Dance of Wings (Curse of the Guardians #7)

17. Scarlet

Chapter 17

Scarlet

A hand settled heavily on her shoulder, holding her in place.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Cassiel asked, pushing her closer. Her feet dragged, but she couldn’t stop it. “A creature made, not born.”

Scarlet’s lungs felt like they were in a vice. “Sorry Sir, I was looking for you and the door was open.”

“Indeed.” Releasing his grip, Cassiel waited for her to turn to face him. He wore his long, white coat, pristinely clean as was the rest of him. There wasn’t any soot, or evidence of Gideon’s attack.

“I apologise if I was interrupting. I just wanted to check whether you needed medical assistance,” she said, trying to ignore the anxiety that buzzed angrily beneath her skin. “And update you on Lucifer.”

Cassiel raised a single brow, his footsteps silent as he pulled out a stool that had been hidden beneath the smaller table, and sat on it. “He mentioned you were a healer.”

“He? Do you mean Kit?”

The creature continued to struggle, its squeaks harsh and full of pain.

“Of course.” Touching the golden clamps, he clicked the creature’s chest open even further. “He won’t be returning to active duty, but I’m sure he’ll be missed.”

His eyes met hers, and the urge to bolt was so strong she snapped her muscles into a tight knot. His gaze didn’t match his words. There was no sadness, or even disappointment. Nothing but a cold, apathetic stare.

“Well?” he prompted. “Are you a healer?”

“I was a healer.”

“There is no such thing as was with our kind. You can’t pick and choose your gifts, not unless you wish to lose them and become Fallen.” His smile was almost a threat. Manipulative in a way that made her feel like every smile before it had been fake. “Tell me what you’ve learned.”

Scarlet swallowed the foul taste in her mouth, updating him in what she knew. “Lucifer didn’t receive any damage in the fight, despite taking several hits.” As she spoke, Cassiel poked and prodded the rat-like thing. There was a slight glow to the end of his fingertips, and if she watched closely, she realised he was manipulating the metal in such a way it burrowed further into the creature.

“Yes, I noticed. His strength is extraordinary for a Daemon of his age.”

A thump, and Cassiel sliced out the still beating heart. Taking an instrument, he expertly dissected the organ before carefully placing it on a glass slide.

“But not as strong as Gideon,” he continued, turning to wheel the stool opposite where a microscope had been set up. “There is only so much power someone can hold without succumbing to it.”

Her own heart beat so loudly she swore Cassiel would be able to hear it. Scarlet hadn’t even realised there was more to the room, having been distracted with the creature. But now she noticed Cassiel’s collection was extensive. Hundreds of glass containers, all just as well presented as the others. Each had its own spotlight, highlighting its contents. She recognised preserved hearts, livers as well as parts distinctly found in wings. But there were chunks of flesh she struggled to name, the organs warped and unfamiliar despite her vast knowledge. Looking closer, she found many of the jars to also contain tiny streaks of gold, as thin as threads stitched across the flesh.

“Do you collect eyes?” she asked, her stomach dropping.

Cassiel’s hum was that of surprise. “Eyes?”

Scarlet finally returned her attention to him, her blood icing at the way he watched her. There was no humanity left in his fixed stare, nothing but an uncomfortable lack of empathy. It was as if he’d turned off his emotions, and for the first time she truly felt terrified in his presence. As if he was the secret monster all this time.

“Scarlet,” he began, his expression severe when he stood. “We’re not going to have a problem, are we?”

Scarlet shook her head, locking her knees when he closed their distance. The cold air made her breathing more visible, each exhale getting quicker as Cassiel simply watched her. She wasn’t sure whether to reach for a weapon, or hope she ran faster.

“I’m sure you’re aware that I’m from an old Alchemist line. Did you know gold is a spiritually superior metal?” Reaching over, he pressed a finger to the cage above the chest cavity, letting her see the gold slowly twist and move on its own. “I’ve found other metals immature and flawed, and it took me years to break the formula to practice with gold rather than copper.”

She knew Alchemists could manipulate and change certain elements into metal, but she’d never seen it influenced in such a way. Like a puppet master with his strings.

“My gold is unique amongst even Archangels,” he continued. “So, tell me. Which Breed have you inherited? You feel like a Sage, strong enough to one day reach Archangel levels, which makes your knowledge extensive. Do you only understand celestrial anatomy? Or does that knowledge extend to others?”

Scarlet took a moment to find her voice. “I specialise in celestrials.”

“And no other Breed?” He seemed genuinely interested, leaning forward as he waited for her answer. His eyes had shifted again, still terrifying in their lack of empathy, but no longer entirely dead.

“Humans,” she added carefully. “And those with similar anatomies.”

“Ah, so we could say druids, witches, mages as well as vampires and even shifters within their human form?” Cassiel nodded before she could comment. “What level?”

Scarlet paused, debating how much to tell him. “I have knowledge at the molecular level.”

He gestured to the microscope, his eyes fevered when she went to take a look. “What do you see?” he asked.

