Wings of Redemption

by Sarah Gilman

  She nodded. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Also, Carny told me I should stay. She seemed to think I have something to do with you being in a better mood than normal.”

  “Carny has a hard time minding her own business, but if you’re inclined to listen to her advice, by all means.”

  “Before I knew my life was on the line, I was excited. I was hoping…”

  “What?”

  “I was hoping that you just wanted me to stay.” She looked away and started talking faster. “But that’s ridiculous. I don’t know why I thought that.”

  Before he could figure out how to respond, his cell phone rang. He stared at Saffron and let the phone go for two rings. Three.

  She wanted him to “just want” her to stay? He pressed his lips together to avoid grinning like an overeager fledgling. Ridiculous? Absolutely.

  Four rings.

  Saffron Morin. Morin. Morin. Morin. He had to remember exactly who this woman was. Getting cozy and kissing her hadn’t been a good idea. The kisses had been perfect—her sweet taste, her velvet-soft skin, the natural way she returned the warm contact—but that was exactly the problem.

  Neither of them needed illusions.

  He’d go through with this, of course, but he’d keep a more appropriate distance between them for the duration.

  Even though he wanted to kiss her again.

  Five rings.

  “Kestrel?” Saffron met his gaze again, one thin eyebrow arched.

  He glanced at the phone’s screen. “It’s Virgil. We should get going.”

  Chapter Five

  “I don’t believe you, Ms. Morin,” Virgil snapped.

  Saffron briefly turned her face away from the demon, seeking Kestrel’s gaze. Kes stared at the opposite wall, his arms folded. He’d barely spoken to her since breakfast. Barely even looked at her. She swallowed.

  Turned out honesty wasn’t always the best policy. She didn’t regret what she’d said at breakfast, though. It wasn’t like she’d tried to shove him into a cage. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand who he was and who she was. It had been just a little harmless sentiment for someone who’d been there for her during the worst night in memory. Jerk. Or, maybe Carny had the right idea: Grumpy.

  “Ms. Morin, you best remember who you’re talking to.”

  She refocused on the Guardian and blinked. Damn, she’d said that last word out loud. “My father’s business is not my business. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

  “You’re protecting him.”

  “Well, he is my father.”

  “I can respect that. We protect our own, and I wouldn’t expect you to do any different. We’re still having this conversation, however.”

  “I really don’t know anything else. I haven’t even lived with him for ten years, and back then, I spent my time sneaking out of the house, not asking about things I wanted nothing to do with.”

  “A detailed layout of the house, property, and security measures would be most helpful.” The demon pushed a pencil and a notebook of graph paper in her direction across the pine table.

  Saffron held herself rigid in her chair. True, she had no love for her parents’ interests, but she had plenty of love for her parents. She sure as hell wasn’t about to provide the Guardians with the means to successfully break into the mansion. All things considered, the security was wanting. She knew several ways to sneak in and out unnoticed. Most burglars without inside knowledge would have no luck, but for a determined teenager who didn’t stop to consider the probability of breaking bones, it’d been doable.

  The demons would kill her parents. No ifs or maybes about it. Unlike herself, her mother—who actively participated in the family business—and father were very much the colony’s enemies.

  Kestrel’s enemies.

  Not a newsflash, but damn, the reality seemed harsher in light of Virgil’s questions. Her mouth went dry and her stomach turned to lead. Her father would have no reservations about mounting Kestrel’s wings in one of those macabre display cases.

  Still, she would not help the Guardians hurt her family. Time to lie. “There have been renovations I haven’t seen yet. He may have gutted the house for all I know.”

  “Bullshit.” Virgil sat back in the chair. “Would you be more willing to talk if Kestrel left the room? Speaking of these matters in front of your host must be awkward.”

  Kestrel’s wings extended a couple feet and he leveled a downright nasty glare in the Guardian’s direction. “I’m not leaving.”

  Saffron flattened her hands on the table. “My father pays four men under the table for the purpose of finding and, if they get the chance, slaughtering archangels. I am not a shrinking violet unable to spit out that fact just because an archangel is in the room. There is no smoothing over the truth. I know that.”

  Finally, Kestrel glanced in her direction, his expression a forced mask, his silver eyes unnaturally bright in the dull beige-and-tan conference room.

  “Are we done?” The half-night of sleep, the warning that her life was in danger, the sudden cold shoulder from Kestrel, and Virgil’s attitude combined and festered in her gut. “We better be done.”

  “We’re done,” Kestrel said.

  Vigil cursed and waved his hand in a dismissive hand gesture. “We will talk again.”

  Maudit.

  She stood to follow the archangel from the room, but paused. She took the deepest breath she could, let it out slowly, and turned back to Virgil. “Thank you for looking for Thyme.”

  She expected some nasty remark. Instead, he cocked his head in a crooked nod. “You’re welcome.”

  No sarcasm. A first. Maybe he was a decent person beneath all the aggression. Best not to push her luck, though. With a sinking feeling Virgil had let her off way too easily, she hurried after Kestrel, who waited for her out on the deck.

  …

  Kestrel stared at the screen on his cell phone as Saffron joined him on the flight deck outside the conference room.

