Fic: Rogue (Gabriel/M, Gabriel/F, PG-13) 19/36
I miss you, Daniel! I hope everything's okay!
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
Chapter word count: 2,521
Chapter Summary: Gabriel vs. An Unidentified Angel! BEGIN!
CHAPTER 19:
Little Brother
“Hello, Gabriel.”
The angel wearing the old man was veiled, his grace pulled tightly in to his vessel. The faint waves emanating from his body were not enough to identify him, but they were strong enough to indicate that this was a powerful angel. Even if he hadn’t been radiating grace, Gabriel was able to recognize the signs of angelic possession. That unnatural stillness, the focus, the way the man’s body was ignoring his obvious limitations… Gabriel had been caught. She had just used her grace to reseal Hell… not to mention the obscene amount it took to open Hell in the first place, and the blessing she had given Gavin and his wife, and all of that rapid flying, and…
And she had been careless. Throwing grace around in Dundee and Canisbay had been as stupid as smacking Raphael over the head with a glowing sign and shouting for him to come after her. All the years she had spent in these two places had allowed them to soak up her grace passively, like a sponge. Actively using it had been the equivalent of squeezing that sponge, releasing it all at once.
Gabriel couldn’t feel any other angels nearby, but that meant nothing. This angel was veiled from her senses. Any number of brothers could be as well. She shifted Thorn into her left arm, her eyes never leaving the angel as she slowly drew her sword, just in case. She could take down one angel easily (as long as it wasn’t an Archangel). Anything more, and she might end up killing a brother. She didn’t want to do that. In all her years of life, the only angels Gabriel had killed had been those who had already fallen, the demonic Knights of Hell who had once laid siege to Heaven. Still, if this angel tried to drag her before Raphael (surely it couldn’t be Raphael-like herself, Raphael could not veil his massive grace completely), Gabriel would defend herself to his death, if the need arose.
The other angel’s eyes flicked to the sword, and his head canted to the side in puzzlement. Gabriel could see the moment when realization filled his eyes. “Oh no, I’m not here for you.” He shook his head, holding up both hands to show them empty. “I mean, I suppose I am here for you, technically, but I’m not going to… oh, forget it. This is easier. Not going to attack, okay?”
Gabriel kept her guard up as the other angel released his hold on his grace, letting his angelic aura flood the room they stood in. Six white wings stretched out from his back, marking him as one of the Seraphim.
Not just one of the Seraphim. Barachiel. Gabriel found herself relaxing as she recognized the angel’s grace. Barachiel himself was no threat to her.
Barachiel was the Seraph of the physical Earth. He oversaw the garrisons that monitored the planet itself, that controlled its weather and spin, that sculpted canyons and built mountains. Barachiel’s angels triggered volcanos and changed the courses of rivers. As their leader, Barachiel was immensely powerful in his own right. He could call on the Earth and all her forces to come to his aid if he ever entered battle.
Barachiel was also the most cheerful of the angels. He always had a smile or a bad joke if you needed cheering up, he seldom had a bad word to say about anyone, and he had once been unanimously voted by the rest of Gabriel’s choir as “the best shoulder to cry on.”
Barachiel had originally served under Gabriel in Heaven, one of his first-class Seraphim, the strongest and oldest of their kind. At the end, he had been second only to Cariel himself and every bit as trusted and appreciated. Barachiel had repeatedly expressed a deep love and devotion to his Archangel. Gabriel felt confident that her Seraph-because Barachiel would always be her Seraph, no matter who ruled in Heaven-wouldn’t lift his sword against her.
Gabriel lowered her sword, but she didn’t sheathe it, not yet. “Barachiel. You’re looking well.” The Seraph did look good, his grace and spirit both healed from the horrible mauling he had endured at the hands of the Nephilim centuries ago. His wings had clearly grown back, and from the way he twitched and spread them, there was no lasting damage.
“I wish I could say the same to you.” Barachiel lowered his hands and entered the parlor, brushing the door closed behind him with one of his wings. “You look awful, Gabriel. Far too pale and stretched so thin…” He reached up, hesitating a moment before pressing his hand against Gabriel’s cheek.
Grace. Gabriel had forgotten how it felt to touch grace with a brother. Her knees nearly gave out beneath her as Barachiel fed his grace into hers, every point of contact between them sizzling with power. Gabriel’s grace latched on to Barachiel’s greedily, inhaling the feeling of being connected again. Fergus’ soul had kept her loneliness at bay, but this, this was what an angel was meant to feel, all the time, every day. A whimper escaped her throat as she burrowed into her brother’s aura.
