Seven Archangels: Annihilation by Jane Lebak

Author:Jane Lebak [Lebak, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Philangelus Press
Published: 2014-09-04T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

He felt her awaken.

Saraquael moved closer to Remiel, unable to look at her too carefully but also unwilling to take his attention away from her. His heart pounded.

Remiel opened white-ringed eyes, shivering as she huddled against the arm of the couch. Her chest heaved. Saraquael's cats scattered through the open window, but although he watched them with envy, he remained. Remiel reeked of ozone and smoke which Saraquael tried not to notice.

Clutching a brown pillow to her stomach, she regarded the paintings and the book shelves with a flat affect. Her eyes had faded to butter yellow, but despite that, her grip around her legs remained locked, and her chin rested on her knees. Saraquael had pulled the drapes, but that didn't account for the darkness. Although she must have sobered some because she hadn't fled, she seemed more feral than before.

Zadkiel and Raguel stood guard—Zadkiel on the outside and Raguel within. They'd put up a Guard although it was futile.

Tension emanated from Remiel in concentric rings like the plunk of a stone in a pond, and for a moment Saraquael wished he could do for her as a Cherub did to a Seraph and absorb all that erratic power.

And then the energy ended like a broken circuit. Remiel slackened into the cushions. Raguel stepped forward, then stopped as Saraquael reached for her. A moment after, he recoiled.

She'd done that deliberately.

She'd run herself out of energy deliberately.

His heart was all one question as he knelt on the carpet facing her.

He sought her pale eyes with his green ones, and she reached for his hand. She extended her fingertips to his hair, and they shook as she rolled some of the brown strands between thumb and forefinger.

"It's over now," Saraquael murmured. Why had she drained herself of all her power? Was it still the madness? "You're safe with us, and no one's coming for you."

Remiel said, "I thought angels couldn't dream."

"We can't," Saraquael said.

"I've been dreaming."

Raguel started, and Saraquael had to force himself not to recoil.

"I've been dreaming I'm destroying Gabriel, and my hands are puppets and I have to do whatever I'm told. Over and over I have to rip out his heart, and I know he's dead because his blood is all over me. Camael looks at me, but it's only a mirror. Voices tell me I'm finally special because Camael never destroyed an angel."

"I'm sorry," Saraquael said.

"You didn't know." Remiel knit her fingers, then shifted so her feet dropped to the carpet. "Which one am I? I can't remember. Am I determined by my company, so when I'm with you I'm Remiel—but when I'm with them, am I Camael?"

Saraquael didn't answer. She leaned forward and rested her hands on his shoulders. "Sit with me," she said, and Saraquael joined her. "You too," she said to Raguel, and he took a position on the ottoman.

"Do you still love me?" she asked Raguel.

The Principality nodded.

She closed her eyes. "And you, Saraquael?"

"You know I love you. You're my closest friend."

Remiel hesitated, then rested her head on his shoulder as he cupped her in his wings.

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