Sinner: Feathers and Fire Book 5

by Shayne Silvers

  I nodded woodenly, focusing intently on clean, wholesome thoughts like a good little human.

  I saw a flicker of a smile cross his face and instantly blushed, but he didn’t comment on whatever he had sensed in my mind. He took a breath, his face growing serious. “Firstly, you are broken inside. And broken chains cannot hold a soul intact. It is a weakness you cannot afford.”

  I frowned, wondering if he was speaking about humans in general or specifically about me.

  “To dare hosting an Angel on your finger, you must be strong. You must have Faith.” He held up a hand, already stalling my obviously anticipated argument. “Faith in yourself. You are aimless right now. And power without aim is an explosion in slow-motion.”

  I nodded, recalling my conversation with Dorian.

  “I do not know how to fix you. How to make you less pathetic,” he said pensively, not acknowledging my mental hackles rising up. He continued in a clinical manner. “Maybe I am not permitted to aid you in this—that you must fix it yourself,” he said in a frustrated tone.

  I gritted my teeth to prevent a feather-plucking party, knowing he meant well. All I really wanted to do was just walk away. Toss in the towel. I wasn’t made for this level of crap.

  The Angel shot me a dark, disappointed look. “Apathy is the gentle embrace of the deceiver. One cannot simply do nothing and hope to survive, let alone thrive,” he chastised.

  I scowled back. “Was that supposed to be a pep talk?”

  “Take it as you will,” he said in a frosty tone. He glanced down at my shadow ring—at Nameless. “Attempting to unbind him here could be catastrophic. He is yours. You claimed him—and responsibility for him—the moment you decided to catch him as he Fell. You must learn to control him or transfer him to the Seal of Solomon.”

  “Okay,” I admitted, having no idea how to do such a thing. Since he didn’t either, I felt marginally better.

  “Secondly, it is now apparent to me that the Spear of Longinus—or Spear of Destiny, as it is also known—has somehow bonded to you, specifically. Attempting to take it from you or kill you—as I originally intended when I took you—would have almost certainly destroyed it.” He shuddered at both the thought of it breaking and the fact that it meant he had to now leave it in my care. “But it is severely damaged. As it’s custodian, you must repair it or at least keep it safe until a solution can be found. The Spear is vital to Judgment Day, and if it is destroyed or falls into the wrong hands…”

  I shivered both at the thought of it breaking and the fact that I had apparently just been tagged in to fight in the Apocalypse—because if the Spear had to be there, and the Spear was bonded to me…I would need to pick up a team jersey from Darling and Dear. “I understand,” I said.

  “Do not risk breaking it further, under any circumstances,” he warned fiercely, refusing to avert his eyes until he was confident I comprehended the significance of his words. “Perhaps the solution to repairing it can be found in your bloodline—in the Seal of Solomon. Or maybe the circumstances that led you to the Spear in the first place.” He didn’t sound too confident, more like he was grasping at straws. Which was strange. If the Spear was so vital, and he had been willing to kill me to take it from me…shouldn’t he have had a pretty good idea how to fix it or what to do with it?

  I nodded quickly, seeing my thoughts were only frustrating him. Which meant that my questions were valid. So far, this was not going well, but better than I had expected.

  “Thirdly, Samael has been freed. This is what finally forced my hand. You—through no fault of your own—unleashed a Greater Demon.” I flinched at the comment. Through no fault of my own? What did that mean? I’d pretty much admitted that it was entirely my fault. “He must be put back in the Seal. No matter the cost. Unless that cost is the Spear of Destiny.”

  I had no idea what to do, and felt the tension growing in my shoulders.

  “You see my dilemma. You are full of a wild, unpredictable anguish, and you are tasked with guarding Demon prisoners. I cannot kill you for risk of destroying the Spear, forcing you to be its protector. And Samael must be stopped, or all hope may be lost, yet neither of us know how to accomplish this. Even now he works in the shadows to unravel my battle plans.” The way he said that sent goosebumps down my arms for some reason.

  “What is he doing? Where is he?” I asked instead.

