Lady Archangel Fey - Book One Consecrated

Chapter One

The Past – Heaven and Hell

He moved slowly through each room, inspecting every detail. His niece would be arriving soon, and he wanted everything to be perfect. The house was spotless, spick and span, he adjusted a framed photograph of his brother and sister‑in-law resting on the mantelpiece.

He was to take the place of her father—his older brother, the man in the photograph—offering Grace a home in Heaven, given that her father was not dead and had not yet passed over.

Nor, for that matter, was his niece.

And yet, a piece of her soul—burnt‑out and dim—had arrived at Saint Peter’s gates some two years earlier.

These were the years when only part of Grace existed anywhere at all.

How it had come to be there while she still lived remained unanswered. The question had hovered unspoken in the air. Her arrival, and the condition she had arrived in, had shocked them all too deeply at the time for anyone to think to ask.

“You’ll be safe now. You made it.”

That was what Saint Peter had told her when he found her clinging to the edges of Heaven—barely a thread of soul, burnt‑out and utterly unrecognisable.

He had rushed her to the nearest celestial infirmary, calling Archangel Michael along the way to inform him of the intruder’s arrival and her dire condition.

His poor niece had blacked out shortly after hearing Saint Peter’s words. What followed was a long year spent in recovery, her soul slowly knitting itself back together under constant care. Now his niece was coming home to live with him.

It had taken them weeks to identify the intruder as Martin’s niece. When one of Heaven’s guards finally appeared at his door, Martin had been terrified, convinced he must have done something wrong. Heaven’s guards did not visit just anyone. They served the archangels directly and protected Heaven itself.

“The woman who arrived,” the guard had said.

Martin had known instantly who he meant—the burnt‑out intruder everyone had been whispering about. An arrival like that stirred gossip faster than truth ever could.

“The woman,” the guard continued, “she is your niece. Grace.”

Martin had nearly fainted.

It was impossible. All of it felt impossible. And yet he followed the guard without hesitation, allowing himself to be led to the infirmary—to the fragile, barely recognisable soul lying within.

“Grace,” he said softly, doubt threading his voice.

He hadn’t seen her since her teenage years, more than a decade before his own death. Even if he had known her as an adult, the being before him scarcely resembled a living woman—let alone his niece.

“Uncle Martin,” she murmured.

Her voice was barely audible, her throat so damaged by whatever had shattered the rest of her soul that each word seemed to cost her dearly.

“What happened to you?” he whispered, gently brushing her blonde hair back from her forehead.

“I got lost,” she said slowly, long pauses stretching between her words as her fractured mind struggled to recover its memories. “I couldn’t find my way back home… so I remembered you. Nana. Granddad.” She swallowed, her eyes fluttering. “I found you.”

She gestured weakly to herself—to the damage she barely understood. “I don’t know how,” she whispered. “I don’t remember… but I’m safe now. I know it.”

With a weary sigh, she slipped back into unconsciousness.

“She does that often,” the doctor said quietly. He was a renowned healer among Heaven’s elite. “Drifting in and out of consciousness. When she arrived, she couldn’t speak at all—couldn’t even write. It’s taken weeks to reach this level of communication.”

He glanced toward the door. “Archangel Michael visits every day. In fact, he should be here any moment now.”

As if sensing the doctor’s words, the door opened—and in stepped the most intimidating figure Martin had ever seen. Medium‑length blond hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, his blue trousers and buttoned white shirt immaculate, every line of him radiating authority and purpose.

“You must be the uncle,” the commanding voice said.

“Yes,” Martin muttered, his reply timid, sounding uncomfortably like his fragile niece.

“Michael. Pleased to meet you.” The angel extended his hand.

Martin hesitated only a moment before taking it, his own hand trembling as they shook. It was one thing to see angels flying about Heaven from a distance—quite another to stand face to face with one.

“We’ve been taking excellent care of your niece,” Michael continued. “Grace is the most unusual case I’ve encountered. How she reached Heaven’s gates without dying is beyond my understanding—but I intend to see her healed.”

He glanced briefly toward the bed.

“I’m afraid it will be several months in the hospital,” he went on, “and many more months of rehabilitation afterward. She’ll require specialist care. I had intended to take her into my own home once she’s discharged… but if you prefer, perhaps she would be better with family rather than strangers.”

“No—no,” Martin said immediately, the words tumbling out before he’d had time to think. “She’d be far better off with you, where you can offer the best healing Heaven has. That is—if you’re still willing to have her. We… the family, I mean—we can always visit.”

Michael looked genuinely surprised. “Of course. I simply assumed you might want her close.”

“Oh, we do,” Martin said quickly. “But it wouldn’t be in her best interests. And there’s already so much attention 

on her. You know how gossip spreads. I can’t offer her the security you can while she recovers.”

“Then it’s settled,” Michael said, smiling—his first since entering the room. “She’ll come home with me. And you’ll come as well.”

Martin blinked.

“It wouldn’t do her any good to feel isolated in my home,” Michael added. “So for the duration of her recovery, my house will be yours too. The rest of the family will have to settle for visits only, I’m afraid.”

He gestured lightly toward the door. “Come by this afternoon. I’ll introduce you to Mrs. Mave—she’ll see that everything is arranged for when Grace leaves the hospital.”

“Yes, sir,” Martin replied, utterly dumbstruck by the offer.

Unbeknownst to Heaven, a third fragment of Grace’s soul had also broken away. She was not only trapped on Earth and in Heaven—but in Hell as well. The Near Abyss, to be precise, where a demon named Marcus had found her.

People see the white light and the shattered soul, but Grace finds her real power in the aroma of fresh coffee and the thump of a wagging tail. Her café isn't just a business; it’s a sanctuary where the Multiverse slows down. Her secret? Even an Archangel can’t resist the pull of a perfect latte, and even the King of Olympus knows better than to take Molly’s favourite spot by the window. Grace knows that while the realms may be at war, peace can always be found in a warm cup and the quiet devotion of a dog who doesn't care if you're Fey—as long as you have a spare biscuit