“Shh…” Barachiel slid his other arm around Gabriel’s waist, pressing his forehead against her shoulder and sealing their bodies together for the maximum contact. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re not alone.”
“Cariel,” Gabriel whispered into Barachiel’s hair, sheathing her sword to grab him, Thorn trapped between their bodies. The dog squirmed into a more comfortable position but did not try to escape. He was wrapped entirely in angelic grace-there was no more perfect place in the world than where he was right now.
Barachiel shook his head against Gabriel’s shoulder. “Gabriel… Gabriel, I’m sorry, but Cariel… he fell to Earth years ago…”
“No, he…” Gabriel shivered in Barachiel’s arms, now shaking her own head. “No, I found him. He was here. He… he’s dead, Barachiel. He died today.”
Barachiel drew back enough to look up at Gabriel, pressing his hand to her face again. “Oh Gabriel, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll make sure to find his soul in Heaven. I’ll watch out for him. I won’t let Raphael get to him again.”
Gabriel closed her eyes, grimacing at the memories. “He won’t be going to Heaven, Barachiel. He sold his soul. He’s in Hell even as we speak.” She could feel Barachiel’s surprise in his grace, but not, to her surprise, shock. Or even horror. There was instead… resignation? “Did you know?” she demanded, pulling back from Barachiel physically, though their graces remained tightly intwined. “Did you know he was going to do this?”
“I knew he was going to come to Earth, to your bloodline,” Barachiel admitted. “I didn’t know he was going to sell his soul, but… your bloodline is infested with demons and witches. I can’t say it was a surprise that he fell so far.”
Gabriel pulled out of Barachiel’s arms, setting Thorn down and pacing the length of the parlor. Had Cariel planned this out, decades ago?
“He was looking for you, you know,” Barachiel murmured, crouching down to pet the inquisitive little terrier. His grace stroked along Gabriel’s, mimicking the motions of his hand. “Heaven… keeping Cariel and Raphael contained together up there was proving almost as disastrous as you and Raphael.”
“What did he do?” Gabriel asked, glancing back at Barachiel. Her grace was still grasping at his, even though their bodies were no longer touching. She wasn’t willing to let him go so soon.
Barachiel smiled. “Nothing nearly as egregious as what you would have done in his place, but for a lowly fifth-class Seraph?” He gave a little shake of his head. “Cariel would backtalk. And say no!”
“The horror!” Gabriel could just imagine Cariel standing up against Raphael, snarking at her too-literal twin, his arms folded, wings set at a stubborn angle. She managed to smile at the picture she held in her mind, remembering Cariel how he was. “Raphael demoted him?”
Barachiel nodded, ducking his head to study Thorn. “Of course he did. Cariel was yours. Neither Michael nor Raphael would dare trust him. Not after what Azazel did.”
“Cariel wouldn’t have-”
“Cariel was yours,” Barachiel stressed. “He wouldn’t turn against Heaven and disappoint you, but he would never be loyal to Raphael, and Michael…” Gabriel turned to look at Barachiel when the angel mentioned his brother, but Barachiel could only give a little shrug back at the Archangel. “Michael honestly hasn’t improved much since the war,” he admitted. “All the choirs have been folded together under Michael, and Raphael stands as his second, with Marmoniel below him, but…” The angel gave a larger shrug, kneeling so he could rub the chubby belly Thorn was proffering. “It’s hard to tell who runs Heaven sometimes. God? Michael? Raphael? Everything feels like Raphael’s choir these days. There is no joy. There isn’t even much music. We’re encouraged to sing praises to God, and that’s really about it. Even a smile is seen as a threat of rebellion sometimes.”
Gabriel slanted her eyes toward Barachiel, frowning a little. Barachiel still didn’t know God had left? Michael and Raphael really were doing a good job keeping that hidden from the Host. If Barachiel didn’t know, chances were good that no other angel knew. Gabriel wouldn’t be the one to tell him.
“I’ve probably said too much.” Barachiel’s hand stilled on Thorn’s belly, and the Seraph slowly straightened back to his feet. “Gabriel, Raphael took a handful of his angels to Canisbay, where Cariel fell, to try to find you. Once they see you’re not there, they may head here. I was sent merely to scout for you, since I was one of the angels most comfortable with Earth. You need to leave before they come.”
“If Raphael finds out you warned me instead of trapped me, you’re as good as dead,” Gabriel said, watching Barachiel.