  He gritted his teeth. “Samael is hidden from me, but I see the ripples in the pond, the rumbling storm on the horizon. I believe all our answers can be found in the same place—a place I hope you will find very soon. The fate of mankind could very well rest on your shoulders.”

  “Mind explaining that?”

  His eyes pulsed brighter for a moment, and he looked frustrated. “I quite literally cannot…” he watched my reaction, reading my mind. “I have not been commanded to silence, I simply do not know. Something is preventing me from seeing as clearly as I should,” he admitted angrily.

  Oh. That didn’t sound good.

  “I do know that whoever holds the Spear will find the answers,” he told me, meeting my eyes meaningfully, subtly admitting me why he had been willing to kill me earlier—so he could use the Spear to save the world, apparently. “Thus it is written: The white blade must find its sheathe, or all mankind will cease to breathe,” he quoted reverently.

  Well, that wasn’t Hallmark Card appropriate. But it seemed fairly clear—my Spear was a white blade. But I’d rarely seen a Spear with a sheathe, and if it was as simple as me being the Spear’s sheathe, I would have already saved mankind and the Angel wouldn’t be so concerned. “Maybe it’s because any other solution would make for a crappy plot,” I muttered.

  “I speak not of land holdings,” the Angel said, frowning. “Perhaps I am not speaking clearly.”

  I waved a hand. “No, I wasn’t talking about a plot of land. Never mind…” I said, seeing the confusion on his face.

  He suddenly cocked his head as if hearing something. Then he climbed to his feet, looking flustered. “Our time draws to a close,” he said, staring out at one of his brothers circling a tree in the distance. “It is almost time for you to leave. My brothers will keep the patrol away for a few more moments. I fear Cain has attracted attention with his incessant hammering,” he growled. “Impudent child.”

  I smiled, glancing back up at Cain and the vision of Kansas City above us. “He does that.”

  “He loves you like a sister. Like I love my brothers,” the leader said, glancing up at Cain. The crazy bastard was still pounding on the pavement, not seeming to lose any energy in his relentlessly futile defiance. “I knew him as a boy. He and Abel were inseparable…”

  “Family can be dangerous,” I said, considering his words. Abel had received the short straw on sibling love. As had the Angel’s siblings now in Hell. “But they can also be a strength,” I said, smiling as I indicated one of his brothers circling us, high in the rust-colored sky.

  The Angel nodded, matter-of-factly.

  Wondering whether or not I would ever again get the opportunity to sit down with an Angel, I changed topics to ask a random question. Something to brag about to Roland later. “What is it like to be an Angel?”

  He thought about it for a few moments, seeming to consider and then discard a million responses. He finally met my eyes, and his scarred, beautiful face was entirely slack, looking one-hundred-percent certain of his answer. “Like a never-ending explosion,” he said in the same tone one might say, that stone is hard.

  I watched him for a smile, a frown, any sense of exaggeration, humor, horror, disgust, anguish, uncertainty…anything my mortal mind could comprehend.

  And I realized that he was being entirely literal. He wasn’t telling me how awesome it was. He wasn’t telling me how frightening it was. He was literally telling me how it was.

  I knew, with that single statement, that I would never understand an Angel. Especially one who had been sheltered from mankind his entire life. And now I was expected to
control the one stuck to my thumb, not even counting those inside the prison that was the Seal of Solomon.

  I feared for humanity’s future on the fateful day the Angels came to play.

  I also had a newfound appreciation for the Biblical Four Horsemen.

  And the new Fifth Horseman, Nate Temple. The Horsemen weren’t just judges. They were mankind’s elected representatives.

  That thought both terrified and excited me.

  “Think back on this conversation, Miss Penrose. I fear the Last Day soon approaches. The Fallen rail at the walls, the Four Horseman can now act in limited altercations, and a new band of Horsemen have been born…” He locked eyes with me. “That was never spoken of, and that concerns us. All of us. For if our Father never mentioned a second band of Horsemen…what else was he too afraid to tell us? He spoke in exquisite detail of so many things…” The Angel leaned forward, eyes terrified. “Yet he spoke nothing of Nate Temple’s Horsemen. Of Hope, Despair, Justice, and Absolution.”

