The Archangel Agenda (Evangeline Heart Book 1) Page 3

  “It’s true.” He motioned me over to a set of armchairs that had appeared from nowhere. I glanced around quickly, but our audience was still frozen. Shrugging, I sat. There would be no explaining this guy, so I might as well listen to what he had to say.

  “You prayed and asked about Griffin’s soul.”

  I tensed and gripped the arms of the chair. “Doesn’t everyone want to know their loved ones have gone on to something better?”

  He crossed one foot over his knee. “Indeed, but there’s a tangle where Griffin is concerned.”

  “Excuse me?” The gaping hole in my chest widened and I couldn’t catch my breath. I didn’t need any more guilt about Griffin. I leaned forward. “What do you mean? What kind of tangle?”

  He sighed heavily. “First, what do you remember about me, about what your mother told you?”

  I shook my head, still reeling from his comment about Griffin. I needed to know he’d gone to somewhere better, not go off on a doctrine lesson. “I’ve forgotten a lot of it. I remember her fascination with archangels, mostly with you and Sandaphalon, but she was always intrigued by the different castes and the roles you played with mankind.”

  “Archangels have been warring since the beginning. Azazel is the angel of death. In many ways, he is nothing more than a demon. But a strong one, one to be reckoned with. He’s never agreed with my position and he’s done everything in his power to undermine me. This is nothing new for him.”

  “How does all that affect Griffin?”

  “Azazel stole his soul,” he said simply, bluntly, without emotion.

  I burst from the chair and paced between the clusters of frozen bodies. “Stole it how? What does that mean?” I stopped and stared at him. “Where is his soul? This is crazy!”

  He shifted. “In Hell, and you must get it back, Evangelina. You’re the only one who can.”

  “What? What do you mean that Griffin is in Hell? That his soul was stolen? Why? Why am I the only one? I’m just a woman. I mean, you … you and your cronies are supposedly the ones with the superpowers. You’re an archangel and you know other archangels. Why me? Crazy talk!”

  “Well, you’re wrong about just being an average woman. You’re far more than that. You’re a trained killer, and this isn’t simply a spirit world you’ll be dealing with. There are reasons Griffin’s soul was stolen, and yes, I am afraid that he has been taken to the dungeons of Hell. But, for you to get to him, you’re going to have to make headway in the human realm first. That part will be far easier for you than for me. There are places on your realm that I’m forbidden to travel, and I’ve got a lot of other areas to take care of.”

  I threw up my hands. “Are you serious? A spirit world? I’m going to deal with the human realm and some spirit realm? Are you actually serious right now? Oh, and like I’m not busy? And how do I know his soul is in Hell? How do I believe you?”

  He nodded again at the screen. The images of my mother and father and the village were gone. The scene on the screen was replaced with an image of Griffin—my Griffin. As I watched, Metatron said, “This was sent to me courtesy of Azazel. He brags when he steals a soul.”

  I turned away, tears stinging my eyes as I saw lifeless eyes staring dully, flames intertwining around him, coils of snakes at his feet, shackles and chains locking him into a darkness that I could no longer look at as I averted my eyes.

  “Stop! Please stop!” I screamed.

  “I am sorry, Evangelina. You are the one chosen for this. Griffin’s soul is decent and good and it needs to be freed. You were Griffin’s soul mate, and there are other mysteries around you that I can’t reveal yet, but trust me, your powers are deeper than you think.”

  “What powers?” I heard the heaviness in my voice and felt it in my heart. “I have no special powers. How can I possibly do this? Sure, I can kill a man with my bare hands … but I don’t have any deep magical powers.” I shook my head.

  “That’s where you might be wrong.” He winked at me. “You’re the one. As I’ve already said, you’ve been chosen for this task. It’s your journey to take.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Great. No pressure there.” What I’d seen with Griffin on the screen was sinking in. I was used to pressure, but this … this was horrific.

