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The only thing I could think to do to rid myself of the guilt was go to confession. For the most part, it had. Even now, as I walked away from the confessional, I could feel the cloud wrapped around my VS start to dissipate, letting the moon-brightness shine through. I touched my fingers to the opal at my neck as I stepped up to the candle votives at the entrance.
I dropped a dollar in the offertory and lit a candle on the row of soft-burning candles beneath Mary’s statue. I knelt and remembered my mother, feeling more tender than ever toward the woman who loved me and left me.
Kat had returned to New York, needing to do some serious surveillance on Bamal. While I missed her, I knew she was only a sift away and would be back frequently for training sessions. George returned to wherever he lived too.
I discovered that negotiations with Bamal’s demons revealed little. The three high demons were supposed to deliver me alive to the demon prince of New York. Great.
We get rid of Danté, and now this one. But Bamal wasn’t Danté. He had other motives. Kat thought it had something to do with the prophecy. Of course, Kat thought everything had something to do with the prophecy.
I crossed myself and walked out of St. Louis Cathedral into Jackson Square. Jude’s tall figure faced away from me on the other side of the wrought-iron fence in the garden. I ambled past the art vendors spread out on the pavement and stepped through the gate. Jude was talking to someone.
The man he spoke to was tall with blondish-brown hair, wearing casual gray slacks and a crisp white shirt. Good looking but average in appearance except for an indefinable glow. No one seemed to notice, but my VS went crazy as I sidled closer, pumping out a beacon of recognition. Though I didn’t know him, my VS recognized him.
“But, is this…” Jude stammered.
Jude never stammered.
“Is she—”
“My dear friend,” said the glowing man, “I do believe you already know the answer to that question.”
With a beaming smile that was both compassionate and enigmatic, he nodded and walked past Jude. The man stopped right in front of me, peering down with impossibly green eyes. Okay, let me amend my former statement, better than average in appearance.Waybetter.
By now, I’d become accustomed to my VS picking up on a signature in supernaturals I encountered. The man standing before me exuded a suffused power so great I felt that if I could breathe it in, my chest would burst.
“Good day, Genevieve,” he said with a nod in a deep, melodious voice. “Do take care of yourself, won’t you?”
I blinked rapidly. All I could do was nod in agreement as he exited the garden and disappeared into the crowds of Jackson Square. My ability to breathe slowly coming back to me as he slipped farther away.
Jude stepped up beside me.
“He was an angel, wasn’t he?” I said more than asked.
“Archangel. His name is Uriel, the creator of our kind.”
“What?” I looked up at Jude as he linked his fingers with mine. “I thought that was George.”
“No. George was commissioned, shall we say, to serve as our leader, our trainer. But Uriel, he’s the one who makes us what we are.”
There was a bittersweet tone in his voice, mixed with fervent gratitude. He blinked, and the spell was broken. He peered down at me with a classic, mischievous Jude grin, planting a quick kiss on my hand. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too. Where shall we go?”
I glanced around the square, thinking of the dozens of famous restaurants within walking distance.
“My place.”
“Jude, you can’t cook,” I said, watching his lips curl. “Can you?”
“Genevieve, do not attempt to penetrate the mystery that is me. You will never know all my secrets.”
I loved playful Jude.
“Well, I’ll definitely discover whether you’re a good or a bad cook.”
“Mmm,” he mused. “Do you like strawberries and whipped cream?” he asked, pulling me along the side street toward Dauphine.
“That’s dessert, not lunch.”