  “Our human doctor will see you this afternoon,” he said.

  “A human doctor? Here?”

  “Cherie is a trauma surgeon the Guardians recruited.”

  “I thought demons healed instantly—without any help.”

  “They heal very fast, as do archangels, but not fast enough to prevent bleeding out from a major injury. Cherie is most often called on to assist with bleeding or to set broken bones so that when the rapid healing occurs, the bone heals correctly.”

  “No archangel psychic healers?”

  “Not in Eden.” He tucked his phone into his jeans pocket. To add to his shit list, he’d told her too much about archangel psychic talents. Abel Morin believed them to be rumor, and it was best it stayed that way. The last thing the dwindling archangel population needed was another reason to be hunted.

  Would Saffron tell her father everything she learned about Eden, or would she protect them the way she’d just protected him—by not talking? Realistically, at worse she’d only add to existing rumors. Still, best not to tell her anything more.

  His phone went off again, announcing another text: Roman, the colony’s leader, giving his grudging approval of Saffron staying as Kestrel’s guest. She was free to move about the colony if she wished.

  The Guardians would be watching her every second, though, both for colony security and for her own protection. Many demon civilians and several archangels had expressed concern and fury over her presence.

  “It looks like another storm is coming in,” she said, staring over the buildings to the west.

  “Yes.” Thunderheads dominated the sky, white plumes over a threatening gray base. The forecast called for severe storms all week. Vile weather.

  “Can we walk around before we’re stuck indoors? I need the fresh air and exercise to calm down.”

  “Walk?” He stared down at the street.

  “You know, one foot, then the other?”


  He gave her a tight grin. “So that’s how it works. I’ve always wondered. Thank you.”

  “You never just walk?”

  “No. Do you ever just crawl?”

  She scowled. “Can I go by myself, then?”

  Though tempted to send her on her way—after all, the Guardians would keep her safe—he shook his head. She was his responsibility. “If you want to go that badly, I’ll join you.”

  He pulled her into a tight embrace and stepped off the edge. Backpedaling his wings, he brought them to a light landing on the granite and slate pavers of the pedestrian street. He let her go and stepped back.

  She smelled too good.

  In the daylight hours, few demons roamed under the open sky. At least, not usually. Today, the heavy storm clouds dimming the sunlight had drawn a reasonable number of Eden’s civilians outdoors, some running errands at the various shops, some apparently just out for enjoyment.

  Everyone slowed their pace or stopped altogether, staring in Kestrel and Saffron’s direction. He wondered what the bigger shock was, Abel Morin’s daughter, or an archangel on street level.

  Abel Morin’s daughter with an archangel, on street level.

  “Which way should we go?” She glanced around, fidgeting.

  He turned and began walking. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “This way will keep us in the business district. Plenty of pavilions if it starts pouring. We’ll find a place for lunch at the far end, and then we won’t be far from the medical center.”

  She fell into step but did her part in keeping a wide berth between them, thank goodness.

  Decimus appeared for a brief moment, meandering by the storefronts of the old buildings as if he had nothing at all on his mind. They checked in with each other throughout the day—a centuries-long habit—a wordless, unobtrusive way of affirming that all was well. After meeting Kestrel’s gaze, the Guardian disappeared from view, resuming his vigil from invisible locations even Kes could only guess at.

  “Do you want my father dead?”

  He paused to be certain he’d heard correctly. Yeah, she really had just asked that. Certainly she knew he couldn’t give her an answer she’d like? “I’d shoot him myself if I had the chance. I’d keep pulling the trigger like an idiot even after I’d used all my bullets.”

  She stared straight ahead. “He isn’t an evil man.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “I know better than to be a devil’s advocate, but I have to say this. My father is a very kind person, the sort who doesn’t just give money to a community after a disaster, for example, but helps rebuild homes with his own hands. He works at a soup kitchen every weekend. His fault is that he doesn’t see you as anything more than what his Catholic upbringing taught him, and he’s stubborn and stuck in his ways. He’s a bigot. But, I love him.”

  “I know you do. I had parents. I would have loved them no matter what.”

  She cocked her had. “Parents? You?”

  “I didn’t fall. I was born on earth to two fallen archangels.”

  “So, you had a childhood.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me about it?”

  Better to talk than fall into an uncomfortable silence. “It was way back, before the Mayflower arrived. Hundreds of archangels roamed freely in those days. The Native Americans never bothered us. We wintered in what is now the outer banks of North Carolina and summered on the coast of Maine and Nova Scotia. Right on the beach. My parents caught fish and lobster. Every night we ate around the fire by the water.” Despite himself, he smiled. “Our biggest problem in those days was passenger pigeons.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “The extinct species?”

  “Yes, except they were far from extinct at the time. I remember being on the ground, cut off from one or both of my parents as they flew above the pigeons. Many flocks were so large, they took hours to pass.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I speak the unexaggerated truth.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “There were billions of them.”

  “I can’t imagine it.”

  “No. There’s no comparison. Martha, the last passenger pigeon, died in nineteen-fourteen. I wonder who the last archangel will be.”

  “More might fall,” she whispered.

