reaction. “So we can’t be killed by angels, but they can hire people to do it and Ferdinand can’t get us in to steal the first relic we need in this new Holy War, and the Smith grounds are patrolled by trained military.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Anything I missed?”

  Ralph nodded. “The true enemy. Azazel’s servants are masters at this game. They orchestrated Griffin’s death and will not be pleased that his soul mate—the only one who will be able to retrieve his soul—is armed with holy knowledge. Your upcoming attempt at intervening will not sit well with them. They will be after you the moment you’re in possession of the ring, possibly even before. If they know that Metatron has visited you, you may even be under intense scrutiny now.”

  “How will they know that I’m involved?” I asked, drawing Ralph’s attention off Clay.

  “Metatron hasn’t told you much, has he?”

  I snorted. “Hardly anything. Just where the relic used to be and that I have to retrieve and save Griffin’s soul. He says it’s my journey, which pisses me off. Sorry…”

  “No, no.” He waved his hand. “No need to apologize, the angels are quite heavy-handed when it comes to doling out personal quests. Be lucky you’re not Job.” He laughed and patted my hand. “You’re very unique, Lina. Few people can do what you do.” He let the comment hang and I wasn’t sure if he was referring to my profession or the quest.

  He smiled then, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “May I show you something?”

  I nodded and watched him work his way out of his chair and weave through the room, touching boxes along the way and muttering to himself. “Aha!” we finally heard from the back corner of the room.

  Clay stood. “Need any help?”

  Ralph was on his way back, waving away the offer. “No, no. I keep this one near the top always.” He held a small dagger and tapped his cane on the floor. “What do you see?” He nodded to me.

  An uneven hilt, a section of the blade nearly half an inch long that hadn’t been sharpened correctly, too many bumpy edges to effectively hide … but I didn’t mention any of those details and tried to look at it through untrained eyes. “A knife.”

  He turned toward Clay. “And you?”

  “A hundred grand.”

  Ralph smiled. “You make my point better than I will. We all see something different. This was used during the Crusades by a high-ranking priest, Father Abernathy. It is said that Abernathy never drew it against another man, and I believe he carried it for protection against a higher realm, should they have met any of them.”

  “Angels?” My fingers twitched with the need to hold the knife. I had ones far more lethal in my arsenal, carbonate that had been weighted perfectly for me, custom-designed for my grip, but for all its imperfections, this one called to me. Did I want it simply because of my underlying fear of Azazel and his lackeys?

  “All castes of angels involve themselves during wars, from the highest to the lowest, and depending on their loyalty to God, they either help, or create more chaos. Archangels were heavily involved during the crusades. Holy wars draw more of the different castes, from the Watchers to the Cherubim. Usually because the higher castes of angels start them—”

  “Did Abernathy ever need it?” I interrupted before he got off track.

  “Perhaps. What I find extraordinary about this piece is…” He turned it so the blade lay in his palm, hilt pointed toward me. He touched the amber jewel at the center of the hilt. “How it reacts.”

  I eased my fingers around the hilt, finding the perfect balance for a killing blow. It settled heavy into my palm.

  And the amber glowed.

  Clay reeled backward, nearly tipping his chair.

  I flinched and Ralph wrapped his papery hands around mine. “You are of regal blood, as was your mother, as was Father Abernathy.” Heat radiated outward from the stone and I held it tight. “You alone can call the power within this weapon.” He shook his head. “It’s not just a knife. It is a gift from heaven. A gift from the archangels to their most trusted humans.”

  He let go of my hand and I kept it suspended between the three of us, the yellow orb of light shimmering in the dust motes as they floated lazily through the air. “No way. Not me, there’s no way I have royal blood. How is that possible?”

  Ralph smiled. “That part you’ll have to take up with Metatron, all I can tell you is what I’ve theorized about how relics respond.”

  I frowned, not appreciating the evasiveness.

  He pushed on, eager to impart his theory. “I believe that all the relics will behave like this for you. It’s my theory that they resonate with the heavenly DNA in your body. You are made from the same unearthly substances.” He shook his head slowly. I chased a lot of leads trying to prove the connections between the heavenly relics and the holy bloodline, but it becomes tougher and tougher to get people to believe unfinished findings. You’ll probably discover much more about that truth than I ever could. These are not just relics, my dear. They contain power. Power for you.”

  I wished he hadn’t given me anything else to figure out. Out of reflex and refusal for his new research project, I tried to hand it back but he held his hand up, palms out. “You’ll need it. This journey of yours will not be easy, and as the relics are aware of your

  presence, so too, are other heavenly things … even fallen ones.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Speechless, I swallowed and laid the knife across my lap. I needed a sheath for it. Out of my hand, the amber still glowed, but not as brightly. Ralph was having a highly lucid moment—several, really. I knew we were pushing our luck, but I didn’t dare say a single thing because he could take the smallest word and divert us a hundred miles in the wrong direction. I needed to hear this information.

