Archangel Rafe (A Novel of The Seven Book 1) by Lisa Hughey Read Free Book Online

“What’s doing?”
    Rafe was amused. “You trying to intimidate me?”
    “Naw. Just trying to figure out what’s wrong.”
    “I have a task to complete before I ascend.”
    “Yeah. Heard about it.” Uri rubbed a white towel over his hair and face. “But that’s not what’s bothering you.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I’ve known you for seven hundred years, boy chick.” Uri dropped down onto the mat next to the weight bench. “We fought the plague together and survived. And I haven’t ever seen you this unhappy.”
    The temptation to confide in Uri was strong. Too strong. “I have...a situation.”
    Uri smirked. “What kind of situation?”
    “Can’t talk about it.”
    “Why not?”
    “It has repercussions.”
    “Does it affect the fate of the Earth?”
    Rafe shook his head. “Ah, probably not.” Just his fate.
    “Can I help?”
    Rafe knew he couldn’t burden his friend. Uri’s job had been to bind the fallen. If Rafe didn’t get his shit together, Uri might have to contain him. He refused to put his friend in that position. “I wish you could.”
    “Let me know if you change your mind.”
    As Archangel of Birth and Renewal, Uri’s talents were manipulating fire and promoting peace through brotherhood. Somehow Rafe didn’t think Uri would feel so brotherly if he knew Rafe was on the verge of becoming Fallen.
    And if ordered, Uri would bind Rafe in a heartbeat. “You’ll be the first to know.”

EIGHT
    How had she let Janine trick her into a visit to this witch doctor?
    Okay, okay. Acupuncture and Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioners weren’t really witch doctors. And hadn’t she always been convinced that her own Grammy had a natural healing ability with herbs? A little bell jangled over the doorway as she let herself into the unassuming office located in a set of quaint, old Victorian houses. Three people occupied Asian-inspired chairs that lined walls covered with bamboo wallpaper. A fountain tinkled soothingly on the counter top and mellow flute music floated from a boom box on the floor in the corner.
    The chair behind the check-in desk was empty. So Angelina took a seat and tried not to look like she was on the verge of bolting.
    She was on the verge of bolting.
    Why was she here? And since Angelina let Janine talk her into this visit, why wasn’t Janine here too? Angelina tried to calm down by studying the other patients, who turned out to be an eclectic lot. An old man, older than Grammy, sat in one chair with a cane resting lightly against his leg. In another, a young girl Lina’s age was seated with a bandage wrapped around her knee. And finally, a man who constantly touched the Bluetooth at his ear and thumbed through emails on his smart phone sat in the last chair.
    Somehow she’d thought that the clients would be more ‘out there’ in appearance, tie-dye, Birkenstocks, long hair, love beads. Angelina didn’t believe in hocus-pocus, supernatural, metaphysical hooey. She had her feet firmly planted in reality, but also believed in the healing power of herbs. That did not translate to also indulging in woo-woo, think happy thoughts, and find The Secret beliefs. She knew better than to wish for more than she was able to handle.
    She waited for almost half an hour. As people came and went, the muscles in her back tightened with every trickle of supposedly soothing water. She knew what was wrong with her. She was depressed and likely pre-menopausal. And that had manifested in some extremely erotic dreams. She sat in this office and listened to the fountain and prayed she wouldn’t fall asleep-- since lately whenever she went to sleep, her sexy dream man appeared.
    Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?
    Her cell buzzed. She looked at the text display. Janine. “Don’t back out!”
    Apprehension clogged her throat when the practitioner finally came for her. He was a small Asian man, possibly Vietnamese, but younger than she’d expected.
    “Come in, come in.” He led her