  “And delay the inevitable.”

  “How many live in Eden?”

  He hesitated, but their tiny population wasn’t a secret. “Thirteen.”

  She paled and a moment passed before she spoke again. “What about in the other colonies?”

  “A handful. There are some as of yet living outside the colonies on their own. Not many. They are the ones most often getting caught by poachers.”

  They neared a demon woman in a blue sundress, standing under a tree with a little girl. She hissed, picked up the child, and hurried into one of the buildings. Meanwhile, most of the demon passersby simply watched quietly, red gazes lifting over books and shoulders, as he and Saffron passed.

  “Walking is slow,” he muttered.

  “Your parents…what happened to them? Please tell me my family didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “They both passed long before your parents were born, before your grandparents or great grandparents were born. My mother died of old age during the American Revolution. My father suffered a lightning strike not long after that, but he was at the end of his lifespan as well. I can’t complain.”

  She nodded.

  They reached an intersection lined by some of the oldest surviving brick buildings in the colony. He led her to the left. A narrow path took them through the acres of garden managed by Carny and the apothecary.

  Speaking of the yellow-winged minx, Carny waved to them from the branches of a shade tree. Kestrel lifted a wing in greeting but kept walking, picking up the pace. The scent of rain carried on the breeze. A smile lit Saffron’s face for the first time since breakfast.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “If you say so.”

  “I’ve never seen so many roses in one place.”

  “The apothecary uses rose petals for a lot of things, especially exports sold in Montreal. Very popular with human women there. It’s good money for the colony.”

  “And it’s beautiful.” She pursed her lips. “You put a lot of effort into the photos I saw on your wall. Surely you can appreciate this garden for more than its function?” She pointed. “See the way the pond is reflecting both the storm clouds and the lavender hedge? I’d give anything for my camera. It’s in my car…”

  “I’m sure the Guardians don’t want you photographing the colony.”

  Her frown went straight to his chest and formed a cold spot.

  Apparently, he was a sucker. “I’ll ask.”

  Her face brightened. He directed his gaze straight ahead. Indulging her made him entirely too pleased.

  Toward the far side of the gardens, the wind kicked up. Saffron rubbed her bare arms. Good thing they weren’t far from the café he had in mind.

  “We’re almost—”

  The rain hit with no preamble and with all the force of a flash flood, the noise of the water slamming into the pavers, deafening but not enough to drown out Saffron’s shriek. Kestrel extended his wing and held it flat above her head.

  She stared at him with her lips parted, her hair flat against her arms and her red shirt plastered to her skin. Water streamed down her face and neck. Lacy panties were visible through her now semitransparent white pants. Rain ran like a white curtain off the edges of his wing, framing her.

  Despite the rain pounding him, he stared, a long-absent heat filling his body. Good heavens, what an erotic sight she was. Perfect, feminine curves.

  Except for her shivers and the way her eyes widened as lightning flashed.

  He hooked an arm around her shoulders and, keeping his wing over her head as best he could in that position, ran with her to the nearest pavilion.

  When they reached sanctuary under the sprawling pine roof, he kept her
close with both arms. Her shivering persisted. He reached forward with his wings and crossed them behind her back. As he held her in a tight cocoon, her face warmed the crook of his neck and shoulder.

  Once again, damn him, he didn’t care who she was. Not Saffron Morin. Just Saffron, for now. Beyond the sheets of rain that surrounded them, the world waited.

  He lifted her chin and kissed her.

  Let the world wait.

  Chapter Six

  Despite being soaked through by rain cold enough to be snow, Saffron was warm. She molded herself to Kes and kissed him back, giving herself over to the moment. Considering the way he’d gone icy on her earlier, he deserved something far less friendly. However, she couldn’t bring herself to care, for the time being. She wanted what he was giving her now.

  His lips possessed a curious power to banish all sense from her head.

  He brushed her dripping hair from her face and dropped his kisses to her throat. She stared at the knots in the pine boards overhead and counted to ten, giving herself one last chance to remain on the same planet where she was a Morin and he was an archangel who wanted her father dead.

  No such luck. That reality had dissipated and they were alone under a pavilion in a downpour.

  The rain had given his hair a darker hue and flattened it to his head, but the water beaded on his feathers as if his wings had been sprinkled with sticky crystals. He returned his attention to her mouth and kissed her so deeply, she stopped thinking entirely. His hands traveled over her, pausing here and there, gripping her tight. Her body heated inside and out.

  She mirrored his touches, exploring warm skin under soaked cotton and smooth, curving muscle. When he squeezed her, she squeezed him in return. His feathers rubbed against her arms, but she retained enough mental clarity to resist snuggling against them. Unless he clearly invited otherwise, she didn’t dare, lest the moment fall to ruin.

  He smoothed his hands over her backside and pulled her hips against his. The contours of the apex of his thighs left little doubt how far ahead of the kiss he was thinking.

  Of course, thinking and acting were two very different things. The intensity of the rain lessened a degree, making the buildings beyond the garden more visible. If demons really did have sharper vision than humans, she and Kes had just given anyone looking out over the garden quite the show. And where was that fire-eyed bodyguard?