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Royal Flush
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CHAPTER1
An immortal life was endless, but for some it could be endlessly boring.
Micah was one of those beings who couldn’t stand the monotony. When they first Fell, he’d thought he and his brothers would be trapped in the human world for a century, maybe two at most. The Creator was ruthless but fair, and he had a soft spot for the angels who obeyed.
Micah always had. But his brothers… they hadn’t, and that was why the three of them were cast out of Heaven. Not a century ago, not even two, but more like thirty.
And, boy, did the time seem to drag…
Millennia ago, Micah was part of the cherubim. His eldest brother—in deed, if not in blood—was of the seraphim. Raziel was a fiery being in ages past, with a burning passion to serve the Heavenly Father. Samael was an angel of death who, with his flaming sword, ferried souls to the celestial realms. As a cherub, Micah’s role once was to protect the entrance to the Garden of Eden. Before they Fell, he was moved to watch over the pearly gates.
That was how he came by the angelic faction’s talisman in the first place. Every cherub had a key that operated the gates to Heaven, and Micah guarded his fervently. The only souls he allowed to touch it were his chosen brothers, but when Raziel and Samael used it on their own to let in a soul that Samael believed belonged in the celestial cities before their key went mysteriously missing, the Creator banished Raziel and Samael from Heaven for their perceived crime.
Micah hadn’t betrayed the Heavenly Father. He didn’t have to Fall. He chose to. Loyal to his brothers, he Fell from Heaven to Purgatory alongside Sam and Raze, all the while hoping they’d find the golden key again so they could ascend once more. The idea of the key became their talisman, the source of their full power, as the three brothers eventually became known as the trio of angel princes on Earth.
As one of the royal angels—the most powerful of the Fallen that lingered in Purgatory—Micah spent centuries searching for their talisman. Raze did, too, at first. And Sam… well, Sam was Sam. Ashamed of his time as the angel of death, he focused on saving souls instead of condemning them. Raze, after realizing that it would take much longer than he thought to return to Heaven, only wanted to enjoy his time in the human realm. From earning coin to bedding whores, if he was cast out of Heaven, he was going to give the Heavenly Father a reason to keep him out. Should he be able to return, he’d do anything to ascend again, but he refused to suffer alongside his brothers. If they couldn’t be true angels in Heaven, they would be gods on Earth.
Micah just wanted to keep Raze from growing colder and colder, and he wanted to help Sam climb out from beneath the heavy mantle of Death. Before long, finding the talisman was a dream instead of an aim.
That was millennia ago now. There had been flashes of its celestial power since then, too weak for its former wielder to recognize. Though the golden key belonged to all three of the royal angels since it had evolved into their faction’s talisman, if Micah had it, he could open the gates to Heaven for himself and his brothers so they could finally go back home.
Until then, he had to find some way to occupy himself. Though he always returned to be at his brothers’ sides, over the years Micah had learned countless skills. He’d mastered shepherding. He’d circumnavigated the globe long before Magellan had—and he’d barely relied on his inky black wings to do so. He’d farmed, he’d sailed, he’d fought in wars on the side of the righteous. He’d laid down railroad tracks and constructed skyscrapers. Then, within the last half-century, he’d returned to help Raze and Sam build a casino in an infamous faction town where he wouldn’t have to hide what he was.
An angel.
A paranormal.
A celestial.
Micah had to admit that he wasn’t feeling like as much of a celestial being these days. His brothers, too. Their powers were slowly waning, but whether that was because they’d been gone from Heaven for so long, or because the industrial age on Earth was overwhelming them, none of them knew. The more technology filled the world, the harder it was for the Fallen. And, still, there was no sign of their talisman. No chance for a return home, either.
It took half of a decade—a blink of an eye to a long-lived immortal like Micah—for House of Sin to become a reality. Built in the confines of a faction-run hotel known as Twilight Sphere, the Angels of Sin City went from a whisper among the Fallen to celebrities in the faction-heavy side of Las Vegas, Nevada. The humans thought of the brothers as powerful businessmen, while other factions knew exactly what they were: Fallen celestials who brought a slice of Heaven to the hedonistic City of Sin.
Raze, as the eldest, ran the show. Sam, still working to redeem himself in his own black eyes, made an occasional appearance. And Micah… he was just glad to be a part of something with his brothers—until he got the itch to take up a new hobby.
Magic.
As an angel, Micah had some skills inherent to his faction. Thanks to his wings, he could fly, and his own magic meant he could tuck them deep inside of him when he wanted to pass for human. He could follow all sorts of psychic trails, and his celestial aura meant he could pick up on emotions and know when some soul was lying to him. Lately, it was becoming more of a nuisance as his unpredictable aura caused anything electrical to short out; a pity when he couldn’t help but tinker with tech so different than anything he’d ever known. It took three witches from a local coven to ward the new casino against the brothers’ powers, and after Raze complained how much the coven had charged, Micah thought it might be worth it to learn a spell or two.
He wasn’t a spellcaster or a charmer like Gwendolyn was. Hilda, one of the younger witches, had a gift when it came to warding items against a celestial aura, and Micah hoped she could teach him in between her helping her coven get their new café—also located in the Twilight Sphere building—off of the ground. When she couldn’t spare the time, she suggested he try another coven, one on the outskirts of the City of Sin.
Figuring there was no harm in trying, Micah did. But he didn’t find a teacher.
Oh, no.
He found his soulmate.
All faction beings were owed a lifemate. After millennia of secretly looking for his—Micah had searched for the one woman meant for him almost as hard as he had their talisman—he’d decided that being deprived of theirs was just another way the Heavenly Father had punished the Fallen. Over three thousand years and there had never been a sign that he’d met his soulmate before—until he approached the coven house and she was suddenly there.
She had a powerful aura that crackled like logs on a fire. Her scent reminded him of a rich, earthy smoke. Long, wavy hair, as dark as a midnight sky, spilled down her back, but her purple eyes blazed.
Micah later thought it fitting that she was called Phoenix. The fire witch could tame the spark and curse the flame, and when the youngest angel prince first saw her, it was as if he burned up from the tips of his inky black wings to his boots to be in her presence. She seemed to appear from nowhere, rising up from the ashes, bursting into a conflagration that seared his soul before she had—taking him as a trespasser—threw her fire at him.
But that was fine with Micah. After all, his own celestial aura recognized her instantly. Phoenix was his soulmate, and the instant he knew who she was to him, his soul was no longer his own. Just like how Micah willingly offered her his heart, his half of the soul they shared belonged to Phoenix even before he spoke a single word to her.
