A Memory of Wings, page 5
"You surprise me, Kheone."
"Then you're too easy to surprise."
He burst out laughing, finally earning the attention of the other two angels. She liked Serel, always had. Out of all the angels in the gathering, he invariably had a kind word or a joke to lighten the mood. He was a better healer than a fighter, but yesterday had proven he was more than capable of having her back.
"Maybe you're right," he said, sipping at the beer the bartender had placed in front of him. "But wouldn't that be better than the opposite?"
"What is Kheone right about?" Maj asked.
Serel merely shook his head. Kheone lifted her glass in salute. He was right. It was remarkable, given the many years they had been alive, to know you have not seen everything, to still be surprised by the world.
Emric glanced between Serel and Kheone. Whispering something to Maj, they took a small sip of their beer before excusing themself. There wouldn't be a better time to figure out what had Emric's hackles up. Kheone turned to Maj.
"Spill the beans, Maj. Emric's hostility isn't going to get them any points from me, and the Archangel doesn't put up with this kind of crap. What did I do?"
Her battle buddy sighed. "I don't want to speak out of turn…"
"I'm asking as your friend, not your leader. What you say at The Cheesecake Factory stays at The Cheesecake Factory, okay?"
Maj smiled a little then. Kheone had wanted this excursion to open up new avenues of communication, build new bonds. What she said next put that in jeopardy. Hopefully, The Cheesecake Factory clause would soften the blow.
"I like Emric," Kheone said. "I really do, and I know it's been a hard adjustment for them, spending so much time on Earth surrounded by humans who don't understand our ways. But I can't tolerate insubordination. If they don't shape up, I'll have to bring the matter to the archangel, and you know what will happen then."
Maj's face grayed. The punishment for insubordination was a brutal beating followed by exile. The only worse ritual had been the Rite of Revelation, but none had invoked that since Lucifer's insurrection.
"Fine." Maj set her expression into resigned determination. "Em's upset because they feel we have to hide our relationship. Everyone knows the archangel frowns on fraternization, and yet here you are schtupping the boss."
The beer shot out of her nose, and she choked on what remained. Kheone hadn't known the human body could even accomplish these things simultaneously, for crying out loud. Serel patted her on the back and handed her some napkins to clean up. Maj pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, but her eyes twinkled merrily at Kheone's reaction.
"Schtupping?" Kheone choked out when her coughing fit subsided.
"Yeah. Or boinking, screwing, banging, knocking boots—"
Kheone held up a hand, and Maj stopped spouting euphemisms for sex. How did this rumor get started? She was rarely alone with Michael, and, until the past twenty-four hours, their relationship had only been coolly professional.
"Where on earth did Emric get the idea I was 'schtupping' the archangel? And who calls it schtupping?"
Serel wisely kept his mouth shut, but he patted her shoulder, offering condescending comfort.
"And they called me old-fashioned," he muttered.
"Well, aren't you? Why else would the archangel come swooping in to save you and then tear us new ones when you got hurt?" Maj asked.
"He did?" Kheone looked to Serel for confirmation. Her friend nodded. Oh.
If Michael had acted like an overprotective jerk, then she understood Emric's attitude. In fact, Emric had been a close confidant of the archangel in Heaven. Since being trapped on Earth, Michael seemed to rely more and more on Kheone's counsel. Sidelined from their established role and worried about being busted for fraternization because of their relationship with Maj, and the picture became clear.
Kheone turned to Maj but clamped her mouth shut when Emric reappeared from the bathrooms and returned to the bar, still glowering. One look at Maj and Emric paled.
"You told them, didn't you?"
"I had to, Em," Maj whispered.
"I'm only going to say this once, so both of you, pay attention. I have never had sex with our commander," Kheone said.
"Yeah, right," Emric grumbled.
She grabbed their face in her steel-strong fingers and forced their gaze to meet hers.
"I don't lie. And I don't care you and Maj are together."
Color flooded back into their face as Emric tried to sputter out a denial.
