Feather (Angels of Elysium Book 1)

by Olivia Wildenstein

  “Has this ever happened before?”

  He speared his hand through his long hair, which slid like molten gold around his fingers. “I am not at liberty to share this with you.”

  I nibbled on my lip. “There’s one thing I don’t understand.”

  A corner of Asher’s mouth lifted. “Only one?”

  “You’re right. There is more than one thing, but let’s start with the most pressing one. The Ishim thought he was human. They didn’t know he was a hybrid, correct?”

  Asher slanted his thick blond eyebrows. “Correct.”

  “Why is he still in the system now that his lineage is known?”

  “We’re all in the system, Leigh. How do you think the Ishim control your feathers? They’re not constantly watching you; they’re watching your souls. All of our souls.”

  My brows arched up very high. “We’re in the guild’s sinner system?”

  “A derivative of it that’s only accessible to the Ishim and to the Council of Seven, but yes, your soul is being weighed on the celestial scales at all time.”

  Why were we never taught this? “Then, I suppose my question is, why is Jarod still in the mortal system?”

  “Because he never lived in a guild, so he never developed wing bones.”

  “If he was brought into a guild now, could he develop them?”

  “They won’t form after puberty.”

  “Why was he never brought into a guild?” I twirled a lock of hair around my finger, then watched the copper coil loosen and bounce back against my patterned dress.

  Asher scrubbed a hand down his face. “Because he killed a Nephilim.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “He murdered his mother, Leigh. A Nephilim. Even if Jarod was in our system, he’d have been considered a Fallen, so he would’ve incurred the same fate.”

  “Except he didn’t murder his mother.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the fact that the Ishim who ranked him made a mistake. Jarod Adler did not kill his mother.”

  His eyebrows slanted deeper. “Just because he fed you a different tale—”

  My temper sparked. “He didn’t feed me any tales.”

  Asher’s pupils dilated against their brilliant backdrops.

  “Jarod’s convinced taking the knife out of his mother’s chest made her bleed out, but it was the planting it inside that killed her, and she did that all on her own.” The same storm captured in those canvases back at Jarod’s house raged behind my breastbone. “Are the Ishim truly so dense that they can’t tell the difference between murder and succor?”

  My breath hitched as though someone had jabbed the letter opener into my wing bones. I shut my eyes, nostrils flaring. I wasn’t surprised that criticizing the Ishim had cost me a feather. I’d been livid before, but now I reached a whole new level of anger.

  I flung my lids wide, cranked my neck back, and yelled into the dark elysian sky. “Punish me all you want for decrying your fallible system, but don’t punish a man—an angel-blood—for your mistake!”

  “Leigh!” Asher thundered.

  I gestured to the skylight. “They made a mistake, Seraph.”

  “You weren’t there that day,” he said coolly.

  “Just because I wasn’t there—”

  “Well, I was.” His voice had dropped. “I’m the one who found him with the weapon in his hand.”

  I touched my throat, mouth gaping. That’s how Jarod knew him so well.

  “Before becoming an archangel, I was an Ishim. I’m the one who gave him his score, and I marked him after he confessed.”

  “He was eight, Seraph! He was probably in such shock that he had no clue what he was confessing to.”

  Asher tossed his hands in the air, turquoise feathers bristling at his back. “He’s the nephew of Isaac Adler. Isaac Adler was a Triple and died a Triple. Not to mention the boy’s mother was a Nephilim.”

  “So that makes him automatically evil?” I shot back. “Since when are we judged by our kin?”

  A body materialized in the Channel. And then another. And another. All wore sleeveless belted gray tunics over gray suede leggings, all had metallic wingtips. I’d met Ishim a few times over the years. They’d visit the guilds to explain their jobs. I remembered being dazzled, but that was back when I’d thought their system faultless.

  One of the Ishim, a woman with wild blonde corkscrews and a pointed chin, came to stand beside Asher. “Seraph?”

  “I have the situation under control, Ish Eliza. I do not require assistance.”

