Velvet Haven

dog.
    “I need your help, Suriel.”
    “Allow me to throw your words back in your face. Fuck you .”
    “I know what you are.”
    “So?” he said with a derisive snort.
    “You’re the angel of Death and Resurrection.” Suriel’s black eyes narrowed. “They say that you were there the day they nailed Christ to the cross. You sat at his feet and when it was time, with your left hand, you facilitated his death, and on the third day, you resurrected him with your right.”
    Suriel jumped down, his wings unfurling as he landed. “Urban legend,” he said with a smirk. “Never believe what the crackheads and heroin whores tell you.”
    “It’s true, isn’t it?”
    Suriel shrugged his shoulders. “What do you care?”
    “I need your help. I’m . . . willing to pay for it.”
    Suriel glanced at the dog. “I don’t do animals,” he said with a sneer.
    “This is important.”
    “Sorry. Can’t stay and chat, I’ve got a meth overdose to decide what to do with.”
    Bran watched Suriel’s wings furl and disappear beneath the long leather trench he wore. “I’ll give you what you want.”
    That stopped the bastard in his tracks. Bran held his breath. Mairi had saved him from certain death. She’d shared her body with him, giving him energy, giving him his magic. She’d given all of herself to him, and he would save her. Even though one day she might fulfill the prophecy and kill him.
    Suriel circled around him, watching him with his fathomless black eyes. “If you’re bullshitting me, I’ll kill you.”
    “I’m not. I will give you the book you seek in payment for Mairi’s life. And the dog’s,” he added. Mairi loved this dog.
    “I also require access to Mairi. She can decipher the prophecy the Scribe has written in it.”
    “Resurrect the dog and save Mairi, and I will give you this book you seek.” Cailleach would strip him of his flesh if she discovered his treason, but it was Mairi he was worrying about now, not his own hide. Cailleach, for all he cared, could battle it out with Suriel herself if she wanted the damn book so bad.
    Suriel waved his right hand over the dog, murmuring an incantation as he did so. Slowly, a shimmering vapor rose from Clancy’s body and twisted, arching into a sphere before it lowered. With a small whimper, the dog took a breath and looked up at him.
    “It’s done. Now to the woman.”
    Stunned, Bran lowered himself to the ground and watched Clancy take a few unsteady steps. “How—”
    “No questions,” Suriel said, circling him. “You must know that once someone is reincarnated they come back as . . . something different.”
    Bran narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
    “They are not the same as before they died. Are you prepared for that, Sidhe, that your Mairi might be someone totally different?”
    “I want her alive,” he growled with everything in his heart. “I don’t care if she changes, I just want her . . .” In my life , he silently whispered.
    “Good. Now close your eyes, Sidhe, and let me go to work.”
    Bran’s whole body stiffened in shock. He felt his eyes go wide; his body arched, then froze, his arms stiff at his sides as though he were paralyzed.
    “What in the fuck are you doing?” Bran rasped as he felt Suriel’s hand grip his neck.
    “Look into my eyes. I need to see what you saw.”
    Suriel made a growling sound, and Bran felt his body grow limp and weak as their gazes locked. Bran felt Suriel probing his mind, pulling at memories. The fight with Mairi’s attacker flooded forward, and he saw Suriel’s pupils dilate. Then suddenly Suriel’s black wings unfurled, caging Bran against the wall. Bran became aware of Suriel’s body, the way it seemed to charge; the vibe coming off him was almost electric, but Bran had no time to think further; Suriel had him by the throat, his fingers biting into his skin.
    “Go to St. Mike’s. And if you don’t cough up the book, I’ll do more than just fucking kill you, you got that? I’ll torture you. You got my vow on that, Sidhe. You’ve made a pact, and I intend to see you fulfill it.”
    “What did you see?” he demanded as Suriel straightened away from him.
    “A brother,” he spat, shaking his head. “I don’t know which one. I couldn’t see his mark. It’s not Uriel, but Christ, it’s an angel,” Suriel rasped. “But he’s not working alone. He can’t be.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Because our powers are limited in Annwyn, like yours are limited