“By his transgressions alone, it is apparent that this one knows naught of service, sacrifice. One could argue that all he does, he does for himself, and that he cares for none but himself.”
“Please, sire,” she said. “Afford him clemency. I will avouch him.”
The archangel’s left eyebrow raised slightly.
“Do you know what you ask?”
“I do, my lord.” She stood ramrod straight.
“From this point on you may not intervene or rescue him from his own choices. They alone shall determine his future.”
Tamara nodded.
“You are now responsible. If he fails, that failure falls upon you.”
“Understood, sire.”
One last glare. Tamara didn’t flinch.
Michael drew his broadsword ablaze with golden fire. He stepped over and pointed it straight at Nick’s heart.
“You have been granted what few angels ever have. But because it is Tamara the True, the Faithful, who testifies to your character”—he touched Nick’s chest with the burning point of his sword—“you are provisionally pardoned.”
At first it felt like the sword had been driven into his heart. Fire ran through his body, and though it burned, it was a cleansing pain.
“Sire.”
Michael returned the sword to its sheath and turned again to Tamara.
“’Tis a noble if foolhardy thing that you do, faithful one. Nikolai shall be reassigned rather than condemned. He shall be placed in a probationary state during which time his character will be tried. You shall neither interfere nor intervene.”
“Understood,” Tamara said, her head lowered.
“Pray your faith is not misplaced.”
And with that, the archangel’s form radiated light so brilliant that Nikolai and Tamara could no longer actually make him out. In the next moment he was gone.
Tamara’s complexion looked as white as her gown
“I must take my leave now,” she said. “And Nikolai?” She turned and for the first time ever gave him a stern look. “Do not fail me—or yourself.”
He turned to look upon Clara’s little body and struggled not to weep. No point in giving way to his grief now. He’d just been given a second chance, was indeed lucky to still be in the ranks of the angels after everything he’d done. Yet a part of him was troubled at the idea of rejoining these beings who either issued or followed orders blindly.
“Tamara…” He turned around, but she was gone.
Kneeling by his daughter’s lifeless body, he could sense that her spirit had already been taken. As he took her hand and kissed it, images of the beautiful times he and Sophia had enjoyed with Clara before everything changed flooded his mind, creating very human sensations that tore against his true nature.
He could stand it no longer.
“Goodbye,” he said. He kissed Clara on the forehead, then looked wistfully towards the train under which Sophia had ended her life—whether by demonic influence or a desperate need to escape it, he didn’t know.
The entire construct dissolved and he was back in the present with Hope.
51
HOPE WRAPPED HER ARMS AROUND NICK, her eyes shimmering. To think of carrying all that pain for over a hundred years!
“I’m so sorry,” she said. To have witnessed his past almost firsthand was nearly as overwhelming as learning that he was an angel. Her own pain felt oddly distant, replaced by concern for his wounded heart.
“I don’t even know why I—”
“Shhhh.” She put her finger on his lips. But his entire body tensed up. Holding his head in his hands, he began straining.
“Nick, what’s the matter?”
“I don’t… know!”
But from the eyes squeezed shut, the gritting teeth, she could tell he was in great physical pain. She had no idea what to do, so she just held him, lightly rubbing his back, patting it with her fingertips. “How can I help?”
He shook his head tightly, the pain agonizingly evident. After a while, his tension seemed to diminish. His breathing became more even. Finally, he took a deep breath, and spoke.
“Sorry.”
“What just happened?” Hope said.
“Not sure. Sensory overload, perhaps. I might’ve spent too much time in this human form.” He looked up, his expression surprisingly vulnerable. Cautiously, she touched his face. This time, he didn’t flinch.
“I couldn’t save her.” Sorrow mixed with despair, his gaze fell to the floor.
“But you saved me,” she said.
“A hundred years have passed, and I still haven’t come to terms with what happened, Hope.” Nick’s voice broke. “It just makes no sense. No sense at all.”
Now he was trembling, but not as he did when he was suffering from that strange physical bout. This was much more profound.
How do you comfort an angel? All she could do was hold him, whisper sweet hushing sounds into his ear, and shed sympathetic tears.
And then, the words just came.
Straight from her heart.
“He is there, Nick. Like He said to me, He’s there in my past, healing the pain—I don’t know, retroactively? But I’m sure He’s there in your past too.”
Nick looked up, his eyes moist, but fighting to maintain a strong façade. “I don’t know…”
She leaned close, bowed her head to touch his, and did the only thing she knew how to do, when all else was lost. “Dear Lord, would you please mend Nick’s broken heart?” And again, she held him.
Nick’s shoulders relaxed and he drew a long breath, and sighed as one who had been relieved of a heavy burden. For an infinite moment, they remained in each other’s arms. Hope could almost feel the anguish draining from him.
Finally, he regarded her wistfully. “If only I could just quit everything and stay here with you.”
“Can’t you?”
“After all that happened back in England, I’m an empty shell.” He sighed. “You deserve better.”
“But Nick—”
“And I can’t let my mistakes endanger you.”
“Danger?”
“Everything that happened to Sophia, to Clara.”
“You’re forgetting one really important fact.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m not Sophia.”
Nick looked at her intently for a long moment, then seemed to relent. He bore the aspect of someone who’d made up his mind about something important.
“Let’s take it one day at a time, shall we?”
“Good enough for me.” She closed her eyes as he reached out and held her hand.
When she opened her eyes, they were back in her suite at the Broadmore. She was sitting next to Nick on the edge of the bed, still holding his hand.
“Where do we go from here?” she said.
“Just stay here for a while,” he said. “I’ll have it all sorted out soon.”
“What do you mean?”
He got up, headed for the door.
“Before we met, I was bitter about my demotion to reaper—and now you know how it happened. But none of that matters anymore. I’ve made a decision. Just have to tie up some loose ends before moving forward. I shan’t be long.”
He pointed to the television and it switched on. Then to the room service menu, which flipped open on the nightstand next to them.
“Have something to eat. Before you know it, I’ll be back.”
Hope looked down at her white robe.
“I haven’t a thing to wear.”
“On the contrary,” Nick said with a glance at the sofa by the door. There sat the shopping bags and boxes full of clothing, all from the oblivion locker.
Just a day ago she was a disheveled vagabond who’d lost everything, right down to the will to live. Now here she was in a luxurious hotel, every need provided by someone she knew she could trust—someone she would love even if he had nothing of his own to give.