  Eliza turned, fanning out her lilac wings as though to shield the archangel from my sight. “Seraph Claire sent us.”

  I snorted, which captured the attention of all four angels. Not that Asher had looked away from me. Angel-fire hadn’t shot out of his palms, but I doubted that was for lack of want. He was probably worried of the repercussions of barbecuing a Fletching.

  Eliza’s gold-tipped feathers swayed as she whirled back around. “Careful, Fletching. You’ve lost many feathers recently.”

  “Are you reminding me or threatening me?”

  Her dark eyes narrowed. “We don’t threaten.”

  As she glanced up at Asher and added something in the celestial tongue, probably so I wouldn’t understand, the Channel filled with sparkling motes of lavender smoke, and then spiky heels clacked against the quartz as the waifish body of a woman with a river of black hair and eyes the color of summer grass materialized. I’d met this woman only once, at her daughter’s wing bone ceremony, but Seraph Claire was quite unforgettable.

  “The Ophanim of Guild 24 seem to be lacking at their task of instilling manners in our Fletchings,” she said, her feet coming within inches of my blood-speckled heels.

  I’d always found Eve’s mother intimidating, but tonight, not much intimidated me. “I’m sorry my behavior offends you, but the Ophanim aren’t to blame.”

  She folded her fine-boned arms in front of the gauzy white chiffon dress she wore cinched by a leather corset covered in the same translucent jewels that festooned her ears and neck.

  “The sinner your daughter suggested I help out has been unjustly ranked. Not only have I come to discover that he’s been placed in the wrong Ranking System, but I have also come to discover that his rank is frozen at a hundred because of a misunderstanding on the Ishim’s part.”

  “It was no misunderstanding!” Asher boomed, and I swear the stone surrounding us trembled.

  I blinked but then shook my head. “Ask Jarod again, Seraph. Ask his nanny who was there. Or his guard Amir.”

  “I’m not going to run around collecting biased testimonials.” A pulse point throbbed in his corded neck.

  I gasped. “Biased testimonials?”

  “Both of you, quiet!” Eve’s mother snapped. “You are a Seraphim, Asher. Behave like one. And you”—she poked a manicured finger in my direction—“are a Fletching. Remember your place.”

  I ground my teeth so hard I was probably chipping the enamel. How I ever considered being able to marry a complete stranger for status was beyond me. Jarod was right. I was a romantic, and there was no way in Abaddon or Elysium I would marry for any other reason than love.

  I shifted my attention to Eve’s mother. “I’m not trying to get anyone in trouble, Seraph Claire. I’m trying to get one person out of trouble, and that person is Jarod Adler.”

  “For someone not trying to get others in trouble, you’re quick to name names,” she said. “The first thing out of your mouth when I showed up was that my daughter made you take on this mission.”

  “You’re right. That was low of me. How I got here doesn’t matter.” Not anymore. Not in the scope of things. “What matters is what I do now that I am here.”

  “The best thing you can do, for your sake and for all of ours, is apologize to my fellow Seraphim for the slanderous way you’ve handled yourself.”

  I pressed my lips together, reeling. “I didn’t
know that speaking the truth required an apology.”

  “Don’t be a smart aleck, Leigh. Apologize to Seraph Asher before he asks the Ishim to remove yet another one of your feathers.” Her gaze dipped to the platinum feather at my feet.

  I straightened as though someone had skewered my spine with a metal rod. Even though I didn’t feel like apologizing, I realized it wouldn’t help my fight for Jarod’s soul, so I swallowed my pride and spit out, “I apologize for raising my voice, Seraph Asher.”

  But I don’t apologize for letting it be heard.

  Asher stared at me over the lilac fence of Eliza’s wings. I sensed he, too, was seeing a stranger. We weren’t the same people who’d ridden through the Channel days ago.

  Jarod Adler had changed me. He’d removed the rose-colored glasses through which I saw our world and the people ruling it. Humans weren’t perfect, but we weren’t either.

  “I accept your apology, Fletching,” he said.

  Fletching? Relegating me to my status added another wall between us.

