Unshakable: Midheaven, #1

By M.K. Chester

Who can you trust when the deck is eternally stacked against you?

 

Empath Toula Thibodeaux has enough problems as the guardian of three extraordinary young girls. Focused on protecting her family, she doesn't need the instant attraction to an appealing messenger sent to warn her of impending doom. 

 

When human-angel hybrid Henri Gregory tracks down the target of a demonic plot, he never expects to find gifted children protected by a chip-on-her-shoulder, capable empath. An empath who quickly sneaks under his defenses to the man beneath.

 

Toula senses Henri's hidden motives despite assurances he's on her side. As their feelings lead the way, can their unshakable faith protect the girls or is their new love destined to be torn apart by an immortal being with all the time in the world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: LBD Media
• Release date: May 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201862763

M.K. Chester

M.K Chester is an avid reader who began writing at an early age to entertain herself. She began to take writing seriously after college and her work developed timeless themes of redemption and second chances. ​​She won some RWA awards, published with The Wild Rose Press and Carina [Harlequin] and now considers herself a happy Indie. Her romance titles include something for everyone: historical, contemporary, and paranormal. 

Book preview

Prologue

Toula Thibodeaux stole into her granddaughter’s nursery at a quarter before midnight, careful not to make a sound in the old house. The child slept like an exhausted angel at night because she screamed like the devil all day long.

Because of her gift.

Toula understood. She endured the same gift and remembered vividly the painful struggle of her early years. She hated to risk waking the baby but waiting another year to complete the ritual didn’t sit well with her spirit.

The girl needed protection sooner than later and the winter solstice only came once a year. Toula scooped the child from her crib, stole down the stairs, and slipped out of the house, not a moment to lose.

Stars glittered like diamonds against the clear, black winter sky, stopping the young grandmother in her tracks with their beauty and clarity. Cradling the babe to her chest, she paused in the middle of the razed sugar cane field situated behind the house and circled, her eyes searching the sky, as if mesmerized or lost.

Long whips of hair came loose from her chignon and swirled in the biting wind. Mumbling, she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder before finding her path through the fields, into a small, burned-out clearing beyond.

She didn’t have much time before the child would be discovered missing, so she unceremoniously lay the sleeping infant on a half-used bale of hay in the middle of the clearing. Her knees creaked in protest of the cold, and she gasped in pain, yet the child never stirred.

Without further ceremony, she turned her face to the sky, her eyes illuminated by moonlight, tears sparkling on her lashes. Inhaling the scent of burnt vegetation, she muttered, "You promised, mi amore, you promised to help."

Bracing her wiry frame against the rising wind, she took a deep breath, and lifted her hands to heaven. Her unpracticed tongue stumbled over words memorized long ago, and she stammered to a halt, disappointed in her ability to do what must be done.

As she regrouped to start again, bright yellow light spilled from the second floor of the house, the baby’s nursery. Toula’s pulse hammered.

Time would run out once her daughter realized she’d taken the child. She had only one chance.

Forcing her mind to focus, she began again. Zazas zazas nastanada zazas. Lord of the Grigori, progenitor of the blessed and the wise, I call thee by thy name and the sign of thy name, Samjaza-Azael. I call thee by thy word and the sign of thy word, Aum-Kurza.

A single star streaked across the velvet sky. Toula blinked, unbelieving, yet believing at the same time. The swaddled baby woke, stirring as her grandmother’s voice grew stronger and more confident. I call thee by the covenant thou hast formed with man. Pneuma tou ouranou thumethere. Pneuma tes thonos thumethate.

A vertical crosswind sliced through the field, and she bent to resist its force and shield the child. Her coat fluttered like the wings of a raven. When she raised her eyes again, her heart stuttered as a galaxy of golden stars erupted across her field of vision.

The prayer worked.

Overcome, she squeezed her eyes shut and continued at fever pitch, Thee, who teaches the arts of sorcery and cunning! Thee, I invoke! Thee, who has power over the seven rays and seven spheres, thee I invoke! Thee, who led the Grigori to earth and shared the wisdom of the Watchers, come! Come and share your spiritual truths with me!

