by C. S. Wilde
“One angel was murdered and another one is missing.” Talahel slammed his fist on the marbled tribune. He had taken over Sunday Congregations by now. “Brothers and sisters, I will make them pay!”
The fools in the audience clapped. It was too much. The wild, untamed angel inside Ava forced her up from her pew.
“You should’ve done this long ago,” she shouted. “Instead, you nearly eradicated the creatures who might’ve fought with us against them.”
She had to leave, otherwise she would attack the Sword and to the Hells with the implications.
“Our sister still mourns Dominion Evestar,” Talahel said with fake kindness as she walked out of the room. “It’s only understandable. Dominion Lightway is quite frail at the moment.”
Frail.
Little Guardian.
Ava slammed the door so hard that the sound blasted through the corridor outside.
Healing her left wing was proving harder than she’d imagined. Ava kept it hidden within her light at all times, otherwise questions would arise—questions she couldn’t answer. Not now, when the Order practically belonged to Talahel.
Her wings hurt even when she hid them in her essence. Ezra tried to heal the gaping wounds, but it wasn’t enough.
Sithrael’s holy gun must’ve been damned. It was the only explanation for the damage her healing—and Ezra’s—failed to fix. The Messenger told her that the mere fact she could function was a miracle.
He sent her to Jophiel, and the Seraph welcomed her with open arms. When he hugged Ava, she sensed his despair and sadness but only for a moment. He was quick to shut down his emotions, and when she asked him if he was all right, he merely said, “The trials of the Gods can be challenging.”
That they could.
She pushed her sore wings out from her essence, and the Seraph caressed the pierced and scabbed area that lacked feathers. Warm light shone from his palms, and in a few minutes her left wing was completely healed.
It had taken her and Ezra days to fix only a fraction of the damaged area, and Jophiel had done it as easily as someone would blink or breathe.
He didn’t let her rest, though.
Later in the training room, Ava lifted two out of ten stone blocks—which might’ve equaled her weight. Her telekinetic grip disappeared quicker than she hoped, and the rocks dropped to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.
If she had taken longer to raise herself back to the roof during her battle with Sithrael, those rocks would’ve been her body.
Jophiel patted Ava’s back and told her this was remarkable progress.
It felt like a remarkable failure.
On the morning of the ball, Kevin and Justine met with her in the Messenger’s office for an update.
The Selfless dropped on Ezra’s white couch and rubbed his forehead with his palms. Justine sat on the couch’s arm and caressed the back of his neck.
“I got a bunch of dead ends from Vera’s files,” Kevin said. “At least now Talahel is focusing on demons, so that’s a win, I suppose.”
“The wolves aren’t safe yet.” Ava crossed her arms and looked out Ezra’s window. A sense of hopelessness took over. “This battle never ends.”
“We’re doing our best.” Justine sighed. “That’s all we can do.”
And it wasn’t enough.
“Things don’t look good for the Legion or the Order, love,” Kevin said dispiritedly. “We’re running out of time and resources.”
“That’s enough updates for one day.” Justine raised her palms. “You party poopers stay away from me. Tonight is all about enjoying ourselves!” She stood and put both hands on her waist. “We’ve been through so much. We deserve one night of fun.” She cast a worried glance at Ava. “Especially you.”
“I’m fine.” And she truly was.
Maybe she shouldn’t be, but Ava couldn’t lie to herself. She had brutally ended lives, and she didn’t feel an inch of guilt.
Gabriel and Sithrael had it coming.
Her dark beast gave out a pleased purr. Sometimes bloodshed is the only solution.
So are mercy and forgiveness, the light argued.
Ugh. Sometimes, she wanted to punch her own head.
Kevin shrugged and hunched over his knees. “You lot enjoy your party, then.”
“It’s not fair. You’re human, but also an angel.” Justine shot a regretful look at him. “The Selfless should’ve been invited.”
“Yeah, maybe one day.” He smirked without humor. “I didn’t want to go anyway.”
