Vampire in Paradise by Hill Sandra

Author:Hill, Sandra [Hill, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780062210487
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2014-11-25T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

The Good Book says . . . what? . . .

Sigurd sat alone on the deserted end of the beach, waiting for Marisa’s waitress shift to end.

Despite being scared spitless after what she had witnessed, the stubborn woman had insisted on going to work.

She still wasn’t convinced that vangels and Lucies existed. “It must be some kind of magic. A mirage or something,” she had said, hoping he would agree.

“What further proof do you need?”

“None!” She’d backed away from him, as if he was the monster, not the devil he’d destroyed.

Now he had other things to ponder.

“Michael!” Sigurd called out.

Silence.

“I need to talk with you,” he yelled, looking upward.

More silence, except for the shush of the waves that hit the shore in a foamy spill and the occasional gull overhead caw-cawing in its flight over the waters, searching for fishy food.

The stars blinked above. The moon shone brightly, bouncing off the water like celestial sparks. But, as usual, Michael didn’t come when summoned in a flash of wings and a graceful landing. In fact, most times, he appeared when least expected, when least wanted. Although Sigurd surely wanted him now, as evidenced by his having the balls to summon an archangel. Leastways, Michael would view it that way. Sigurd couldn’t be concerned about the repercussions now. Surely more years added on to the already expanded original penance.

Pressing his palms together, fingertips pointing upward in a prayerful position, he pleaded, “Please come.”

“What now?” Michael somehow managed to be sitting next to him on the sand, staring out toward the ocean. He was wearing denim jeans and a T-shirt, just like Sigurd, except his were white, all white, and his feet were bare. His long, dark hair hung loose to his shoulders. Sigurd was not a man given to admiring the looks of other men, but Michael was truly glorious in appearance, even in modern clothing. Besides that, there was an aura of light around him, and the essence of some divine perfume, like sandalwood or frankincense. Essence of angel.

My brain is falling apart, bit by bit. Really. Me, speculating on what kind of cologne an archangel exudes!

“Is God’s creation of this world not wondrous?” Michael sighed with appreciation at the scene before them. “The oceans, the skies, the moon and stars. Like a fine painting, His brushstrokes created—”

“I need a favor,” Sigurd interrupted. When Michael started on a discussion of all the wondrous things the Lord had done, he could go on for a long time. Not that the Lord hadn’t done all that Michael tended to drone on about, but time was of essence to Sigurd. “A big favor.”

“Oh? And thou art deserving of favors . . . why?”

“The Bible says, ‘Ask and you shall receive.’ So I thought I would ask.”

“Thou darest quote the Bible to me? Verily I say, as I have always said, you Vikings are thickheaded fools.”

Sigurd felt his face heat. He would like to argue with Michael over that overused insult, but he needed to get in his good graces.

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