Uriel (Speed Dating with the Denizens of the Underworld #39)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Emilia

I stare at Dr. Angelstone—no, Uriel. Uriel the freaking archangel. My brain feels like it’s short-circuiting, unable to process the events of the last few minutes. One second I’m about to be fired, the next I’m apparently destined to save the world by shacking up with a celestial being. Just another day at Angelstone Hospital, right?

Uriel looks as shell-shocked as I feel. His perfectly coiffed hair is slightly disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it. Those piercing blue eyes that usually radiate cool authority now shine with confusion and... is that fear?

We stand in awkward silence, the tension so thick you could cut it with a scalpel. I open my mouth, close it, then open it again. “I... you... we...”

“Ms. Thornton,” Uriel starts at the same time. “This is... that is to say...”

We both trail off, words failing us. It’d be almost comical if it wasn’t so terrifying. I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself in something familiar, something real.

“So,” I finally manage, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. “Am I still fired?”

Uriel blinks, like he’d completely forgotten about our earlier confrontation. He straightens his tie, a nervous gesture I’ve never seen from him before. “I... no. No, you’re not fired.” His jaw clenches, and he adds begrudgingly, “As much as I might wish otherwise, it seems that would go against... divine plans.”

I nod slowly, still struggling to wrap my head around everything. My eyes dart to the door. Suddenly, the office feels suffocating, too small to contain the weight of destiny or prophecy or whatever the hell just got dumped on us.

“Can I leave then?” I snap, wincing at how harsh it sounds. But I’m desperate for some space, some air, anything to help me process this cosmic bombshell. “I’m needed at the ER.”

Uriel looks like he wants to argue, but then thinks better of it. “Yes, I suppose you should return to your duties. We’ll need to discuss this... situation... further, but perhaps after things have calmed down.”

I don’t wait for him to change his mind. With a curt nod, I turn on my heel and practically bolt for the door. As I yank it open, I hear him call out, “Ms. Thornton?”

I pause, not turning back. “Yes?”

There’s a heavy pause before he speaks. “Be careful out there. The tremors... they might not be over.”

For a moment, I hear genuine concern in his voice. It throws me even more off-balance. “Right,” I mumble. “Thanks.”

I stride out of the office, my feet carrying me swiftly down the hall. My mind is a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Archangels. Prophecies. The possible end of the world. And me, somehow caught in the middle of it all.

As I near the ER, the sounds of controlled chaos bring me back to the present. People need help. That, at least, I know how to do. I’ll deal with divine destinies and stubborn archangels later.

I push through the double doors, the familiar rush of urgency washing over me. But before I can fully immerse myself in the work, a gentle hand touches my shoulder.

“Emilia! There you are.”

I turn to see Dr. Raphael, his warm brown eyes crinkling with a smile. Despite the surrounding mayhem, he radiates a calm that’s almost... unearthly.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he says, guiding me towards the pediatric wing. “Remember that mom and son you reunited earlier? They’re being discharged and wanted to thank you personally.”

As we weave through the crowded hallway, dodging gurneys and harried nurses, Raphael’s voice becomes a soothing counterpoint to the chaos around us. He gestures animatedly, nearly clipping a passing orderly with his enthusiasm.

“You should have seen the ripple effect, Emilia,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “After you reunited that family, it was like... like a wave of hope spread through the entire ER.”

We sidestep a cluster of worried relatives, their anxious whispers fading as we pass. Raphael continues, “Nurse López told me she overheard two patients comforting each other, saying if miracles like that were happening, everything would be okay.”

His hand brushes my arm as he gently steers me around a corner, his touch warm and reassuring. It’s so different from Uriel’s cold aloofness that I feel some of the tension in my shoulders start to uncoil.

“Even Dr. Ramirez cracked a smile,” Raphael chuckles, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “And you know how rare that is.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “Are you sure it wasn’t just gas?”

Raphael’s answering laugh is like sunshine breaking through storm clouds. “Maybe, but I’m crediting you anyway.”

We pause at a junction, waiting for a team rushing a patient on a gurney to pass. In that moment of stillness, Raphael’s expression softens.

“Seriously, Emilia. What you did... it mattered. In times like these, a little compassion goes a long way.”

His sincerity washes over me, a balm to my frayed nerves. I find myself smiling back, genuinely relaxed for the first time since the earthquake hit.

“Thanks, Dr. Raphael,” I say softly. “It’s nice to know someone around here appreciates my methods.”

He quirks up an eyebrow. “Ah, been butting heads with Uriel again, have we?”

I purse my lips, my gaze lowering. It is a universal truth that news never travels as fast as it does in a hospital. But then, Uriel and I have had our fair share of rows in these halls. So I guess it’s hardly a secret.

Before I can respond, we arrive at the pediatric wing, and I see Tommy and his mom waiting ahead. Raphael’s kindness lingers, a stark contrast to the memory of Uriel’s stern face and unyielding rules.

We round the corner, and there they are—Tommy and his mom, locked in a tight embrace. Raphael steps towards them, his face lighting up with genuine joy.

“Look who I found,” he announces, gesturing towards me. “The guardian angel who brought you two back together.”

Tommy’s mom looks up, tears of gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers, reaching out to clasp my hand. “I can’t even begin to express?—”

But her words fade into the background as my focus narrows on Raphael. For just a moment, it’s like a veil lifts from my eyes. A soft, golden light seems to emanate from him, not quite visible but impossible to ignore. His smile is radiant in a way that goes beyond mere handsomeness, and the kindness in his eyes suddenly seems ancient and boundless.

The realization crashes over me like a tidal wave. Raphael isn’t just a kind doctor—he’s an actual, honest-to-God archangel. Just like Uriel. Just like the being that appeared in the office.

It’s all real.

The fluorescent lights overhead blur into halos. The room tilts sideways, the floor seeming to lurch beneath my feet. I hear Raphael’s voice, suddenly alarmed:

“Emilia? What’s wrong?”

I try to respond, but my tongue feels like lead in my mouth. My knees buckle, and I’m vaguely aware of strong arms catching me as the world fades to black.

My last coherent thought is a hilarious observation: I’ve just fainted in the arms of an archangel. Mom would be so proud.