  I stared right back into those immortal eyes, instantly clamping down my mind to block him from reading my thoughts.

  His eyes narrowed as he felt me blocking him out, suddenly curious what I was hiding. Because I feared I might know the answer to his question about Nate and his new Horsemen—even though this was the first time I had heard any names other than Hope.

  Maybe Nate’s Horsemen rode to protect humanity from…Heaven.

  God save us all.

  I had also blocked the Angel out because I had suddenly remembered Starlight’s warning from the party. To be aware of never-ending explosions. Even if he had been high on some mind-altering substance, it was too much of a coincidence for me to dismiss.

  “I guess we will soon find out…” I told the Angel.

  He grunted, glancing back up at one of his brothers who was anxiously urging him to get me out of here before we were discovered by…whatever was coming that had them all anxious.

  The Angel wrapped his arms around me in a hug. Then we were racing up, up, up into the sky, back to Kansas City.

  Chapter 13

  We had broken through the bubble, and Cain was suddenly battering at the street in slow motion, a line of cars behind him. He had halted traffic, and I saw slowly pulsing blue-and-red lights in the distance, but everything was still moving like molasses.

  The Angel deposited me in a nearby alley, sitting me down on a plastic crate. He again wore his hood and fake beautiful mask, even though I hadn’t seen him don it.

  “Godspeed, Angeling.”

  I gripped his arm before he could leave. “Angeling?” I asked quickly. “Why did you call me that?” I demanded.

  He stared down at my hand clutching his arm with a pregnant silence. I released it and he visibly relaxed. He turned to look up at me and touched me on the center of my forehead. “Do not think that because I did not mention it, I did not see this.”

  I shivered in understanding. Phix had told me about the Enochian script branded on my forehead, and that only some beings could see it. A very short list. But since it was written in the language of the Angels, my abductor was well-versed enough to read the single word.

  Despair.

  “Why did you call me Angeling,” I repeated, staying on topic.

  He considered me from only inches away. “Something was done to you after your birth. Something that makes you unique. Something hidden from even my sight…” he said, still not answering the question. Or maybe he had.

  “And what makes you so important?” I asked instead, noticing the emphasis he had placed on the word my. He had done that a few times in our talk. “Who are you?”

  He hesitated, possibly considering answering me only in exchange for whatever thoughts I was currently blocking him from seeing. I waited, keeping my mind locked down.

  “Michael, of course,” he admitted. The sound of slowly screeching tires made him glance over at Cain. “You don’t want him arrested, do you?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

  He didn’t even notice that I was still reeling from his name. Michael, as in the General of God’s Army against Satan? One of the Seven Archangels?

  I looked over at Cain, not sure what else to do with my brain. “I’d rather he wasn’t arrested.”

  Michael nodded, snapped his fingers, and then he abruptly disappeared.

  I gasped to find the passage of time abruptly returning to normal, making my head spin for a few seconds. When I glanced up, Cain was no longer kneeling in the center of the street. There were also no police sirens and no traffic, and the city seemed eerily quiet for just after midnight.

  I felt like I’d just stumbled out of a bar. I didn’t feel drunk, but my mind was beyond scattered, and I felt dizzy and weak from the jet-lag of hopping back and forth between Earth and…The Den of Ed.

  I was also hallucinating, because I had been the alley’s only occupant a few seconds ago, but now I saw Cain napping on a stack of newspapers a few feet away, the sleeve of his linen jacket submerged in a questionable puddle. I squinted, fearing there might be some side-effects for a human hanging out with an Archangel.

  “Hey!” I snapped at the hallucination.

  He sat up in a blink, eyes wide as he jerked his head back and forth, panting anxiously. He spotted me and his jaws dropped. “Callie! We need to get out of here! The cops are coming!”

  Then he shambled over, scooped me up, and proceeded to use his enhanced speed to flee the scene of the crime before I had time to tell him that the cops were long gone. The super speed informed me that it was in fact, Cain, and that Michael must have done something to get the cops off Cain’s back.

