He sighed again, his voice heavy. “You know how.”
I touched my neck on reflex, getting a sudden sensory memory of his lips on my skin, traveling down my collarbone. Shit. He was right. I did know how. There was no doubt in my mind that if Gabriel hadn’t interrupted us we would have ended up in bed.
“You can’t contest this?”
“No, I can’t. Orders are orders. To refuse them would cause Him to disavow me from my rank as an archangel.”
My breathing started to hitch up, almost like I was having another panic attack. I wrapped my arms around my stomach to keep my hands from shaking. “So you’re just gonna leave? No more protection, no more help with the ghosts?”
Michael shook his head. “Gabriel will be your new guardian. He’ll look after you in my absence.”
“Oh. Well, I guess that’s fine then.” My voice went cold on its own. I turned my back on him, storming into my bedroom.
“Jordan, don’t do this, please.”
I slammed the door, locking it and pressing my forehead against the wood as if it would push all of my memories out of my head. I’d been a fool. Had I really thought that I could cross those lines with him and not be punished? Did I really think I could have him to myself? The Prince of Heaven’s Army wrapped around my pinky. Stupid, stupid little girl.
The doorknob jiggled and I heard him sigh. “Open the door.”
“Go away, Michael. I can’t do this right now.” I tried not to sound as upset as I actually was. There was a thunking noise and a brief vibration that meant he’d either hit the door with his fist or his forehead. I couldn’t really tell.
“I’m sorry. I am. I lost control. I should have been more careful of you.”
I closed my eyes, steadying myself. “Just go.”
Silence. Then, after a long moment, he spoke once more.
“Take care of yourself, Jordan.”
His footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors until they were faint and then nonexistent. The front door opened and closed, swallowing me in silence. The second he was gone, I collapsed to the floor and buried my face in my knees, hiding my tears from no one but myself.
Stupid, stupid little girl.
I worked a six-hour shift the next day, getting home from the bus at around seven o’clock. I’d made lousy tips because, for the life of me, I couldn’t muster a genuine smile. Good thing Lauren hadn’t been there. She would have pulled me into the bathroom and grilled me with questions about what happened. Not that I could tell her anything. It was against The Rules.
My keys jingled as I took them out of my pocket. As I reached for the lock, my shoe hit something on the welcome mat. I glanced downward, surprised to see a medium-sized cardboard box with a UPS label. Confused, I picked it up, unlocking the door and carrying it all inside. I took the box to the kitchen table and sat down, reading the label on top.
To my absolute shock, the box was addressed to me from Aunt Carmen. What the hell could she possibly have to send me? Notes about how much she hates me? The souls of little orphan children? I tore off the masking tape and pulled the lid apart, going completely still when I saw what lay inside, cramming nearly every corner of the box.
Letters.
Dozens of them.
And all of them were addressed to me.
On the very top, there was a bright blue sticky note with one word on it in my aunt’s handwriting.
Perdónome.
Forgive me.
My hands shook just the slightest bit as I set the note aside and dug into the piles and piles of letters with my name on them in an untidy script. I ripped the first one open and found it was a card for my 10th birthday. I sifted through all the envelopes, finding that each one came from a different address under the name Simon Patras, but they all were signed at the bottom of the cards with “A.B.” It could only be one person.
Andrew Bethsaida.
She had been keeping them from me all these years, never letting me know that for over a decade this man had been sending his love and support.
My eyes felt hot. My hatred for her seemed to be at war with my gratitude. This was truly the only humane thing I had ever seen Carmensita Durante do, even if it had been years too late. Maybe Michael had put the fear of God in her after all.
It wasn’t just letters, either. There were trinkets too: small stuffed animals with dusty fur, key chains with golden angels dangling from them, even a snow globe from Madrid. All at once, I understood. My mother had wanted him to take care of me in her absence, but since he couldn’t do that due to being hunted by the demons, he sent me presents. He tried to reach me, to let me know that someone out there cared. God bless him.