  What I considered impossible and what Metatron catalogued in that group were most likely worlds apart. I wasn’t sure I was up to an archangel’s idea of impossible, but I knew I had to make the attempt. I could never go on, knowing that what I’d just seen would likely be an eternal existence for Griffin.

  I walked slowly back to the ornate armchair and lowered myself to the cushion. I pushed aside all my feelings about Griffin and approached this like any other job, because something was telling me that the archangel and his friends weren’t going to give me any other options. Hell, I knew that I wasn’t going to give myself any other options. I inhaled and let the breath slowly release through my nose.

  “Tell me what I need to do.”

  Chapter Six

  “Griffin’s soul is in Hell. You have to go and get it back so it will ascend to its rightful place in heaven.” My temple throbbed and I rubbed it. “This will be no small feat. Getting in and out of Hell will require your cunning and courage. This is not a job I would have entrusted to anyone.”

  Super. I inhaled slowly. “What does that entail, exactly?”

  “There are three relics that will open the gates of Hell. The first is the ring found by your mother.”

  I pointed at the Jumbotron. “The one from that night?”

  “Yes, that very one. That is the first of the three.”

  I swallowed. “What happened to it after she was…” I forced myself to say it. “Murdered?”

  He shook his head. “We’re unsure of its whereabouts.”

  “Aren’t you all-knowing?” Did he seriously expect me to find it when he hadn’t been able to?

  He chuckled. “That’s a myth cooked up by your religious fanatics to keep sheep in line. It’s not possible for us to know everything that happens with everyone.”

  I waved toward the Jumbotron again. “Then how do you have footage like that? Can’t you just rewind the tape and see what happened to it?”

  He shook his head. “We’re connected to certain people. Your mother and I were intensely bonded. She spoke to me often and I was able to visit and guide her. When her life ended, so did my window into that segment of human life. I can see what happened right up until the moment of her death, but from then on, I cannot know what happened to the ring. And, truthfully, it was safe where it was and hasn’t been needed until now. Now you must find it along with the other two relics.”

  “Right, and open the gates of Hell to save my dead fiancé.”

  I choked and swallowed hard, fighting back emotion yet again. Not only did I have to find hidden religious relics that people had killed for, but I was being asked to go to Hell… I still hadn’t wrapped my head around that part of the mission. “Did my mother still have the ring on her when she died?”

  “Not on her, but near her.”

  “Then what happened?”

  He stared at me, his handsome face unreadable. “You’ll need to pick up the trail from where your mother left off. You’ll need to start in Jordan. Back at the village.”

  I swallowed and looked away. I traveled a lot for work, so it wasn’t the trip to Jordan that bothered me. It was being back in that village, reliving that nightmare in real life instead of in my subconscious. If this didn’t have anything to do with my mother, if this were just another job, I’d ask for all the intel I could get. Metatron had a video of the moment I needed.

  All I had to do was come up with the courage to finish watching it. My hands trembled and I forced myself to set aside the emotion. If I didn’t get a hold of it before I started this assignment, I’d be a hot mess for the whole thing. I had to treat this like any other job.

  When I answered him, my voice was small. “Show me.”

&n
bsp; I stood and hugged myself in a ridiculous attempt to keep the pain from fracturing me into a million pieces. I’d watched new deaths for my parents in every nightmare. Would this really be worse?

  Metatron made both chairs disappear. “Are you ready?”

  I shook my head. “Not possible, but show it to me.”

  There wasn’t much more that we hadn’t seen. A group of men caught up with her on the far side of the camp. She looked frantically for Dad and her hands stayed clamped at her sides, not daring to give away the hiding place of the jewelry. Shadows and flames leapt across her face, but she didn’t show them any fear. Pride swelled in my chest as I watched her. A blur of motion flew across the right of the screen. Whoever it was tackled one of the men and took him down. Chaos and disorder erupted.

