Free Repent in Love by J. Hali Steele Page A

surprised. It always came down to the blood.
God’s gift of life ran bright red through every living being’s veins. Without
it—there wouldn’t be life. “You’re worst then a damned vampyre.”
    “Don’t hate, do I rag you about whizzing around like a bird?”
    Uri fought to hold the glee from his eyes and the smile from
his lips. This half man, half angel was absolutely something else. He had no
inborn fear. Could be good or bad depending on who Marcan ran into, but Uriel
liked him. Young by heavenly standards, the boy had a lot of years to go before
he was considered grown. He made a mental note to keep him away from Luke.
    “What else did you learn from your father? Think hard, I
want to know everything.”
    “I didn’t lear—” Uri’s bolt lifted Marcan from the chair
flinging him into the far corner of the room. Another bolt pushed him into the
air where he banged into the cavern’s ceiling with a thud before landing back
in the chair.
    “I asked you politely not to lie. The next time I won’t be
so nice.”
    “I watched my father closely, some things you just pick up,
okay?”
    “Did he ever mention the Fates?”
    Uri looked at Marcan and could see his intelligent wheels
spinning. Pray God the little shit did not try anything.
    “Ahh, this has to do with the pretty thing you blazed with a
fiery knife earlier. Nice ass on her. If I got my hands on that pussy—”
    Uri blasted him with twice the power he had earlier. Marcan tumbled
over and over through the room and slammed into a wall, leaving the print of
his body in the crystal structure. Blood poured profusely from his nose and his
arm was bent at an odd angle. “If a single thought of her ever crosses your
mind again, I’ll tear it from your addled head. Do. You. Understand?”
    “Holy shit.” Marcan rolled over and gurgled through his
bruised lips, “Yeah, I got it.” Tossed high into the air, he disappeared.
    “Little fucker,” Uri cursed loudly. Now what? He’d have to
leave his questioning until another time.
    He decided to visit Luke.
    “Uri, good to see you. I’m on my way out. Want to come?”
    “Not in the mood.”
    “You’re never in the mood for fun anymore. What’s going on
with you?”
    “You’re close to the Nephilim.” He raised his hands. “I’ve
been aware of it for years, don’t bother lying.”
    “Who was going to lie? No reason to. I’m friends with them.
What do you want to know?”
    Most of the halflings’ parents resided in Heaven, but some
didn’t. Uri needed information about one in particular who did not. “Marmaroth?”
    “Go to hell, Uri. Don’t even think about it. Have you lost
what little mind you had left? Michael will take you down. Hell, the Father
will do more than scar you for life. And why do all of you think I want to get
involved in your bullshit?”
    “Luke, I need some help here.” They used to get along well.
No angel hated Luke. The Devil held a special place in all their lives. Without
him, they wouldn’t be necessary.
    “Chrissakes. Couldn’t you just sleep with her? Nothing but
trouble is going to come of this.” Luke paced back and forth across the floor a
few times. “I’ll give you one thing and that’s it. Ask the right question
because it’ll be your only one.”
    A game the Fates themselves played. They would answer one
question. Uri searched deep in his mind, scouring every corner for the right
thing to ask. Luke meant what he said. Not saying a word, he walked the floor.
What would help him most? Knowing if Marmaroth lived? Because he wasn’t absolutely
sure. Marcan could answer that because of their familial connection. What else?
Though the angel in question had chosen to leave Heaven and give up being an
angel, he’d been one of the Father’s favorites. Might he still have a few
powers? Had he ever used the power Uri wanted to exploit? Shit. Everything had
become too hard. He still reeled from the way Morta had left him earlier. Would
she come back