  Seraph Claire turned sideways so that I was left staring at her aquiline profile. “Now that this situation is resolved—”

  “Will you at least take my findings under consideration?” I asked.

  She twisted her head toward me, her black hair swishing over her platinum-tipped fuchsia feathers.

  “He’s the leader of the mob in this city,” Asher said. “Even if he didn’t murder his mother, his soul is far from pure.”

  “Far from pure shouldn’t lock up his score.” I gazed at both archangels and then at the three angels in charge of ranking souls. “I’m not looking to cause an uproar in Elysium, but I am looking for justice, and the just thing to do, since his soul can’t be removed from the sinner system, would be to free him of his status.”

  Claire tipped her head to the side. “Does your plea to lower the sinner’s score have anything to do with my fellow archangel’s impending nuptials?”

  As color crept into Asher’s neck, I gaped, stunned she’d think I would be so self-serving.

  “My husband picked a Triple to win my hand, so it’s an honest question that deserves a yes-or-no answer, Fletching.”

  Heat coursed through my veins as though I were made of angel-fire instead of blood. “My dream has always been to become a Malakim, to interact with souls, harvest them, and see to their safe return into the human world, but for a moment, becoming a Seraphim spouse held more appeal, so, yes, I picked a Triple, because I wanted to complete my wings in time to be considered by Seraph Asher. But this mission reminded me that helping sinners has never been a means to an end. I adore the adventure, the experience, the contact. I love to see the change happen over the course of weeks. Months. Nothing satisfies me more than watching someone hold out a hand they would never have offered before I entered their life.” I inhaled slowly, deeply. “So, to answer your question, I have no ulterior motive in asking you to unbind Jarod Adler’s soul.”

  Eve’s mother watched me and then she watched the air around my hips on the lookout for a falling feather. When none tumbled, her gaze arced back up. “Your honesty and empathy are commendable, but use those qualities to help other sinners. Jarod Adler’s score will not change.” She turned toward Asher and tilted her head to the side. “Right, Seraph?”

  He leveled his turquoise eyes on me. “Right.” That simple word felt like the most eloquent slap.

  I backed away. “By damning him, you’re damning me.”

  “What are you talking about, Leigh?” He was back to using my first name?

  “I tie my fate to his.” I halted my retreat. “I won’t sign off until his status is reevaluated.”

  Claire spread her wings as though to appear fiercer. “Are you blackmailing us?”

  “My life matters as much as his, Seraph, and if to the Seven, that’s not at all, then so be it.” I pivoted before the reddening tips of my ears and the heat creeping into my jaw could reveal the desperation and fear strumming through my veins. For all my selflessness, I was scared.

  My chest felt too tight, my invisible wings too heavy, my gaze unfocused. I stopped running at some point and leaned against the wall of a deserted hallway, flattening my palms against the warm stone. I’d taken my immortality as a given, but there were no givens in this world.

  I’d been born an angel, but perhaps, I’d die a human.

  Just like Jarod.

  Chapter 29

  After the maelstrom quieted inside my head and chest, I retreated into my bedroom. Celeste was sound asleep, air whistling through her heart-shaped lips.

  Would she be proud of me or horrified by what I’d just done? Eve would’ve been horrified. Instead of annoying me, thinking of her saddened me. To say I was grateful she’d made me sign on to Jarod Adler would be a stretch, but I no longer loathed her for it.

  I kicked off my shoes and carried them into the bathroom, sliding the door shut behind me so as not to wake Celeste. After rinsing the blood off them, I stripped and stepped into the shower, lathering my hair, body, and wings. The suds rolled over my impermeable but not invulnerable feathers. To think my entire life had been a race to earn them. What would I do now that I no longer had any finishing line to run toward? Would the Ophanim kick me out of the guild? Would I be forced to return to New York? Would I even be allowed to return?

  If angels refused me shelter, where would I live? My breath caught. No shelter meant no allowance, no protection. No allowance meant no food. They wouldn’t kick me out, would they? It would be too cruel a punishment. Unless they’d use my predicament to strongarm me into signing off from Jarod Adler. Great Elysium, I hoped their thinking didn’t align with mine.