  “I thought you were dead!” he snarled, leaping over something in his way, but landing easily on his feet. I closed my eyes against the blurring scenery, feeling suddenly exhausted.

  “I’m fine. I just fancied a stroll through a garden,” I told him.

  “Don’t go dying on me, now,” he commanded.

  “I’m just disoriented,” I assured him, keeping my eyes closed. After a few minutes, he finally slowed, setting me down on the ground. He checked me over as I finally risked opening my eyes. The world no longer tilted or spun crazily. Cain’s eyes were bloodshot, and his jaw was clenched so hard I feared he was about to crack a tooth.

  I placed a hand on his wrist. “I’m fine, Cain. Really.”

  He stiffened at my touch, shuddering noticeably. “You scared me, Callie. Almost to death.”

  I nodded guiltily. “I know. We saw…”

  And I told him everything, sparing him no details. Especially about the Den of Ed.

  He listened with a grim, troubled look on his face. He was silent for a time, processing it all. Especially which Angel I had spoken with. Then he noticed a pile of leather in the corner and smiled, climbing to his feet. He picked it up and shook it out before holding it up before him and posing. My coat!

  “Picked it up on my way out,” he said, draping it over my shoulders. “Your purse thing is in the inside pocket.”

  I smiled at that. Clutch purses were a mystery to the male brain. Was it a wallet? Or was it a purse? What other secrets did it hold? At least I didn’t have to worry about an Angel patrol finding it outside the Den of Ed.

  I nuzzled the collar of my jacket with my cheeks, practically purring.

  Cain grunted in surprise and I looked up to see him frowning down at his phone. “That’s impossible. It says we have an hour until sunrise…”

  I blinked. “How long were you beating on the street?” I asked warily.

  He shrugged. “About an hour, maybe?” I heard the cops approaching and then…” he scratched at his head, turning to look at me with an uncertain frown. “You waking me up…”

  And I suddenly realized what Michael had done. He had sped up the passage of time, somehow hiding us in the alley long enough for the cops to lose interest in their manhunt for the nut-job who’d been reported pounding the middle of the street with his fist.

  No wonder I felt so di
soriented. At least Cain had been allowed to sleep through the experience.

  Cain pocketed his phone, still trying to make sense of it all. “You were taken from the party about an hour ago. I’m sure of it. It should be just past midnight…”

  “I think Michael gave us some help. But before I talk any further, we need to find some coffee,” I told him. “Lots of coffee.”

  He nodded stiffly, still wrapping his head around the time-shift. “Let’s go, then.”

  And we went off to hunt down the elusive beast, caffeine.

  Chapter 14

  I stared down at the silver charm I had taken out of my jacket pocket, smiling absently at the memory of a kiss as we walked through the pre-dawn streets of Kansas City. Despite still wearing my ruined gown from the night before, I now had my jacket to keep me warm from the cool breeze. Thanks to Cain. It was also nice to feel like I had more protection, since the coat was essentially armor, of sorts.

  Nate Temple had recently given the silver butterfly charm to me, probably not considering how much it meant to me. Not just because the man I liked had given me a gift, but because I had a newfound magical affinity with Silver—capital S. I had more questions about this Silver magic than I had answers, but I’d found myself using it more than my wizard’s magic lately. Often, without consciously choosing to.

  I could call up Silver claws stronger than any metal.

  I’d once used it to alter my vision into a chromatic landscape that had allowed me to see things that would happen a few moments into the future.

  I’d called up a swarm of living, razor-winged, Silver butterflies—and been able to control them with my mind, to some extent.

  I’d bound Nameless to my thumb, using liquid Silver to encase his body from head to toe, transforming him into a chrome statue—currently located at Roland’s church.

  I’d recently even had a realistic dream—more like a futuristic vision—where I was crying Silver tears. Nate had been in the dream and we had kissed. I had later visited him in St. Louis and he had given me the butterfly charm, hinting heavily that he’d had the same exact dream as me. Creepily romantic, on both our parts.