  Mom spun and took off running. My breath caught in my throat. At a thick copse of trees, she crouched and snuck through a tangle of undergrowth. I remembered that spot. It was one of the few shady places and I’d played a million games there with my friends. But tonight it gave solace again, not from the heat, but from death. Groups of men raced back and forth in front of her hiding place, unaware of her and her treasure.

  She shoved her hand in her bra and withdrew the jewelry, then lifted up out of her crouch to see if she was still safe. I studied the ring, caught by the simplicity of the oval multi-colored stone in a metal setting. She’d cleaned it, but only to the best of the ability of the tools she had. Dirt and rust tarnished the entire piece, covering what were probably fine details that would help me locate it later. The stone in the center emitted a soft glow in the firelight, and I wasn’t sure if that was a reflection or the ring itself.

  All around Mom, hordes of groups warred. The warriors’ screams and shouts were nearly deafening. Digging with her fingers, she pried up tree roots and made a deep narrow hole near the base of one of the trees. A shout made Mom spin and jump up. She dropped the stone in the hole, and used her foot to shove dirt over it as she stared at her attacker.

  I didn’t want to stop watching her, I wanted to memorize every single feature of her face, but I knew that I needed all the intel. My gaze swung to the man on the far side of the trees. A slender white man in pressed fatigues and a black beret pointed an AK-47 at her. “Come out of there.”

  “No.” Mom lifted her chin and crossed her arms. “I’m no threat to you. I’m here as an archaeologist. My husband is the doctor.”

  “And your daughter, where is she?”

  Mom stiffened and so did I. This wasn’t a random attack on this village. This was someone who’d come for my family. I memorized every feature I could about him. His military background was obvious and the hint of a British accent made me wonder if he’d been MI6, but why would he be after a religious relic?

  “Who is that?” I asked the archangel.

  “Watch.”

  Mom pushed another heap of dirt onto her hole and stepped to her right, away from the hidden ring. She didn’t raise her arms and part of me loved her courage, but the sensible part wanted her to stop antagonizing this guy.

  He motioned her forward with the barrel of his gun. “Where did you hide it?”

  “There’s nothing here. I’ve been uncovering pottery and bones.” She turned toward the dig and extended her hand. “It’s all there if you want to see. There’s nothing worth terrorizing these people for. They’re good people.”

  He snorted. “No, they’re lawless beggars.”

  She inhaled swiftly. These people had been our friends. I’d grown up with them and they’d welcomed us. They adored my father and they came to him for everything, welcoming his medicine. Mom had worked hard to teach them about what she was finding and about their history and why she was so invested in making sure the world knew about them and where they’d come from. They’d taught me their language and their customs. I’d been just another teen amongst their own.

  The man pulled a knife from his belt and lunged. Grabbing her, he held the blade against her throat. I clenched my jaw to keep from yelling out and my teeth ached from the pressure. I second-guessed my ability to watch this.

  “Tell me where you hid the ring.” He growled the command against her ear and I could almost feel the oily heat of his words. She squirmed in his grip and the knife blade nicked her skin. I grasped Metatron’s arm, needing an anchor to anything on this side of the screen.

  “I don’t have anything like that. Take this if you need jewelry that badly.” She held up her left hand, twisting at her simple wedding band. “I haven’t found anything other than broken bits of clay, I told you.”

  She hadn’t even told me about that ring. How had these murderous people found out about it? Did they know that this wasn’t a simple piece of jewelry, but access to one of the most powerful doors in existence?

  He jerked her head backward, exposing more of her neck. My fingers tightened on Metatron. “Do I need to go find Evangelina and ask her?”

  Mom whimpered.

  Hold tight, mama. I’m safe. I’m safe.

  I held my breath and memorized every detail of his ears and his scars—little bits that would set him apart no matter what else he changed about his body. I would kill him. First, I would make him suffer. Tears burned my eyes and I brushed them away.

  Another fire erupted on their right as a hut burst into flames. Mom yanked and wrenched from his grasp, then took off running toward the new fire. Only then did I realize it was our hut that was ablaze.