"Don't bother. I saw you when you entered, and I'm fine with it. We're stuck on Earth for now. If you bring each other some joy, I'm happy for you. I won't tell the archangel, but you should and soon. I'll go to bat for you when you're ready."
Emric slumped. She had taken away the anger fueling them. Maj slipped under Emric's arm and pressed a quick peck on their cheek.
"See, Em, I told you we'd be fine."
"Can we not talk about it anymore?"
"Of course, love."
"Thank you, Kheone," Emric said. "And I'm sorry. I've been a fool."
"Yes, you have. And I accept your apology." Kheone held out her hand, and Emric took it.
"Take me home, Maj. I've had enough fun," they said.
"Your wish is my command."
"What about dinner?" Serel asked.
"We'll grab something," Maj said.
They walked out together, still wrapped in each other's arms. Kheone tamped down the flare of longing. She'd never had that kind of bond with anyone. Sure, she had found occasional one-night stands and short flings, but never someone worth risking everything for.
"You won't tell Michael, will you?" Serel said in a low voice.
"I said I wouldn't." She signaled the bartender for another beer. If everyone doubted her today, then she needed it.
"Thank you. They're good together. Maj softens Emric's edges, and they give her a bit more confidence. How about you? Anyone special out there for you?"
She shook her head again and chuckled. "No. Managing you miscreants doesn't exactly give me time to develop a relationship. Last time I schtupped someone, the leaves were still green on the trees."
"I believe the term is sublimating."
Kheone nudged him with her shoulder but couldn't wipe the smile from her face. She really needed to go out with her friend more often.
"Thanks, Doctor Freud."
"Vat are friends for?" Serel said in an outlandish, pseudo-German accent. He ordered another round and checked his watch.
"Someplace to be?" Kheone asked.
"Yeah, but I wanted to talk to you."
"Oh? What about?"
He looked over his shoulder, the smile vanishing as he surveilled the room for eavesdroppers.
"I think I found something useful to our little predicament."
Her brow crinkled in concern, but she remained silent.
"There's this book in the library. I've skimmed it, and I think it has part of the answer to what happened in…" He glanced around again and lowered his voice. "The Second Fall."
"Really?" Kheone's heart picked up its pace, and her limbs went cold.
"Yeah. You're the next best linguist in our gathering. Can you meet me tomorrow before training?"
"Sure. Where?"
"Far side of the library. Then you can rift us in."
"You didn't take the book?"
"I thought it would be safer there. Don't worry. I hid it."
"Safer than a building full of angels?"
Serel shrugged. "You'll see."
"All right." Kheone couldn't keep the skepticism out of her voice, but she trusted Serel. She'd have all the answers in the morning.
"I hate to eat and run, but I try not to make a habit of breaking promises to a beautiful woman." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Go." She waved him away. "I'll see you in the morning."
Serel stood and saluted her before leaning down and planting a wet kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight, Kheone. May tomorrow bring more surprises."
Kheone watched him leave, a jaunty spring in his step.
"No luck, hon?"
The bartender returned and cleared the beer glasses. Kheone hadn't paid the woman much attention before. Now that she was alone, Kheone took a closer look. The bartender was pretty, round, and soft, with shining, dark brown eyes and hair as black as Kheone's was blue.
"Just meeting friends for a drink. Besides, he's not my type."
All angels were beautiful, blessed with God's grace, but Serel stood out. His chiseled features would have looked cruel if not for the faint laugh lines around his mouth giving away his good humor. His luscious auburn hair was thick and wavy, and his brown eyes sparkled with wit and intelligence.
And yet, Kheone had never thought of Serel as a potential bedfellow. No angel from her gathering was. She was their leader. Besides, Kheone had a very specific type, one with a name she rarely even dreamed about, let alone allowed to flit through her conscious mind. If only she could banish the tall, golden archangel from her dreams.
"His loss, but I hate to see someone as lovely as you go home alone."
