Page 1 of Holy Shift (New Orleans Nocturnes #8)
CHAPTER ONE
“Demon farts don’t even stink anymore, thanks to me. Isn’t that miracle enough?” Destiny Monroe cleared the nervous muck from her throat and wiped her palms on her pristine white gown.
She glanced at her lap and tried not to cringe.
You’d think the magic that morphed her clothes into this standard issue angel uniform the moment she crossed into Divine Grace, Inc. would’ve cleaned her hands too—perfection was a must in the angelic realm—but no. A smear of pale blue frosting from the baby shower cake she’d been decorating stretched from her hip to the middle of her thigh.
Gabriela folded her arms on the golden desk between them and made a tsk sound. “You should have washed your hands before you answered my summons.”
Another bit of frosting lingered on Destiny’s thumb, so she stuck it in her mouth, swiping it with her tongue before folding her hands in her lap to cover the stain.
“The message felt urgent.” She tried to hold the archangel’s gaze, but the intensity in Gabriela’s silver eyes forced her to look away.
The expansive office had alabaster walls, a polished white marble floor, and a bookcase filled from top to bottom with golden “Seraph of the Month” trophies and plaques. Behind the desk, a massive, floor-to-ceiling window provided a view of the repository below, where dozens upon dozens of lower-level angels rushed about, reshelving books, filing paperwork, and smiling while they worked themselves to… Well, not to death. Angels didn’t die, but Destiny was sure as sugar she’d want to after working down there for a decade or so.
Divine Grace, Inc. was the governing body that managed all the angels in all the realms. Michelle was the big boss, of course, and she handed down all the rules from the higher ups. Her gaggle of archangels acted as middle management, doling out orders and making sure the almighty angel of angels’ laws were followed to the letter.
Because heaven forbid the egotistical dictator lift a wing and do the work herself.
Destiny sighed and closed her eyes for a long blink. That wasn’t very angel-like of her to think, but what could they expect? Gabriela kept winning those ridiculous awards because she kissed Michelle’s tush every chance she got. She also kept the angels in her dominion under a heavy thumb.
Everything ran smoothly. Mistakes were not allowed.
And now, Destiny sat in this cushiony chair with its obscene amount of fluff, trying not to squirm as her boss reprimanded her…not for screwing up. No, Destiny wasn’t in the hot seat for anything she’d done. Not this time, anyway. It was what she hadn’t done that had landed her here, under Gabriela’s reproachful gaze.
“How long has it been since you’ve graced this realm?” the archangel asked.
Destiny straightened her spine, drawing her feathered wings closer to her back. “I don’t know. A while.”
“One hundred and fifty-two years.” Gabriela leaned back, resting her elbows on the arms of the chair and steepling her fingers.
Destiny clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to tell her she shouldn’t ask questions to which she already knew the answers.
“How long has it been since you’ve performed an actual, office-sanctioned miracle on Earth? And do not mention demon flatulence in my presence again. You’re lucky your ‘cure’ for that so-called ailment was a mere side effect of your angel food cake recipe. Applying for approval after a miracle has been performed is forbidden, which I am certain you know.”
“I…” Demon farts were more than a so-called ailment . They were a gosh dang epidemic, and all of New Orleans was breathing easier now, thanks to her. She pressed her lips into a line and waited for Gabriela to answer her own question.
“It’s been one hundred and two years since you’ve performed a miracle, Destiny.” She arched a judgmental brow. “At minimum, how often must an earthbound angel perform an office-sanctioned miracle if she wishes to remain in that realm?”
Destiny’s throat thickened as she waited for the archangel to answer for her. When she didn’t, she forced out a response, “At least every one hundred years.”
Gabriela rose, her fluid movements barely making a sound as she strode toward the bookcase to admire her trophies. “Did you lose track of time?”
“I guess maybe. Two years is like a blink.” She tried to snap but smeared frosting across her fingers instead.
“My assistant said the same thing when I asked her why she only brought your insubordination to my attention now. She has been reassigned to the grape pit.”
Destiny swallowed hard, trying to keep her expression neutral. Turning water into wine was serious angel business, and the poor souls assigned to stomp in the grape pit had to live with purple stains up to their knees for the rest of their existences.