“Raphael has spies in many places, but I can’t feel any of them here.” Barachiel turned slowly once, his wings stirring up the air. A little breeze danced around the room, and Barachiel shook his head with a sad smile. “No, we’re still alone. For now. He sends Cherubim everywhere, Gabriel, Cherubim who can veil themselves absolutely completely from another angel’s sight.”
“Cherubim,” Gabriel repeated, her eyes narrowing. Archangels had no hopes of ever hiding completely from another angel when veiled. They had far too much grace to contain within themselves. Seraphim had a slightly easier time, but like Barachiel had, a bit of their grace would always shine through. Similarly, Dominions always showed, and Angels hummed with power, though their grace was dimmer when fully veiled, nearly invisible.
Cherubim, on the other hand, had only a fraction of an Angel’s grace. They were the youngest and weakest of the Host, but they were also the most useful in so many clever ways. They could pass among mortals the easiest and could move through realms with barely a ripple in their passing. They were incredibly single-minded and could be put to one task to complete it with utter perfection-Joshua, for example, minded the Garden of Heaven and made sure it thrived. Metatron, for all his faults, had been utterly meticulous at note-keeping. Gabriel’s Cherubim, known as the Cupids, had all taken a shining to a particular human family and kept it bred and tended over the generations.
Raphael, apparently, had set his Cherubim to spying. A veiled Cherub was invisible, unless Barachiel’s little breeze had some way of identifying them. Gabriel had never been able to tell when hidden Cherubim were around, and she had eventually decided it wasn’t worth worrying about.
Maybe she should have. Maybe this was how Raphael had always known her most secret conversations.
“Come with me,” Gabriel said, holding out her hand to Barachiel. “We can find a way to hide you from Raphael too.”
“Gabriel…” Barachiel shook his head, curling his hands against his chest. “I can’t. I want to, but without Cariel, without you, there would be no one left in Heaven to watch over what remains of your choir. They suffer, Gabriel. Stoically, as all angels would, but still. We were not made to live as Raphael’s angels do. They come to me when it becomes overbearing, and I help them as best I can. I can’t…”
Gabriel dropped her hand but stepped closer to Barachiel, sweeping the Seraph into a hug of wings and arms, enfolding her younger brother completely in her grace. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you in my life, Barachiel, but I am grateful for it. Thank you, for watching over my angels. Give them my love.”
“I can’t do that either,” Barachiel said, shaking his head. “Because you can’t let me remember any of this.”
“I was going to risk it,” Gabriel admitted.
“Don’t.” Barachiel hugged Gabriel tight, closing his eyes. “Take it all from me, Gabriel. You must. If you don’t, Naomi will. She’ll know what you look like now. How you’re hiding.” He touched his grace to Gabriel’s core, sparking it off the tight little cluster that was what remained of Loki, curled deep inside the angel. “What you’re hiding.” His hand dropped from Gabriel’s back to her belly, over the second little core of the new soul.
Gabriel stepped back abruptly, folding her arms over her stomach and layering two sets of wings over them, just to be safe. Not that wings or arms could hide the fact that Gabriel’s body held a third life. Barachiel had seen it. He knew. If any angel had the right to bear a grudge against the Nephilim, it was Barachiel, who had nearly died at their hands. However, Gabriel also knew that Barachiel had never harbored a grudge against the very monsters that had torn his wings from his back. Surely he wouldn’t try to hurt an innocent, unborn one.
“Just answer me this,” Barachiel murmured, canting his head toward Gabriel. “Is it Cariel’s?”
Gabriel nodded mutely, still protecting the child as best she could.
Barachiel’s brilliant grin broke across his face and flooded the room with his joy. “Took you two long enough!”
“He’s dead now,” Gabriel reminded Barachiel, but Barachiel shook his head, surging forward to press a kiss to Gabriel’s cheek even as he touched his hands over Gabriel’s belly. His joy was infectious, sinking deep into Gabriel’s grace and warming her from deep inside.
“He’ll always live as long as this one does. I’m happy for you, Gabriel, truly I am! But now you really do need to go…” Barachiel reached for Gabriel’s hands and lifted them to his head. “I wish I didn’t have to forget.”
“I miss you, Barachiel. Every day.”
“And you are missed in Heaven.”
“Last time I did this, I left my victim a gibbering mess,” Gabriel warned, touching her fingers to Barachiel’s temples and leaning in to gently kiss his forehead. Barachiel closed his eyes and opened his mind, letting Gabriel inside.
“I trust you.”
