Chapter 24
Mikhail
Madness had infected me; that was the only explanation. I could not put Feather down as she slept. Every time I considered doing so, my limbs locked up until I settled back into my chair.
She was filthy, her smut falling in great chunks away from her with every stroke of my hand over her exposed flesh. I didn’t have to use the knife now for the surface smut. With us connected in this way, my touch alone sufficed. The deeper layers, though, would take months or years to clear up.
Still, I found I didn’t mind the scent of the evil so much, not with her own sweet smell just underneath—like the old strains of roses that used to grow in great heaping briars in Ayrshire. I leaned close, drawing it into my lungs.
She was a marvel. Possibly the strongest being in Sanctuary, except for myself and Gavriel.
I wore half the smut she had borne when I took her as my mate, and for the first two days, it had been all I could do not to weep with the agony of carrying it on my feathers and body.
I’d used every moment I could to carve it away, and when I could take no more, placed the knife in her fingers as she slept, and scraped the thinnest layers off her as well with my hand over hers.
I wouldn’t take chances and cut too deeply.
“My love,” I murmured into her hair, smiling as I remembered Sunny’s startled reaction to finding out the color that lay beneath the mucky strands.
Pressing my lips into Feather’s hair, peppering her forehead with gentle, light kisses, I let one hand reach behind her neck to the place where I’d pressed my own feather.
It had sunk through the layers of grime like a stone in water, embedding itself in her flesh.
She wouldn’t see it, as it lay hidden under her hair, so I could avoid the awkward questions that might come…
When she did learn of it, she could decide whether to share the circumstances of our bond with the others.
I ran my fingers lightly over it again, watching as a smile flickered across her sleeping face.
I couldn’t see the small feather I’d sacrificed to save her, but I could feel its presence.
I wondered if she would begin to acquire some of the powers of the High Angeli now.
Gavriel and I could speak to one another mentally, as long as we were in the same realm.
Would Feather also develop that skill? When I concentrated, I could already feel what she felt, almost hear her thoughts at times.
Her very naughty thoughts. It delighted me to think that she saw me as attractive. That she wanted me, even with my scarred body and the taint I wore now on my skin. When she was clean, and I was as well, if she accepted me, I would show her what it meant to merge with anoth—
“High Angelus Mikhail?” A voice at the door broke through my madness.
“Sunny.” I straightened, wiping any expression from my face. I must not have done so fast enough, as the young Protector’s dark eyes narrowed slightly.
“How is the Novice?” she asked, emphasizing the final word.
“Sleeping. She ate a bit.” I quickly set my unconscious mate down, busying myself with my carving tools.
I didn’t dare look up as Sunny bustled over, dropping a large bag by the center table and laying a hand over Feather’s brow.
My face burned when Sunny pursed her lips and frowned like a protective older sister.
She hummed softly. “Look at how fast this smut’s coming off.
That’s new.” She took a cloth out of her pocket and rubbed it over Feather’s arm.
A streak of nearly clean skin was visible through a fine layer of filth.
“She may not need the knife at all. Maybe she’ll be able to move back to her own room soon,” she mused.
“No.” My voice thundered, and a few small, shining pieces of glitter flew into the air between us.
Sunny stepped back in alarm, and I apologized hastily.
“I meant, she’s far too weak. I’ll need to supervise her treatments.
” Sunny’s lips tightened again; her eyes were filled with suspicion.
“What did you bring?” I motioned to the bag to change the subject.
“I brought her things,” she replied, hefting the bag up on the table. I hurried over to help, and already had the bag open before I realized Sunny’s expression was as filled with mischief as Feather’s had ever been.
“What is—” I began, as the contents of the bag tumbled out, and a far larger cloud of glitter blew up into the cool air.
“Glitter? You brought even more glitter into the Maker Hall?” Panicked, I quickly scanned the space for the four new Novice souls I’d been preparing to send to Earth.
I’d had to carve out pieces of my own flesh to make their naming marks, as I had for four centuries, but I was too tainted now to harvest more if I needed to repair any damage.
I relaxed when I saw they were completely covered and far enough away.
Safe, for now. “Take it away,” I demanded.
Sunny deflated. “She really loves making things.” I shook my head, and she bent her dark curls over the table, shoving what looked like enormous t-shirts into the cloth sack.
Feather’s rasp felt like a finger trailing the edge of my wings. “Don’t… mess up… the ones I made for Mikhail.”
Sunny quit her work and raced to Feather’s side. “Oh, Feather, I was so worried!” She patted silver hair away from the Novice’s face. “How are you feeling? How did you get so covered again? What happened?”
“Yes, what did happen?” I repeated behind her. Feather rolled her eyes.
“I told ya, Sunny,” she whispered, her face under the smut moving into a sweet smile. “You can’t clean… a dirty mind.” She held up a trembling hand, reaching for her friend. “Thanks for washing my hair, birch.”
“Only you would have silver hair underneath all that. Are you sure you’re a Protector?” Sunny laughed, gathering Feather up in her arms.
“That’s what they tell me,” she replied, her voice muffled by Sunny’s shoulder.
Even though I’d seen Sunny taking care of Feather for days, it still shocked me.
Any other Protector would have been afraid of being tainted.
