After what seemed like far too long for anyone to unwrap anything, Seraphim pulled back the last cover, and in a matter of seconds her eyes went from confusion to understanding.
She let the blanket drop to the stone floor as she raised the piece of metal to eye level to examine the workmanship. The steel wing had been designed to fit onto her own broken extremity like a prosthetic limb would fit onto an amputated appendage. The section of the metal wing that would attach to her own would overlap her black feathers, with a series of brown straps to hold it in place.
Creating the overall form had been the easy part. Layering and detailing the outlines of feathers in the metal proved the most difficult. Alan’s strength had done him no good when trying to mimic the dense aggregation of black feathers that made up Seraphim’s natural wings.
Even now, as Seraphim let her hands play across the series of chiseled feathers, Alan was examining the piece to see how he could improve on it in the future. Though he was happy with his work, he knew he could only get better. The question was whether Seraphim felt the same way.
Seconds turned into minutes in the vacant Temple grounds. Alan wasn’t sure what to say, or even if he should say anything as Seraphim stood just a few feet in front of him, still turning and twisting the wing every which way. She hadn’t stopped examining the piece since the blanket hit the floor.
With more time to second-guess himself, Alan feared the worst. What if he was right? What if that little voice in his head was actually reality instead of doubt knocking on the door? What if she was taking offense? What if … ?
Alan couldn’t hold back. He felt like a kettle full of water with the pressure building inside. “If you don’t like it, I can make you another one. Or if you don’t want to wear it, it’s okay.”
Alan stopped talking as Seraphim shook her head, her movement slow at first, but then it began to pick up speed until it had become a steady metronome. “No.” Her voice was soft; softer than he’d ever heard it before. Tears weren’t choking her yet, but the halting speech that usually preceded them sat in her voice. “It’s perfect. You, you made this for me?”
Seraphim finally moved her gaze from the piece in her hand to fix Alan with a look that he’d never seen before. Her eyes were full of gratitude and thankfulness. A chill went down his spine. He wasn’t sure why it was suddenly so hard for him to talk, so instead, he just swallowed and nodded.
Seraphim’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, as if she’d just met him and was forming a first opinion. “How does it work?”
A new rush of panic filled Alan’s chest. This was the moment that would determine whether his hours of labor had been spent in vain.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
Seraphim couldn’t remember the last time someone had given her a present or had even gone out of his way to express gratitude. As a member of the supernatural race, she was called to serve a selfless life of duty and responsibility.
Of course, the angels were supportive of one another. Humans, on the other hand, would never know their sacrifices. Her service was appreciated, but in the same respect, expected. When she saved Alan, the Horseman of War, from Gabriel’s attack, instinct had taken over, and in that flash of a second, she knew she couldn’t let Alan die.
As a Death Angel, injury while completing her tasks was always a very real possibility, and she’d known sooner or later her time would come. The marred wing and scar on her face were hard to accept—they’d always be hard to cope with—but she was too strong to be broken. This was a setback, yes, but one she’d overcome.
She’d been in the Temple courtyard, flexing her wing, hoping beyond hope there was still some way to fly, when Alan found her. Multiple failed attempts had shattered her dreams to soar through the sky once again. The burned wing, as well as the scar on her face, were part of her now.
When she’d heard someone walking up the steps, Seraphim had quickly folded her wings inside her back. She knew it’d been the thoughts of a once-perfectly made immortal being that had made her hide her deformity, but she couldn’t help it. Perhaps if others couldn’t see them, maybe she could pretend they weren’t there at all. She made sure a thick strand of red hair fell over the right side of her face to cover her burn.
When she’d seen it was Alan, she’d surprised herself by feeling pleased to see him. When he’d given her his gift, feelings she didn’t even know she had overwhelmed and shocked her like an unfamiliar warmth spreading through her body.
Now, she stood still as Alan took the man-made wing back from her and asked her to spread her wings so he could mount the prosthetic limb.
Gratitude—or any other way she knew of to express her thanks—didn’t seem enough; anything she could say or do would fall far short of what Alan had already done for her. Whether the wing worked or not, Seraphim knew she’d be eternally grateful to the Horseman and his kindness.
Was it just gratitude she was feeling, though, or was it something else she was careful to guard herself against?
“Seraphim, you have to extend your wings for this to work.”
Seraphim was brought back to reality by Alan’s request. Showing any kind of weakness around others was something she was always careful to avoid, so willingly exposing her deformed wings to Alan was harder than she’d anticipated.
Even though he’d witnessed her shed a few tears, she’d recovered. Now, she was forced to be vulnerable in front of him again. Gathering what remained of her strength, she extended her black wings out to either side of her back. Her left wing had made a full recovery from the injuries; familiar black feathers rustled as she stretched and flapped them. Her right wing, on the other hand, was only a shadow of its former self.
The wing started at the portion of her back where her shoulder blades met and traveled up in an arch where it connected to a joint and should have joined to the rest of her wing. But from that point, there was nothing left. Instead of extending out, it ended in a premature nub of red skin and singed feathers. Due to Danielle’s help and her own level of supernatural healing, her feathers had been restored farther up, though her wing would never be the same again.
