Golden Angel: (Broken Angel #5) by L.G. Castillo

down the corridor.
    “Is that Deborah?” Naomi blinked, astonished as the newest archangel rushed down the hall.
    It was her, the same Deborah who had died in her arms when she was shot by Saleos in Houston. Lash had told her that Deborah had joined the angels.
    The corridor murmured as Deborah slowed down. Holding her head high, her archangel wings were fully spanned to show her rank. Her face looked panicked, as if she couldn’t believe she was there.
    “Raphael said she was just promoted yesterday,” Rebecca murmured.
    Her heart sank. Lash was right. It was already decided, even before the trial started. They’d replaced Jeremy. There were six archangels again, and Uri had taken over Jeremy’s work.
    “Come on, let’s go inside,” Lash said when they were the only ones left in the corridor.
    As they passed through the arched entrance, Naomi paused and took one last look behind her shoulders, praying to see Jeremy rushing down the corridor.
    It was empty.
----
    T he Hall of Judgment was bigger than Naomi remembered, large enough to hold the hundreds of angels waiting for Michael to begin.
    Pausing just inside the entrance, she arched her neck, taking in the intricate designs and arches lining the vaulted ceilings. She hadn’t noticed them there before.
    When she’d first seen the hall, waiting for Lash to join her, she had thought the place was beautiful and romantic in candlelight. The chamber was even more glorious with sunlight filtering through open dome-shaped windows casting a golden light. Despite its beauty, all she could think about was how this was the place her family would lose Jeremy.
    “Everything will be okay, love,” Lash whispered.
    “Of course it will,” Rebecca said. “We’re in this together. We’re family.”
    We’re family.
    And I fight for family.
    Ignoring the stares and hushed whispers, she took hold of Lash’s and Rebecca’s hands and marched to the tiered platform where Michael and the other archangels waited.
    Any other time, she would’ve been intimidated by the scene in front of her. The ornate throne looked like a throne of kings. Michael’s hand rested on the chair’s arm possessively, looking regal. He was made for that throne.
    Gabrielle stood to his right, wearing a flowing white gown that matched the color of her wings. She looked glorious with white against white. The only color was the emerald choker glittering against her slender neck.
    Gabrielle was so still. It was as if she was afraid to move or she would break. Only the delicate blue-green vein throbbing against her temple gave away her true feelings. This was hard for her, hard to sit in judgment of one of the few angels she truly respected.
    Raphael stood on Michael’s left. There was no mistaking the torment on his face. He held his hands in front of him, rubbing the same spot over and over.
    The remaining archangels stood on the steps below them. They were nervous too. That made Naomi feel a little better. Maybe Lash was wrong. If they all made a case for Jeremy, surely Michael would listen.
    Deborah swayed back and forth, obviously nervous. Their eyes locked briefly. Recognition lit Deborah’s face, and she gave Naomi a slight smile.
    Naomi wished she had time to talk with her. Why, oh, why hadn’t she thought of doing that before? She knew Uri and Rachel were on their side. They would say something in support of Jeremy.
    If they could pull themselves together.
    Uri was a statue—a slightly green statue. Rachel looked just as bad. Her fingers were pressed into her palms, making the whites of her knuckles stand out. And her lashes hadn’t stopped blinking for longer than a few seconds.
    Michael lifted his hand, and a hush swept through the hall. After a moment, he slowly placed his hand back on the chair’s arm and turned to Raphael, giving him a nod.
    Raphael looked at Michael, his eyes pleading before he stepped off of the platform.
    “Raphael, what—?”
    “Naomi.” Raphael shook his head,