Fic: Rogue (Gabriel/M, Gabriel/F, PG-13) 16/36
For full notes and other chapters, please see the Masterpost.
Notes: This is the third part of the Missing an Angel series. It is recommended that you read the first two before reading this one.
Chapter Rating: PG-13 - Warning: Character death, but let's face it, you knew it was coming...
Chapter word count: 1,382
Chapter Summary: There are certain things you should never do, such as piss off an Archangel…
CHAPTER 16:
Death
The sun was setting. Gabriel stared out the window, her fingers stroking idly over her flat belly. There was a new spark inside her, the proto-soul of a freshly conceived child. She could already feel the patterns of Fergus’ soul imprinted on this virgin soul, this Nephilim.
Nephilim were not inherently evil. Lucifer and Hell had made them evil. Hers wouldn’t be.
She wondered how many times she’d have to repeat that to herself before she could believe it.
A hellhound sat on the beach a hundred feet away from the door, a greasy smear in the darkness of the night. Forged in her own flames, it was just barely visible to the Archangel. Gabriel frowned at the monster and turned her back on it. Her child would not be a monster. Fergus’ child would not be a monster. It wouldn’t. She wouldn’t allow it.
Speaking of Fergus, the man was stretching behind her, groaning in appreciation as he worked out the kinks from a day in bed. He turned a grin on her, one that quickly dropped into an expression of shock, one arm stretched up and bent at the elbow, his hand behind his head. “Wow.”
“Fergus?”
“Is that...? You’re glowing! Is that what you really look like?”
Gabriel glanced down at her own body, seeing nothing different. “I don’t... oh.” Fergus’ time of death was approaching fast. He was looking through the veil, able to see Gabriel’s iridescent grace. “I suppose it is.”
“May I…?” Fergus approached slowly, reaching his hands out toward her. Gabriel stayed where she was, letting Fergus touch. He smoothed his fingers over the edges of her grace, tracing the lines and ripples of the power that had always sustained her. His touch ghosted up, around her back to the swell of her folded wings. “What’s this?”
Wings. Gabriel couldn’t answer that honestly even now. “My magic.” Fergus was going to burn on Azazel’s rack in a few hours. Gabriel couldn’t give the demons her identity, her face. Not now. She had a baby to protect. “I can’t feel that, you know.”
“Can you feel this?” Fergus asked, pulling his hands up to cover her shoulder blades.
“No, can’t feel that…” Gabriel smiled innocently at Fergus.
“How about this?” His fingers slide around her arms, curling loosely around her biceps.
“Still nothing…”
“This?” Fergus leaned in to brush his lips over Gabriel’s.
“That, I feel.”
Fergus drew his hands up, burying them deep in Gabriel’s hair. Gabriel gripped Fergus’ shoulders, guiding him back toward the bed. He grinned, nipping at her mouth, letting her lead him.
Outside, the hellhound howled.
Fergus stiffened, and not in the pleasurable way. “Is that… it’s time.” He closed his eyes, his body tense before Gabriel. “Time for you to kill me.”
Gabriel shushed him, nudging him toward the bed. “Not now,” she whispered, pecking little kisses over his face. “Not yet. Not yet.”
The man relaxed, and Gabriel curled her arms around his back, leaning him down toward the bed. She sought out his mouth again with hers, one final, lingering kiss…
…as she pushed, slicing her grace through his soul as hard and fast as she could, ripping it from his body, killing him instantly, painlessly, before he could even realize he had been attacked. Fergus fell limp in her arms, and Gabriel laid him gently on the bed.
“Now.”
The angel dressed manually, mechanically, lacing her clothes up and stepping into her soft leather boots. She picked up Fergus’ clothes and dressed him as well, taking the time to touch every inch of his body one last time, her fingers memorizing his skin. She brushed them over Fergus’ eyes, closing them, and leaned in to touch her lips to his in one final, gentle kiss. “You asked me to,” she whispered against his mouth. “You asked me to!”
If this were a story, she would cry now. One perfect, angelic tear to fall on Fergus’ cheek and reawaken him as her lieutenant, her beloved Cariel.
She didn’t. As Gabriel straightened up, she waved her hand dismissively at the blood wards. They instantly faded, breaking the spells of protection woven over the house. Three smears of hellhounds rushed in, shattering the windows and splintering the door.
“Where is your mistress?” Gabriel asked, spreading her wings wide as she unsheathed her sword. “Send her a message for me.” She shoved off, one slice of her blade, then two three with her fiery wings. The three shadows broke apart into six pieces, every hound dead.
“Tell her I’m coming.”
The angel sheathed her sword again and stepped out into the snow. There were a couple of other places she needed to stop at before tracking Lilith to Hell, where the demon was almost certainly cowering.
The first stop was the manse where Father Innes still lived. Gabriel entered his parlor as calmly as if she owned the place. Innes shoved his chair back, hastily getting to his feet, but Gabriel simply set her hand, palm down, on his desk. “Fergus MacLeod is in the little fisherman’s shack on the beach,” she told the priest. “See that he gets a proper burial. In the churchyard.” She lifted her hand, revealing a small pile of gold coins, more than enough to pay for Fergus’ internment.