A lie. Ava could sense the yellow fog wafting from his essence.
Kevin gave Justine a worried glance. “Will you … hmm … I heard about the sexual tension that can happen later in the night, and—”
“I’m your girlfriend.” She bent over and gave him a peck on his lips. Kevin’s cheeks flushed as red as his hair. “I only do inappropriate things with you.”
He grabbed her chin gently. “It’s because of my accent, isn’t it?”
Justine giggled. “Pretty much.”
A golden, swelling sensation grew in Ava’s chest as she watched her friends so happy, so in love. For a moment, she imagined her and Ezra in their place.
Ezra. Not Liam.
A despair she couldn’t understand pierced her heart, leaving Ava desolate and cold.
27
Ava
It was night by the time Ezra knocked on Ava’s door and let himself in.
The Messenger was a vision in silver. His white shirt fit him perfectly underneath his tuxedo, which nearly matched the shade of his hair. His tresses were fashioned in a long elegant braid that cascaded down his back.
“You look dapper,” she said.
He took her in from head to toe with a certain awe. “And you’re stunning.”
Ava glanced down to hide her blushing.
Crystal beads trickled down the fabric of her pale blue, one shouldered dress. Justine had picked the outfit, and she had also fixed Ava’s hair into strawberry-blond braids that circled the top of her head, then cascaded down her shoulders in soft curls.
Ava wasn’t used to dressing up—her bodysuit was practical and enough for her—but she had felt a sense of pride when she watched her own reflection in her room’s standing mirror. With the crystal earrings and necklace Justine lent her, Ava resembled a proper princess.
A knot clogged her throat, and she swallowed it down.
The only downside of her attire was the uncomfortable shoes—white to match her wings. All ascended angels were required to leave their wings on display when entering the ball. Even Ezra’s were politely tucked behind his back.
“They’re the crown of your outfit.” Justine had said as she handed her the heels. “Your shoes need to match them.”
Ava hadn’t walked a foot in those shoes, and they already pressed her feet. So she spread her shield’s thin golden layer underneath the hard leather.
That should do it.
Ezra gave her his arm and bowed slightly. “Ready?”
He had never looked more charming than right now. Ava hooked her arm with his and they walked out, heading to the grand ball room.
As they went, she smiled at the Messenger. The thought she’d had before rushed back to mind.
She could be happy with him.
Ezra was a wonderful angel; a kind, generous soul and she would be lucky, yes, lucky to have him as a lover. He was water to her fire, the calm to her fury. Funny that once she’d been a pure, good angel like him.
Could Ezra bring that Guardian back?
He laid a gentle hand atop hers and whispered, “We’ve had a tough couple of weeks. I’m looking forward to a night off.”
She leaned her temple on the tip of his shoulder. “I’m tired of worrying and overthinking.”
“Then don’t,” he said simply.
The ballroom was a vast marbled hall filled with golden vines that swirled up the walls to the ceiling. The warm lights turned the white space a dim br
onze. The entire setting reminded Ava of the fancy opera houses from the time she was still human, except this felt grander. Cleaner, too—the air was less stuffy, the ambience more modern.
Walking into the pomp and circumstance she’d hated when alive felt odd. Even after one hundred years, Ava hadn’t gotten used to it.
From the high ceiling, angels dangled on silky white ribbons in a demonstration of movement and grace that left her speechless. One of them lost his balance and fell, but his teal wings spread quickly behind him before he hit the ground.
The crowd applauded nonetheless.
Soft music rang from the stage at the end of the room where Virtues and Guardians played a mix of classical tunes, a ballet of violins, cellos, and pianos that Ava found sad and remarkably beautiful.
Angels dressed in awe-striking gowns passed by, their wings fully on display. If Ava resembled a princess, most angels here looked like queens, even the third-tiers. And for the first time, Ava saw the Order as it should be: a gathering of angels interacting with each other despite their rank. Equals. Guardians strolling alongside Virtues, Erudites talking to Archangels … this was Jophiel’s vision, or at least a part of it.