Next Rogue Chapter...
Missing Scene: In Heaven
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
Chapter word count: 2,521
Chapter Summary: Gabriel vs. An Unidentified Angel! BEGIN!
CHAPTER 19:
Little Brother
“Hello, Gabriel.”
The angel wearing the old man was veiled, his grace pulled tightly in to his vessel. The faint waves emanating from his body were not enough to identify him, but they were strong enough to indicate that this was a powerful angel. Even if he hadn’t been radiating grace, Gabriel was able to recognize the signs of angelic possession. That unnatural stillness, the focus, the way the man’s body was ignoring his obvious limitations… Gabriel had been caught. She had just used her grace to reseal Hell… not to mention the obscene amount it took to open Hell in the first place, and the blessing she had given Gavin and his wife, and all of that rapid flying, and…
And she had been careless. Throwing grace around in Dundee and Canisbay had been as stupid as smacking Raphael over the head with a glowing sign and shouting for him to come after her. All the years she had spent in these two places had allowed them to soak up her grace passively, like a sponge. Actively using it had been the equivalent of squeezing that sponge, releasing it all at once.
Gabriel couldn’t feel any other angels nearby, but that meant nothing. This angel was veiled from her senses. Any number of brothers could be as well. She shifted Thorn into her left arm, her eyes never leaving the angel as she slowly drew her sword, just in case. She could take down one angel easily (as long as it wasn’t an Archangel). Anything more, and she might end up killing a brother. She didn’t want to do that. In all her years of life, the only angels Gabriel had killed had been those who had already fallen, the demonic Knights of Hell who had once laid siege to Heaven. Still, if this angel tried to drag her before Raphael (surely it couldn’t be Raphael-like herself, Raphael could not veil his massive grace completely), Gabriel would defend herself to his death, if the need arose.
The other angel’s eyes flicked to the sword, and his head canted to the side in puzzlement. Gabriel could see the moment when realization filled his eyes. “Oh no, I’m not here for you.” He shook his head, holding up both hands to show them empty. “I mean, I suppose I am here for you, technically, but I’m not going to… oh, forget it. This is easier. Not going to attack, okay?”
Gabriel kept her guard up as the other angel released his hold on his grace, letting his angelic aura flood the room they stood in. Six white wings stretched out from his back, marking him as one of the Seraphim.
Not just one of the Seraphim. Barachiel. Gabriel found herself relaxing as she recognized the angel’s grace. Barachiel himself was no threat to her.
Barachiel was the Seraph of the physical Earth. He oversaw the garrisons that monitored the planet itself, that controlled its weather and spin, that sculpted canyons and built mountains. Barachiel’s angels triggered volcanos and changed the courses of rivers. As their leader, Barachiel was immensely powerful in his own right. He could call on the Earth and all her forces to come to his aid if he ever entered battle.
Barachiel was also the most cheerful of the angels. He always had a smile or a bad joke if you needed cheering up, he seldom had a bad word to say about anyone, and he had once been unanimously voted by the rest of Gabriel’s choir as “the best shoulder to cry on.”
Barachiel had originally served under Gabriel in Heaven, one of his first-class Seraphim, the strongest and oldest of their kind. At the end, he had been second only to Cariel himself and every bit as trusted and appreciated. Barachiel had repeatedly expressed a deep love and devotion to his Archangel. Gabriel felt confident that her Seraph-because Barachiel would always be her Seraph, no matter who ruled in Heaven-wouldn’t lift his sword against her.
Gabriel lowered her sword, but she didn’t sheathe it, not yet. “Barachiel. You’re looking well.” The Seraph did look good, his grace and spirit both healed from the horrible mauling he had endured at the hands of the Nephilim centuries ago. His wings had clearly grown back, and from the way he twitched and spread them, there was no lasting damage.
“I wish I could say the same to you.” Barachiel lowered his hands and entered the parlor, brushing the door closed behind him with one of his wings. “You look awful, Gabriel. Far too pale and stretched so thin…” He reached up, hesitating a moment before pressing his hand against Gabriel’s cheek.
Grace. Gabriel had forgotten how it felt to touch grace with a brother. Her knees nearly gave out beneath her as Barachiel fed his grace into hers, every point of contact between them sizzling with power. Gabriel’s grace latched on to Barachiel’s greedily, inhaling the feeling of being connected again. Fergus’ soul had kept her loneliness at bay, but this, this was what an angel was meant to feel, all the time, every day. A whimper escaped her throat as she burrowed into her brother’s aura.
