Rebel Angels by Michele Lang

Author:Michele Lang [Lang, Michele]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Historical, Romance, Paranormal
ISBN: 9780765323194
Google: G98vLgEACAAJ
Amazon: 0765323192
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 2013-03-12T07:00:00+00:00

14

After a long moment, the threat of violence slowly receded. Uzziel nodded, then stood. “Come with me, my brother,” he said to Raziel. “And we will speak of many things.”

His voice banished the tension coursing through the group still sitting on the ground. Raziel stood up, too, and the two fallen angels loomed high over the rest of our heads. “I am here,” Raziel replied. “But I will bring my bride with me. This is no place for her to stay alone.”

Uzziel hesitated, then nodded. “She may come.”

At the entrance to the tent, I turned back to look for Ziyad. He sat with Raziel’s brothers, far away in the corner, and he nodded silently and waved good-bye.

And that is the last I ever saw of Ziyad Juhuri. It breaks my heart, to think of him.

I followed behind the two former angels, one of them my husband, and I reminded myself that my temper was a flaw, not my strength. I drew my power to me with my rage, but often I forgot that the rage was not my power, it merely summoned it forth.

I managed not to ask where Uzziel was taking us. Heedless of the darkness, he walked into the woods, and I trailed behind the two men like an unruly shadow. I made a terrible racket, stumbling around in the darkness, as the men moved easily, talking in a low murmur. I barked my shin on a dead silver birch glowing dully in the moonlight and bit back a low curse. I am not known for my patience, my even temper, or my humility. This walk poked me in all these vulnerable places.

Finally we came upon a clearing, and a prim little house rose out of the darkness. In a flash I remembered my teacher’s hut in the woods outside of Kraków, and my eyes flooded with rebellious tears. I dashed them away with more intemperate language growled under my breath, then hurried to follow Raziel and Uzziel as they passed over the threshold.

Once Uzziel closed the door firmly behind us, his manner completely changed. Gone was the fierce, condescending Caucasian, and in his place stood a man with features as gentle and worn as Raziel’s.

Raziel laughed and I turned to face him. “It takes a lot to amaze you, my love. But Uzziel has managed it.”

“I had thought you were one of a kind,” I replied, too serious as usual.

My husband laughed louder, and I imagined Raziel’s golden wings that he had lost, stretching behind his shoulders once again. “No, not really. These are the Yazata I told you about in Baku—seraphim who fell to earth for love of women. They are fallen, but not demons. They live as men, untouched by hunger for power, free of the evil that the ancient demons possess. I asked to fall, and the Almighty gave me permission. But Uzziel and I walk the same road.”

Uzziel motioned for us to follow him across the room, which was empty except for rugs piled over the floor, in layers so deep that we sank into little hills of rugs as we walked forward.

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