Magic and Alphas: A Paranormal Romance Collection Page 3

  She almost snorted.

  If only Mother could see her now. Impulsive and impatient were far from Honor’s most prominent qualities, yet now they surged forth. The foot stomping her sister favored even came to mind, and if Honor’s foot had any sensation, she would do it.

  “Everything works out how it should,” Aaron said, another riddle Honor couldn’t solve. “It is time for you to make your choice.” Aaron stood and circled the desk to stand before Honor. Predictably, he donned the same white robe as she.

  Is there no color here? Do red and blue and green not exist?

  Aaron placed a gentle hand on Honor’s shoulder and she gasped at the warmth of his touch. It was the first, the only, physical sensation she noticed since waking in this alternate world. This… Hereafter.

  “You have been selected, Honor Ward.”

  “Selected? For what?” Honor ignored the growing sense of dread. But even as it spread, a sense of utter rightness seemed to flow directly to her very soul. A rightness which somehow confirmed Honor was exactly where she was supposed to be.

  “Why, to go back, of course.”

  Honor leapt to her unfeeling feet with that odd fluidity. “I can go back?”

  “Not as human, I’m afraid.”

  “Not h-human? What else is there?”

  Aaron shifted to put both hands on her shoulders, and Honor was ashamed at how she wished for the warmth from his unfeeling touch. Something to grab onto and ground her floundering emotions.

  “You, Honor Ward, have been chosen to become a Watcher. Believe me when I say ’tis a great privilege to serve the Archangel Gabriel. Few are given this honor.”

  “Archangel,” Honor repeated slowly. Riiiight. Okay, clearly this Aaron long ago descended into madness and was no longer right in the head, but Honor played along. “Where do I go should I refuse?”

  Confusion crossed Aaron’s gorgeous features. “But… no one refuses.”

  “Mayhap, but if you may… what if I were to refuse.”

  “Well, then I suppose you would go on to the Hereafter. The rest of it, anyway. What you see here is merely a stopping point for the chosen. Along with the chambers of the Archangels and rooms where the chosen are taught all they must needs know to return to the Earthly plane.”

  Honor knew not what to do. She was terrible at making decisions, always had been, waffling back and forth on the smallest of issues for hours, days even. Now she was faced with what was likely the biggest decision of her life—or death, she supposed—and she hadn’t a clue what to do.

  Honor inhaled deeply and met Aaron’s dark eyes. “Tell me more about these Watchers.”

  * * *

  Meeting of this nature never went well. Michael should have anticipated the dissent, but in his fierce desire to hunt down the Horsemen, he failed to consider the opinions of his contentious brothers and, at times, their downright petty behavior.

  “I wager they must be banished, but that decision is yours alone, I’m afraid,” Raguel said. Michael held back a scowl. He knew Raguel wouldn’t be so considerate as to leave it at that. Naturally, Michael was correct. Raguel went on and on his typical self-righteous rant. “If we have definitive proof of their guilt. But it sounds as if we cannot confirm anything, brother. Have I not told you more than once? It is a blight on our very integrity to sentence the innocent.”

  “Proof? Innocent?” Azrael barked out, his tone incredulous. “Have you gone mad? What sort of proof do you need, Raguel? You know as well as I, the Horsemen are far from innocent. Pray tell who else would, or could, wipe out acres of crops and bring back the Black Plague, which we have not seen in over a century, to decimate an entire village?”

  Michael sighed as the two Archangels argued. The seven sat around a white, circular table in the Hereafter whilst they attempted to reach a consensus as to how to deal with the Horsemen, once captured. Their brother Raguel, the Archangel of Justice, never failed to push for a ridiculous amount of fair treatment. Even when dealing with evil so great it earned no such consideration, along with overwhelming evidence of culpability, Raguel sought to be absolutely certain before sentencing… even the Four Horsemen.

  Azrael, ever the passionate one, is the Archangel of Death. Though Azrael’s job wasn’t to bring about the death of humans. Rather he ensured all deserving human souls crossed peacefully to the Hereafter. In Azrael’s opinion, the Horsemen were slaughtering far too many humans, sending their souls to the Hereafter before their appointed time, and it was this single fact that infuriated his brother. Azrael was quite protective of his deceased humans and their souls.