There was a pause where she didn’t move, his expression darkening before she leaned down to look through the scope, watching the cells shimmer and split. “Mitosis. They’re trying to heal, replicating the cells.”

“Hmm, it seems you’ve just got even more interesting.”

Scarlet stepped back, noting Cassiel’s earlier apathy had been replaced with a twisted sense of sadistic excitement. From a single touch she could diagnose and treat a wide range of conditions, and if she didn’t know, she could learn at a far faster rate than the average person. She could even manipulate molecules to an extent, such as forcing someone to ovulate or heal minor wounds. That was her ability, the knowledge inherited from previous ancestors.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to distract him. “The creature.”

Cassiel stared, long enough she wasn’t sure he was going to answer. “They’re called Unhallowed, or even Shadow-Veyn,” he said, and Scar let out another ragged breath when he broke eye contact to return to the microscope. “Created by the great Hadriel after he was already bound to the Nether. I just can’t figure out how, even with his abilities chained, he was able to create such creatures. For some reason they’ve become particularly attached to Daemons.”

Scar knew of Hadriel. Every celestrial knew of Hadriel, a story told to juveniles to stop them misbehaving. He was more of a myth than a man, but as the legend goes he was once the most powerful Archangel in Aetherna, an elite that held one of the highest ranks possible. But as with most positions of control, he became obsessed with more to the point he would destroy his own people to get it. As punishment he was charged with treason, and sentenced to an eternity in a prison made from his own power.

It had been thousands of years, and his name was still barely whispered with fear of calling on him. So to hear Cassiel say it so openly was strange.

“Take a seat,” he demanded, gesturing to the stool. When she was too slow, he shoved her down before placing the sliced heart in front. “Put it back together.”

Scarlet looked down at the bloody pieces of flesh. “I –”

“Anything, you said. Or was I wrong about you?” Cassiel pressed down on her shoulder. “Put the heart back together, Scarlet.”

Forcing her hands to stop shaking she picked up the pieces, carefully arranging them in order in her palm before closing her other hand over the top, and closing her eyes. The taste of the cells was immediate, like a rancid fur at the back of her tongue. It tasted… wrong.

“My papers seem to be out of place,” Cassiel whispered against the side of her face, his wings covering hers with how close he leaned over. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Scarlet’s arms trembled, but she kept her eyes closed so she could concentrate. “No, Sir.”

She felt him step back, but not enough not to feel his presence. “You’ll be happy to know your blood results came out clean. Clearly being marked by a Daemon hasn’t hurt you physically. But surely you’d know if something was harming you, being a healer?”

“My gift only works on others.” She’d never been able to heal herself, or even feel if anything was off with her body.

“Hmm.”

Scarlet pressed her palms harder together, ignoring the squelch. She had to imagine everything lining up. Blood flowing, and then the inevitable pumping. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, exhaustion heavy when she finally opened her hands and saw the heart complete with no evidence of the slices.

Healing was draining, and she’d never had to repair anything to that extent before.

“Put it back in the chest,” he said, and she did as he asked. “Start it.”

She pinched the heart between two fingers, more time passing before she could reconnect the chambers into their correct positions. It took her longer than she wanted, the heart having four chambers rather than the expected two.

A beat against her fingertips. One, then another, and another.

“Years I’ve been trying to do what you’ve done in a mere few hours.”

Hours? Scarlet blinked, her eyes dry. A rustle of paper, and Cassiel pushed a drawing in front of her. Squinting she looked down at a cardiovascular system, or, at least she assumed that was what it was. There were stitch marks, as well as diagrams and text written in the Celestrian she couldn’t decipher. It was as if he was trying to recreate what Hadriel had done with the Unhallowed from the inside out.

“I’ve never quite gotten it right,” he continued, sweeping his arm out towards the glass containers. “As you can see.”

“Where do you get the specimens from?”

Cassiel let out an amused sound, his lips curved slightly when he turned to her. “You ask a lot of questions,” he mused, moving close enough he brushed across her wing arch in an intimate gesture that had her stomach tightening.

“I’m just curious,” she added carefully. “As one healer, to another.”

“I’m not a healer, more of a… creator.” Cassiel’s smile widened. “But, as one creator , to another. I’d suggest you be careful, you know what they say about curiosity.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.”

“No one ever does, until it’s too late.” He stepped back. “But that isn’t going to be an issue, is it, Scarlet? I wouldn’t want you to have to leave because you couldn’t follow orders.”

Scarlet dipped her head, hearing the threat. “Of course, Sir.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I believe we’re going to work very well together.”

Scarlet could do nothing, forcing herself to remain calm even as her instincts screamed to get away. “I’ll do whatever you need.”

The words were like ash on her tongue, but she’d always planned on doing everything that was asked of her, if only to get closer to the Archangel.

It was his name that was written by Silas.

His status and influence had motivated her to leave Aetherna.

And now, she was pretty confident he was her brother’s killer.