It wasn’t fair that the Selfless hadn’t been invited. They put their lives at risk every day to keep the peace between the human and supernatural worlds. They deserved to be here.
One battle at a time.
The room silenced as Agathe climbed up the silver and gold stage. Metallic leaves and flowers intertwined with each other to form an arc at the center of the platform where the Throne stood.
Agathe stuck out from the glittering background with her long black hair, black lipstick and eyeliner. Her dress, dark as night just as her raven wings, was a thing to behold.
If Ezra was the moon, Agathe was the night. And Ava … she glanced at a hanging mirror on the wall which showcased herself and the vast ballroom behind.
Well, Ava didn’t know what she was.
Agathe tapped the microphone stand. “Brothers and sisters.” Her voice boomed across the space. “Welcome to our yearly ball.”
Cheers erupted around them and Ezra whooped twice, bashing his fist in the air. The exhilaration of the evening was clearly getting to him. Ava could feel the energy thrumming underneath her skin; anticipation and eagerness had taken over the space.
These angels were ready to let go.
A velvety sensation flowed from Ezra and brushed her essence in a soft caress. He gave her a lopsided grin. He was ready to let go, too.
Was she?
Agatha waited for the room to silence. “Let us begin by praying to the Gods. Let us thank them for their protection, and let us also mourn for our fallen brothers and sisters.”
All angels bowed their heads, and so did Ava. She prayed for Vera, wherever she was, if she was, and she also prayed for Liam’s safety. In the end, Ava begged the Gods for some guidance, but what was the point if all her prayers remained unanswered?
“Lastly,” Agathe went on, “let us thank our brother, the Sword, for protecting the Order.”
Someone shouted Talahel’s name, and the entire room broke into applause. Ava’s stomach twisted in itself, and blinding fury took over.
Her nails bit her palms, but Ezra held her hand lovingly. It appeased the fire in her, if only a little.
Vera’s words came to mind. “Always keep you to yourself. Hiding emotions is the greatest skill a Dominion can have.”
With one deep breath, Ava calmed her nerves and wrapped her emotions inside her essence.
“Thank you, brothers and sisters.” Agathe clapped her hands. “Now, let the celebrations begin!”
The ballroom broke into wayward songs that were both beautiful and fast-paced, the mellow tunes replaced by a maddening mix of drums and beats.
Ezra disappeared for a quick moment, only to return with two drinks that tasted sweet and savory. They drank and spoke a world of things, forgetting about demons and Talahel. Tonight, they were simply Ava and Ezra.
Mates. Friends.
More than that, perhaps.
After the second round, Ava’s muscles relaxed and smiling became easier. Ezra set their glasses on a small round table and took her hand.
“Come on.” He pulled her to the dance floor.
“I can’t dance!”
He turned around, and she nearly smacked against him. The thin layer of sweat on his skin had the pleasant tang of lemons mixed with sandalwood. He leaned closer and whispered, “I don’t care.”
Before she could argue, he was already pulling her to the open circle where angels twirled and swayed sinfully, most of their bodies intertwined in sensual moves.
Ava wasn’t the best dancer, but it wasn’t hard to shift from one foot to the other. She watched the other females and mimicked them. Her hips swayed in sinuous curves that quickly caught Ezra’s hooded gaze.
She enjoyed having his attention, so she lingered on the circles drawn by her waist. He inhaled and bit his lip.
This is good, she told herself. This is how we could be.
All at once, Ezra took her in his arms and swirled, once, twice. Ava threw her head back and laughed as the world spun around her.
Gods, this was fun!
He stopped swirling but didn’t let her go. They smiled and danced, so close to each other that she could feel Ezra’s heart beating. And below his hips, a part of him grew, eager to fill the space between her thighs.
She could be happy …
All of Ava’s common sense left her, except for one thought. A face.
