Chapter 7 #2
Two of the guards fly overhead, both with white and black wings, making it easy to keep my gaze focused on them.
I watch them soar in the sky, like trained soldiers preparing the landscape for battle should the need arise.
They continue forward, unaware of my body packed tightly between the stalks, when I realize there is a third guard somewhere that I haven’t seen.
I glance at the sky once more, squinting against the dimming sun.
A haze begins to fill the sky, making it difficult to see clearly.
An auburn glow transforms the field, making it look as if it’s on fire, and I can’t help but push my body deeper into the tall grass.
My senses flare, urging me to shield myself more by folding in my wings, but I need to escape—I won’t have time to morph that quickly.
I gaze toward the clearing as another shadow casts it into darkness. I suck in a breath and relax my body, completely focused on playing out the possibilities in my mind.
Just keep moving, I say in my mind. Keep going toward the others.
The shadow begins to fade, and relief floods me.
They continue forward, but the troubling feeling hasn’t left my bones.
I remain motionless in the wheat for a moment longer to ensure the area is safe to take to the sky.
With the sun setting, I don’t have much daylight left, and I’d rather not be out here completely alone.
I move toward the opening, still crouched under the grain.
My hand reaches to push through the final section when my entire body freezes.
I see another shadow, indicating a figure high in the sky directly above me.
I watch as the shadow grows larger by the second, indicating whatever is above is descending rapidly.
I fall backward onto my ass, and the wheat bends, lashing me squarely in the face. Pain radiates through my cheeks, and I shut my eyes, grimacing against the sting. Before me, I see the darkness shift from a shadow to a towering figure standing in the clearing.
The man lands with a thud that rattles the ground beneath us, and a darkness radiates from his body, mirroring his large black wings.
With his back to me, he walks in the opposite direction, gazing into the grain near the clearing.
His hands flex and curl at his sides as he strides forward with a casual cockiness, scanning our surroundings.
If it wouldn’t give me away, I would punch myself for not noticing the persistent shadow.
The man slowly turns to face me, checking each direction for movement with his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his midnight-black suit.
My gaze travels up his tall frame, taking in his perfectly tailored shirt and the tattoos inked on his chest and neck peeking through the slightly unbuttoned collar.
I narrow my eyes and study the delicate ink markings across his visible skin.
A wide butterfly covers most of his neck, and I see similar wings dipping lower onto his chest.
I’ve seen that fucking tattoo before.
My gaze gradually settles on his face—bright silver eyes, olive skin, and messy onyx hair, as black as his wings, that falls across his forehead.
His face is peppered with stubble, and his white teeth gleam in the sunlight.
He steps forward, and the world around him seems to pulse, quiet except for a single bird crying in the distance.
I know exactly who stands before me, confirming my earlier suspicions.
The heir to the Jade Order—Carver’s notoriously insane son—Crew Bannermin.
I don’t let myself get flustered. Even with his reputation, I could kick his ass with one arm tied behind my back—at least that’s what I’m telling myself as I watch him intently.
Crew stares into the stalks, as if he knows exactly where I’m hiding.
He’s patient, as handsome as he is vile, and playing a cruel game of cat and mouse.
His strong steps continue forward while I remain motionless, pulling my wings in tightly to surround my body. With the fading sun, it’s only a matter of time before the bright glow diminishes and darkness takes over, revealing how white my hair and wings truly are.
My mind returns to the first assignment Lowell gave me.
I was alone, slightly unprepared, and hiding like I am now.
Not in a wheat field, but on the roof of a building.
I watched my target finish dinner by himself, unaware that his moments were numbered—they never are.
I was focused, ready to prove myself, and willing to do whatever it took to survive in the Order.
I needed to complete the job quickly and silently.
Unlike now, I had a gun then and used it with precision to kill the man through his apartment window.
With a quick flick of my finger around the trigger, the bullet soared, shattering the surrounding glass.
I didn’t bat an eye as I watched his body slump to the ground from a bullet wound to his forehead—a perfect shot.
I stood on the roof, placed the gun back in my holster, and shot into the sky.
I’ve made mistakes and done horrible things, and I don’t see that stopping anytime soon.
I narrow my gaze, keeping my body steady and my mind clear, and prepare to lunge forward if needed. Crew stalks even closer to where my body remains hidden, now just a few feet away. His head slowly moves from side to side, scanning the field.
Go away.
Keep moving.
He huffs, pulling his hands out of his pockets to brush a stray hair from his forehead that moved with the breeze.
His black wings spread behind him, casting dark shadows over the whole clearing, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
I’m getting tired of this, and right now, I’d rather he take action than keep me crouched in this field. My damn knees hurt.
My foot shifts a centimeter to the right, and for the first time, my heart leaps.
I am clearly out of practice, which isn’t a great feeling, knowing tomorrow is my evaluation.