Realization dawned on her. The bartender was flirting. It had been a while. Michael kept her busy the past year. Her sexual adventures were few and far between since the archangel had figured out they would be stuck on Earth for the indeterminate future. Most of them she'd picked up in bars and clubs. And every time, it had come as a pleasant shock anyone would want her. Kheone was used to thinking of her body as a tool to accomplish a mission, not as something to bring her pleasure. She often missed the early signals of the courting dance. Tonight, however, she'd found someone more forthcoming than most.
Kheone smiled at the compliment, and the bartender laughed, a warm, rich melody that rolled through her.
"My name's Faye. I get off in thirty minutes. If you meet me out front, you'll be getting off within the hour."
The laugh, the curves, Faye's beautiful, shining eyes should all be fuel for the fires of desire. Instead, the warmth of human connection and appreciation for a lovely woman filled her thoughts. Besides, Michael's recent behavior had her full attention. Kheone shoved aside any temptation.
"Best offer I've had in a long time," she said, placing her hand on the bartender's, "but not tonight."
The woman shrugged and gave her another smile.
"Should I bring the check?" she asked.
Kheone nodded and nursed her last beer. She settled the tab with a generous tip and headed out.
The stars twinkled in the night, joining the airplanes high above. An owl burst from a nearby tree and soared noiselessly into the sky as she crossed the courtyard. The hum of car engines filled the air from the streets surrounding the restaurant. Icy needles of wind punched through her jacket, and she shivered. When she'd been a full-fledged angel, the heat, the cold, the wind, the rain, none of it had bothered her. Now Kheone had to worry about sunstroke and hypothermia. Everyone did, except Michael. Being an archangel had more perks than she had realized.
A small shadow separated from the darkness under the bushes and approached, amber orbs reflecting the meager light from the lamp in the courtyard. Kheone tensed, reaching for her boot and the blade tucked within.
"Meow," said the shadow. Its form became more distinct as it came closer.
A cat, small and black, wound itself around the legs of the unoccupied tables and chairs.
"Here, kitty, kitty." She clicked her tongue, hoping the cat would respond. "Here, machka."
Cat in a language she had not used in centuries. The feline came running up to her. Kheone crouched on the pavement and stroked its sleek fur, making soothing noises.
"Hello there, cat." She scratched behind its ears. "Where did you come from?"
"Prrr."
It was all the answer she was going to get. Another shiver passed through her. She needed to head home, the warmth of the blankets on her bed calling for her.
"Good kitty," she said and took a few steps away.
Kheone opened a rift and walked through. The little cat chased after her, barely making it through before the opening snapped shut, singeing off the hairs on its tail. Yelping, it darted off before she could ensure the creature had suffered no further damage.
Chapter Seven
The smell of snow hung ripe in the frigid night. Low-hanging clouds blocked the moon and stars, leaving only the lamps surrounding the campus buildings and lining the walkways to light Shax's path. Of course, his cat's eyes did not need the light. Shapes which would be dim and blurred to humans were clear and vivid.
Shax sheltered under a bush and examined his tail. The smell of burnt fur filled his sensitive nose without the coppery odor of blood. He gave the tip of his tail a tentative lick with his tongue and immediately regretted it. Burnt fur tasted worse than it smelled.
He crawled out from under the bush and trotted down the block. Finding a shadowed corner, he transformed back into his human form. The frigid night seeped under his jacket, licking at his skin, and a quarter-sized spot on his ass stung like a bitch. He pulled out his phone and found a twenty-four-hour diner nearby. Thank God for college students.
Staying in the shadows, his long strides ate up the distance to the diner. He slid into a booth and ordered coffee, the tips of his fingers numb from the few minutes' walk. When the server returned with the mug, he cupped it in his hands to warm them.
Shax flexed his warmed hand at his waist, once again reaching for the missing obsidian blade. Most days, he was glad it was gone. Damned thing sang with death and despair. But without his blade, he had no chance to complete the contract. There had to be some other way.
