An Angel's Song Read online

  “Buonasera. Eduardo Bartolucci?”

  “Buonasera, signorina. Down the hall and to the right, his is the last door on the left. He’s waiting for you.” The subtext was clear. He maintained his fragile grip on life to see her one last time and say good-bye. Tessa opened her mouth, but the words snagged in her throat, so she stiffly nodded her thanks and moved slowly in the direction of her father’s room.

  All of the prior urgency fell away and her limbs became leaden weights, refusing to move, as though her body hoped to stop time, while her mind screamed the inevitable rushed at her far too fast. She drew in a deep breath through her nose and slowly blew it out again through pursed lips. She had plenty of time to fall apart, to mourn, and to be alone. A lifetime, in fact. She blinked the moisture from her eyes and squared her shoulders. Her father sacrificed so much for her. She would not be selfish now, when it counted most. She could do this. She couldn’t save him, but she could be strong and give him peace. He deserved it more than anyone she’d ever known.

  ****

  “I thought there would be more time. As does everyone, I suppose.” The pale figure in the bed opened his mouth as though he would say more, but a fit of coughing wracked the frail body, seizing his airway, leaving him wheezing and gasping for breath. After several minutes, he cleared his throat with a pained grimace and turned to fix his sunken eyes on Alec.

  Alec swallowed thickly. He expected this would be difficult. The anticipation didn’t even approach the reality. He planned to read Barachiel the riot act for putting him in this position. Then he intended to heap on a hefty portion of guilt for asking him to put his life on hold for a woman who’d walked away from their life together without a backward glance. Alec was the last person on the planet Tessa would seek comfort from at a time like this, and Barachiel must be well aware of that fact. The self-righteous anger smoldering in Alec’s gut sputtered and died at the sight of the gaunt and wasted man lying in the bed. Eclipsed by life-sustaining tubes, wires, and machinery, the ancient one struggled to stay alert until his daughter arrived.

  The words remained stuck in Alec’s throat. He saw no resemblance in this poor soul to the mighty Principalitie, a prince of the heavens, who’d served mankind for millennia as educator, guardian, and muse. He saw a stranger—until the man turned to stare directly at him, and Alec looked into his eyes. They were eyes he remembered well, eyes that still shone with light, mischief, and centuries of remembered escapades despite the fragility of the pain plagued vessel which contained them. He told Michael he would recognize Barachiel’s soul, and he did. Fresh grief sank a fist into Alec’s middle, nearly doubling him over.

  “I hoped for a stern lecture. Instead, you stand there sniveling like someone kicked your puppy. Don’t grieve for me, Alec. While I admit, I’m sorry to leave, there is a part of me that’s happy to be going home.” He paused to draw in a rattling breath.

  “Don’t you dare tell me how to feel, you decrepit old man,” Alec ground out through clenched teeth as his eyes flew open and his fingers curled into fists at his sides. “Damn you, you did this to yourself. You could have…” Sorrow clogged his throat and choked off the words. He dropped his chin to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “I could have what? Lived forever? I will, you know. Not in this place and not in this form, but I will go on, Alec. We both know that. Only my time frame on earth changed. Well, and perhaps my stunning good looks. Not for the better I must admit,” he wheezed out a hoarse chuckle. “Mortality is a bitch.”

  “Does she know? That you sent for me, I mean.”

  “You think I have a death wish?” He winked, smiling at his own bad joke. “Look, I know I’m asking a lot. And I’m grateful you came. I can go in peace knowing Tessa won’t be alone through this.”

  For long moments, the rattle of the angel’s dying breaths and the irregular bleeps of the heart monitor were the only sounds disturbing the peculiar stillness as those familiar eyes continued to bore into Alec. Earthbound, like Alec, were descended from angels redeemed after the Fall and tasked with battling the plots and schemes of the evil Fallen on Earth. They lived for centuries. Principalitie, like Barachiel, were true immortals. Or should have been. But, Barachiel gave up his heart and immortality for a beautiful Italian artist. When he learned she carried his child, he’d chosen a temporal life on Earth to remain with his family. Loss was as familiar to an Earthbound as breathing, and Alec was no stranger to the experience. Still, there was something fundamentally different about watching a powerful being slated for immortality reduced to a withered shell. Struggling, suffering, both fighting to live and fighting to die. It defied nature and he hated seeing the decline as the friend he loved traveled down that inexorable road.