  Raphael, the Healer, sighed as the familiar squabble continued, whilst Gabriel sat in silence opposite Michael. Barachiel, the Guardian, appeared bored as always and let out a spectacular yawn.

  “Brothers, mayhap we should focus upon the issue at hand?” Uriel asked.

  Michael could have kissed Uriel for interrupting his brothers’ petty quarrel. The Archangel of Peace would no sooner tolerate bickering amongst his brethren than he would invite Death to pull up a chair and join him at supper.

  Raguel shifted his glower from Azrael to turn it on Uriel, gaze narrowed. “Pray tell, which issue might that be, brother? Unjustly banishing immortals to the Underworld without benefit of a fair trial?”

  “Please,” Azrael scoffed loudly, drawing everyone’s attention once more. “Nothing is unjust or undeserved when it pertains to the Horsemen. They are nothing more than tyrants and murderers. Ones who wield too much power on the Earthly plane.” Azrael rose from his seat and emphatically drilled a single finger down on the pure white tabletop. “They deserve the same mercy they showed their victims… none.”

  “Sit, my brother.” Michael placed a steady hand on Azrael’s arm. The Archangel’s frown creased his face, but he did as asked and lowered into his seat.

  “Apologies, Michael,” Azrael said as his dark eyes flashed at Raguel. Azrael’s russet skin flushed with repressed anger.

  Michael nodded. “None required. Now…” He turned to another furious brother, Raguel. “I understand your concerns and your dedication to justice is admirable…”

  “But…?” Raguel snarled from between clenched teeth.

  “But, Azrael is correct. There is no question who or what is the cause of the streak of death and destruction that thunders across the lands of the Earthly plane. A plane whose citizens I vowed to protect. With my very life if necessary.” Michael stood and faced the six other Archangels. “I shall be going after the Horsemen, and shall banish them once apprehended. There is no changing my mind and receiving your approval is not why I called this meeting.” Michael leaned forward and placed his palms on the table. “What I require from each of you is your vow. The vow to uphold my decision and if it comes to it, assist me in banishing the Horsemen from the Earthly plane, lest the Apocalypse be upon us.”

  Michael straightened to his full warrior’s height and met each of his brothers’ eyes.

  “In truth. Which of my brothers can I count on to pledge their commitment?”

  * * *

  “We shall hunt them down singly. Any attempt to capture all four at once spreads our forces too thin,” Michael announced to the collected members of his Guard. “I obtained pledges from my fellow Archangels.” Though it took three hours of exhaustive arguing to finally break Raguel. “They vowed to provide us with aid, within the boundaries of their powers, in our quest.”

  His angels and saints nodded and murmured words of approval.

  “How is it we shall go about finding the Horsemen?” Joan asked.

  Michael gave Joan a small, but serious, smile. “We shall consult with a Divinator and see if mayhap he or she see can pick up any trace of the Horsemen.”

  “Aye, good idea,” Donovan said, a wide grin on his face. “I approve, Protector.”

  “Pray tell how you believe this possible? There is no guarantee a Divinator will see anything.” Michael and the others turned toward the angel who spoke, a young male named Alwin. Alwin was a somewhat recent addition to the Guard, sent to the Earthly plane a mere decade ago.

  “This is truth,” Michael responded with a dip of his chin. “You are correct to have doubts, Alwin.” Michael shifted his attention from the inexperienced angel to gaze upon the entire Guard. “Promises cannot be made when it comes to the mystery of divination.”

  “Apologies, Protector, but I fail to understand,” Alwin said. “How are we to find a Divinator to provide such specific knowledge of the future? My understanding is that divination is not an ability that can be focused on a single event.”

  Of course, Alwin spoke the truth. Divinators are immortals, part of the faction known as practitioners. Born human to at least one practitioner parent, their youths don’t come into their abilities and gain immortality until their twenty-third year. Divination, a specific branch of practitioners, is the gift of sight, specifically foresight of future events. Unfortunately, one could make a request for a Divinator to seek visions of a particular incident or persons, but their abilities are unpredictable at best, and for the most part, wholly random.

