“I can’t be a file clerk.” She fisted her trembling hands and rose to her feet, her wings shuddering as she sucked in a breath. “New Orleans is teeming with recovering demons. They need me to bake the cakes that keep them in check. If I leave, it’ll throw off the balance. They need me there.”
“They don’t need you.” She waved a hand flippantly. “Anyone who knows how to follow a recipe can take on your role.Ineed you in a position where you’ll have no choice but to perform every aspect of your job. A replacement will be ready by the end of the day. Someone who won’t ‘forget’ to find miracles to perform.”
“But it’smyrecipe. I created it. I perfected it.” She splayed her fingers and clenched her fists again, her wings vibrating against her back. “If you give it to anyone else, I’ll… I’ll sue you for copyright infringement.”
Gabriela’s laugh sounded like a bell choir, which was infuriating. The person trying to end Destiny’s life as she knew it should not have such a soothing, melodic, contagious laugh. Yet, there Destiny was, fighting with all her might not to laugh along with her exasperating boss.
“Oh, Destiny.” The archangel tsked again. “You created the recipe to perform your duties under my employment. It was work for hire, so the copyright belongs to Divine Grace, Inc.”
“No.” Destiny shook her head. No, this could not be happening.
“It’s in your contract. Did you not read it before you signed?” She waved her hand, and a cloud of golden glitter formed in the air. As it dissipated, a folder thicker than a stack of roadside diner pancakes appeared in her hand. “Would you like to read it now?”
“It’s eighty-seven pages long. Of course I didn’t read it all. No one does.” She dropped into the chair and pressed her fingers to her temples. Arguing with an archangel would get her nowhere. Seraphs of that level were forbidden from telling lies, so if Gabriela said it was in the contract, it was in the contract.
And Destiny was screwed.
“I love New Orleans. All my friends are there.” Pressure built in the back of her eyes.
Gabriela rested a hand on her shoulder, and a coolness washed through her system, calming her. “You’ll make new friends in the angelic realm. You can reconnect with old ones. New Orleans hasn’t always been your home.”
“It feels like it has.” She shrugged off her boss’s soothing touch. “Assign me a miracle, and I’ll perform it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. I’ll scrub the muck off Bourbon Street every Sunday morning with my own toothbrush if I have to. I’ll drink the whole Mississippi River and poop out the mud. I’ll do anything.”
“You know that’s not how we operate.” Gabriela sank into her chair and laid the contract on her desk. “If I had to find miracles for all my angels to perform, I would never get my paperwork done.”
“Just this once?” She clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Please.”
Gabriela’s reproachful expression morphed into one of sympathy. “Michelle would never allow it.”
“She doesn’t have to know.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. Did she seriously just suggest deceit? To an archangel? Oh, dear lord, she was on the fast-track to having her wings clipped with that statement. “I mean…”
Gabriela leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Michelle always knows. So do…” She pointed at the ceiling, indicating the beings even higher in status than her boss.
Destiny blinked rapidly, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t know why I said that.”
“You’re desperate.” Gabriela lifted one shoulder dismissively. “And your time on Earth has corrupted your sense of right and wrong. Returning to the angelic realm will do you good.”
“No, please.” She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Give me another year. I’ll find a miracle to perform if it kills me.”
“You haven’t forgotten you’re immortal, have you? Your friends there will grow old and die.”
“Not all of them.” She rested her fingers on the edge of the desk. “Most of my friends are immortal too. Please, Gabriela. One more year.”
The archangel pressed her palms together and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and tapping into the collective consciousness, looking for guidance, which was weird as all get out. Destiny had always assumed angels of a certain level never needed guidance. That they were the guides themselves.
Apparently, she was wrong.
A full thirty seconds passed before Gabriela opened her eyes, her mouth tightening in a perturbed expression. “I am nothing if not gracious. The higher ups tell me you do, indeed, need more time in New Orleans.”
Destiny sucked in a breath. “Yes! I still have work to do there. I’ll find a miracle the office will sanction before my year is up. I promise.”
Gabriela shook her head. “You have three weeks.”
“That’s…” She started to argue that no one could get the office to sanction a miracle in that amount of time. There was a process to follow, red tape to cut. But the seraph before her had extended grace, and Destiny needed to accept what was offered. You know…gift horses and all.
“Thank you, Gabriela. I won’t let you down.” She rose, ready to dart out the door and find someone who needed a freaking miracle, but Gabriela closed her eyes and pressed her palms together again.
“It’s no longer me with whom you’ll have to contend.” She pinned Destiny with a serious gaze. “This extension comes with a hefty price if you fail.”