  “Once the stone from the ring in specific is in your hands, it will be able to meld with the other two relics you have been instructed to find, thus forming your key. An average person sees a knife or a stone. However, when each one of these relics is co
llected and with you, the power of the archangels is harnessed.” He leaned closer and covered my hands. “Do not take this lightly, my girl. Together with the other two relics, they are more powerful than any weapon. Yes, they open a gate to Hell. I do believe that, indeed, but they will also allow you to find things, defend people from a distance, know things, see things—you will become, in the truest sense, supernatural. As you find the other two relics, we’ll need to explore this further, test it, see how it manifests in you differently from how it has in others.

  “But…” He held up a finger to punctuate his point like many good professors. “I believe that when combined, the three relics, together, become The Tree of Life. They are not simply keys that unlock one of the gates of Hell.”

  “Beg your pardon,” Clay blurted, and I felt the exact same way. That was some serious theory.

  “This is another one of my theories, but I believe when combined, the three become something—some sort of religious symbol that will become concrete for you. I don’t know what that is. The relics together may be able to provide you with that information. As you collect them, certain powers within you will grow, Lina. We don’t know what types of powers those may be. However, I refuse to believe that once you have them that you’ll be left in the dark. Surely, you will be guided in how they come together and when they do … what they represent.”

  I rubbed my temple. Holy shit, he’d just dumped the truth bombs of all bombs. I wasn’t sure I was ready for supernatural weapons—either having them or being them. Super Powers? Like Wonder Woman, or Batman? What had I gotten myself into? A memory of Griffin telling me how much he loved me, how he would love me through eternity, sailed across my brain and reminded me again as to not only what I had gotten myself into, but why.

  I liked to be able to walk away from an assignment. But this wasn’t an option due to the stakes and my own conscience. And it probably wasn’t an even remotely a choice when the order came from On High.

  “What else do I need to know about these relics, and this?” I waved my hand over the knife, making the light flutter.

  “Azazel knows that you can free him, too. He’ll blackmail you with Griffin’s soul. By the time you have to face Azazel, he’ll know your weaknesses. He will know what you want and what you’ll do to get it ... or keep it.”

  Clay inhaled sharply. I was fully aware that this had gotten way out of hand from where he’d thought this heist was going. I wouldn’t blame him if he bailed after we got back to the States.

  “Free him? Free the angel of death? No way in hell would I do that.”

  “Not even in exchange for Griffin’s soul?” He pointed at Clay. “What if this one’s life hung in the balance, or mine, or some other innocent? Griffin isn’t simply an innocent to you. He’s not collateral damage. He was your love, Lina. He was a soul mate.”

  I swallowed hard and looked away for a brief second, damning the emotion that tried desperately to creep up from my deep inside of me at Ralph’s words.

  “My dear, sweet girl, Azazel will stop at nothing to be released from his bonds. You must prepare your heart and your mind for the worst. He will bring it all to bear. He will test your resolve.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Great. So I’m guaranteed to fail in this. I’m a god damn human for God’s sakes. I’m no angel, no deity!”

  Clay muttered, “True.”

  Ralph and I both gave him a sharp glance.

  “You are exactly what is needed. The lessons may come at a high price, but the world is counting on you. This is bigger than releasing Griffin’s soul, this is recovering a soul God wants. He sent you Metatron.”

  “Why did they take Griffin’s soul?”

  Ralph shrugged. “I’m certain the answers will come clear for you on this journey.”

  “Right. Honestly … I don’t know how helpful the archangel is. He seems to make everything a hell of a lot harder than it should be.”

  “He’s given you, me—and Clay.”

  I tried not to laugh. A senile old man and a goofball thief… Not exactly the weapons or intel I was used to.

  “Metatron’s smart. He’ll see to it that he pushes every boundary of what he’s allowed to give you.” He patted my hand. “Which means that God believes in you too. He’ll have big things to ask of you, even after this is finished.” He stared at me for a long moment before turning to Clay.

  Ralph pulled a large leather book from a stack and handed it to Clay. “You’re a part of this now. Walking away from her won’t release you from your role. This is my copy of the Ethiopian translation of the Book of Enoch—good, good, so you know its value,” he said in response to Clay’s quick inhale. “But its heavenly value is far greater. This is the translation that will help you through whatever comes next. I trust you’ll find the answers you need in there.”

  But not the one answer to get us inside the Smithsonian … which was why we’d come. Granted, we’d gained valuable insight, but without the relic, none of it mattered. I pretended to stretch and stood, then wandered the room. As I did so, my eye was directed to handful of stones on Ralph’s desk. I walked over and picked one up. It was a red, earthen color—a little jagged and really more like a rock I guess. It was half the size of my palm.