  Michael wasn’t about to allow that tiny fact to keep him from trying. Or from seeking other ways. And, as always, he came to the gathering prepared.

  “To our great fortune,” Michael continued, a rare grin splitting his stoic façade. “There exists a rumor of an immortal. One who possesses the abilities of all practitioners.” Michael paused as the collected angels and saints gasped and exchanged low whispers, clearly shocked to hear Michael speak of such an impossibility. “As of yet,” he said, “I have neither met nor confirmed the existence of this… master of practitioners. But, if in truth, there is one with the ability to tell us when and where a Horseman shall strike, it lies with this M
aster Practitioner.”

  “His name?” Tony asked.

  “I have been told he is called Dionysus Albericus.”

  As the Guard discussed and argued the merits of using or not using the so-called Master Practitioner, Michael sat, folded his arms across his chest, and waited for his faithful followers to arrive at the inevitable conclusion… find the Master, find the Horsemen, or lose the Earthly plane to the four evil brothers.

  Then prepare for the Apocalypse.

  Chapter 2

  Tucked in a shadowed corner in the chambers of the Guard of the Righteous, Honor covered her mouth with a hand to muffle a horrified gasp. She listened in horror as the Archangel Michael, laid out his plans to fight, capture, and banish the four Horsemen.

  Her very first assignment as a Watcher, and Honor already felt overwhelmed and frightened. She wished more than anything she could make herself visible, cry out, and warn the stern-looking, yet strikingly handsome Archangel warrior, of the foolishness of his endeavor. She ached to beg the male to abandon this futile mission so as not to endanger himself and the other angelen and sancten of the Guard.

  But Honor could do naught but stand back and allow the events to unfurl as the Fates intended.

  It was what it meant to be a Watcher. What she accepted when she agreed. Never to be seen or heard whilst going about her duties. Sent from the Hereafter with a singular purpose… to Watch. The only immortal classification with the gift of invisibility without a spell, Honor remained unseen as her insides twisted in abject fear, whilst the Guard grew increasingly boisterous and enthusiastic as they rallied around the Archangel’s ludicrous proposal. Honor received this task mere hours ago, and already she longed for Gabriel to chose another. She most definitely did not want to bear witness to the destruction of these brave and honorable immortals.

  Before Gabriel sent Honor back to the Earthly plane as a Watcher, she spent what seemed like days, weeks even—though she knew in the Hereafter, time did not pass as it did on the Earthly plane—under the tutelage of other angels. They taught her what she need know; what it meant to be immortal and the various factions, both righteous and deceitful, and received extensive knowledge on both Michael Caelum, the Archangel of Protection, and the four Horsemen—Death, Pestilence, War, and Famine.

  What she learnt in her studies shook Honor to the core. The sinister daemon brothers were frighteningly ruthless and bloodthirsty, determined to bring Judgment Day at any cost, opening seal after seal until the Earth, and everyone on it, succumbed to their destruction.

  As her mentor explained it, the vast portal that lies directly beneath the heavily populated village of Eastlake Falls would open, permanently, allowing every wicked daemon and sin-laden immortal of the Underworld to escape. Most would gleefully kill, maim, and torture humans and immortals alike until the Earthly plane became a literal hell on earth. That Michael possessed the sheer arrogance—Or is it bravery?—to believe he could capture and banish the four, as of now, unstoppable Horsemen, left Honor trembling.

  How was she to stand idly by and Watch as the virtuous Archangel was mayhap struck down? Or gravely injured? Just the image of Michael’s spilt blood, dark red fluid soaking the ground beneath his slain form, turned her stomach.

  Honor’s attention was wrenched from her gruesome thoughts when the angels and saints stood and began to exit the hall, still eagerly discussing the different means they would utilize to capture each of the Horsemen. Their optimism was honorable, yet it saddened Honor.

  She lingered in her corner until Michael remained alone in the open chamber. Honor had to admit he was a sight to behold. No doubt Michael’s face was stern and wholly unapproachable, all sharp angles with a strong jaw, remarkably blue eyes as cold as stone. But Honor saw the unfriendly exterior for what it was, armor. Armor which hid Michael’s true emotions, the angel only displaying power and confidence, the likes of which inspired the Guard to loyally follow his every command.