  He moved to the bed to grasp the dying man’s fingers. They felt as light and fragile as a bird’s skeleton in his hand, yet they gripped back with surprising strength.

  “I should have kept in touch…”Alec began in a choked voice.

  “I didn’t ask you here for apologies and regret. You’re here now when I need you. We were friends long before I became Contessa’s father, and I vowed when the two of you fell in love I would remain a neutral party no matter what happened. Even when I thought you were a blind ass who spent his time searching for another man’s treasure instead of appreciating the one right in front of his face. Even when I thought she behaved like a spoiled child and made the worst decision of her life. I kept my mouth shut and my opinions to myself.”

  “Well, I see you’ve decided to stop biting your tongue.” Alec’s lips curved upward. “Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you?”

  “Hey, divided loyalties are a bitch, you know?” He paused to draw in a rattling breath. “I’m old, Alec. Nearly as old as time itself. This mortal death is a small price to pay for the love of a beautiful woman and a child I thought never to have. The actual dying sucks, but this too shall pass. Don’t grieve for me. Despite everything, I would make the same choices. No regrets. It was worth it.”

  “No regrets.” Alec whispered, squeezing the older man’s hand and knowing he lied to them both. He would always regret he failed to maintain this friendship, no matter what happened between him and Tessa. “I’m glad your choices brought you happiness.”

  “They did, but not without pain. Then again, without the pain, could we truly appreciate the joy? Maybe we aren’t meant to have one without the other. But some things are worth any sacrifice.” His eyes widened and then narrowed. “Help me up, Alec. I don’t want to look frail and pathetic when my daughter arrives. This will be difficult enough for her as it is.”

  Alec’s heart raced as he fumbled around the rail until he found the button to elevate the head of the bed. The knowledge Tessa drew ever nearer crept over his skin and something sparked to life, something deep and carefully buried. Slipping his arms under Barachiel’s thin limbs, he lifted him gently and repositioned him, plumping the pillows behind his head, drawing the sheet to his waist, and folding it down neatly.

  “Ah, much better. Thank you.” Barachiel sighed and his eyes fluttered closed. “How do I look?”

  “Like shit.” Alec couldn’t suppress a small smile. He was dying, how did he think he looked? But he had to admit, his friend did look more comfortable, almost peaceful.

  “Smartass,” Barachiel returned the grin and opened one eye, fixing it intently on Alec. “Are you crying, you pathetic bastard?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, you feeble sonofabitch.” Alec swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. It felt disrespectful to indulge in their old ball-busting banter while staring death in the face, but if that’s the way Barachiel wanted to play it, Alec wouldn’t deny him. “They use enough bleach and disinfectant in this place to blind a person.”

  “Listen, I know this is a lot to ask. Try to remember she was young, idealistic. I sheltered her, kept her life conflict free right up until the day she married you.” The dying man’s sigh whistled and creaked in his chest. “I tried
to give her the world, and instead cultivated immaturity and unrealistic expectations. Children should come with owners’ manuals.”

  “Knock it off. You did say no regrets, remember? You were a wonderful father who gave her unconditional love, and she adores you. No one’s perfect.”

  “Speak for yourself. She’s also too stubborn for her own good, but then that’s something the two of you have in common. She won’t be happy I involved you.”

  “Ya think?” Alec’s lips compressed into a tight line.

  “It couldn’t be helped. I’ve left some unfinished business, and I need to know she’ll be safe. I wish I had time to explain, but I have faith in you, Alec. I always have. Just remember, no matter what she’s done, she’s still the other half of you. And this, I think, is where we say good-bye,” Barachiel rasped, closing his eyes.