“Shh…” Barachiel slid his other arm around Gabriel’s waist, pressing his forehead against her shoulder and sealing their bodies together for the maximum contact. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re not alone.”
“Cariel,” Gabriel whispered into Barachiel’s hair, sheathing her sword to grab him, Thorn trapped between their bodies. The dog squirmed into a more comfortable position but did not try to escape. He was wrapped entirely in angelic grace-there was no more perfect place in the world than where he was right now.
Barachiel shook his head against Gabriel’s shoulder. “Gabriel… Gabriel, I’m sorry, but Cariel… he fell to Earth years ago…”
“No, he…” Gabriel shivered in Barachiel’s arms, now shaking her own head. “No, I found him. He was here. He… he’s dead, Barachiel. He died today.”
Barachiel drew back enough to look up at Gabriel, pressing his hand to her face again. “Oh Gabriel, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll make sure to find his soul in Heaven. I’ll watch out for him. I won’t let Raphael get to him again.”
Gabriel closed her eyes, grimacing at the memories. “He won’t be going to Heaven, Barachiel. He sold his soul. He’s in Hell even as we speak.” She could feel Barachiel’s surprise in his grace, but not, to her surprise, shock. Or even horror. There was instead… resignation? “Did you know?” she demanded, pulling back from Barachiel physically, though their graces remained tightly intwined. “Did you know he was going to do this?”
“I knew he was going to come to Earth, to your bloodline,” Barachiel admitted. “I didn’t know he was going to sell his soul, but… your bloodline is infested with demons and witches. I can’t say it was a surprise that he fell so far.”
Gabriel pulled out of Barachiel’s arms, setting Thorn down and pacing the length of the parlor. Had Cariel planned this out, decades ago?
“He was looking for you, you know,” Barachiel murmured, crouching down to pet the inquisitive little terrier. His grace stroked along Gabriel’s, mimicking the motions of his hand. “Heaven… keeping Cariel and Raphael contained together up there was proving almost as disastrous as you and Raphael.”
“What did he do?” Gabriel asked, glancing back at Barachiel. Her grace was still grasping at his, even though their bodies were no longer touching. She wasn’t willing to let him go so soon.
Barachiel smiled. “Nothing nearly as egregious as what you would have done in his place, but for a lowly fifth-class Seraph?” He gave a little shake of his head. “Cariel would backtalk. And say no!”
“The horror!” Gabriel could just imagine Cariel standing up against Raphael, snarking at her too-literal twin, his arms folded, wings set at a stubborn angle. She managed to smile at the picture she held in her mind, remembering Cariel how he was. “Raphael demoted him?”
Barachiel nodded, ducking his head to study Thorn. “Of course he did. Cariel was yours. Neither Michael nor Raphael would dare trust him. Not after what Azazel did.”
“Cariel wouldn’t have-”
“Cariel was yours,” Barachiel stressed. “He wouldn’t turn against Heaven and disappoint you, but he would never be loyal to Raphael, and Michael…” Gabriel turned to look at Barachiel when the angel mentioned his brother, but Barachiel could only give a little shrug back at the Archangel. “Michael honestly hasn’t improved much since the war,” he admitted. “All the choirs have been folded together under Michael, and Raphael stands as his second, with Marmoniel below him, but…” The angel gave a larger shrug, kneeling so he could rub the chubby belly Thorn was proffering. “It’s hard to tell who runs Heaven sometimes. God? Michael? Raphael? Everything feels like Raphael’s choir these days. There is no joy. There isn’t even much music. We’re encouraged to sing praises to God, and that’s really about it. Even a smile is seen as a threat of rebellion sometimes.”
Gabriel slanted her eyes toward Barachiel, frowning a little. Barachiel still didn’t know God had left? Michael and Raphael really were doing a good job keeping that hidden from the Host. If Barachiel didn’t know, chances were good that no other angel knew. Gabriel wouldn’t be the one to tell him.
“I’ve probably said too much.” Barachiel’s hand stilled on Thorn’s belly, and the Seraph slowly straightened back to his feet. “Gabriel, Raphael took a handful of his angels to Canisbay, where Cariel fell, to try to find you. Once they see you’re not there, they may head here. I was sent merely to scout for you, since I was one of the angels most comfortable with Earth. You need to leave before they come.”
“If Raphael finds out you warned me instead of trapped me, you’re as good as dead,” Gabriel said, watching Barachiel.
