Florian (Augarten Book 4) Read online

  I checked to make sure there were no customers waiting, then turned to my best friend and gave him the truth. "James, I am moving to Wales."

  His pale blue eyes widened, searching me. "What?"

  "Michel's uncles live in North Wales, and I need a change of location." I motioned around us, pain choking my voice. "Everything here reminds me of him. I can't move on. Rhys and Gethin have invited me to live with them, and I'm taking them up on it."

  James looked utterly heartbroken. "But Florian, you're my best friend. Our bromance is such a wonderful part of my life that I find I'm content to be a bachelor."

  It took a second for that to sink in, then I giggled. "You goof."

  He started chuckling too, and we stood there laughing at each other a moment.

  When our giggles subsided he swiped at a tear, and knowing James, it wasn't from laughing too hard. He was such a softie. "What will I do when you go?"

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I want you to move into the condo."

  He gaped at me. "Huh?"

  "I'll have Klaus and Brenda handle the legal side, but I want you to live there. Save your money."

  His mouth fell open. "You can't expect me to live in your place and not pay rent."

  I leveled with him. "That is exactly what I expect you to do. But I have reasons for requesting this."

  James waited to hear me out.

  I huffed a breath. "I want you to save your money, because eventually, I plan to open my own shop. When I do, I want you there with me. I've always wanted to be my own boss, run my own business. I don't know where I'll settle down, but I'm sick of working every day just to make money for someone else."

  James tilted his head to the side in thought. "That sounds wonderful. But that's all the more reason for you to stay. If it's not in Paris, I can't join you. I can't leave my daughter."

  "This won't be before she is grown anyways," I reasoned.

  "But that's not for another few years, at least. Florian, I can't deal with you being out of my life for that long. We are brothers. More than brothers."

  "I'm sorry," I said simply. "I can't stay."

  Klaus was more accepting of my idea than James. The only conditions he made were that I arranged to continue my grief counselling and that I called him once a week to check in. Over the next month, Klaus met with me daily after work, and slowly, we catalogued Michel's entire library. We kept the box of ashes tucked away—I intended to buy a nice urn in Wales. Klaus carefully turned over each photograph of Michi and I on our travels so I would not see reminders of our marriage everywhere. I held it together until I came across the book of medieval French prayers that Michi had brought on our first research trip to Toulouse ten years ago. The book caught me by surprise—I had not remembered the cover—but once I opened it and saw Michel's handwriting, the memory came sweeping back and I lost control.

  Klaus set a stack of books down and rushed over to me. "Oh, Florian."

  I curled into his broad chest as he wrapped his arms around me. I wailed, my tears seeping into his shirt for so long it started to get dark outside.

  "Come," Klaus said with a kiss to the top of my head. "I'll call Brenda. Let's go to dinner."

  My goodbye to Paris was incomplete, more filled with pain and the desire to leave as soon as possible than anything else. Klaus and Brenda promised to visit once I was settled, and James intended to bring his daughter on her next school break. Following Michi's dislike of flying because he worshipped the Celtic god of the sky, I crossed the European continent by train.

  Once I made it to North Wales, Gethin and Rhys welcomed me with open arms and helped me get settled. They gave me the spare bedroom in their house, the same house in which Robert had raised Michi and that Michi had bequeathed to them after Robert's death. They were devastated at Michel's passing and determined to step in as family and be there for me. They had helped Robert rescue Michel as a child, and now that child had died before turning forty. We sat around the kitchen table with tea and I forced myself to not think about how Michel had eaten at this table when he was young. Rhys and Gethin thought I might be able to find work at a coffee shop in town, since I could speak English and my Welsh was getting there fast.

  That night, I slept more soundly than I had for a long time, since before Michel had died.

  The next morning, I woke to find those knees in front of my face, the long navy-blue skirt folded around them.

  I sat up. "Oma, I have been praying to my husband's Welsh gods and to the Archangel Michael." Though I still didn't hear any concrete responses.

