235 The Dark Rider and The Seeker of Lost Souls

"Michael!" I threw my arms around him, happy to see him, and then released him. 

He looked at me with concern in his eyes, dressed casually in modern clothes: a black leather coat, pants, and boots with a white T-shirt instead of his usual heavenly warrior attire. Dressed in leather with wavy blond hair that reached to his shoulders and muscled chest, he looked more like a biker or a wrestler than an Archangel.

"I came as soon as I heard," Michael said, looking down at Dakota. "How is he?"

"His skull is cracked," I said, shaking my head. "But there's brain waves so I know he's going to heal, but he's not healing as quickly as he should being a shifter. Micah seems to think that there might be a curse on him." I bit my lower lip and then released it. "I was just going to try using my talisman, but could you heal him? I hate to ask, but you might be his only hope."