“I… how… who… ?”
Gabriel avoided answering by turning on her heel and taking to her wings. This flight was a short one, several miles only, landing her just outside the MacLeod’s cottage. Huddled against the door, chained to the wall, was a familiar little dog. Gabriel crouched down, running her hand over Thorn’s side and brushing away the snow from his coat. “You’ve outlived your natural life several times over, little pup.”
Thorn wagged his tail and licked Gabriel’s hand, wriggling into the warmth emanating from her body. He was an old dog now, twenty-five years old if he was a day, but he looked no older than the four years he’d been when he first died. Fergus had really done a number on him when he brought the dog back to life. Was Thorn immortal now? Gabriel wasn’t sure.
She did know that she liked Thorn, for all the role he played in Fergus’ corruption. Thorn had been her friend as much as he’d been Fergus’, and she had missed the dog’s simple companionship. A stroke of her fingers over the chain around his neck freed him, and Gabriel beckoned with two fingers for him to follow her.
The angel flung the cottage door open with more force than was necessary, relishing in how it banged against the far wall and made both inhabitants jump. Issobell was sitting near a candle, sewing, while Brody sat in his chair by the fire with a book. Brody was the first to rise, a friendly smile on his face covering less honorable thoughts. Gabriel was not blind to how Brody’s eyes raked over her female body.
“Why hello there, traveler. Lost?”
“You don’t recognize me?” Gabriel asked, cocking her head to the side. “I’m hurt. After all these years together, Brody, I thought for sure you’d know a god when you saw one.”
“A… god?” Brody drew back, confused. “Wait… Loki?”
“Hello.” Gabriel wiggled her fingers at Brody in a little wave. “Miss me?”
Issobell looked between her brother and the angel, slowly setting her project aside. “Loki, welcome back! It’s been… God, years? You look… different?”
“As if you ever paid attention.” Gabriel rolled her head to the side to look sardonically at the woman. “Your son is dead, Issobell. Does that make you sad? Or will you celebrate?”
“Fergus is dead?” Brody repeated. “When? How!?”
“How do witches usually die?” Gabriel asked. “He sold his soul to your mistress, and she came to collect.”
“That’s… too bad.” Brody was slowly backing away from Gabriel, flinching when she turned her head to look directly at him.
“It really, really is,” Gabriel answered. “Because I’ve hated the two of you ever since I first laid eyes on your rotted, corrupted souls. His love for you was the only reason I haven’t come for you sooner.” Her sword slid into her hand easily, and with a wave of her other hand, the door swung shut behind her.
Next...
Notes: This is the third part of the Missing an Angel series. It is recommended that you read the first two before reading this one.
Chapter Rating: PG-13 - Warning: Character death, but let's face it, you knew it was coming...
Chapter word count: 1,382
Chapter Summary: There are certain things you should never do, such as piss off an Archangel…
CHAPTER 16:
Death
The sun was setting. Gabriel stared out the window, her fingers stroking idly over her flat belly. There was a new spark inside her, the proto-soul of a freshly conceived child. She could already feel the patterns of Fergus’ soul imprinted on this virgin soul, this Nephilim.
Nephilim were not inherently evil. Lucifer and Hell had made them evil. Hers wouldn’t be.
She wondered how many times she’d have to repeat that to herself before she could believe it.
A hellhound sat on the beach a hundred feet away from the door, a greasy smear in the darkness of the night. Forged in her own flames, it was just barely visible to the Archangel. Gabriel frowned at the monster and turned her back on it. Her child would not be a monster. Fergus’ child would not be a monster. It wouldn’t. She wouldn’t allow it.
Speaking of Fergus, the man was stretching behind her, groaning in appreciation as he worked out the kinks from a day in bed. He turned a grin on her, one that quickly dropped into an expression of shock, one arm stretched up and bent at the elbow, his hand behind his head. “Wow.”
“Fergus?”
“Is that...? You’re glowing! Is that what you really look like?”
Gabriel glanced down at her own body, seeing nothing different. “I don’t... oh.” Fergus’ time of death was approaching fast. He was looking through the veil, able to see Gabriel’s iridescent grace. “I suppose it is.”
“May I…?” Fergus approached slowly, reaching his hands out toward her. Gabriel stayed where she was, letting Fergus touch. He smoothed his fingers over the edges of her grace, tracing the lines and ripples of the power that had always sustained her. His touch ghosted up, around her back to the swell of her folded wings. “What’s this?”
Wings. Gabriel couldn’t answer that honestly even now. “My magic.” Fergus was going to burn on Azazel’s rack in a few hours. Gabriel couldn’t give the demons her identity, her face. Not now. She had a baby to protect. “I can’t feel that, you know.”
“Can you feel this?” Fergus asked, pulling his hands up to cover her shoulder blades.
“No, can’t feel that…” Gabriel smiled innocently at Fergus.
“How about this?” His fingers slide around her arms, curling loosely around her biceps.
“Still nothing…”
“This?” Fergus leaned in to brush his lips over Gabriel’s.