“Raphael has spies in many places, but I can’t feel any of them here.” Barachiel turned slowly once, his wings stirring up the air. A little breeze danced around the room, and Barachiel shook his head with a sad smile. “No, we’re still alone. For now. He sends Cherubim everywhere, Gabriel, Cherubim who can veil themselves absolutely completely from another angel’s sight.”
“Cherubim,” Gabriel repeated, her eyes narrowing. Archangels had no hopes of ever hiding completely from another angel when veiled. They had far too much grace to contain within themselves. Seraphim had a slightly easier time, but like Barachiel had, a bit of their grace would always shine through. Similarly, Dominions always showed, and Angels hummed with power, though their grace was dimmer when fully veiled, nearly invisible.
Cherubim, on the other hand, had only a fraction of an Angel’s grace. They were the youngest and weakest of the Host, but they were also the most useful in so many clever ways. They could pass among mortals the easiest and could move through realms with barely a ripple in their passing. They were incredibly single-minded and could be put to one task to complete it with utter perfection-Joshua, for example, minded the Garden of Heaven and made sure it thrived. Metatron, for all his faults, had been utterly meticulous at note-keeping. Gabriel’s Cherubim, known as the Cupids, had all taken a shining to a particular human family and kept it bred and tended over the generations.
Raphael, apparently, had set his Cherubim to spying. A veiled Cherub was invisible, unless Barachiel’s little breeze had some way of identifying them. Gabriel had never been able to tell when hidden Cherubim were around, and she had eventually decided it wasn’t worth worrying about.
Maybe she should have. Maybe this was how Raphael had always known her most secret conversations.
“Come with me,” Gabriel said, holding out her hand to Barachiel. “We can find a way to hide you from Raphael too.”
“Gabriel…” Barachiel shook his head, curling his hands against his chest. “I can’t. I want to, but without Cariel, without you, there would be no one left in Heaven to watch over what remains of your choir. They suffer, Gabriel. Stoically, as all angels would, but still. We were not made to live as Raphael’s angels do. They come to me when it becomes overbearing, and I help them as best I can. I can’t…”
Gabriel dropped her hand but stepped closer to Barachiel, sweeping the Seraph into a hug of wings and arms, enfolding her younger brother completely in her grace. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you in my life, Barachiel, but I am grateful for it. Thank you, for watching over my angels. Give them my love.”
“I can’t do that either,” Barachiel said, shaking his head. “Because you can’t let me remember any of this.”
“I was going to risk it,” Gabriel admitted.
“Don’t.” Barachiel hugged Gabriel tight, closing his eyes. “Take it all from me, Gabriel. You must. If you don’t, Naomi will. She’ll know what you look like now. How you’re hiding.” He touched his grace to Gabriel’s core, sparking it off the tight little cluster that was what remained of Loki, curled deep inside the angel. “What you’re hiding.” His hand dropped from Gabriel’s back to her belly, over the second little core of the new soul.
Gabriel stepped back abruptly, folding her arms over her stomach and layering two sets of wings over them, just to be safe. Not that wings or arms could hide the fact that Gabriel’s body held a third life. Barachiel had seen it. He knew. If any angel had the right to bear a grudge against the Nephilim, it was Barachiel, who had nearly died at their hands. However, Gabriel also knew that Barachiel had never harbored a grudge against the very monsters that had torn his wings from his back. Surely he wouldn’t try to hurt an innocent, unborn one.
“Just answer me this,” Barachiel murmured, canting his head toward Gabriel. “Is it Cariel’s?”
Gabriel nodded mutely, still protecting the child as best she could.
Barachiel’s brilliant grin broke across his face and flooded the room with his joy. “Took you two long enough!”
“He’s dead now,” Gabriel reminded Barachiel, but Barachiel shook his head, surging forward to press a kiss to Gabriel’s cheek even as he touched his hands over Gabriel’s belly. His joy was infectious, sinking deep into Gabriel’s grace and warming her from deep inside.
“He’ll always live as long as this one does. I’m happy for you, Gabriel, truly I am! But now you really do need to go…” Barachiel reached for Gabriel’s hands and lifted them to his head. “I wish I didn’t have to forget.”
“I miss you, Barachiel. Every day.”
“And you are missed in Heaven.”
“Last time I did this, I left my victim a gibbering mess,” Gabriel warned, touching her fingers to Barachiel’s temples and leaning in to gently kiss his forehead. Barachiel closed his eyes and opened his mind, letting Gabriel inside.
“I trust you.”
Next Rogue Chapter...
Missing Scene: In Heaven