Chapter 18 Feather
Feather
Suddenly dizzy, I sat on the floor. My mind buzzed with disbelief and shock. Sunny waited patiently while I put my head between my knees and breathed slowly, trying to wrangle the sudden onslaught of emotions that were rocking me.
Finally, I could speak. “What do you mean, cut off his wings? Why would Righteous do that?”
She folded her legs gracefully, sitting next to me, and took my hand.
“He was out of his mind, Feather. I mean…” She hesitated.
“He hasn’t exactly been himself since then, though I don’t see it as a bad thing.
He’s more compassionate now. He listens, instead of making snap judgments.
He hasn’t been impatient, or mean. If I hadn’t known him for two centuries, I would think this was someone else entirely. ”
“His stain is gone,” I whispered. “I helped him get it off. He’s mostly ascended.”
Sunny squeezed my hand. “See? He’s better now, no matter what he was doing with the sword before you came back.
I don’t see what the others like Valor and Fidelity keep pointing to.
But what I think will be in the charges they’re going to bring against him is what’s called ‘aberrant behavior affecting the safety of Sanctuary.’ Cutting off his wings—it looked unhinged. ”
“Why would he do that?” I repeated, letting myself fall now. “Was it because…”
Sunny waited for me to gather my thoughts. “Maybe he thought I was gone forever, and since the only way to ascend was to be purified? He said something about how I had to forgive him. If he cut off his wings…”
She shrugged. “Maybe he was going to throw them in after you? He would have to sacrifice them somehow. In the old days, there were some who gave up their wings for… honestly, I can’t remember why.
It was only ever mentioned in passing, like as part of the reason you had to obey the Guides and High Angeli in all things.
The loss of your wings was a punishment they could levy.
And I suppose they did once or twice, a long time ago. ”
“So, they have a precedent,” I said slowly.
“To take wings if rules are broken.” I tried to slow my breathing, but not even my go-to meditation about being given mouth-to-mouth by a series of half-naked, burly firefighters worked.
“We really need Mikhail and Gavriel to get back here and get a hold of those Guides.” At that moment, a loud bell rang somewhere outside in the hallway. “What was that?”
Sunny’s face had gone a paler shade of bronze. “The emergency bell. Do you think the gate…?”
“No.” I shook my head. “There’s no shaking. And Righteous is singing to it, I know that.”
“He’ll have to leave to come to the emergency meeting,” Sunny said.
“No one is allowed to miss it.” We hustled through the door.
The floor of the corridor was empty, but the vaulted rooftops above were crowded with Protectors and Guides, all flying to the same place: the largest Assembly Hall.
I tried not to look up too often. Sanctuary didn’t believe in underwear, and there were quite a few inhabitants of the realm who I already knew well enough, thank you very much.
I scratched at the sequined bikini that I wore under my toga.
Sunny laughed at me for it, but I had gotten used to covering up my privates on Earth, and it felt more natural this way.
Since I had to walk, we were the last ones to reach the Assembly Hall.
A Guide at the door made a rude comment as they curtly motioned us to enter.
There was a large group of Guides standing in the center of the room, on the final platform at the base of the Hall.
This space was enormous, like a college sports stadium; there must have been two hundred rows ahead of us, or more.
Every inhabitant of Sanctuary was here, or almost.
For a moment, my mind flashed to the movies I’d watched on Earth, where the President was always kept away from the rest of the survivors of some disaster.
This was definitely when the aliens or terrorists would attack.
When I peeked around and didn’t see Righteous anywhere, I let out a relieved sigh.
“Shh,” Sunny said, listening closely. The voices of the Guides were somehow clear all the way back where we stood.
“… so new rules must be in place in case we are left without appropriate leadership again.”
Someone shouted out, “Head Protector Righteous is in charge!”
“Silence,” the Guide demanded, flicking a finger to some of their cronies, who moved in the direction of that voice.
“As I just informed you, the Guides have determined that Righteous is not fit to lead. In the absence of any other High Angelus, tradition, precedent, and more recent rules signed by High Angelus Gavriel himself grant the Guides the right to make decisions regarding the safety of Sanctuary and its population.”
“But Feather’s a High Angelus,” I heard from my side of the room. “She’s small, but it’s obvious to anyone. Her energy—”
Sunny opened her mouth to speak but I elbowed her in the gut. She hadn’t seen what I had—that the red-haired Protector who’d spoken out was being escorted away by two tall Guides. “Where are you taking me?” he sputtered, digging his heels into the floor.
“Your spirit is troubled,” one of the Guides answered, their voice muffled by their thick golden robe. As they passed us, the stench of something slightly putrid and all wrong wafted all around us. “You need some time in the lower meditation rooms.”
Sunny’s thought percolated through the noise of all the others. The farking dungeon. I bet it’s not for noisy sex these days.
I knew it; it had been a sex dungeon. This place was crawling with perverts. “Did you smell those Guides?” I whispered, not moving my lips, a skill I’d perfected in Catholic school on Earth.
“What about them?” Sunny whispered back. I shrugged, wondering if it was like a grandmother I’d had in one life, who had twelve incontinent chihuahuas. Her house had reeked, but for some reason she couldn’t smell it. Had the Protectors up here just gotten used to the bad smells?
Sunny nudged me, so I tried to explain, “They aren’t wearing any smut, just like my teacher. But the odor—”
Suddenly, she straightened, and I slammed my mouth shut as a harsh gaze landed on us.
The main Guide stared directly at Sunny as they spoke.
“We have heard disturbing rumors that some of you may have considered an unsanctioned mating. The soul knife that High Angelus Gavriel left in Sanctuary for our protection went missing for a day.” Shouts rang out again.