Gabriela whirled toward her, clutching a golden award, the silky fabric of her dress silently swishing around her ankles. “Michelle tolerates nothing less than perfection. If your misdeed goes without consequence, I can kiss my eight-time Seraph of the Decade streak goodbye. That would put my run for Seraph of the Century in jeopardy, so let me be very clear…”
She unclenched the trophy, and it floated back to its spot on the shelf. “You, my dear, sweet, little baker, will not be the reason I fall from Michelle’s good graces. Your time on Earth is up. Pack your things and return to the angelic realm for reassignment. A few millennia in the repository should set you straight.”
Destiny’s heart plopped into her stomach before taking a flying leap into her throat. She was lucky she kept her mouth closed or the pint of eclair filling she’d had for breakfast would’ve splattered onto Gabriela’s precious awards.
The repository? No. No, she couldn’t let that happen. After spending over a century on Earth, she wouldn’t survive down there with all those brainless cherubs and their saccharine smiles. She needed to be among the living, not that angels were dead, but whatever. Destiny needed stimulation, action, conversation…as many “tions” as she could get.
The angels who worked in the repository… Let’s just say they were all a few feathers short of a full goose. They lived in the same boring building together. They did mind-numbing work together. They shared a brain cell, and it wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. If Destiny joined them, she’d be more than a few grapes short of a fruit salad too.
“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. I need 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’s my recipe. 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.”
“Wh… What?” Destiny scrunched her brow. A price? Since when did angels make deals? That was the devil’s department.
Gabriela waved her hand over the contract on her desk, and it morphed into a single sheet of parchment. “Michelle heard your suggestion of deceit, and she worries your time on Earth—in addition to your heredity—has corrupted you beyond repair. She feels you aren’t capable of functioning in the angelic realm anymore; therefore, reassignment is no longer an option.”
“But I’m an angel. I’m not corrupted.” How could they say such a thing? Just because her mother gave up her wings the moment Destiny was born, it didn’t mean she would follow in her freefall. Was that really what this was about? Her disgraced lineage?
A spark of anger ignited in her chest. “Have you spent any time earthbound? Do you know what it’s like to be down there in the trenches?”
“Yes, though I’ll admit it has been thousands of years.”
“Well, let me tell you, times have changed. Temptation is everywhere. You have to learn how to exist with humans and supes alike, and not a single one of them is perfect. In my centuries there, I have remained angelic. I have guided and advised troubled souls, and I haven’t once turned my back on my purpose or my duties.”
“Aside from the little miracle issue.”
“Aside from that.” She threw her arms into the air. “Yes, I let that duty slide off my radar. It takes so dang long for the office to process miracle requests, and most of them get denied. Sometimes the rejection gets to be too much, so I went about my way, doing everything else required of me. And I’m doing a heavenly job, too, so whatever price I have to pay if I fail, I’ll agree to it. Go ahead and name it, because I won’t fail. Not this time.”
Gabriela held her gaze for a beat, two, three, before she spoke, “The price is your wings.”
“My w…” Her stomach lurched, cutting off her words.
“It’s true you have done a heavenly job in New Orleans. No one is arguing otherwise. Get a miracle approved and perform it in three weeks’ time, and your clock will reset, giving you another hundred years to perform your next miracle.”
“And I’ll keep my wings?” She drew them tightly against her back, willing them to disappear inside her like they did on Earth, but the angelic realm forbade it.
“If you succeed, yes, you’ll keep them, but that is the extent of the grace being offered. If you fail, you will lose your wings, your halo, your magic, and your immortality. You will be the one to grow old and die while your immortal friends remain young.”
Holy hummingbird cake, they were threatening to turn her human. To force her to fall like her mother had. “What if I don’t accept the offer? What then?”
Gabriela sighed. “Then I say you should have accepted the repository position while it was on the table. You have no choice now. Mortality awaits you in three weeks’ time. The higher ups have spoken.” She offered Destiny a golden pen and turned the paper toward her. “Sign here, please.”
Destiny steadied her shaking hand and pressed the pen to the page. Ink pooled around the spot, the pressure nearly tearing it as she dragged the tip down and around to form the letter D. She swallowed hard and scribbled the rest of her name on the page. The moment she finished the final E in Monroe, the pen and parchment poofed into a cloud of glitter, sealing her fate in sparkling light.