  Contemplating all the luxury I might need to give up, I turned off the tap, then dried my exhausted body with a towel that felt woven from celestial clouds.

  After getting dressed in leggings and a boxy T-shirt, I packed a bag with the bare necessities and placed it on my nightstand. If they came for me in the middle of the night, I would at least be a little ready.

  What I still needed was money, more than my remaining handful of twenties. I didn’t dare pad back out of the bedroom and wake an Ophanim, because what if they’d been filled in and given instructions to show me out?

  I lay down on top of my covers and stared at the door, imagining it opening and shutting more than once, but the only thing that shut were my eyes.

  My mattress dipped, and my lids flew open. I scrambled into a sitting position, gathered my knees against my chest, and seized my bag.

  Celeste blinked her large eyes at me and touched one of my knees. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you awake.”

  My heart walloped my ribs so hard I panted like I’d run a mile.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Sensing I was in no danger, I relaxed my fingers around the strap of my bag before pulling them back toward me. “Did you just wake up?”

  “No. I’ve been awake for three hours.” She cranked her head toward the nightstand. “I brought you some coffee.”

  My eyes opened wider. “You’ve been out of the room?”

  “Um. Yeah. I was starving. On my way back, I stopped by the Ranking Room. I was hoping, well hoping and fearing—honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to survive without you—that your sinner’s score had changed.”

  I sat up a little straighter. “And?”

  Her lips twisted. “It didn’t.”

  Not surprising. What was surprising, though, was that the guild wasn’t abuzz with my misconduct. Were the archangels and Ishim keeping it under wraps since it stemmed from their mistake?

  “What happened last night, Leigh?”

  I sighed, then covered her hand with my own. “So much, Celeste. So much happened last night.”

  As I recounted the awful night, her expression puckered and scrunched.

  “Are you disappointed in me?” I asked when she still hadn’t spoken a word and I’d finished speaking all of mine.

  Her lashes hit her
brow bone. “Disappointed? Are you kidding?”

  “I challenged our system and criticized an archangel.” I didn’t regret what I’d done but regretted the hostility that had limned the discussion.

  Celeste’s gaze slickened. “You’re asking the girl who grew up challenging the system if she thinks you did something wrong? Leigh, I’m—I’m so proud of you.”

  I squeezed her hand, which had turned rigid against my knee. “Then why do you look like you’re about to burst into tears?”

  “Because . . .” She tugged her lip into her mouth. “Because your big, stupid heart might just cost you your immortality.” She sniffed, and tears coursed over her freckles. As she stole her hand from under mine, she said, “And I don’t want to lose you.” She scrubbed her face, but instead of whisking away the wetness, she spread it. “And if they kick you out, then I’ll leave, too.”

  I pushed some hair off her shiny cheeks. “No, you won’t. You’re going to complete your wings. Especially if I can’t. Someone has to go up there and call them out on their erroneous management.”

  Surprisingly, my attack on the celestial system didn’t cost me a feather. Maybe, the Ishim were taking pity on me, or maybe, they’d moved my soul to the department of unsalvageable items.

  I kneeled and hugged Celeste, resting my chin on the top of her head. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not calling me crazy.”

  She let out a pulse of air. “You are crazy. But so am I. Welcome to the dark side, Leigh. I have to warn you it can get sort of lonely.”

  I smiled and smoothed out her soft hair. “Not anymore. We’re together now, so not anymore.”

  She pressed harder into me the same way I imagined Jarod had curled into Muriel. We didn’t need many people in our lives; we needed one, and I had my one. A scrawny fifteen-year-old with a heart of steel.

  Chapter 30

  After deliberating for another hour what was to become of me—Celeste was convinced nothing would change, that the angels for all their egos and rules wouldn’t kick me to the human curb—I’d sworn my friend to secrecy, afraid that siding with me would get her in trouble. Then I’d collected the money I owed Jarod from Ophan Pauline.