Messenger's Angel: A Novel of the Lost Angels by Heather Killough-Walden

There was something niggling at the back of his mind. He recognized it as a holdover of his ability to divine future events. It came with the territory—this “feeling” he sometimes got. And he didn’t like the way this one felt. He wondered exactly what it meant. The only real way to tell would be to divine again, and the act weakened him to a dangerous degree. He needed his strength to deal with Juliette.
    The sooner, the better. Retaining his invisibility always weakened him and he wasn’t certain how long he was going to have to remain as he was.
    Up ahead, Juliette crossed the street to the only car rental shop on the Outer Hebrides islands. He waited, growing more impatient by the minute. His mind flicked to the other Adarians and he couldn’t help but wonder what was happening with the General.
    Juliette stepped inside the shop and Daniel leaned against the damp stone wall to wait.
Just a few more hours,
he told himself.
Just a few more hours and she’ll be alone on the moors in the fog. Well, almost alone.
He would be with her, invisible in the backseat. It would be so easy to cover up Juliette’s disappearance with an accident. The roads out here were dangerous. They were narrow and winding, lined with craggy cliffs and obstructed by sheep that meandered, sightlessly, into oncoming traffic.
    “Patience, Daniel,” he muttered softly.
    But as he watched, the archess clearly became agitated. Juliette ran a frustrated hand through her hair. She wasn’t smiling. Daniel cocked his head to one side and looked closer. The woman behind the counter who was helping Juliette was shaking her head and her expression was pained with something like guilt.
    Daniel’s gaze narrowed. He remained invisible and moved across the street to stand beside the glass door to the establishment. He listened.
    “. . . it’s the festival. All cars have been booked for weeks.”
    “Festival?” Juliette asked, barely managing to keep her voice down.
    “The music festival,” the woman replied.
    “Feis nan Coisir,” Juliette sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and momentarily closing her eyes. “I remember now.”
    “Yae’ve go’ a fairly good accent there,” the woman behind the counter admitted, her pained expression lightening a little.
    “Thanks,” Juliette said, clearly trying to remain cordial. She looked at the woman behind the counter. “I have a confirmation number. Just let me find it.” She started fishing around in her leather backpack.
    “I’m so sorrae, boot I’m afraid it won’t matter,” the woman told her, shaking her head and appearing truly apologetic. “The lot’s emptae. There aren’t any cars, whether yae’ve go’ a number or no’.”
    Juliette’s beautiful face turned stony and Daniel wished he could read her mind. Alas, that wasn’t one of his powers. “Well, that’s good because the stupid confirmation number is in my lost suitcase anyway,” she said as she let her bag drop back down against her shoulder.
    “There mi’ be a few rooms still available here in Stornoway,” the woman offered. “Yae can take a taxi to yer cottage tomorra, though I’m afraid yae’ll be payin’ posh prices.”
    Daniel ran his hand over his face as he listened to Juliette succumb to the circumstances and use the rental shop’s phone to check on room availability at local hotels. His sustained invisibility was draining him. Luck was not with him in this venture. It was as if fate were conspiring against him.
Figures,
he thought
.
The Old Man’s four favorites would always have the upper hand.
    He waited until he had the name and address of the hotel where Juliette would be staying—an older building turned tavern just around the street—and then he pushed off the wall. He needed rest. He would find a hiding place, some secluded location where he could both sleep and stash an unconscious body
.
And then he would take a look at Juliette’s hotel.

CHAPTER SIX
    D aniel was sweating; he could