Company of Angels 02 - The Demoness of Waking Dreams

him. His aching body shifted, seeking what comfort it could in the rigid confines of the seat.
    “I don’t mean to criticize. Of course you deserve to relax for the moment,” said Arielle, reaching over to pat his arm. “She’s in good hands now. Once we get her back to Los Angeles, we’ll take her to the new retreat center we’ve just acquired. You’re going to love our new facility.”
    Los Angeles… Retreat center…
    His eyes snapped back open.
    Arielle was smiling contentedly, clearly pleased with herself. “Didn’t I tell you? We’re expanding into a new compound.”
    “Where did you get the money for that?” he asked. “The L.A. unit has been notoriously underfunded.”
    She smiled, but said nothing. He knew the answer. Julian Ascher.
    “I’m taking Luciana back to Chicago with me,” he said. The roughness of smoke lingered in his lungs, abrading his throat as he spoke. He cleared it and said, “I captured her. She’s my detainee.”
    “Your contribution has certainly been commendable,” Arielle told him, with that placid smile fixed on her face. “But the demoness is technically the responsibility of the Company as a larger organization. Considering the amount of…ahem…personal interaction you’ve had with her, you wouldn’t want anyone to think you were biased, would you?”
    Something gleamed in the corner of Arielle’s eye.
    If he didn’t know her better, he would have said it was something evil.
    In her own seat, the demoness sat absolutely still. Restrained by the cuffs, both her hands were clenched into fists.
    “Forget it,” he said. “I’ve cleaned up your mess, Arielle. Now I’m going home. Back to my own unit. Back to my own team. You’re no longer a part of this assignment.”
    The blonde angel leaned forward and stared him evenly in the eye.
    He shivered, overcome by the sensation that he was staring into a block of ice.
    “That’s not your call to make, now, is it?” she said. “Given that this plane belongs to the L.A. unit, you don’t have a lot of say in our destination.”
    Brandon sighed, too exhausted to fight. “Why are we arguing about this, Arielle? Let’s just contact Michael and ask him for our next instructions.”
    He pulled his wet cell phone out of his pocket. Trying to power it on, he realized it was waterlogged and defunct.
    “Give me your phone,” he told her.
    “It’s not safe to use cell phones during flight,” she admonished, with that trademark smile of absolute neutrality. “Besides, does Michael know exactly how personally close you’ve gotten with the target?”
    “Don’t threaten me, Arielle,” he growled.
    She sat back in her chair, crossed her legs. Folded her hands on top of one knee. “The plane is on course for Los Angeles. You’ll see once we get there. It really is the best place for her. It’s so secure and secluded. We’ll have a proper chance to discuss the option of disposal,” Arielle said sweetly. “And we can interrogate her.”
    “Interrogate her?” said Brandon, his hoarse voice rising, attracting the worried glances of the other angels. He didn’t care. “That wasn’t our assignment. Our assignment was to capture her, and to make sure she didn’t circulate any more poison. Those goals have been accomplished. Michael never said anything about interrogation.”
    “We’ll see about that,” Arielle said, “once we land in L.A. Luciana is a source of information, and there are still so many unanswered questions. Luciana has not yet disclosed whether any poison still exists. Nor is there any guarantee that she’ll refrain from using her considerable skills to concoct more poison in the future. We must ensure that she is neutralized. The Archangels left this with us to resolve.”
    “We will see about that,” he growled.
    But short of hijacking the plane, Brandon realized there was no point in arguing with Arielle any further.
    Even if he wanted to, he had no energy left to do so.
    All he could do was lean back and battle sleep with every ounce of energy he had left in his body.
    * * *
     
    This is utter humiliation, Luciana thought to herself as the angels bickered over her. Not since my human life have I been shamed in such a manner. I have not been taken against my will for over two centuries.
    The last time she had been held captive, she had vowed she would never let a man seize the vantage point again. Between Julian and Harcourt, the bowels of hell and the brothel, she had endured