And Sunny was, but the smut wiped away with a quick swipe of another cloth, and I realized her work this week had done more to clean her own form than any number of purification baths.
The sweet-natured woman practically shone like an Angelus.
She picked a grape off the plate near Feather and popped it into her own mouth, examining her friend critically.
“Girl, how the heck are you going to find someone to merge with, if you keep caking on the smut makeup? It’s not a good look for anyone.
And I had almost lined up a dirty Novice boy for you. A cute one.” Her eyes cut to me.
I fought back a shout. “She cannot merge. She’s too weak.”
Sunny smirked. “Of course, Maker. I was just… joking.” Her eyes flashed with something like curiosity, or perhaps caution. “Maker?” She lifted her hand to wipe at her lip. “You, um, you have something… there.” She pointed one shimmering brown hand at my face.
I reached up and felt a chunk of smut. I pulled it away, but saw one long, shining silver hair embedded in the gunk. Turning away quickly, I grabbed the soul knife and shaved my face as human men did, ignoring the burn when I moved the blade too quickly. “Thank you, Protector. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, High Angelus,” she said, empathizing my title with another frown, and making strange faces at Feather when she thought I wasn’t looking. I watched out of the corner of one eye as Feather shrugged in return. “I’ll come back tomorrow. I’ll bring clean clothes and… things.”
I nodded curtly, wishing the Protector gone. She brushed against the table piled with Feather’s “things” as she left, and more of the shining metallic pieces floated through the air before settling on the floor.
“What is that?” I lifted the top shirt off the stack. It was a large garment, easily big enough for me. I knew I was looking at the back, since there were two holes cut, obviously for wings, each one delineated with a row of small turquoise metal discs.
“The sequins are the same color as your eyes. I made it for you,” Feather muttered after a short silence. “All of them, actually.”
My heart raced. “You made me gifts?” She nodded slightly, and I took care as I turned the shirt around in my hands. And stared.
And stared some more.
Finally, I managed to speak. “Does this say what I think it does?” Her only response was a giggle.
I fought to keep my face stern. “Close your eyes, Novice.” I didn’t bother to reprimand her when I saw green peeking out from behind her lashes.
I turned my back and pulled my robe off, replacing it with the t-shirt, threading my wings through the slits and closing up the back with the odd plastic closures.
“Hmm. It fits,” I mused. “You did a very… thorough job. I think I see every color of glitter in this garment. And what are the larger ones again?”
“Sequins,” she squeaked. “Do you really like it?”
“I really do,” I said. “I’d vow it on my wings.”
Feather’s eyes went wide. “I’m not sure what that means. You’re telling the truth, right?”
I felt a mere hundred years old again when my eyes met hers. “I won’t ever lie to you, my… my Feather.” I pulled out the stool next to her and picked up the cloth, wiping at her face again.
Sunny had been right; the smut was practically leaping away from Feather’s skin. I wasn’t totally surprised, since she bore half of my soul, whether she knew it or not. And I had been almost entirely smut-free for the— How many thousands of years had I been in existence now?
I wished Rafe were here to remind me. He was always better at keeping track of such things.
“Why do you look sad?” Feather’s hand rested on my knee, and I placed one of mine over it, allowing myself this small touch.
“I was thinking of a friend. My best friend—and Gavriel’s. He was the oldest in Sanctuary for a long time. The leader, until he was called by a Celestial messenger to go into the Abyss and help with an imbalance.”
“He never came back?” she asked softly.
“No. But he would have adored you. He loved practical jokes, and guessing games. Sanctuary was once filled with laughter and music. Rafe was an incredible musician; he sang all the time.” Suddenly, I was overcome with emotion.
Rafe would never meet my mate. I had always known this would be the case, but now that I had her, I realized how much I wanted the two of them to know each other.
I forced a laugh as I unfolded another shirt—decorated with an even bawdier expression—and glitter went flying.
“What would the great Seraphiel have thought about glitter in Sanctuary?”
“Seraphiel?”
“His name. We called him Rafe, though. He said using the whole thing made him feel old and stuffy,” I replied as I examined the whole stack of shirts. Feather had been working on these for some time, and I found myself inexplicably blushing. She really had found me attractive. She had wanted me.
Maybe I could tell her what I had done. Maybe… there was some way we could be, if not mates in truth, at least close friends. Rafe’s departure had left a scar on my heart. If Feather left me, I feared my heart might become as scarred over as the body I kept hidden under my robe.
I stared at my hands and at the gifts for a long while, finally speaking. “Feather, I need to confess something I have done.”
I waited, but she didn’t reply. When I turned, I saw she had fallen back to sleep.
I stared down into the exquisite, stained face of my soul bond until a soft knock at the door reminded me that I was not just her mate.
I was one of the last two High Angeli in Sanctuary, and I had work to do.
Work that could not be done with a workshop full of glitter.
I answered the door and made a request of the startled Guide who forgot his errand when he read my shirt. Eventually, he stammered out a request to attend a special meeting.
A few moments later, I opened the door again, this time with an evil smile. “You sent for me, Maker?” the waiting Protector said stiffly.
“I did indeed. I have a very important task for you, Righteous.”
This one was responsible for the smut my small mate suffered under, and mine as well. He was about to learn that the denizens of the Abyss had nothing on an angered Angeli mate when it came to torture.