However, the demon heir doesn’t move, except for his jaw slightly tensing at the barely noticeable noise that the breeze could easily explain.
His gaze slowly pans to where I remain, frozen behind the stalks.
His glowing silver eyes dart back and forth, and I watch him inhale deeply before opening his mouth to speak.
“I know you are in there.” His voice floats like dark silk across the field like a devious breeze. “I can sense you.”
My body goes rigid.
“Your smell. Your beautifully, tainted soul.” He tilts his head toward the sky. “You are as immoral as I am, and I’m intrigued, little angel. Always have been, and it’s been a while.”
I watch, holding my breath, and for a second it seems like we are both staring directly at each other.
“Do you want to come out and play with me, or are you pretending to be shy today?”
Anger tightens my core, and I can’t help but clench my fists, ready to fight at any moment. If I’ve done countless horrible things in my life, I know this man has done worse—much worse. A wide, sinister grin spreads across Crew’s face, like the encroaching darkness of night.
“Fine. Don’t talk to me.” Crew adjusts his cuffs. “But I do look forward to playing with you soon.”
He takes a step back, never breaking his gaze from the spot where I’m hiding.
“Bye, little angel.”
Crew winks before launching into the air like a streak of shadows.
Fuck.
He definitely saw me, but why didn’t he attack?
I watch as his large body grows smaller in the sky, heading in the same direction as the cars. My shoulders fall, and an exhale escapes my burning lungs. I pray he doesn’t mention what he did or didn’t see.
Lowell would undoubtedly find a cruel way to punish me if he knew I was out there, even if it was an accident. It looks horrible for the Lyre Order to have angels snooping where they have no business being. We are to do as he says—go where he says—and straying too far could be fatal.
I allow myself a moment to collect my thoughts and muster the courage to step out into the clearing once more.
The sun’s glow has vanished for the day, and the moon is slowly rising.
I gently turn in all directions, stretching my wings and arms overhead from the uncomfortable position that the demon left me in for much longer than I intended.
I waste no time shooting into the sky like a brilliant light in the darkness of night.
The wind lashes against my cheeks, but I don’t slow down.
I let the strong breeze carry me straight back toward the open window of my room within the Order.
The golden fields are swiftly replaced by busy streets, neon lights, and the cacophony of honking cars as their drivers head home for dinner.
Towering buildings replace trees, and for some reason, I find myself craving the simplicity of the countryside before my relaxation was ruined.
The dim light through my window comes into view, and relief swirls inside me like the sounds of the night in Halcyon City.
As I approach, I feel the ache in my back settling in—this was not the quick flight in the sky I had in mind.
I narrow my eyes, focusing on the building as I near the Order.
Many windows are open, but I can’t see anyone inside—another trick Lowell uses to maintain our privacy.
I slow down as I approach my room, the window wide open to welcome me back.
There’s nothing I want more in this moment than a hot shower and my soft bed.
I glance at the top of the tall building and can make out faint shapes of other angels in small groups heading out for the night or reserving seats for my assessments tomorrow.
I imagine Shaw and Talon mixed in somewhere, laughing and living their lives.
A sadness settles into my chest because even though I am back, I feel like I don’t belong.
Angels fear me, and I know they have every right to. Tomorrow’s evaluations won’t change that, either.
I pull my gaze from the roof and focus back on the window of my bedroom. I tuck my wings in to regain speed, making myself small enough to fit through the large window. I land easily on the hardwood floor, pausing when I notice my bedroom door slightly ajar.
I know I locked it.
I turn in all directions, ensuring there isn’t anyone hiding within the walls of a place that is supposed to be my safe space, then pause, noting the already-wilted flowers in a vase on my bedside table.
Their petals—an abysmal burgundy and inky plum—curl inward, as if life has been drained from them moments before.
The once-beautiful flowers are cracked, and their edges resemble old paper—crinkled and dry.
They hang heavily, moments from their soft stems breaking.
The water within is murky, and sediment floats around like pollution.
The breeze from the open window barely helps combat the stench that pours from them as I cover my nose.
I notice a small envelope sticking out from the drooping petals and approach the small table cautiously.
I snatch the note from the plastic prongs holding it in place and rip open the white paper.
My heart begins to race as the words register in my mind.
Messy, tangled handwriting covers the paper, and I drop the note, stepping back, knowing this is anything but well wishes for me being back at the Order.
Careful of the Grim.
With the vase and flowers in hand, I rush to my door and set them outside in the hallway.
I slam my door, locking it again with a click.
A wave of paranoia washes over me, prompting me to move to the window.
I shut both panes, bolt them, and draw the curtains.
Taking a moment to focus, I fold my wings back into my shoulder blades, feeling the tightness surrounding me like a hug.
My back aches from the extended strain of today, but I can’t deal with that right now.
I kick off my shoes and skip the shower, simply changing into comfortable clothes.
Today is over.
I’m fucking done.
But everything is just beginning.