  The report of machine gun fire made me cringe. The screen went dark.

  I stood there, not realizing for a moment what had happened. Then a sob tore loose from my throat as the wound of her death tore me open again. I allowed the pain to travel through me for a solid minute, and then I took a deep breath and reined in the overwhelming sorrow and turned to the archangel.

  “Who is he?”

  Rage burned in my chest, and I memorized that feeling. Along with every feature of the man who had murdered my mother.

  Chapter Seven

  “His name is Harrold and he’s one of Azazel’s humans.”

  “The Angel of Death has foot soldiers?”

  “A surprisingly accurate term. Azazel at his truest is a teacher. From the very beginning he’s instructed humans, just not in the proper way an archangel should. He taught men war, gave them knives and swords and taught them to kill. And where he and his Watchers gave men physical weaponry, they gave women powerful emotional weaponry. Women learned from Azazel the art of deception and how to adorn their bodies to rule men.”

  I flinched. Mom had said as much, but I preferred to buy into the theory that we were basic animals, flaunting our shiny feathers to entice men, and the guys fought because that’s what they did. I didn’t like the idea of Azazel and his band of evil angels manipulating mankind since the very beginning, and if I remembered right, the Big Guy hadn’t either.

  “But, if I remember my mother’s teachings, Azazel got in trouble for that, right? God didn’t approve of those kinds of instructions.”

  “Yes. The Lord commanded The Archangel Raphael to seize and imprison Azazel until Judgment Day.”

  “Then how is Azazel still holding class and teaching this Harrold about my mom and the relics?”

  Metatron shook his head. “The Lord God wants to believe the best in everyone, from men to archangels. He truly believed that the imprisonment in utter darkness for all time would be enough for Azazel to rethink his choices and make new ones. Better ones.” He tsked. “Azazel is consumed by the darkness and he’s grown incredibly patient. He can’t move around like I can, so he has to wait for people to seek him out. And they do. He has no problem recruiting his foot soldiers. There are certain humans who can’t help but be attracted the dark.”

  “Great.” This was going from bad to worse in a hurry. “Harrold is one of those types of humans, I guess. One who sought out Azazel?”

  “Yes. But only some can find him. Only people like Harrold, all of whom are descendants from a holy line
.”

  “A holy line? But Azazel isn’t exactly considered holy.”

  “Correct. But there is something called an Evil Holy Line. Strong, powerful, and protected by the highest of evils. The holy comes from an original connection to God, in which this line made a decision to break from. You’ve heard the story of Cain and Abel?”

  “Cain killed Abel, but that’s all I know.”

  “There have always been two lines. A good bloodline and one poisoned with evil. Abel was the good one, and Cain killed him. But God marked Cain so he could never be killed and forced Cain to wander the earth for all time, as punishment for what he’d done. But that didn’t stop Cain from marrying and having children, spilling forth his evil onto the land.”

  “Harsh. So the good line is from Abel and the bad is Cain’s?” This was a lot to take in, I’d never really figured out the details of Jesus’s holy line and how all that David and Abraham stuff fit together, and now Metatron wanted to throw an entirely new line in the mix for me to keep track of.

  “Right. Cain’s sons still believe that they are due the favor of God. Throughout history they’ve been the seekers of righteousness, but they’ve always gone about it in the worst ways, murdering, torturing, starting wars and genocides.” He shook his head. “True evil can never become good. Cain’s offspring will forever bear the mark and they will never prosper against good.”

  “Which is why they seek out this Azazel, to learn what he can teach them so they finally can overcome?”

  “I’m afraid so, yes.”

  “And he teaches them horrible things?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. When Azazel and his Watchers first instructed men in the way of war, men worshiped them and the archangels—understandably—liked the feel of their worship. Hundreds of years passed that way, and God trusted his archangels to bring him news of men and what was going on, but Azazel never told God everything, which was part of what angered God so much when he found out what Azazel and his Watchers had done by teaching men the ways of war.