  Emilia looked just as she had four months ago when I'd first met her, the same bright red hair falling across her shoulders, the same precious dimples that reminded me of my mother.

  "I was watching," she said. "Although this is not the path I would have chosen for you, you have still connected to the divine. I have faith that your guardian deities will watch over you, and I have prayed to Michael asking him to guide you."

  That warmed my heart. "Thank you."

  She watched me for a long moment, until I realized the reason she must be here in front of me again. "You said last time that you would try to contact me to say goodbye…"

  "Yes."

  Emilia took my hands, her eyes filling with tears. "Goodbye, my sweet grandson. May we meet again if God wills it. But even more importantly, may you live every day for the rest of your life. Come what may, Florian, please endure it and breathe until the very end. I have seen how strong you are. I have faith that you will push through."

  My chest ached, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I don't want you to go, Oma, but I am grateful you have watched over me. Please thank God for letting you come to me when I felt so alone."

  She clasped my face in both hands. "Bless you, my grandson."

  I stared into her face, couldn't stop looking at her beautiful crying eyes, those familiar dimples as she tried to smile through her pain. My grandmother said something softly in Yiddish, and then she was gone.

  I sat there quietly a long moment, then pushed myself to my feet and began my morning prayers.

  The next several days, I woke with lingering traces of a dream in which Michel held my hand and taught me his invocation and banishing ritual in our apartment in Paris. He taught the ritual to me in Welsh, even though my basic comprehension should not have enabled me to remember such words. Yet Michi was there in my dream teaching me magic, so I listened. I journaled each morning to copy the details down into the material plane. Then in my dream Michel led me to a bookcase in our apartment and pulled a book from the shelf. I'd called James and he had found it in the exact location I described. When it arrived in the mail, I found it to be a beginner's manual of magic. It contained the ritual Michel had taught me, instructions on divination to ask questions of my higher soul, and journaling and meditation exercises.

  I started on them immediately. For the next week, the air felt heavy, loaded, as if I could feel the weight of magic all around. I breathed it; it soaked through me.

  Then one night, I lay in bed, praying and drifting off, when I felt my husband's warm hand brush my cheek.

  I jerked awake with a gasp. "Michi?"

  "I'm here, Flor."

  I blinked several times, and my husband appeared before me, lying on his side on the bed, his head on the pillow with me. Michi's eyes were filled with love, his expression content as he brushed my hair off my forehead in a gentle caress.

  "What are you doing here? Why are you so solid?" Was this really a dream? I could feel his touch as if he had a real body again.

  Michi cupped my face, smoothing the pad of his thumb along my cheekbone. "Tonight is the last time I can visit, my love. I've got to go."

  My stomach dropped. "Can't you stay?"

  Emilia had just left two weeks before. I would be truly alone if Michi's spirit left me now.

  Michi looked solemn. "There is an angel named Ian who is helping me, because things went wrong when I died. Ian wants to try s
omething to see if he can fix it. If it works, I won't be able to talk with you in your dreams anymore."

  I swallowed my grief, pushing it aside so I could speak to my precious husband one last time. I would have the rest of my life to grieve him. "I don't want to hold you back, Michi. Of course I wish you could stay, but that is expected of any man who loves his husband."

  Michi drew in a harsh breath. "Thank you for being my husband, Flor."

  I struggled to remain in control as tremors wracked through me. "Thank you for loving me, Michi. Thank you for our marriage. Is there…is there anything I can do to make you stay? Or can I go with you?"

  Michel quirked a smile, surely thinking back to our first date, just as I was. "Are you trying to make a Faustian bargain?"

  "Can I?" I begged.

  He shook his head slowly, his glass-green eyes soft. "Live, darling."

  I swallowed, holding back the words that I didn't want to, that I didn't want to wake up without him, every day for the rest of my life.

  Michi took my hand and kissed the wedding ring I still wore. Then he kissed me on the lips, lingering there for a moment I wished would last much longer.