His face, always.
Liam was suffering and she was here, dancing and grinding against Ezra. Even though she had stopped spinning, her mind whirled.
Sweat coated her skin, and Ava halted. She excused herself, and Ezra motioned to follow, but an angel with narrowed eyes and silky black hair took him in her arms, dragging him back to the dance floor.
The night and the moon.
Ava didn’t know how to feel about Agathe’s advance on him. Both relieved and annoyed, she guessed.
Ezra strained his neck, looking for her. Ava shrunk amidst the crowd, allowing the strong, towering bodies to conceal her.
She couldn’t face Ezra, not when Liam still owned her mind. And yet, she needed to let go of the confusion and angst that haunted her every day. She rushed to the glowing bar, shaped like a white neon halo, and asked for two shots of Heavenly Tears.
Ava didn’t usually drink, but tonight she would give herself to Ezra, and this could help.
As soon as the Guardian behind the bar gave her the two shots she had ordered, Ava downed one after the other. The sour liquid burned her throat, and she hissed through her teeth.
“Easy there, angel girl,” someone said from her left.
Ava asked for another round before turning to the petite woman sitting on a white barstool. By the curious way her essence thrummed against Ava’s, she must be a Virtue.
She looked no older than thirty with her fierce brown eyes and short pixie hair. Ava couldn’t tell why, but she liked the woman immediately.
The Guardian bartender laid two shots before Ava, and she handed one glass to the Virtue. “Tonight we celebrate.”
The woman analyzed the glass. “Trying to forget?”
Ava leaned back on the counter, observing the packed ballroom. “Always.”
“There’s only one reason someone downs a drink that fast. Either you want to forget, or you’re trying to gain liquid courage.” The Virtue downed her Heavenly Tears, then slammed the glass atop the bar.
Ava raised her glass and drank all in one gulp. When the bartender asked if they needed another round, Ava told him, “Keep them coming.” She then frowned at the Virtue. “You seem familiar. Do we know each other?”
“From another life, I suppose.”
It was the fierce and unrelenting eyes. Ava remembered seeing those eyes once, eyes that had been old and wrinkled. “Gods in the Heavens! Captain?”
The an
gel chuckled and waved at her own complexion. “Death is the best face lift, don’t you agree?”
Ava blinked back tears as she jolted at her, trapping the Captain in a violent hug that nearly toppled both of them over the barstool.
Ava remembered seeing her bloodied corpse and the two empty sockets where her eyes had been. Anger piled up inside her, and she wished she could kill Gabriel all over again. But praise the Gods, the Captain had recovered. She was even out of her room, which had to be a miracle in itself.
They gently broke their embrace, neither really wanting to let go.
“I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you.” The Captain observed the bottom of her empty glass. “I would say that being brutally tortured and murdered messed with my head, and the centuries of memories that rushed back to mind when I woke as an angel drove me mad. All truths, you see. But—”
“I remind you of Liam.”
“Of how I failed him and Archie. The entire precinct, too.” She shook her head, her lips pressed tightly. “The Fury Boys are demons now. Gods …” Her tone cracked, and she sniffed back a tear, which showed Ava just how much the Captain was hurting. She had never seen the woman cry.
“You didn’t fail them,” Ava assured. “And they’re okay.”
The Captain chortled. “That’s what Justine says, too. You’re both so certain, but you can’t be. No one can.”
The bartender set two more shots of Heavenly Tears before them and gave the Captain a pitying stare. “Should I speak the words of the Gods to you, sister?”
“I’m an ascended, Guardian. Your words have no effect on me,” she snapped but quickly regretted her harshness. “Thank you for the offer, though. Do keep the drinks coming?”
The Guardian nodded and went away.
“The words of the Gods could help,” Ava said.
“I know.” She took one glass, handed it to Ava, and then downed hers. “This helps more.”
The liquid didn’t burn Ava’s throat this time. She must be getting used to it.