  Ralph spotted it in my hand. “Have that. You’re clearly drawn to it.”

  “Is there a story behind it?”

  “I’d have to think about that.” He smiled. “But take it with you.”

  Something about the stone did speak to me. Maybe it was because it reminded me of all of the rocks and stones that my mother unearthed—same color anyway. Yes. Maybe that was it. Anything that spoke even remotely of my mom was something I wanted in my possession. Especially these days. I placed the stone into my purse.

  I needed to turn my mind back to getting us into the Smith. I didn’t know where to begin. When we’d left the States we’d had a sound plan, come here, talk to Ralph, figure out where exactly was the missing piece we needed, and go get it. But now…

  Now, I was armed with a heavenly knife. I had possibly alerted Azazel that I was coming for Griffin and would not be letting the Angel of Death himself out of his chains. And I was gathering weapons for a Holy War of my own making. I rolled my neck and tried to ease the tension quickly building in my shoulders.

  I paced the room. Clay was handling it better than I’d anticipated and he’d hung in, even when things had veered sharply. Maybe he was hanging on to that two-million-dollar motive. I studied him now while he and Ralph talked quietly about something completely unrelated to heists and archangels and museums, switching topics in another rapid-fire volley.

  “…Off the nine ball, and you say it goes in every time?” Ralph was saying, looking perplexed, yet excited.

  Clay grinned. “Like a charm.”

  “Boy, I could have used that in my college days. One of the fellow chaps, Curly Charlie was his name, he could drop a rack of balls with three shots.” He slapped his knee. “Impossible to beat.” He winked at me as I sat. “Came close one time, though.”

  “Oh yeah?” Clay said. “I’d like to hear that.”

  I slapped his arm. We didn’t need useless stories about drunken pool and wagers, much as I liked Ralph and I figured he didn’t get much of an audience beyond Anna these days. We needed to find a way into the museum. Clay was perfectly content to let this turn into a bonding moment.

  He opened his hands and glanced at me. “What? They’re great stories.”

  I tapped the invisible watch on my wrist. “We’re out of time.”

  He stuck his tongue out at me and turned back to let Ralph finish.

  While Ralph regaled Clay with his pool prowess, Anna came in and picked up our cups. “Anything else, dears?”

  Ralph and Clay ignored her and I shook my head. She paused behind Clay’s chair and listened to Ralph’s rambling. “Ralph, what about the time Ferdinand told you about the three girls at the back door of the Renwick?”

  His eyebrows arch
ed and he stared at Anna for a few beats, then slapped his knee. “By George, you’re right!” He swiveled to Clay. “My deepest apologies for not thinking of that sooner. Felt’s display won’t be housed in either of the main buildings. It’s too eclectic and a smattering of such oddities that they’ll want placed with the Americana they house in the smaller galleries instead of in the main castle. A collection like Felt’s will be in the Renwick Gallery along with this season’s display of crafts.”

  He shook his head. “I even remember Ferdinand’s muttering about it when I talked to him last week. He was all kinds of mad that the higher-ups were attempting to keep a collection on display during the middle of the remodel.” He leaned closer and put his hand on the side of his mouth so he could stage-whisper the rest, “Ferdinand and the boys have been using that for their poker games at night.”

  “I thought you hadn’t spoken with Ferdinand in a couple of years,” Clay said.

  I glanced at Anna, who shook her head. “The memory can be a funny thing,” she said and walked past Ralph, giving him a tight squeeze on the shoulder. “A week can seem like a month, or a year or more. Do you agree?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes, yes, why it can. I don’t know how my silly brain lapses sometimes.” Ralph tossed his hands up and shrugged. “Did I say two years? Goodness no! I’m the godfather to Ferdinand’s eldest, named after me, you know! The boy must be what? Hmmm, twenty-nine now.”

  Anna squeezed his shoulder again. “I’d say he’s maybe forty-nine now.”

  Ralph looked stumped. “Yes, well, I do speak with my good old friend, once a week. He keeps me in the loop. Mhhm. Good chap. Yes.” He glanced up at me, a twinkle in his eye.

  I mouthed a thank-you to Anna.

  Clay’s gaze flickered to me, then back to Ralph. For a second, I wondered if he’d been working his way to this bit of information. Was this the way he always found his information, plying old guards and storytellers with companionship until they wound their way to the information he needed? Seemed risky, and very time consuming. But then, this was all part of the chase to Clay, all part of figuring out the mystery. I focused on the result—what will get me closest to my kill shot the fastest? For Clay, once he’d stolen the piece, the game was over, so the longer he can play the game, the better.