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and when she opened her eyes once more, the strange sight before her brought her low, crouching beside the baby.

A massive, incorporeal pyramid rose from the ground on the horizon, shimmering as the form contracted and expanded against the night sky, like a hallucination.

A single, winged creature sat on a gilded throne in the midst of the structure, wrapped in pristine robes and washed with intense golden light. Around the throne, a small army of redeemed Grigori bowed first to their master, then to Toula, who scooped the child into her arms once more.

The regal apparition opened its mouth and spoke ten thousand tongues at one time. She understood him to ask, In whose name do you summon us?

Glancing at the baby, she gathered her courage and repeated the words she’d been given many years ago. In the name of Michael Midadel, one of your own.

Her answer earned a warm murmur and nods of approval from the assembly. What is your request?

My granddaughter. She nodded toward the squirming bundle as she lifted the baby girl toward the warm glow. She’s a special child with a special gift. I beseech you to send a protector to keep her safe all her days. I, alone, cannot protect her.

A soft ripple of conversation sifted through the throng before the being nodded. Your request is granted, Faithful One.

She bowed, a sense of hope filling her tired, doubting soul. Samjza-Azael, please accept my simple offering of thanks. May peace reign between me and thee all the days of my life.

When she raised her head, the field lay as before, barren, empty, and cold, while an intimate knowledge warmed her bones. They had answered her summons and granted her request.

The back door of the old farmhouse flew open, the screen door ricocheting off the side of the house. The baby’s mother dashed through the field, screaming in terror. Are you crazy? Where is she? What have you done?

Toula’s spirit welled with knowledge, and she didn’t hear her daughter’s angry words. She’d done the right thing. She hadn’t waited too long, and Michael, while he’d been a lot of dubious things, hadn’t been a complete liar.

You’re insane!

Even as the baby’s mother tore the child from her arms, Toula knew better. Under the protection of an appointed guardian, this precious child would be able to master her immense power and resist the doomed fate of her ancestors.

Toula heard nothing more of her daughter’s venom. The right champion at the right time would make a pivotal difference between the child’s salvation and her downfall, to say nothing of the fate of the world.

Chapter One

Henri Gregory loved the simple things in life. After his long years on this mortal plane, nothing tasted as good as a cup of fresh-brewed coffee. Not the kind you get in those green shacks of political correctness. The kind you can drink black and taste all the rich notes.

The kind you can get after midnight inside a New York deli when your son stands you up and is nowhere to be found in a city with a million places to hide.

As Henri settled his tired soul into a corner booth, he sloughed off his scarf and gloves. He wrapped his hands around a steaming cup of joe, inhaling the rich aroma, a small moment of pleasure on a miserable winter night.

An exhausted young waitress appeared at the end of his table, notepad and pen in hand. The stained apron said she’d been there for a good, long while. Can I getcha anything to go with the coffee?

How about a bagel, toasted, cream cheese on the side? When he smiled at her, her tired face lit up. He should be used to the affect he had on humans, especially women. He’d learned the hard way to use this charm only when absolutely necessary.

She winked. You got it.

He pulled on the brim of his hat to hide his eyes, one of only a couple truly visible physical giveaways for those who knew what kind of being he was. While those people were few and far between, the older he got, the less often he risked being identified.

Henri raised his head and scanned the dingy diner, not expecting to see anything out of the ordinary. Still, this was a big city, any kind of creature might be about in the night, and he liked to be aware.

His gaze skimmed transient customers, humans with exhausted or intoxicated auras, then settled on two men huddled at the counter, their hunched backs toward him. They paid him no mind, and they shouldn’t.

They weren’t really men. And they wielded infinitely more power than Henri on his best day.

Their burnished brass auras clouded the space around them as they put their crafty heads together, as if colluding over something evil, because that’s what Fallen Angels did. Generally speaking, they were up to no good. At best, planning a hateful prank. At worst, plotting the end of the world.

A sense of deep foreboding washed over Henri, settling in the pit of his stomach to slosh around with his coffee. He