Chapter 14 Mikhail
Mikhail
I’d been pondering the mystery of Feather’s true name, leafing through an old journal I’d written during my stint as an Apprentice thousands of years before on the structure of naming marks, when a strange noise filtered in from the corridor.
A sort of whistling. High-pitched, panicky…
screaming? Squealing. Like a piglet loose in the corridor outside.
“There are no pigs in Sanctuary,” I murmured, closing the book. But when I opened my door, a mud-covered one scooted past me, fast as lightning.
“Don’t mind me!” the pig screamed, zipping under a table at the far end of the workshop. “I’m just getting started early.”
“Feather? Are you squealing like a pig?” I was shocked to see her early. Then, when she blinked up at me, I felt a deeper shock.
Her mischievous eyes shone green as new grass, an impossible shade I’d never created in a Protector.
Never seen in anyone, ever before. They reminded me of a meadow on Earth I’d visited thousands of years before, when ferns and tall grasses were abundant.
A place I’d felt at peace. Happy, if alone. Always alone.
But I’m not now. I have her.
The thought shocked me like a blow to the head, as she blinked those impossible emerald eyes, batting her clumpy lashes. I had to stop being so fanciful. She’d wept a copious amount the day before, which explained the clearing of her eyes. Though not the color. The stunning beauty.
Something deep inside me stirred, a curiosity and something more significant, and I forced myself to speak past the growing tightness in my throat. “Why are you here early?”
I had to remember she was a Novice. Not mine, in any way, other than that I had created her… even if I didn’t remember doing so. Had I made her? Everything about her was a mystery.
“Hide me,” she whispered, completely unaware of my inner turmoil.
Little minx. She hadn’t been running to my workshop. She’d been running away. “Feather?” I growled, taking a step toward her, but stopped when I heard shouting, wings beating, and then more footsteps, quick and loud. Someone else was running toward my Hall.
I moved quickly, blocking the doorway just in time to stop an enraged Protector from entering. “Let me at her,” he demanded.
Fucking demanded. Who in the hell did he think he was?
I let my eyes flicker with my turquoise and black soulfire, and extended my wings.
“And who might you be?” I replied, though I knew this one.
He was Righteous, a senior Protector, and one of the few Gavriel had spoken of with some respect.
Righteous had done more than his fair share of shifting the balance toward good for centuries.
If the Well hadn’t been sealed, he would have had his own mate by now.
Still, he owed me more respect than he’d just shown.
“Righteous, sir.” He stood straight, finally showing some civility. Or at least common sense. Still glaring across the room to where Feather crouched, giggling hysterically. The girl had no instinct for self-preservation.
I coughed when I realized how filthy Righteous was. I’d never seen a Protector as smut-covered as this, except for Feather.
Suddenly, it all became clear. He must have gotten on the wrong side of the dirty female. I stifled a smile. If I had to guess, she had found some way to rub her smut all over him… Wait. She’d rubbed it all over his face. Had she kissed this fellow?
The thought irritated me. More than irritated. Angered.
Had she pressed her lips to this upstart?
Or had he... Had he taken liberties with her?
Perhaps they had been attempting to merge.
Before I knew what was happening, my fingers had bunched into fists.
My teeth were bared, my wings brushing the ceiling, and bright sparks showered from my eyes. I fought for control.
What was happening to me? I was angry on her behalf, but not only that, I felt protective in a way I never had before. After only two days, I was ready to end this Protector for hurting her. Why? I felt something in me shift, an answer bubbling up that I was not ready to consider.
I quickly folded my wings and wiped the expression from my face—or tried to, though my jaw clenched when I took in the obvious smut on Righteous’s cheeks and chin. “You are dismissed, Righteous.”
“Dismissed?” His expression revealed his shock at my inappropriate reaction. “I was in the middle of a… conversation with the Novice who ran into your workshop. Could you please send her out, Maker? I promise”—he cracked his knuckles—“I’ll make it a short one.”
“She is not yours to… converse with, Protector.” I let my disdain seep into my tone. “And you have work to do to purify yourself before Assembly, I would say. You’re a disgrace to your robes.”
Righteous clenched his jaw. “Sir, this Novice attacked me—”
I let my lip curl. “Attacked you? She’s the smallest soul in Sanctuary, and probably one of the youngest. Are you telling me you could not defend yourself against a tiny, defenseless Novice?”