  “Rest easy, old friend.” Alec cupped Barachiel’s face in his hand, feeling the sharp jut of bone beneath the wrinkled tissue paper skin. Barachiel offered no response to this final touch, perhaps conserving his remaining strength for the emotional scene ahead. But, just as Alec withdrew his hand and stepped back from the bed, a single tear trickled from the outer corner of the old man’s eye and disappeared into the wispy hair above his ear. With a strangled groan, Alec wrenched the door open and stumbled into the dimly lit hallway, blinded by sorrow, and having no specific destination in mind. He knuckled the moisture from his eyes and looked around. Michael had obviously left the building. Figured.

  He needed distance, needed air. Dammit, how would he comfort a grieving estranged wife who didn’t want him? Heaving a deep, shuddering sigh, he jogged down the hallway, turned the corner in the direction of the stairs, and crashed right into a woman with tousled red curls, thick, tear spiked lashes, and the most incredible blue eyes Alec ever saw. Eyes he never forgot.

  ****

  Tessa swallowed the thick knot in her throat. I can do this. I can do this. Dear God, how will I ever do this? Eyes downcast, she turned the corner and promptly slammed into the unforgiving wall of a man’s broad, muscular chest. Glancing up in surprise at his enormous height from beneath her damp lashes, she gasped at the six and a half feet of masculine perfection. Wide shoulders tapered to lean hips and long legs which he’d planted slightly apart as he simply stood there watching her with unblinking eyes. Her gaze traveled over the dark, tousled hair, the high cheekbones, and the sharply defined jaw dusted in a dark stubble falling somewhere between a well-trimmed beard and a five o’clock shadow. And good Lord, his eyes. Eyes flashing the deep blue of ocean waves in moonlight. Eyes in which she could easily drown. He hadn’t changed. Alec McAllister was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

  Chapter Three

  Alec instinctively reached out and gripped Tessa’s shoulders to steady her as she gasped and stumbled back. She, in turn, curled her fingers into the front of his shirt to regain her balance.

  “Alec. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see your father. You okay?” Stupid question.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She drew in a deep breath, affording him a tantalizing glimpse of soft, white cleavage in the loose fitting neckline of her button-down blouse, as a becoming flush crept into her pale cheeks. She glanced up at him from under those thick lashes, loosened her death grip on his shirt, and tried to step away. It was only then Alec realized he still held her arms, his thumbs absently stroking the fabric covering her narrow shoulders.

  “You can let go of me now,” she whispered.

  “Oh, yeah…sorry.” He released her and took a half step back. She wore her thick, dark red hair piled in shining waves sitting haphazardly on top of her head, less a style than an afterthought, and he suddenly flashed back to its magnificence loose and spread across his pillow. Damn. He certainly had more important things to worry about at the moment. Still, it had been a long time, and his eyes greedily drank her in, making it difficult to look away. Her even, white teeth worried at her full bottom lip as she gripped the strap of her backpack and yanked it back into place when it slid down her shoulder.

  “How did you know?”

  “He contacted Michael.”

  “He contacted Michael?”

  “Is there an echo in here?” Alec compressed his lips and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, curling his fingers into fists.

  “Is that your lame attempt at humor? Please excuse me if I can’t appreciate your sparkling wit at the moment.” She surveyed him slowly from head to toe and back again. “I’m a little preoccupied.”

  “Of course you are.” Alec sighed. “Look, we’ll talk later. Go see your father. He’s waiting for you.”

  What little color remained in her cheeks drained away, and she sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

  “I can’t imagine what we’d have to talk about, but it was…good to see you, Alec. And thanks for coming by to see him. I’m sure it meant a lot. He always valued your friendship.” She straightened her shoulders, stepped around him, and hurried down the hallway in the direction of Barachiel’s room.

  Alec retraced his footsteps, following slowly behind her, enjoying the sight of her gently rounded hips swaying slightly in the figure hugging denim and calling himself every kind of a fool for even noticing. He tried like hell to read her. But despite her grief, and the shock of seeing him, her mind remained closed as tight as a miser’s purse, whether from habit or in preparation for the coming ordeal, he didn’t know.