  "With this…" Michi choked on a sob and cleared his throat. "With this is the resolution of our marriage vows. With this, is the dissolution of our karmic ties to each other. May we part ways having loved each other genuinely and honestly. May we release each other to walk our own path of destiny."

  I knew instinctively that Michi was reciting the lines of a spell. When he opened his eyes and looked at me, I knew what I needed to say. "With this, I resolve our marriage vows. With this, I dissolve our karmic ties to each other. I have loved you, Michi, genuinely and honestly. I release you, to walk the path of your destiny."

  Those emerald eyes filled with tears, and all of a sudden we weren't in my bed in North Wales, but on the coast of the Celtic Sea. Just as he had ten years ago when he asked me to marry him, Michi wore rich blue robes that billowed in the wind. Instead of kneeling, this time he held both my hands and smiled at me.

  I could not find words, could only squeeze his hands as I cried.

  "Keep the ring," Michi said softly, just barely above the wind. "Even if you don't wear it. Do you have the amulet on you?"

  "Always."

  Michi nodded. "Keep it with you—it is a protective charm. It should keep you safe until you develop the powers of awareness to protect yourself."

  I held back my sobs enough to promise him.

  Michi cast his gaze down at my hands, examining them for the last time. "And the ashes, don't scatter them. Keep them nearby, even if they're tucked away in your closet."

  "Okay."

  The wind blew harder, whipping Michi's robes out behind him. My husband cradled my face in his hands. "Oh, Florian. How I will miss you. I have loved you so."

  My chest clenched, my heart beating frantically, my mind screaming at me to try to hold onto him, but I held myself back. "I will miss you too, Michi. Go with my love."

  He leaned in and gave me one last kiss, then wrapped me in a tight hug. "Goodbye, Flor."

  "Goodbye."

  Then in a gust of wind he was gone, and all I held was his bright blue robe on the coast of the Celtic Sea.

  I wrenched awake, fisting the bedsheets. "Michi!"

  Shh.

  A faint hand touched my shoulder, then another one on the side of my head. I knew that touch.

  I scrambled to find words. "Angel—you're the angel with the gold tears. Michi said your name is Ian, right? Will you stay with me, please?"

  A long pause, then, No. I am not your guardian angel. I am his, and I must try to help him.

  My eyes burning with tears, I nodded, my voice quivering. "I understand. Whatever happened, please fix him, Ian. Thank you."

  I felt a warmth running through me from the contact with his hands. You don't need to thank me, blessed one.

  I wanted to beg him to comfort me, to ask him for a hug, but the hand on my cheek moved to my forehead, that cool thumb covering my third eye center the same way it had that terrible night. Sleep for now, Florian. You'll feel better in the morning.

  I fell asleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  I caught a cold the week after that and the chills sent me into my nightmares.

  I groaned, unable to summon the strength to wake myself up as the café formed around me and my husband tackled me to the floor. I lurched as the cars sped by, glass shattered and people screamed. Michi's body grew heavy and his blood soaked into my hair and clothing. I held him, knowing that at least his spirit was not reliving this with me, because Michel had moved on. This was not his nightmare anymore. It could only haunt me now.

  Too weary to save myself, I lay broken and waited for the horrific scene to cycle its way through. When the angels filled the café, I sat up and waited for Michael. The Archangel appeared in blazing fire, his massive wings radiating the evening sun. Kneeling before him, I lifted my dead husband up. That brief flash came wherein the archangel met my eyes and my breath stilled in my chest. I bowed my head in obeisance.

  But the moment stretched on, and the archangel did not take Michi from my arms.

  I chanced a look. The angel had not moved. My heart sped up as the dream changed. This had never happened before.

  His eyes locked on mine, Michael flicked his hand to the side, and Michi disappeared.

  I gasped and choked on a scream as my husband vaporized from my arms. I struggled to comprehend what was happening when the angel's voice shook me to my bones. Rise.

