A Terrible Fall of Angels (Zaniel Havelock #1)(7)

“Kid, so you have an ID?”

“Mark Cookson, nineteen; his grades have fallen in the last semester enough that he’s on academic probation at UCCA, University of California, City of Angels. He got some complaints by female students for being overly persistent in his attentions after they’d made it clear they weren’t interested; nothing violent, nothing illegal, just socially awkward and bordering on stalking. He’s definitely a creeper. One of the students that had complained about him was our victim.”

I looked at him and felt that eager rise when everything starts to fall into place on a case. “Did you find him yet?”

“He’s not in his dorm and his roommate changed schools midsemester so no new roommate to question.”

“Is there anything in the dorm room that says he’s into black magic, or demonology?”

“Had to send someone else to see the dorm room and try to find any friends he might have, because I got a call that one of my detectives was in the hospital.” He gave me a look.

“Sorry, Lieutenant.”

“Mark Cookson sounds like he could be good for this, Havoc, but your angel makes it sound like we are looking for someone a lot more dangerous than a horny teenager with bad social skills and no criminal record.”

“If they find things in his room that say he’s been messing with black magic, then he may still be the guy.”

“But if he is, then we’re looking for him right now. He’s from an upper-middle-class family, he’s not going to know how to hide from the police. We will find him, probably soon, which makes me think he’s not it, because if he was, why would we need a message from the angels?”

“I don’t know. The angel shouldn’t have given the message to me at all, Lieutenant. It should have gone to an Angel Speaker at the College, then they would have given the message to their handler, they would have given it to the administrative assistants, and they would have contacted the prophet on duty.”

“How long would all that have taken?”

I thought about it. “Hours, maybe a few days.”

“This is a murder investigation, Havoc; maybe God knew we needed the information sooner rather than later.”

“The Big Guy can do anything He wants to do.”

The lieutenant sighed. “Then he sent the message to you personally, because he knew we needed to know sooner.”

“Perhaps, but in the twelve years I’ve been gone from the College I’ve never had a message given to me.”

“You’ve never had another angel speak to you since you left?”

I looked away then, not sure what my face would show. I chose my words carefully, because Charleston wasn’t just a good cop, he was a Voodoo Priest, and I knew he worked his own brand of magic to give him better insight into people when he needed information from them.

“I’ve worked my brand of magic with the angels since I left the College, but I’ve never had them seek me out to tell me some message as if I were still an Angel Speaker.”

“You’re an Angel Speaker and a detective on the case; it sounds like you’re the perfect person to receive a message about the crime.”

“I’m not an Angel Speaker.”

“Maybe not officially, but you can talk to them without ending up in a coma, or worse.”

I let out a long breath because I’d been trying hard not to think about worse. “If any part of the holy fire had touched Gimble he’d be dead.”

“Or insane,” Charleston said.

“If he wakes up, that’s still a possibility, sir.”

“How serious a possibility?” he asked.

“He could wake up with no memory of it happening, or wake up screaming, or violent, or blissed out.”

“Blissed out, what does that mean?”

A deep breath from the bed made us both look down. I put a hand on Gimble’s shoulder so that if he tried to get out of the bed and hurt himself, or us, I could keep him down until he could be restrained.

He blinked up at us. “Hey, Havoc.”

“Hey, George,” I said, and smiled because he looked normal.

“Hey, Lieutenant.”

“Hey, Detective, how are you feeling?”

“I saw an angel, did Havoc tell you, I saw an angel?”

“He told me.”

“It was beautiful, so beautiful, like looking at the sun just standing in a room, except it had wings, but they were made of fire. It was amazing, wasn’t it, Havoc? Tell the lieutenant how amazing the angel was.” He touched my hand, which was still on his shoulder. “Tell him, Havoc; I don’t have the words.” He held my hand and started to cry softly, but his face was full of wonderment and awe. I’d seen that look before on other Angel Speakers, and in the mirror. It was like being born again into God’s chosen faith.

I held Gimble’s hand and looked across at our boss. “This is blissed out.”





CHAPTER THREE




He stopped crying and just lay there glowing with happiness. If it had been because of true love, or a new baby, or any of a dozen things I’d have been happy for him, but I’d seen the same angel and I wasn’t glowing. It did feel good to stand near him, though, as if waves of happy contentment were flowing from him to the rest of the room. The nurse on duty came in to check his vitals and stayed talking to him, smiling down at him as he smiled up at her. Of course, Gimble was smiling at everyone; the whole world would be his friend while the afterglow lasted.