Free Archangel Evolution by David Estes Page B

transporters—futuristic-looking trains that zipped
personnel and guests throughout the Lair at sometimes
rollercoasteresque speeds—to the hospital.
    Taylor led the way to Sampson’s room,
remembering where in the maze of halls, corridors, and exam rooms
he was located. Without knocking, she pushed open the door. The
room was empty, the bed sheets having been laundered and replaced.
Taylor frowned. “They must have moved him,” she said.
    At the nurse’s station, they inquired as to
Sampson’s new room. “He’s gone,” the nurse said solemnly.
    Shock, sadness, frustration, fear: such were
the feelings that were included in the muddled mix of emotions that
hit Taylor at that moment, leaving her nauseous and light-headed.
Just yesterday he had been on the mend, how could this have
happened? The nurse must’ve read Taylor’s pain on her face, because
she said, “No, no, I mean…I shouldn’t have said it that way.
Sampson’s fine. He’s been discharged, that’s all. He made such a
speedy recovery that he didn’t need to stay here any longer.”
    Relief washed over Taylor, leaving her
feeling fresh and clean again. The pit left her stomach and she
felt a slight fluttering of butterflies. She had trouble finding
her voice, however, and only managed to mumble, “Thanks,” before
walking off.
    Despite her reassurances, the demon insisted
that he follow Taylor around the Lair as she searched for Sampson.
He wasn’t worried about her safety; rather, he wanted to know when
she was heading back to UT’s campus, so he could resume his
security detail with the rest of her guard. “Fine. But you can damn
well stay at least twenty feet away. I’ll be damned if I have a
freaking entourage walking around this place.” The guard, taken
aback by the directness of her demand, backed off immediately much
to Taylor’s satisfaction.
    It didn’t take Taylor long to find her
friend. Sampson was in the demon café, scarfing down platefuls of
food as if he hadn’t eaten since his birth more than eighteen years
earlier. He was sitting with a group of his fellow Hell’s Angels,
but stood and strode to meet Taylor upon spotting her.
    As he approached, Taylor outstretched her
hand to fist-bump him and then blow-it-up as was their typical
greeting, but instead he moved past her arm and hugged her firmly.
It was the first time they had hugged, and although Taylor thought
it would be awkward—as they just didn’t have that type of touchy,
feely relationship—it wasn’t. The hug felt natural, sincere,
brotherly.
    When he released her, his face was serious.
“Taylor, I don’t know how to thank you.”
    “C’mon, don’t get all mushy on me. You can
thank me by not making a big deal out of it. I want the jokester,
doesn’t-take-himself-or-life-too-seriously Sampson back.”
    Sampson screwed up his face, fully closing
one eye and bugging the other eye out. Touching his tongue to his
nose, he mumbled, “Isth thut besser?”
    Taylor laughed. “Much better. Thanks. Hey,
I’ve got training today, do you want to come?”
    With a gleam in his eye, Sampson said, “I
would love to, but I have an important briefing to attend. I’ve
been booked on a mission. You may have heard about it. It’s called
Operation Kill-the-Bastard-Head-of-the-Archangel-Council.”
    “What!? You’re on my mission? But don’t you
need to rest and recover?”
    “Thanks to you, I’m already at one hundred
percent. Clifford asked me if I would do it and I said yes, of
course.”
    Taylor couldn’t hide her excitement as a
smile filled her face. “I’m so glad, Sampson. It will mean a lot to
me having you there.”
    “Me, too,” Sampson said. “Now, where’s that
chump of a boyfriend of yours?”
    “Preparing to train me back at UT. That’s
where all the action is. Sure you can’t come?”
    Sampson said, “I’ll try to stop by later. I
heard it’s being held in the football stadium, right?”
    “What? How’s that possible? Gabriel said