  “Papa!” Alec heard the smile in her voice as she pushed open the door and slipped inside. He couldn’t help admiring her courage. He’d seen the devastation in her eyes, yet she pulled herself together and mustered her strength before stepping into the room to allow her father a measure of peace in his passing.

  “Contessa… il mio più preziosa!” Barachiel’s labored rasp reached his ears as the door whooshed gently closed. “Come here, my precious one. There’s much to say and little time in which to say it.”

  “Subtlety has never been your strong point, Sariel,” Alec scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he reached the far end of the hall. He braced a shoulder against the wall, and quietly addressed the dark shadow lingering there. “You may as well show yourself.”

  The dark mass swirled and expanded, then shimmered and coalesced into the figure of a man. Dressed in black from head to toe, with dark hair and even darker eyes, he sported a massive set of golden wings that caught the light and surrounded him with an unearthly glow. Stepping forward, he gave them a mighty flap that ruffled Alec’s hair, before settling them against his back where they neatly folded away out of sight in the blink of an eye.

  “I thought my discretionary skills were improving.” The dark angel frowned. “Perhaps not.”

  “Well, let’s just say I expected you. I’d like to say it’s nice to see you, but you know it never is.”

  “Frankly, I don’t understand why. In the natural order of things, I’m the inevitable conclusion, Alec. My arrival offers peace and respite.”

  “Don’t take it personally, buddy. I just don’t think too many people enjoy getting up close and personal with the Angel of Death.”

  “I’ve always gotten a bum rap.” Sariel’s features twisted in a grimace. “I don’t control death, you know. I simply guide the soul over once it’s passed.”

  “So you have nothing to do with the fact Eduardo Bartolucci managed to linger hours longer than his body could support life? I saw him, Sariel. No amount of determination to say good-bye to his daughter should have been able to sustain him.”

  “I’m willing to take the heat if we’re a little late getting home. It’s Barachiel, after all.” The dark angel shrugged.

  “Thank you.”

  “Save your thanks, I didn’t do it for you. I did it for her.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Barachiel’s room and his lips curled in a small, secretive smile. “By the way, good luck with that. And now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s nearly time.”

  Befor
e Alec could open his mouth to say another word, the angel dissipated into thin air. Alec’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he yanked it free, glancing down to see his brother-in-law Luca’s name on the display. His stomach dropped into his boots as the dark shadow slipped by him and disappeared under the door to Barachiel’s room as he brought the phone to his ear.

  “Congratulate me, Alec! The doctor says your sister is going to give me a beautiful daughter!”

  “Congratulations,” Alec responded automatically, knowing it had to be the wee hours of the morning in New York. Listening with only half an ear as Luca waxed poetic for endless minutes about the ultrasound revealing what he assured Alec was the most beautiful child who would ever be born, Alec’s gaze never strayed from the door to Barachiel’s room. Of course his niece would be beautiful. Luca was a great looking guy as guys go, and Alec’s sister, Callista, was a true beauty. Alec participated absently in the conversation with an occasional grunt until Tessa, eyes red-rimmed and swollen, slipped from the room and slumped against the wall. “Hey, buddy, give Calli my love, okay? Gotta go.”

  “But—” Luca’s voice was cut off mid-sentence as Alec tapped the screen and shoved the phone back in his pocket, stepping toward Tessa. Resisting the almost primal urge to touch her, he fisted his hands, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Seemingly oblivious to his presence, slender hands covering her face, her shoulders shook with quiet sobs. Small and sad, she looked more alone than anyone Alec ever saw, and something twisted painfully in the region of his heart. Anger and resentment aside, this woman still touched him in a place no one else ever had, nor ever would.

  He thought of Luca’s call. How intertwined were happiness and grief. One soul preparing to enter the world as another departs. Sariel called it the natural order. Screw that shit. Dragging his hands free, he reached out and pulled Tessa into his arms.