Anything he did to her right now would mean her eventual resurrection after the angels fixed the Gates. Lucifer would be more forgiving if he tried something, anything, to rid him of the angel, even though Shax would have to do it all over again at a later date. Pleading a lack of means would go over like a punk rock band at a country music festival. He needed to figure out how to fulfill Lucifer's bidding if he wanted to avoid spending the next century or two or ten in agony over one trivial angel. He'd already experienced enough misery at the Prince's hands.
The server filled his cup once more. He savored the bitter warmth as another option wriggled through his brain. Shax could run, put as much distance as possible between him and this city, and stay the fuck away. If he never saw Kheone again, he would have—what was the term those shady politicians used on TV shows? Plausible deniability. Should it take eons to repair the Gates, he might forget he had ever seen her.
Yeah, right.
Maybe the compulsion would release him someday, but Kheone's face stayed with him, haunting his dreams and calming his nightmares. Lucifer had whispered her name to a coin and ordered her death. Once, Shax had every intention of fulfilling the order. But as he'd pressed his obsidian blade to her throat, Shax had looked into her silver eyes. Eyes that never held a trace of fear in them, only anger and, sometimes, pity. Eyes that would meet death with the same courage she met life. And he'd been unable to kill her.
Oh, sure, the Gates had exploded in a torrent of fire, providing a reasonable excuse for her continued survival. But he'd already loosened his grip on the dagger. In his heart, Shax knew something deep inside him had decided in the moments before the Gates fell to spare Kheone. He could try to fool Lucifer, but he'd never fool himself.
Rising, he pulled out a twenty and dropped it on the table. The voice telling him to find the angel and kill her may have vanished, but the compulsion to do so was a mere thought away. He allowed his defenses to drop and tapped into the knot of awareness in his brain. A shining filament tugged him back to Kheone.
The best he could do for the moment was to keep watch. Kheone and her ilk were at least predictable. For example, he could predict with one hundred percent certainty if they discovered him, he'd be dead. It would probably happen instantaneously, which was a far better fate than if Aeshma should find him. Looked like his cat form was going to get a workout. As soon as he found a dark shadow, he changed.
The first tiny snowflakes fell as he wandered through the neighborhood, catching on his fur and muting the noises of the night. Shax followed the draw of his connection with Kheone to what he assumed was a dorm. A clock tower in the middle of campus rang out twice. With a resigned sigh, he found an evergreen bush with a clear view of the entrance and huddled under it. He would wait her out.
Tik-tok, tik-tok. His tail measured time, and his eerie amber eyes glowed as they caught the light coming from the lamps dotting the campus. Grateful for his fur coat in this cold, his eyelids became heavier, and he slept.
A grumbling engine and an annoying mechanical scraping woke him. The snowplow continued its work down the road. The gray light of the early morning lit the snow which had accumulated while he slept, lending a ghostly blue tint to the crisp air. A glaring rectangle appeared in the middle of the porch, and Kheone stepped outside, glancing around as if worried someone would jump out at her. She walked off. Shax waited a moment and followed her footprints through campus.
He turned a corner. Kheone stood by a blocky, four-story building, rough-hewn stones framed by concrete supports. The tall, narrow windows were dark in the early morning. A nearby lamp cast its golden glow upon her shining hair and threw her face into shadow. A portrait of light and dark, hope and despair, love and hate. Shax took a few steps toward her, his own loneliness drawn to hers.
Shax missed company. Sure, he could entice nearly anyone he wanted into bed. It was great for a night or an afternoon or, occasionally, a morning. But he did not have any companions, let alone friends. A few days ago, he had killed one of the few demons he counted as something resembling a friend. Hinndal had not deserved his fate, but Shax had no choice, not if he wanted to enjoy his freedom while it lasted.
Before he could catch Kheone's attention, a low, ominous note reverberated through the air, echoing off the buildings around him. A shiver of dread started at the top of his spine and traveled down, stealing his breath and stopping him dead in his tracks. What the—
