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“Calm down, Marco. Big deep breaths. Ramiel is here to see you. He left the other one at the front door . . . Don’t worry though, I have Sthenno watching her through the surveillance system, just in case,” she chided sweetly, the steel behind her eyes indicated she was not taking any chances with their safety. Honestly, she was the mother figure most of them had never had. The mother some of them could only wish they’d had, instead of the ones they’d been stuck with.
“Thank you, Mrs B. Can you send him in, please?”
“He’s outside the doors, honey. I’m pretty sure you have two arms and two legs, and can make your way the five meters there without my assistance, yes? I have more pressing tasks to get to.” Her tone was mildly scolding, and her raised brow made him feel the same way he had as a newbie angel when he’d taken an unauthorized trip to the surface of the earth. He’d spent four hours getting reamed out by Luc and the flight commander that day. All he’d wanted was to see the garden, instead he’d landed in the in-between and gotten stuck for fuck knows how long.
Mrs B huffed, and once more disappeared through the floor, but not before poking her finger pointedly at the door and muttering about next time leaving someone else in charge. She was in a snit today it seemed. Thinking about it, she’d been making snarky comments for the last few days. Sure, it had been a wild ride around here, but the unflappable Mrs B certainly had her knickers in a knot, didn’t she?
He strolled to the door and opened it just as the hand on the other side came down . . . and knocked him right on the bridge of his nose. With great force. Something warm and wet trickled out and over his lips. The fucker had broken his nose! Not that he’d ever be game enough to call Ramiel a ‘fucker’ to his face. It would be a very unwise thing to do.
“Shit! Sorry,” Ramiel’s deep baritone boomed through the room behind him and drilled through the tender flesh around Marco’s eyes. “Didn’t know you were going to open the door so fast. Let’s get you seated, Marco. It is Marco, right? Hard to tell with your hands covering most of your face.” He spun Marco around like a spinning top, his big hands maneuvered him with ease, and pushed him into a seat at the large table. Luc’s seat.
“Thath’s cosh my nosh ith futhing boken,” Marco snapped out, or tried to.
“Well, that’ll do it. Thank you, Mrs Briars. He’ll be fine. I promise I won’t break anything else.”
Ramiel pulled Marco’s hands away and replaced them with an ice pack covered in a dish towel. After a while, sitting in blessed silence, he pulled the cloth covered pack away and assessed the damage. A fair amount of blood coated the cotton material. He lifted his fingers to his face. The cartilage bulged noticeably as he ran his fingers over it, and he winced as he traced the odd angle at which his nose now sat. Ah, fuck it. Reaching up with both hands, he grasped his nose firmly, with a sharp jolt he shifted it back into place, grunting and biting the inside of his cheek at the pain.
“Is it straight?” he asked Ramiel.
“Pretty damn near perfect. Though the small cut at the bridge might leave a nice little scar if you care to salt it and keep it. Otherwise, the perks of being an angel should heal it up like new before the day is done.”
“Why would I want to keep the scar, Ram? Why mess with perfection?” He winked and gave Ramiel a crooked smile. Ramiel chuckled softly.
“Sometimes, the scars make the man, my friend,” he added softly.
They all knew Ramiel didn’t care about scars. He wore them proudly, as if they were trophies or medals. Since angels healed extremely quickly and didn’t scar, the only way Ramiel could have scars was to salt them. Not with salt water, though. Actual, pure salt, the coarse ground kind, it’d be tantamount to rubbing pebble-like sand into the wound and leaving it there until the wound had healed underneath it and pushed the invading granules out. Leaving nothing but a silver tinged mark in its place. It was also rumoured to be fucking torturous.
“Well, apart from the broken nose, it’s good to see you again, Ram. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, yes it has,” said Ramiel solemnly.
“Ah, so this isn’t a social call, I take it?” Marco questioned.
Ramiel’s face looked graver than a gravestone as his gaze bore into Marco’s hazel eyes. Shit, he was being weighed. Ramiel, as head of the Praesidium, had the ability to see if someone was worthy of being trusted. Something was grinding Ram’s gears. Something big was happening, and Marco wasn’t sure the Hounds could take any more surprises right now.
“I need your help, Marco. It’s very important, and I need you to keep it quiet. This is to be kept between us, and Deus. My intention was to speak to Deus about this directly. But, since he’s not here and I trust you almost as much as I trust him . . .”
“Well, thanks . . .” Marco wasn’t actually offended by this. To be trusted by Ramiel at all was actually a huge compliment. “But, why not Luc?” Marco couldn’t help but ask. “Nothing goes on around here without Luc’s knowledge.”
“Really? You can truly say that has been accurate these last few decades? What if I told you there was a traitor within these walls? Someone you most likely have never even suspected was capable of such treachery? What would you say to that?”
Marco stared at Ramiel, sure he probably looked like a fish out of water, but never had the thought of any angel within the fortress walls being a traitor even flittered across his thoughts. It was inconceivable.
“A traitor to what? In what way? I don’t even see how it’s possible. Unless they are Fallen, we’ve never had traitors before. I mean, angels like Raum and Mara notwithstanding, of course. They betrayed the Almighty, and their designated callings. But, to actively work against a certain group of us? If that is indeed what you are getting at here? I can’t comprehend it,” Marco’s voice trailed off in a whisper as his heart rate sped up to a quick little gallop.
“I know this is difficult to get your head around, my friend. So, take a moment to listen. Hopefully I can shed some light on my suspicions, and the evidence I’ve pieced together will make sense.”
Ramiel dipped his head and took a deep breath. Marco found himself mirroring the action, and when the Angel of Justice looked up he found the light of truth shining from his eyes—his eyes a white and bright as light globes—casting his face in an ethereal glow.
“I’ve always thought Michael’s disappearance was suspicious. So I’ve had some of my most trusted people, some directly appointed by the Almighty as well, looking into things. The Almighty knows I don’t agree with the “it all must play out as it needs to” bullshit, so no info is forthcoming from that sector. What I suspect, but as yet cannot one hundred percent prove, is that Michael going missing was orchestrated by someone looking to gain more power. A dissatisfied asshat, actually. Admittedly, I’ve never liked Gabriel, always thought he was a bit of a self-righteous prat with an ego problem.”
“I mean, I completely agree about Gabriel, but are you suggesting he was directly involved in Michael’s disappearance? I know Luc has had his suspicions based on his past behavior and how little Gabriel has invested in trying to find the Commander. How do you know this, though?” Marco was so focussed on Ramiel he could almost feel his ears straining to catch every syllable the male uttered.
Ramiel took a deep, almost weary, breath. “Not just Michael’s. There are several other questionable disappearances, deaths, punishments etc . . . throughout the realms that seemingly have little to connect them. In some cases, certain sensitive information was shared with only a select few, and drunkenly shared with a few more. With only one consistent possible source. The info has then been used to start wars, or divide loyalties. In other cases, private rulings and prophecies were leaked, and we have no idea what happened to those put at risk by the sharing of this information.
“What we do know is that Gabriel had opportunities to gain access to this information, either himself or through someone close to him. What we don’t know is what he has planned, and how far his network has spread. We suspect he has maintained contact with his old friend, Raum, even now. We also know Gabriel is desperate to discredit Lucifer and bring down the Hounds. We fear he seeks to control the souls within the Well, for what purpose only he knows.”
“I still don’t understand how you know this? Or is it all just suspicions and suppositions? He’s definitely capable of it, don’t get me wrong, but so far I haven’t heard any actual proof that points directly to him.”
