Misguided Angel: A Parnormal Romance Novella

“Are you all right?” Asher said. “I’ve been thinking about you since last night, worrying, I guess.”

“Yeah, I’m fine now.” She smiled. “That priest…I had just gotten a shock, then he was being so pushy, it kind of freaked me out.” She laughed. “Totally silly, I know.”

“I don’t think so.” He smiled, too, but he looked tired, like he hadn’t slept well either. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his chin was shadowed with a day’s growth of beard. “He seemed kind of creepy to me, too.”

“I know, right?” She giggled, giddy with a weird relief. “Thank God you showed up.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank God.”

“Would you mind if we got out of here?” The church that had seemed so pretty before now seemed dark and musty as a tomb. “Oh wait, you came to light a candle.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I was lighting it for you.”

They emerged on the bright, crowded street, a different world. “Is there someplace you need to be?” he asked. “Do you want to get a cup of coffee or some brunch or something?”

“I’d love that.” What the hell am I doing? she thought.

His phone rang. For a moment, he looked confused, like he didn’t recognize the sound. Then he pulled it out of his pocket. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Go ahead.” Jake was barely cold; how could she be thinking about going out for coffee with this other man? She watched him talk on his phone, barely registering what he said. He was gorgeous, but the attraction she felt for him didn’t feel sexual. Being with him comforted her; it made her feel less like the whole world was lost.

He ended his call. “Kelsey, I’m so sorry,” he said. “That was a friend—someone from work. I have to go.”

“It’s okay,” she said again, disappointed and relieved at the same time.

“Do you need me to walk you home first?” he said. “I know you were upset before.”

“No, I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll take the subway.” She held out her hand. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

He took it. “Any time.” She noticed again how his eyes looked haunted. “Are you sure I can’t at least get you a cab?”

“Don’t be silly.” Just his concern made her feel safe, which was utterly ridiculous. “I’ll be fine. Good luck with the work thing.”

“Thanks.” He kissed her forehead the way he had the night before, weird and lovely. “I hope we run into one another again soon.”

She gave him a shy hug. “So do I.” Smiling naturally for what seemed like the first time in forever, she waved and turned away, headed for the train.

Praying for Help

Asher had been summoned back to his apartment by the mobile phone that had magically appeared in his pocket the same way it always did when he had need of it. In the old days, a putti or other lesser angel would have come to fetch him, but the new human technology made things easier. Was Michael watching over him, sending other angels to intervene if he and Kelsey got too close? Other angels called on him for help every once in a great while, but it was hardly a common occurrence.

When he walked in, he found four angels gathered around one of the long couches, two cherubim in the white robes of their heavenly office and two seraphim like himself, bloodied and dirty from battle. “Here he is,” one of the cherubs said, a willowy blond female. “The Evening Star has come.”

He drew closer and saw another seraph he knew, Malachi, lying on the couch, pale and covered with blood. “What happened?”

“A half-demon,” the cherub said. He recognized her, too—Serena. She had been a guardian of the throne of Heaven as long as he had been a guardian on Earth. In the great family of angels, she was his sister. “Malachi tried to destroy him.”

“I have to go back,” Malachi said. “I have to save her…” He broke off, his face twisting as he gasped in pain.

“Hush now,” Serena said, kneeling beside him. She pulled back the blanket covering his chest, and the other cherub let out a tiny shriek. His chest had been ripped open and his heart pulled to the outside in a gruesome parody of an icon of a bleeding-hearted saint. The gash had been burned back together in a demon’s parody of healing. The flesh and bone would have to be reopened and the heart put back inside—an agonizing, dangerous procedure, even for an angel.

“I can heal him,” Asher said.

“No,” Malachi said through gritted teeth. “Serena can heal me.” His face was slick with sweat. “You have to go after the monster.” He grabbed Asher’s wrist. “You have to save the child.”

“The creature has control of a village,” explained one of the other seraphim. “A child there prayed for an angel to save them.” He looked heartbroken. “A child of perfect faith.”

“But I failed,” Malachi said. “Now the monster knows I was summoned and means to punish the mortal who did it.”