Mercy for the Fallen by Lisa Olsen Page A

Adam-suit?
    “You’re invited to the wedding,” I blurted out.  It was a stupid thing to say compared to the heartfelt words from him, but it was all I had.
    “Thanks, but I think it’s time for me to stay away for a while.”
    “Bunny…”
    “Is in good hands.  Tell Parker I won’t oppose the adoption.  But someday you’ll have to tell her about me.”
    “I will,” I nodded, too stunned to say anything else.
    “Goodbye, Mercy.  I wish you every happiness.”  I thought he might try to kiss me goodbye, but he turned to leave. 
    He was giving up.  That stunned me more than anything else.  Gone was the brash schmoozer, convinced his charm could seduce any woman with a single glance.  Gone was the passionate lover who declared that no man would ever love me the way he did.  Instead, he’d become something I never thought I’d see.  Humble.  Solicitous.  A graceful loser.  He’d become the better man. 
    “Adam… wait,” I called out, but he was gone.
     

Chapter Eleven
     
    “Merceline.”
    My eyes squinched tight against the brightness.  Had Parker left the light on when he came home from the club?  My foot slid out to feel his comforting heat beside me, and I rolled over, covering my head with the comforter. 
    “Merceline,” the voice came again.  Not the way it sounded when someone was calling my name and I felt compelled to find them, but speaking it in a low, insistent tone. 
    “Go away,” I growled, peeking under the blankets to peer at the clock.  A little past four a.m.  What was it with angels bugging me in the middle of the night?  “Ugh.  This had better be good.”
    “Merceline, I pray thee leave behind the lure of sleep and speak with me.  I have most urgent news.”
    Was he for real?  Even among angels, none of the ones I’d met spoke so formally.  Unless they were delivering a message, that tended to go with the more dramatic.  That thought alone made me force myself to wake up.  That, and I wanted to know who the hell was bugging me in the middle of the night in my bedroom.     
    Uncovering my head the rest of the way, I had the blankets halfway down before I realized I was naked and yanked them back up to my chin.  When had I gotten naked?  Was this one of those dreams where you can’t find any clothes no matter what?  Dimly, I recalled greeting Parker amorously when he got home from work, still a little tipsy from the wine.  All traces of intoxication were gone, leaving a dull ache behind my eyes and the taste of dead leaves in my mouth. 
    Through squinted eyes, I saw a man standing beside the bed, the nimbus of golden Grace bright in the darkened room.  Dark, wavy hair fell to just under his ears, curling there.  Powerful, broad shoulders were swathed in white robes with a bright blue mantle that matched his eyes.  He was the only angel I’d ever met who looked like he’d stepped off the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.  Even Gabriel wore modern clothes whenever he showed up.  I was pretty sure I’d never seen him before at any of the angel meetings in the past.  Definitely not one of the Fallen.  Soft, full lips were pinched into a frowny line as he waited for me to wake up fully. 
    I lifted my hand to shield my eyes against his glow.  “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my bedroom?”
    “Be not afraid, Merceline.  I am Michael, and I bring thee news of great portent.”
    “Michael… as in Michael, the archangel?  How come he didn’t come to talk to me himself?”  Parker stirred beside me, and I reached over to rub his back, not wanting to wake him up unless I had to.  It was a tad disturbing to find Michael in my bedroom.  Wasn’t he the leader of God’s army, not a messenger boy?
    A pained look flashed across Michael’s features, but it was gone in a blink.  “He knows not of the current crisis and there was little time to find him.  I bring thee tidings of great woe.  Thou must fly to Githa without