Silence settled over us, and I realized that was the extent of his opinion. Wow.
“What use is there in reliving it? The battle is over until Judgment Day.”
I nodded, a part of me jolting at the sudden realization that our conversation was entirely literal. I kept that from my features, attempting to address the topic in a rational, dispassionate way—trying to understand it from his point of view—speaking his language.
“And without learning from your past mistakes—and those of your Fallen brothers—what kind of result do you expect from that fateful day? From my opinion, I would expect no different an outcome than last time. Perhaps a worse outcome. Those who do not learn from history are destined to repeat it.”
“The same can be said of Sin, yet here you are,” he challenged.
I nodded, understanding that he wasn’t insulting me. Again, he was being literal. There was no room for emotion in this conversation. Maybe a little bit of humanity, but not too much. “That is true. We each have much to learn,” I admitted.
He was silent for a time, thinking Angel thoughts. Finally, he pointed his finger at my ring. “May I embrace my Brother?” he asked hesitantly, his voice shaking slightly as if it had cost him something to ask me such a personal question. The passion in his voice moved me, making me reconsider just how much an Angel knew about love. Maybe they knew more than I thought. Or had a better capacity for unconditional love than humans. Which made perfect sense, really. God had hardwired it into them, after all, not giving them the ability to have Free Will.
“Of course.” I lifted up my shadow ring—which was entirely silent in my head. Still, the shifting shadows seemed to vibrate like a child on the verge of tears. I realized it was shame. And hatred. And despair. And hope.
I hesitated. “I don’t know how to take it off,” I admitted, frowning.
“You do not need to.” He waved a hand, and suddenly a smoky apparition hovered before us, making my heart drop into my stomach with a big splash.
Between us, directly over the fire, a somewhat transparent—like a hologram—Nameless hung suspended from millions of glittering, silver chains as fine as fishing line. They stretched out from him in every direction, the ends sewn into his very flesh—even his earlobes, nostrils, and lips.
There were so many silver chains that he resembled an exploding sun. I cringed at the agony on his face. He was nude, and his body was covered in thousands of runes, all throbbing with a pitch-black light, even though the wounds seemed to simultaneously eat up the very light they emitted. Gray, grimy blood oozed from his wounds like tree sap, never actually falling from his flesh. He stared at us with black eyes, his eyelids peeled back by yet more chains.
His face didn’t seem to register pain at the piercings. It was cold and unyielding.
But his eyes showed a storm of emotions. He was…
Crying…
Laughing…
And silently screaming.
“My brother…” the Angel breathed. Then he stood uncertainly, approaching Nameless in a hesitant shuffle. He paused for a moment, shaking his head longingly. Then he enveloped him into a fierce, heart-wrenching hug that made my own eyes water. I could see that the simple contact threatened to destroy both of them with the emotions they so adamantly denied.
Nameless wilted into it, gasping out a rasp for the first time—as if the mere touch of his brother had filled some yawning, gaping chasm in his soul. A flame in the dark. A spark of hope in his torture.
Nameless whimpered in a soul-crushing shudder that rattled his chains like windchimes.
The Angel finally stepped away, his shoulders also shaking. He opened his mouth to say something further, closed it, and then finally hung his head as he jerkily waved his hand again. Nameless vanished, and my ring suddenly throbbed twice. I felt Nameless retreat deep within me, my ring no longer threatening to freeze my bones to crushed ice.
The shadows shifted more sluggishly now, like syrup around my thumb.
The Angel sat back before the fire, his face blank, but his eyes on fire. “Thank you,” he whispered after a few moments. I nodded, unable to formulate a proper response. “Hopefully, that will quiet him for a time. Lessen his impact on you…” His voice trailed off, sounding numb.
The wasteland was silent for a time, other than the distant sweep of wings from his patrolling brothers and the crackling fire before us.
“Regarding the reason for your presence,” the Angel finally said, regaining his composure.
“Abduction,” I corrected.
His white eyes narrowed as they shot my way, but he found me smiling and let out a grunt. “There are three reasons you were…abducted,” he said. I nodded, leaning forward expectantly. “But I will not explain them until you stop blocking my ability to read your mind. It is disrespectful to mask one of my many senses. Like me placing a blindfold on you for the duration of our conversation.”
Then he gave me a look he must have learned from his Father, because it made me wilt.
How open and honest did I dare to be with the Angel? I didn’t want him flying away in horror or turning me into one of the pillars of salt decorating their front yard.
He continued giving me that look, his white eyes roiling like swirling milk.
Chapter 12
I hadn’t really thought about it the way he described. Reading minds was one of his natural senses—like touching, tasting, hearing, seeing, or smelling for humans. I didn’t want to comply, but he made a valid point. And he had shown me his face, first—a sign of trust.
I let out a breath, released my control, and felt suddenly naked.
He dipped his head and let out a relieved sigh as his sense of telepathy came back online. “Thank you. I will not abuse your trust,” he told me, wasting no time in reading my mind.
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 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 shudde
red 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 its 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 to 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 sheath, 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 sheath, and if it was as simple as me being the Spear’s sheath, 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 motio
n, 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, setting 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?
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2 Page 35