  I scrambled to my feet, knees knocking in terror. Michael took a step toward me, then circled slowly around behind, scanning me as if his fiery eyes could see through my human body into my very soul. My brain caught up and told me I was surely about to die, that the archangel would kill me. But at least then my story would be over, and if I died by Michael's hand, at least then I would be safe. My husband trusted Michael.

  Be not afraid.

  I shrieked and covered my mouth. "Yes, sir. I apologize."

  The sheer power of the archangel standing behind me was enough to obliterate me in an instant. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and clenched my fists to gather strength. Why did he not order me to face him? Why was he standing there, behind me?

  "Please…" I managed to say. Then I lost confidence and fell silent.

  Please help me get through this time in my life, the loss of my husband, my partner. Please help me find the strength to carry on. Please let me love you, because if I yearn for Michi the way I want to, the way I need him, I worry that I will hold him back.

  Michael put a hand on my shoulder, and the jolt of energy was so strong I lost my footing. Before I could fall, the angel caught me in his arms. He hooked one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me princess-style. I had but a moment to realize what was happening when Michael beat his gigantic wings and we began to rise.

  I gasped and peeked down at the destroyed café, but we rose through the awning of the patio as if we were not corporeal. A full moon shone over Paris as we lifted into the night. When we got high enough that I could no longer make out individual buildings besides Notre Dame, we leveled off and Michael headed north.

  I looked up but only saw the underside of Michael's chin as he flew at incredible speed. His grip around me was strong, secure, but I clung to his robes because I did not know what else to do. Part of me knew I should be afraid at such a height, but how could an angel drop me unless I was meant to fall?

  Michael gave something of a huff at that, and in that moment I realized that he could hear my thoughts as clearly as if I were speaking.

  We flew over France, and still we headed north, not east toward Austria. Michael was not taking me home to Vienna.

  I curled into his chest and stopped trying to make words come. I simply felt every emotion that had lodged in my chest since Michel died, all the pain and desolation and longing to be loved by someone, to have someone who accep
ted love from me, who would let me take care of them. That acknowledgement felt like a huge weight had been lifted from me, like all the energy I had poured into these emotions was immediately absorbed by Michael and neutralized. My pain skittered across his robes and with one beat of his wings was dashed to the wind.

  The relief pulled vulnerable desires from my innermost depths. "Can I love you?"

  Yes.

  I let out a long, shuddering sigh, and then the tears came. I cried against his chest, not even thinking to check where we were going, just cried and cried. My tears soaked into his robes. I thought of every tender moment I'd had with Michi, every gentle kiss and whispered confession. I summoned all of the love I held for my beloved and offered it to the archangel, left it on an altar for him to do with as he wished, because I did not want my love and longing for Michi to hold back his soul who needed to move on.

  I was lulled into a soothing dream, wherein Michi and I somehow had bird wings and flew around in the night sky. The dream morphed to us making love, and my body sung with passion as the floodgates in my heart spilled open. Every fiber of my being radiated with love, and my body could not help but react. After one last night of pleasuring and being pleasured by my husband, we fell asleep in each other's arms, and I woke from the dream to find myself still in the archangel's embrace. Deep blue lightened the inky sky to the east.

  I blinked tear-crusted eyes. We were flying above a layer of clouds. Then embarrassment washed through me. If the archangel could read my every thought, then he surely knew the content of my dreams, yet he still held me and did not let me go.

  "Please excuse me," I stuttered. "I did not mean to have such an intimate dream while you were holding me."

  Michael did not reply, simply squeezed me tight against his chest. What radiated from his powerful body into me was not words, but feelings, a baseline level of strength and love that surely no human had ever known.

  Before I thought to second-guess myself, I lifted my hand and placed it over his heart, my entire soul vibrating with love. Michael looked down at me and a message I could not understand passed in his eyes. Then he turned back to the horizon, the moment gone, but his grip no less firm.