“Okay,” she heard Alan say behind her. “This might feel weird, but we can make any adjustments, as well as reshape the wing, if you want. Gideon would be more than happy to take a look, if you’re comfortable with that.”
Seraphim understood his hesitancy at anyone else coming to look at her wing. Was she that transparent?
She remained quiet and still as Alan slipped the wing on, then began connecting the leather harness across her shoulders and chest.
To keep the wing in place, a series of straps and slips would have to anchor themselves onto her body to ensure the wing wasn’t lost in flight.
She could tell Alan was as nervous as she felt when he mounted the wing and reached around her, doing his best not to make contact with her body. His smell of sweat did more to remind her of how hard he must have worked on her gift, rather than push her away with the odor.
For a brief moment, his hand made contact with the back of her neck and goose bumps prickled a thousand different places across her body. The idea that Alan could be something more to her than just a Horseman planted itself deep within her thoughts.
A few moments of silence, and the wing and harness were in place. “There,” Alan said. “How does it feel?”
Seraphim quieted the silly voice inside her, wishing Alan hadn’t set the straps so quickly. Instead, she turned around and gently flexed her wings. To say the feeling was natural would be a lie. For its size, the length of steel was light, but to call the whole piece light, in general, would have been a stretch of the truth. It would take some getting used to, but if it worked, Seraphim would practice day and night until she could fly just as well or better than before.
“Can you retract your wings with the metal piece?” Alan asked.
“Let’s see.”
The movement was foreign. Seraphim brought both of her wings into her
back and, to her surprise, the metal piece traveled along with the rest of the wing. The feeling was one she’d never experienced before. The closest thing she could relate it to was when she buttoned a shirt and was one row off, leaving an extra button on the bottom and an extra hole in the fabric on top. Not painful, just off somehow.
“Is it weird?”
Seraphim extended her wings again. “Well, it’s not a pleasant experience. It just feels alien somehow. I’m sure I’ll get used to it. Shall we test it out?”
Alan nodded, allowing his own bright blue wings of energy to spread from his back. “You go first, and I’ll follow. If anything happens, I’ll catch you.”
She bit back a retort of not needing anyone to catch her, knowing he was only trying to help. “Okay, here we go.”
Seraphim extended her wings again and, with a strong push, lifted off the ground. She could feel the network of leather straps pull against her wing and body, but they held. She wobbled and wavered, but she didn’t fall. It was working.
Seraphim lost all composure, and she laughed like a child. She continued to rise in the air like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. She’d have to relearn how to distribute her balance and, if she was honest, the steel wing would probably need to be molded to fit her own wing better, but at least she was flying.
Feelings of joy and wonder overwhelmed her as she rose into the dark night. Only hours ago she’d resigned herself to never flying again. Now, Alan had given her something back for which she could never repay him. He’d given her something even greater than comfort. He’d given her freedom and purpose.
“Looks good. How does it feel?”
Seraphim was in the process of hovering shakily above ground, and Alan pulled up alongside her, matching the slow, unsteady cadence of her wings with his own. Seraphim laughed out loud before she responded. “It feels amazing, Alan. I … I don’t know how to thank you.”
Alan gave her a smile she was beginning to admire, and he tilted his head. “You’ve already done enough for me. Come on. Let’s see how it works during a test flight.”
Seraphim followed Alan as he took off over the Temple grounds. Overshadowing even the joy of flight, Seraphim felt a sense of something more than friendship as she followed the Horseman into the night.
---
Ardat was the first to arrive, followed by Gideon, Esther, Danielle, Kyle, Angelica, and Artemis in turn. Seraphim and Alan were the only two missing.
Michael drummed his fingers on the stone table, which took up only a fraction of the large meeting hall Artemis had provided for them. The room, like most of the Temple, was massive, with stone floors and hanging chandeliers filled with bright candles.
Michael shifted his weight in the seat, whose sturdy build gave no leeway or comfort. After the hours Michael had spent sitting, going over every aspect of his plan with Esther, a dull cramp was growing where his body weighed on the chair. His uncomfortable seating arrangement mirrored his own uneasy emotions. He’d been unsure of his plan when he created the idea. Even now, so many things could go wrong.
No doubt in his mind this was the best course of action. Still, it was daring, or at the very least, it would prove dangerous.
Once Seraphim and Alan joined the group, Michael could begin. Esther had sent runners for all of them, so they should have found and summoned the missing pair by now.
Ardat sat at the table, content to remain quiet, swapping looks with Michael every few minutes. Gideon was talking to Danielle and Angelica in what he deemed a whisper, but in reality, was actually normal volume. Michael picked up bits and pieces of something about a wing. Usually this would pique his interest, but not this time. Too much was about to happen.
Esther was speaking to Kyle, low enough that even Michael couldn’t hear. Artemis was yawning, looking as if she didn’t get a nap sometime soon, she would collapse in her seat.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a muffled yawn, “they’re on their way now. Seraphim was just trying out her new wing.” As if stricken by an afterthought, she added, “It worked, by the way.”
