Page 41 of Michael
CHAPTER23
Amanda
I stepinto Michael’s mansion, and what I find there is far beyond what I remember. The sound of waves pounding against the shore is soothing, and the wind carries with it the hint of something sweet, like a distant flower garden. The sky is painted in myriad twinkling stars, and I feel myself relax in the face of such beauty.
He gives me a small, affectionate smirk as the doorway shuts behind him, and says in a low voice, “I don’t think you got a proper tour the last time.”
I mumble in response, feeling my cheeks heat up, “I’m not sure I wasawakefor most of it.”
He’s kind enough to remain silent, and instead, leads me through the mansion, showing me the many rooms that make up his home. He shows me his library filled with ancient books and artifacts, then takes me to his study, where he shares stories about his passions and hobbies. It surprises me to find out that he’s an avid collector of art and antiques. He even has an entire room dedicated to displaying them.
I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right about what Jack said concerning Michael. An archangel? It’s hard to believe. But how can I not have doubts? I’ve never been close to Light, and I don’t know how to recognize it. But he’s been so good to me.
As we continue our tour, we stop in a room composed solely of windows. Michael opens each one, letting in a rush of fresh air that gives the entire space a unique calming effect. Suddenly, I feel as if I’m standing on the edge of some amazing secret—something only known by those fortunate enough to be invited inside this special place.
“You must be exhausted,” he says, dipping his hands into his jeans pockets. I push away the locks of hair from my face, silently watching him. “I’ll take you to your room,” he adds.
I follow him upstairs and down a long hallway until we come to a door at the end. He opens it to reveal a cozy bedroom filled with comfortable furniture and artwork on the walls.
A bed crafted from rich mahogany embellished with delicate gold etchings catches the light of the silvery moon filtering through the windows. The pillows are plump and cloud-like, their covers a smooth white. The serene atmosphere of the room is inviting and comforting.
Michael gestures for me to take a seat on the edge of the bed, and I do. He slips into an armchair opposite me and stares at me intently, as if he knows something that I don’t.
He looks at me with eyes that plead for my understanding. His lips curl inward in a tight line and he presses them together before licking them in contemplation. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and fingers almost interlocked, as if in prayer. A deep breath escapes him, his chest rising and falling. “Amanda,” he begins slowly, “I…”
The phone rings. It’s a vintage ring, coming from a cellphone. His.
Michael pulls the phone from his pocket and looks at it with a frown before looking up at me again. “I’m sorry,” he says, standing up and heading to the other side of the room to answer it.
I sit in silence as Michael speaks into the phone in hushed tones; I can’t make out what he’s saying, but whatever it is seems to take a toll on him emotionally.
After ending the call, Michael slowly makes his way back over to me and sighs heavily again before speaking in a low voice. “I’m sorry for all of this,” he starts, lines of concern creasing his brow. “I need to step out for a bit and take care of some matters. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I silently nod in response to Michael’s apologies, my eyes never leaving his. He stands and straightens, regret etched in his features—and something else. He looks as if he’s about to say more, but instead, he simply turns and heads for the door without another word.
As he reaches the doorway, Michael turns around once more; his gaze lingers on mine for just one moment before he speaks again: “This is your home now, for as long as you want.” His words are like honey and I could just melt into them.
Left alone in the bedroom’s stillness, I can’t help but feel a bit lost. My mind flits between worrying about what Michael has to take care of and my own troubles that seem to follow me, no matter how hard I try to outrun them.
After a few moments of silence, the loneliness becomes too much, so I decide to distract myself with some reading. I make my way over to the bookshelf, which is filled with classic literature titles. After browsing through them for a while, I settle on one book that stands out from the rest—Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley.
I settle into a comfy armchair and open the book; soon enough, my eyelids droop and the words on the page blur together. I drift off to sleep before I know it.
CHAPTER 24
Michael
I strolldown the alley behind the club’s entrance, gripping my jacket tight to my body as a chill wind blows through. The sound of the dying traffic washes over me as the neon sign above my head buzzes and gives off an eerie glow.
I spot Gabrielle skulking behind a large dumpster. She’s dressed to the nines in her signature style: tight-fitting pants and dangerously high heels, a shimmering blouse that hugs her curves. Deceiving, as her outfits never stop her from stepping up when it matters. I’ve seen her take out demons twice her size while wearing stilettos.
“I came as soon as you called,” I say as I stop behind her.
She glances at me warily. “Jack’s inside, in a meeting with Lucifer,” Gabrielle replies, her voice quivering slightly. “He’s not alone. He brought a bunch of friends from the underworld.”
“I can handle them,” I assure her. “But I can’t take them on in there.” I frown, concerned, as I look at the DeLux Café’s neon sign. “You know the rules, sis.” My hands curl into tight fists out of their own accord, eager to claim justice and settle the score with those loathsome demons.
A deep voice sounds from behind us. “We’ll just have to wait then,” it says. I spin around to find Uriel casually striding out of the shadows. His face takes on a mischievous glint as he greets us.