“She’s not defenseless! She’s a tricky, sneaky, filthy little smut-covered—”
I was done. “Go, Protector. Take care of your own smut before concerning yourself with others’.”
I waited one beat, then two. Finally, Righteous turned away with a curt nod. He threw back a hissed “See you soon, Novice,” before storming off.
“Excellent! Looking forward to it!” The chit gave a perky thumbs up to his back as she scrambled out.
I waited a moment, then leveled a glare at her.
She had scrambled on top of what she had blithely named her “Torture Table” the previous day, and was tossing the soul knife from one hand to the other.
“Thanks for having my back, Growly Bear. I can call you my Growly Bear, yeah?” She winked at me, and I froze.
Winked? For some reason, heat began to spread from my chest to my face. Was I blushing?
“That would be disrespectful and inappropriate,” I blustered, though some small part of me liked the way she’d emphasized the word my.
“Mikhail, then,” she practically purred. “It’s a good, strong name. It almost has abs of its own.”
“Abs? I need to check your mental wellness once more.” I turned away, fiddling with a chisel at my workbench. “You may call me Maker, or Master.”
I almost didn’t hear her raspy retort. “You’d like me to call you Master, huh?”
The damn blush spread to my ears. “I see you’ve been aggravating your superior Protectors,” I managed to say in a calm tone.
“Might not be the best plan for a Novice like yourself. Righteous can make your time in Sanctuary very difficult. If I’m not mistaken, he’s one of the more advanced Protectors. ”
“Yeah, he told me all about being Head Boy. Trust me, he earned the aggravation.” She grinned, even white teeth gleaming through her smut-covered lips.
When had her teeth lost their smut? “And maybe I’ll just stay here from now on?
We can hang out, watch Netflix. Chill.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and a flare of heat sparked in those impossibly green eyes.
I tugged my robe tighter around my chest where she was, for some inexplicable reason, staring. And licking her lips, just once. Her tongue was clean as well, I noticed.
“There will be no Netflixing, or chilling, whatever that means,” I said, making a mental note to ask one of the Guides about that expression later.
It had been far too long since I’d been to Earth.
I was definitely out of touch. I probably seemed ancient to Feather.
Hell, I was ancient. I shook my head. “Stop playing with that soul knife. If you break it, you’ll have no way to cleanse your soul, and I may have no choice but to unmake you.
” I would never do such a thing, but she didn’t know that.
“Oof.” She gulped, setting the knife down carefully. “I’ll be careful.”
I picked up a sanding cloth and worked at polishing an enormous hinge. “Did you come to the workshop to hide, or to cleanse?”
Feather rolled her eyes. “I guess while I’m here…” She picked up the knife again, and set it to her pinky finger. “No time like the present.”
I held up a hand. “Slowly, remember? If you cut too quickly—”
“Yeah, I’ll bleed out. I remember. Thanks for caring about me.”
“It’s not blood,” I said, my voice strangely rough.
“Blood heals. Stops flowing. Unlike soul, and it’s your soul that will flow out of that knife’s cuts.
” I lifted a small bowl near my elbow. “But if you choose not to listen, and your soul ‘bleeds out’ as you say, don’t worry.
I’ll collect your energy and, once you’re dead, use it to clean these hinges.
It’s much more effective than a sanding cloth. ”
Feather paled and sat cross-legged on the table. “Right. Slow it is.” She started cutting, though I heard her mutter “Someone’s in a mood,” before she settled down entirely.
It was agony to witness. I tried not to flinch every time I heard her gasp in pain, or sob. How could she keep up the cutting for so long? I checked my time piece, thinking it must have been two hours.
Ten minutes. She sobbed again.
Hellfire, I raged internally. It would be less painful to cut myself than listen to her suffer. I cleared my throat. “Had enough, little Novice?”
“Ha!” She gasped. “That was just my pinky nail. I’m going to clean my whole other hand today.
That way I can keep my darling clean tonight once it’s dark.
Don’t want to kill the mood by getting smut all over…
Well, not this kind of smut.” She giggled.
“I’ve never experienced anything like it.
Who knew all I needed to be truly happy in bed was here in Sanctuary all along? ”
“Your darling?” I shouted, causing her to drop the knife and stare at me. I turned away, livid. How in the hell had the Novice found another soul willing to… Righteous. It had to be him. That sick fuck.