“Never fear. We have it safely in our hands now, and we will punish the offenders immediately. But remember, the consequences for serious crimes such as theft can be severe. Please reconsider, dear Protectors, if you find yourself tempted to succumb to a similar temptation.” He gestured to a couple of bronze-winged women who were standing close to the podium, holding hands.
“What’s he talking about?” I whispered. But a wave of horror had already begun to spill across the Hall. The two long-haired female Protectors were being pulled out of the group and to the door at the side of the room. “Where are they taking them?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them. “But the Guide on the front? Opening the door. Look what he has.”
My stomach lurched when I saw what they held: Mikhail’s soul knife. “Righteous is the only one who’s supposed to touch that,” I said under my breath. “He would never have given it up.”
“Are you sure Ry is at the gate?”
I stilled. “No, I’m not. But we can check later. I think we need to follow those Guides and get that knife back.” But all the Guides seemed to be watching me.
Sunny grabbed my arm. “Spiritually speaking, Feather, you are the true leader of Sanctuary right now. You’re the only High Angelus here.
The soulmate of Sanctuary’s Maker. Just give me a second and I’ll get a distraction going.
You know the back ways, yeah?” I nodded.
“When I make my move, you go low and scoot out.”
Make her move? I didn’t have time to ask before she was raising her hand and crying out, “What if Protectors were already secretly mated before the rule passed?” She started running up to the podium. No one stopped her, since the whole assembly was in an uproar. “How would you know?”
The Head Guide tapped where their chin might be under their hood as if thinking.
“You’re right, of course. The two Protectors we’ve removed committed themselves just last night; they were observed and apprehended by Valor here, who retrieved the soul knife.
” The greasy, dark-haired Protector smirked.
He had a black eye, I noted. Valor was super strong.
Who could have…? Righteous. It had to have been him.
My stomach flipped and I started moving toward my exit, staying low like she’d said.
I was so much shorter than the others that it wasn’t hard.
And some of them seemed to be helping me, spreading their robes to keep me from being seen from the podium, or stretching out their wings.
Truth was closest to the exit I was aiming for and when the Guide there turned in my direction, he grabbed the golden-robed figure and shook his arm, pleading to be allowed to leave.
The Guide roughly shoved him back onto his riser, and I took that moment to slip behind him and outside.
Sunny’s voice followed me, “Well, you wouldn’t know if I was already mated, would you? I wear my toga all the time. I could have mated two months ago—”
“Quite so,” the Guide’s voice grew quieter as I moved away from the closing door.
“That is why we called you all here. We will be doing a visual inspection of each Protector’s physical form, beginning with—” Muted shouts were the last I heard before I was alone in the silent corridor.
I ran as fast as I could, calling out in my mind for Mikhail or Gavriel, or Rumple.
But no one answered, and I needed to find out what was happening to those two mated Protectors now.
I pressed my hand against an almost unnoticeable panel and slid into a narrow closet that led to one of the back ways of Sanctuary.
According to Mikhail, only High Angeli were supposed to know about these, but I’d seen Guides using some of them.
As far as I knew, the one to the Maker Hall hadn’t been discovered, and Mikhail had put a lock on it before he left, with a simple High Angelic word that he’d taught me.
I heard the screaming before I found where they’d taken the couple. There was a small Assembly Hall, not far from the storage closet where they’d locked up all the old musical instruments and furniture. I slipped into the Hall, hidden behind a long white curtain, and realized I was too late.
There were five Guides there, hazy but visible through the cloth.
I peeked out with one eye, moving slowly.
One was holding a metal bowl in one hand, the soul knife in the leather scabbard at their belt.
In their other hand, he grasped a blood-soaked, bronze feather.
They dropped it into the bowl, coughed out a word that made my eardrums throb—but obviously hurt all of theirs worse, since they all winced and grunted in pain, even the one who had said it—and then there was a flash of flame and smoke as the feather burned away.
The room reeked of sour rot and burning flesh.
The two Protectors were holding each other, sobbing on the floor, their wings folded over each other so I couldn’t see what was going on.
“This lesson was painful for us all,” the Guide with the knife announced.
His voice sounded like Prosperity, my Purity teacher.
“I hope for the sake of all the others in Sanctuary, your punishment will prevent others from repeating your crime.” The other Guides stood back, but the sleeves of their robes were stained with blood, ichor, and thick, greasy smut.
Their own smut, from perpetrating this gross abuse of power.
Something in my veins started to burn. It felt like small streams of lava moving through me, igniting an unquenchable fire, and draining into a vast, hidden crater of hurt that had formed during my years of witnessing and struggling against injustices like this.
But filling now with something else. Something new.
I clutched one hand to my chest, the other around my mouth, as I fought for control.
I was being consumed by some power I’d never had before, one that demanded I help these two poor souls, but there was nothing to fix. The Guides were leaving. And what the power really wanted to do was avenge. Wreak justice, and rain down holy fire.
Or unholy fire.
My skin prickled with painful currents, and I looked down.
Underneath the surface, the deep, dark silver swirls that had been there since my return to Sanctuary ran like turbulent rivers, seeking a way out.
I recognized the flavor of the power now.
It was the same heady, thick mass that made up most of the Abyss.
I ran my hands over my arms and felt tiny ridges rising up all over me, the texture of Rumple’s horns.
Terror mixed with the rage I was feeling.
What was I? What had he made me into? A forceful current surged in answer.
Not now, I pleaded with myself. Or with the power. First, protect the others.
The word protect did something, flipped a switch, and suddenly, I was free of the impulse to destroy. “Thank you,” I whispered.
I didn’t want to know what might happen if the shadows inside me found a way out. I didn’t know if I’d survive it.
Or if Sanctuary would.