“That, I feel.”
Fergus drew his hands up, burying them deep in Gabriel’s hair. Gabriel gripped Fergus’ shoulders, guiding him back toward the bed. He grinned, nipping at her mouth, letting her lead him.
Outside, the hellhound howled.
Fergus stiffened, and not in the pleasurable way. “Is that… it’s time.” He closed his eyes, his body tense before Gabriel. “Time for you to kill me.”
Gabriel shushed him, nudging him toward the bed. “Not now,” she whispered, pecking little kisses over his face. “Not yet. Not yet.”
The man relaxed, and Gabriel curled her arms around his back, leaning him down toward the bed. She sought out his mouth again with hers, one final, lingering kiss…
…as she pushed, slicing her grace through his soul as hard and fast as she could, ripping it from his body, killing him instantly, painlessly, before he could even realize he had been attacked. Fergus fell limp in her arms, and Gabriel laid him gently on the bed.
“Now.”
The angel dressed manually, mechanically, lacing her clothes up and stepping into her soft leather boots. She picked up Fergus’ clothes and dressed him as well, taking the time to touch every inch of his body one last time, her fingers memorizing his skin. She brushed them over Fergus’ eyes, closing them, and leaned in to touch her lips to his in one final, gentle kiss. “You asked me to,” she whispered against his mouth. “You asked me to!”
If this were a story, she would cry now. One perfect, angelic tear to fall on Fergus’ cheek and reawaken him as her lieutenant, her beloved Cariel.
She didn’t. As Gabriel straightened up, she waved her hand dismissively at the blood wards. They instantly faded, breaking the spells of protection woven over the house. Three smears of hellhounds rushed in, shattering the windows and splintering the door.
“Where is your mistress?” Gabriel asked, spreading her wings wide as she unsheathed her sword. “Send her a message for me.” She shoved off, one slice of her blade, then two three with her fiery wings. The three shadows broke apart into six pieces, every hound dead.
“Tell her I’m coming.”
The angel sheathed her sword again and stepped out into the snow. There were a couple of other places she needed to stop at before tracking Lilith to Hell, where the demon was almost certainly cowering.
The first stop was the manse where Father Innes still lived. Gabriel entered his parlor as calmly as if she owned the place. Innes shoved his chair back, hastily getting to his feet, but Gabriel simply set her hand, palm down, on his desk. “Fergus MacLeod is in the little fisherman’s shack on the beach,” she told the priest. “See that he gets a proper burial. In the churchyard.” She lifted her hand, revealing a small pile of gold coins, more than enough to pay for Fergus’ internment.
“I… how… who… ?”
Gabriel avoided answering by turning on her heel and taking to her wings. This flight was a short one, several miles only, landing her just outside the MacLeod’s cottage. Huddled against the door, chained to the wall, was a familiar little dog. Gabriel crouched down, running her hand over Thorn’s side and brushing away the snow from his coat. “You’ve outlived your natural life several times over, little pup.”
Thorn wagged his tail and licked Gabriel’s hand, wriggling into the warmth emanating from her body. He was an old dog now, twenty-five years old if he was a day, but he looked no older than the four years he’d been when he first died. Fergus had really done a number on him when he brought the dog back to life. Was Thorn immortal now? Gabriel wasn’t sure.
She did know that she liked Thorn, for all the role he played in Fergus’ corruption. Thorn had been her friend as much as he’d been Fergus’, and she had missed the dog’s simple companionship. A stroke of her fingers over the chain around his neck freed him, and Gabriel beckoned with two fingers for him to follow her.
The angel flung the cottage door open with more force than was necessary, relishing in how it banged against the far wall and made both inhabitants jump. Issobell was sitting near a candle, sewing, while Brody sat in his chair by the fire with a book. Brody was the first to rise, a friendly smile on his face covering less honorable thoughts. Gabriel was not blind to how Brody’s eyes raked over her female body.
“Why hello there, traveler. Lost?”
“You don’t recognize me?” Gabriel asked, cocking her head to the side. “I’m hurt. After all these years together, Brody, I thought for sure you’d know a god when you saw one.”
“A… god?” Brody drew back, confused. “Wait… Loki?”
“Hello.” Gabriel wiggled her fingers at Brody in a little wave. “Miss me?”
Issobell looked between her brother and the angel, slowly setting her project aside. “Loki, welcome back! It’s been… God, years? You look… different?”
“As if you ever paid attention.” Gabriel rolled her head to the side to look sardonically at the woman. “Your son is dead, Issobell. Does that make you sad? Or will you celebrate?”
“Fergus is dead?” Brody repeated. “When? How!?”
“How do witches usually die?” Gabriel asked. “He sold his soul to your mistress, and she came to collect.”
“That’s… too bad.” Brody was slowly backing away from Gabriel, flinching when she turned her head to look directly at him.
“It really, really is,” Gabriel answered. “Because I’ve hated the two of you ever since I first laid eyes on your rotted, corrupted souls. His love for you was the only reason I haven’t come for you sooner.” Her sword slid into her hand easily, and with a wave of her other hand, the door swung shut behind her.
Next...