Michael was caught off guard by the comment, but before he could think of the question she was answering, the room’s wide, double doors opened. Alan and, to everyone’s surprise, a smiling Seraphim walked through the doors, accompanied by the trio of large dogs.
“Sorry,” Alan said as he motioned to his three canine-like companions. “As soon as I came back into the Temple, they were waiting for me. I think they sensed something’s about to happen.”
Michael waved off his apology and motioned for the two to sit. “Please, it’s all right. If you’d like to take a seat, we can get started.”
Alan and Seraphim moved to the two empty seats between Esther and Danielle. The dogs looked at one another and then at the table as if to say, “Hey, we need seats, too.”
When they realized they wouldn’t be given chairs at the table, they settled for spots on the floor behind Alan’s chair.
“Thank you all for coming,” Michael said as he decided this would be the right moment to stand. His weary body stiffened at the motion but he pressed on. “As you all know by now, Gabriel is loose in the world, making moves to bring about the Apocalypse. He’s grown in power in a way we’re still trying to understand. If what we think is true, he may even be the possessor of an ancient spell that could alter the very fabric of our reality.”
Michael looked each of them in the eyes. He needed to make sure they all understood the dire situation before he continued. Solemn expressions looked back at him from every face except for Artemis and Seraphim. Artemis looked like she was on the verge of giving in to the soothing hands of sleep, while Seraphim wore an expression of joy Michael had never seen on her in the many centuries he’d known the Death Angel.
The look on her face teased a secret only she was privy to. Michael was happy for her, of course, but seeing the usually stone-hearted female warrior in her current state was also a bit disconcerting. He shrugged off the feeling and moved on.
“In this struggle we all face, the side with the most knowledge will win. Unfortunately, we’re lacking quite a bit in that department as of now. What I’m proposing is we divide our forces and search for the truth. We’ll need to split into three teams. One to uncover how Gabriel became so powerful; one to determine if he was, in fact, able to create a enchantment strong enough to change the rules of our existence; and one to confront Gabriel himself. We’ll all be needed for this, and I’ve put together teams of who I think would be best for each mission.”
All eyes turned to Artemis as she raised her hand for permission to speak. “Yes, Artemis? Do you have a question?” Michael said.
The girl rubbed her eyes and nodded. “Yes, sorry. I just wanted to say that I need to stay here for now, since I’m not supposed to leave the Temple yet. But I can still speak to Alan in his head.”
Michael gave the Prophet an approving nod. “I thought as much. Don’t worry, even without having you physically with us, any knowledge you can provide will be invaluable.”
Artemis looked over at Alan and gave him a thumbs-up. The Horseman of War grinned as he returned his small friend’s gesture.
“The team to search for how Gabriel managed to harness so much power will be: Ardat, Alan, and Danielle. Esther, her angels, Gideon, and Angelica will search for the spell we think Gabriel may have created. Seraphim, her Death Angels, Kyle, and I will be going after Gabriel.”
Before questions could be asked, Michael looked over at Seraphim. “I’d ask how your wing’s healing, but judging by the smile you keep trying to hide, I’d say everything’s taken care of?”
Seraphim wiped away the hint of a grin, and in a second, the unmoving warrior they all knew and expected was back. “I’m fine. I’ll be ready to go when we need to.”
“Good,” Michael said. He turned back to the rest of the table. “Are there any other questions?”
Michael was honestly surprised they even let him finish aski
ng the question before the room broke out in a cacophony of their own questions and requests.
“Michael,” Ardat said, “we both know I should be going with you to face Gabriel. I’m one of the most powerful warriors here. You’ll need my help.”
“It’s already been decided,” Esther said.
“Are you sure my skill set isn’t better suited here?” Gideon asked.
Michael stood quietly as requests and concerns continued to pile up. As much as he’d like to lead in a democratic way, he knew certain times called for a firmer hold.
Yelling wasn’t his style, so instead, he stood firm and looked all of them over again. Hands rose like a wave, and he allowed each to vent his concern before they all finally began to quiet down on their own.
The last comment before silence filled the air came from Artemis’ tired voice. “You guys are worse than dealing with children.”
Michael allowed silence to seep into the room, hoping the lack of noise would lend gravity to his next words. He raised his arms to take in everyone at the table. “My choices are final. Trust me when I say I have considered all of the pros and cons. This is the way it has to be. If someone feels so strongly that they do not wish to participate, then you are free to leave now.”
Michael lowered his hands. “No bars or locks keep you inside the Temple. If you want to leave, then leave. If not, we have a lot to discuss before we’re ready to depart, including how we’re going to find Gabriel, the spell, and the power source he now possesses.”
Michael already knew no one would leave. Despite their outburst, they were all good people. Concerned, yes, but loyal. Even Ardat, who some were justified in questioning, could be counted on. As the seconds passed and still no one left the table, Michael found Ardat’s gaze.
She would much rather go with him, he knew. Still, Esther’s point couldn’t be denied. In order for others to trust her, they needed to see her make the right choices independent of his wishes. She needed to prove to everyone else she was the woman he knew her to be.
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 37
