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“What the hell have they done to him?” Johnny asked, yanking open the back of the car so that Sariel could deposit his brother inside.
“I don’t… know,” he answered, his eyes trained on Michaelson’s unconscious form.
“We need to go,” Marilyn urged. “They’re going to track the magic back here, and we need to be long gone by then.”
I stopped Sariel before he could climb in the back. “You did good,” I said. “You won’t regret this, Sariel.”
He gulped. “I hope not.”
20
CONVINCING MIKEY
Sariel
Marilyn determined that a spell had been cast on Mikey, and not any good kind. It had taken her five minutes to reverse it, during which I’d held his head over a plastic bag while he heaved and puked his guts out.
The effects were eye-opening. His skin didn’t immediately regain its color and he didn’t wake up suddenly feeling better, but he no longer looked to be on the brink of death. That was all I could ask for.
Marilyn had informed us that whatever that spell had been, it had been done recently. While it hadn’t affected his cognitive functions directly, it had slowed his muscles and made him sick.
I didn’t have to say anything for them to realize that this was definitely something Azazel would have done to keep Michaelson in check; make him physically weak until he didn’t need him to be anymore.
Marilyn couldn’t tell me if this had been cast on him before, but she was happy to inform me that there were ways to ensure that it would be impossible to cast a spell like that one on him again.
I thanked her, then kept quiet.
The emotions swirling within me were volatile and wild, and there was not enough room in this vehicle for me to let them out properly. No amount of deep breathing exercises or counting could calm me down. My angel was even worse.
Us angels were solitary most of the time, but whenever we developed a familial bond, it could be as easy as insulting our family to find oneself on the other end of our wrath.
Heavenly angels—even though I couldn’t judge myself byallof their rules, obviously—were not quick to anger. Fallen angels, however, were quick to whatever emotion was on hand at the time, including anger and disgust and murderous intent.
I told myself I should calm down, but didn’t want to. Even Aria didn’t try to placate me, which made some unfamiliar emotion blossom in my chest.
Although she held one of my hands and leaned her head on my shoulder, she left me to stew in my rage, let me experience my wrath and passion fully, and petted my hands when I squeezed them too tight.
The mood in the car had sobered at Marilyn’s admission. Even Neo didn’t speak as we drove, keeping his snarky comments to himself.
I appreciated them all at this moment more than I had ever appreciated anyone else.
Neo pulled up outside of a two-story townhouse with a big front porch. When he’d volunteered a place to stay that wasn’t out of Jae’s expected range, I was not expecting this.
“Whose house is this?” Reese asked as we piled out.
“Mine,” he answered cryptically.
“And you don’t think they’ll track us back to this place?”
“It was bought under the name Rory Ramirez,” he explained, his gaze far away. “She was my fiancee. They won’t look here because I bought it after she died. It’s the last thing they’d expect me to do.”
Nothing more was said about the house, but as he showed us to our rooms, a deep-rooted sadness filled me for Neo.
The house was fully furnished, from the guest bedrooms and bathrooms being stocked with amenities to the fresh flowers on the counter with a note on it. Neo hadn’t quite coped with his fiancee’s death the way he was letting us believe.
“You two can stay in here,” he said to Aria and I, motioning to a guest room. “You can leave Michaelson across the hall.”
He disappeared down the hallway before we could reply, and Aria sighed.
