Nathaniel knew of Merrick. He was a member of the ventala. Nathaniel pictured a man in a dark suit who moved with precision and killed without remorse. He’d been trained like no other ventala. Lysander. The name reverberated through Nathaniel’s mind. Merrick had been trained by Lysander—one of the fiercest archangels of all time. A fallen archangel.
“I’ve heard of Merrick,” Nathaniel said.
“Most people have.”
Nathaniel stepped forward and rested a hand on the counter. He studied the man, who shifted his considerable bulk. There was no malice behind the man’s eyes. No instinct dictated that Nathaniel challenge him.
“I understand that you are bound by your duty, but I would like you to call Merrick and tell him a member of Lysander’s former brotherhood asks to see him.”
The man’s jaw dropped. “You’re saying—” The man leaned forward and lowered his voice. “None of us has ever seen him, but everybody who works for the boss has heard rumors about Lysander.” The man narrowed his eyes and looked Nathaniel over. “You better not drop that name unless you are what you claim.”
Nathaniel smiled. “As with your employer, you would not like to witness me prove what I am.”
The man lifted the phone and conveyed Nathaniel’s message to the person on the other end. Setting the phone back in its cradle, he said, “They’ll check with him and call me back.”
Nathaniel nodded as the man looked him over again.
“So you’re allowed to tell people what you are?”
“If I revealed myself to you, then I must not be barred from it,” Nathaniel said, though he wasn’t sure that was true. He only knew that his instincts had not railed against his making the revelation.
“So what’s it like? Heaven?” the man asked eagerly.
“It defies description.” At least at the moment. “You need to see for yourself.”
The man shrugged. “Not sure that’s going to work out. This patch of concrete’s been pretty godforsaken. We do what we have to do to survive. Not sure how that’s gonna go over come Judgment Day.”
“It’s not too late to live as you were meant to.”
The phone rang, and the man picked it up. He listened for a moment. “Sure.” He replaced the receiver. “The penthouse elevator will take you all the way up. The code is 198724.”
“Thank you. And good luck on your journey.”
“I’m gonna take a journey?”
Nathaniel smiled. “The journey of your life.”
Nathaniel crossed the black marble tile to reach the elevator. He keyed in the code and the door slid open. Inside there were sleek steel walls. A pewter-framed painting of a white orchid dotted with crimson hung at the back, managing to be both sensual and ominous.
Nathaniel stepped inside and ascended.
Chapter Five
Nathaniel walked down the wide hall with its alternating lengths of indigo carpet and white marble. A black-and-white photograph of a French horn seemed to float above the ground, held in place by thread-thin wires. The walls were papered in a silver geometric pattern as though the corridor had been gift-wrapped by a mathematician with a taste for jazz.
Merrick answered the door in a white bathrobe and dark sunglasses. Nathaniel didn’t understand the sunglasses since the penthouse apartment was as dark as a cave. Nathaniel had the urge to throw the heavy drapes open and let in the light.
“Hello,” Merrick said, going into his kitchen. He emerged with a bowl of dates, dried figs, and spiced almonds. “What else would you like? Bread and cheese? Some spiced meat?” Merrick asked.
“This is plenty. Thank you.” From the first bite, a flood of warm emotion coursed through Nathaniel. These were flavors from a time now lost.
“A drink?”
“Is there wine?”
“There’s everything,” Merrick said, going to his bar. He uncorked a bottle and poured dark red wine into a goblet. Then into a heavy asymmetric highball glass he poured amber spirits and dropped a lime wedge.
Nathaniel watched Merrick. The ventala who had attacked Nathaniel were strong, quick, and agile, but they hadn’t been trained to fight by archangels. Merrick’s movements betrayed his superior training. No wasted motion. Nathaniel admired that.