  Her gaze left Michael’s callous yet beautiful face, greedy to take in more. And Fates, was there ever more. Even through his loose hanging clothes, she knew him to be broad in the shoulders, with bulging arms and tree trunk thighs. In truth, every inch of the Archangel projected tremendous strength of both body and mind. The flickering flames dancing in the fireplace as tall as she, cast shadows along Michael’s angular muscles. The orange glow merely enhanced his raw masculinity and made it that much harder to tear her gaze away.

  Without the distraction of the Guard, Honor succumbed to temptation and further studied the handsome and imposing Protector. She was there to Watch, after all.

  But angels and saints above, this male was completely unlike any immortal she had encountered thus far, not that there had been many. In truth, the only immortals Honor interacted with were Aaron, Gabriel, and the mentors who provided training in the Hereafter. And in her opinion, not a single one held a flicker of a candle’s flame to Michael Caelum. The mentor explained Michael’s chosen surname translated to “heaven”, which was quite fitting as the male was indeed a heavenly vision.

  With his large stature, Honor suspected Michael towered over not only nearly every human, but most immortals as well. Inexplicably enthralled, Honor absorbed even the smallest of details, committing each to memory. She began her exploration at the top of Michael’s thick mane of golden hair. Wavy and silky, the tips brushed Michael’s shoulders in a way that made Honor shiver. Her perusal continued down an impressive chest, and she found herself fascinated by the way his body narrowed to slender hips, tapered like the tip of an arrow. On the way down that glorious torso, Honor noted leather straps which crisscrossed over Michael’s chest.

  Her gaze traced the belts around Michael’s ribcage to his back, where a mighty sword hung between his shoulder blades, suspended in an elaborate sheath, hilt up, blade down. Honor studied the worn grip and gilded pommel, inhaling a sharp breath when she recognized the weapon.

  By the very Fates!

  The legendary Sword of Light. The divine weapon of the Protector. Honor mulled over whether it appropriate to genuflect in its presence.

  She decided to remain standing, but stared at the blade for many minutes before finally managing to pull her attention from the sacred sword. Looking for somewhere else to place her focus, Honor’s eyes dropped below Michael’s waist. He chose that exact moment to shift and her cheeks burst into flames. Now angled away from Honor, she found herself staring directly at Michael’s perfectly rounded backside.

  Mayhap his trousers aren’t as loose as his tunic.

  Skin from the tips of Honor’s ears all the way to her collarbone flushed and tingled as a jolt of electricity crackled along her nerve endings.

  Prithee I don’t burn to ash, she thought as she voraciously took in Michael’s outstanding rear end. A deep-seated hunger, unlike anything Honor had known, unfurled low in her abdomen, smoldering with heat and desire and an unfamiliar ache that made her feel empty.

  Her mind wandered and Honor wondered how firm the curved muscles of Michael’s buttocks might feel beneath her hands should she slide them over his tight waistcoat and trousers. Oh my! Honor all but burst into flames at the indecency of her thoughts and the prickly discomfort of her shame extinguished the burgeoning desire. Humiliated, Honor forced her gaze away from the visual delights of Michael Caelum’s assets.

  A moment of rebellion and Honor snuck one last peek at Michael, knowing it was wrong but unable to stop herself. Halfway done mapping every angle and line of Michael’s mouthwatering body, the Archangel suddenly froze, the only movement the rising and falling of his chest. He tilted his head as if straining to listen for… something.

  Honor held her breath and made not a single sound, though she knew she was being ridiculous. According to both Aaron and her mentors, immortals could neither see nor hear a Watcher when he or she masked their presence. Yet Honor quickly discovered Michael’s actions defied what she knew. Her pulse raced as the Archangel deliberately scanned the room.

  Ever so slowly, Michael turned in a tight circle, his intelligent eyes scrutinizing every nook and cranny. When his sharp gaze came to rest upon the very spot where Honor stood, she panicked. Heart pounding and hands trembling, she struggled to remain absolutely still as if the slightest of movements would give her away. Michael fixed his stare upon Honor’s, and at that moment she would swear to the Fates he could truly see her.