Chapter 6
Sunny
Ilowkey hated the Celestial Realm. It was confusingly big, and too fluffy, and full of beautiful Celestial beings who smiled at me and then shuddered when they noticed Precious zipping around.
My name might be Sunny, the Light of Truth, but I was having a ridiculously hard time feeling sunny or light-hearted at all.
The truth was, I wanted to punch all these Celestials in the face, and Hope wasn’t here to stop me.
She might have held the baby while I did just that, though. My girlfriend was pretty badass.
Think about something else, birch. Think about… where the heck is the baby?
Another pod of tall, graceful women floated past, nodding and singing gently, as I peered around me to discover where my ward had gotten to, trying to hide my alarm.
That little rascal could find a year’s worth of trouble in a minute.
She’d already ripped up a bunch of cloud sheets she’d found on a line, left strips of damaged ground cover where she’d landed near the flower fields, and done something to the Choir Leader to make him lose his voice.
Fed him a burned marshmallow. I didn’t get why that had hurt him at all.
I’d eaten plenty, and they didn’t have any effect on me.
She’d also cried loud enough entering the Celestial Realm to scare the crap out of the Celestial guard. I hadn’t been certain if they were terrified by her caterwauling or her general appearance, but fear had been thick in the air. Not exactly the way I’d pictured the Celestial Realm in my dreams.
When we’d come through the Great Gate in Sanctuary, and one of her feathers had vanished, I’d thought she might be hurt.
But she just reached behind us after we left the gate and whimpered, like we’d forgotten her favorite stuffie.
She’d only started really crying once we entered the Celestial Realm.
“Precious?” I whispered, tiptoeing around.
Not flying, since that attracted more attention.
My wings were smaller and less brilliant than the Celestials’, though my body was every bit as shiny.
Even my hands were clean as ever now. The smut I’d worn for killing Valor in Sanctuary had vanished when I walked through the Celestial gate.
I’d had to forgive him for trying to cut off my wings, trying to murder Feather, and for the centuries of general douchebag behavior, though I’d barely managed it.
It had felt like my nails were being sanded off as I crossed over.
“Precious?” I heard a giggle and finally spied her hiding behind a pinkish cloud shaped like a park bench.
Relieved, I settled onto the seat and looked down at her as she played.
The puppy was sitting up, begging eagerly for a marshmallow.
Char-el was what Imriel had called it, though so far it only answered to “Dado,” Precious’s name.
“Don’t let the puppy eat too many—” I began to say, as Precious laughed and poofed the largest marshmallow I’d ever seen—at least as big as my fist—onto her palm.
She breathed fire out to burn it, then stuffed it in the waiting puppy’s open mouth.
I heard a scream behind me, and sighed. “Maybe don’t breathe fire when the Boomers are watching, hmm, sweets? ”
She reached up with her tiny, glittering hands, murmuring “Tata,” her name for me, then jabbered in demonic. It kind of hurt my ears, but not as badly as when her acid spit got on my skin. Now, that smarted.
“Dado!” she demanded after I’d pulled her up, patting her own lap with her chubby fingers. The dog scrambled onto the cloud bench and rested its wrinkly head on her legs, looking like a white Neapolitan mastiff pup about to take a nap.
“Dado?” I asked. “Don’t you think a majestic doggy like this needs a fancier name?
” We’d been visiting the other temple puppies in the Fields of Joy all morning, and they all bore names almost as long as Feather’s.
But slightly less ridiculous. According to Haneul, who’d shown us around, one of the oldest puppies was called Valiant Protector of the Helpless and Finder of the Lost, Who Merits Immediate Belly Scratches From All Who Witness Her Magnificence.
Just then, a group of Celestials floated close enough for me to hear their whispers. “It’s clear in the ancient prophecy. The Book of Seraphiel says, ‘The glittering shadow will bring an end to the Celestial Realm.’”
Another of them shushed her. “She’s a baby, Sabriel. She’s not going to destroy the realm. Anyway, Feather glitters almost as much. She could be the harbinger.” They all laughed like that was ridiculous.
“Underestimating my birch,” I sneered under my breath. “She’s little, sure. But so are a lot of bombs.”
Precious squeezed my cheeks in her sticky hands and nodded gravely as she stared at me, then the puppy. “Dado,” she said, then enunciated carefully, “Bom Dado.”
Oh fudge. “How about we learn some other words, Precious? Can you say Maker? Singer?”
“Bom!” After she’d yelled bomb and shadow a few more times, I whipped out my kazoo—the gift I’d been given when I entered the realm, though Sabriel had broken into a fit of uncontrollable giggles when I’d played it for her. I’d distract Precious with classic 70’s Earth music.
I’d only buzzed a few notes of a song by The Gap Band, when Righteous appeared in front of me. His face was marked with lines of strain, and his words set me on edge. “Feather wanted to talk with you, Sunny, before…” He cleared his throat. Oh, sweet Maker, was he about to cry?
“Nope,” I said firmly, stuffing the kazoo in my pocket.
“You finish that sentence with anything but ‘before you two go out and drink every drop of ambrosia, or whatever the heck they have for booze up here, and dance all night until the roof blows off the realm,’ then my fist is gonna have words with your face.”
He blinked, then smiled slightly. “I bet she’d love a drink. I’ll get something. You can see her in our room. Spend some time with her.”
“In this realm?” I asked quietly. He lifted an eyebrow. “It’s just that it’s getting late, and Imriel said he doesn’t want Precious staying overnight here. The guards told me we had to go to some isolation room.”
He curled his lip at that. Protective and pissed was a good look for Ry. “Imriel can kiss my ass—ash,” he amended when the clouds around us vibrated with some weird thunder. Who was listening in on this conversation?
“The Boss of All Bosses doesn’t like us cursing?”
He shrugged. “I won’t let them throw Precious out. Feather will want to see her before—” He broke off when I balled up my fist, and finished, “Before you and Feather go line dancing or whatever.”
I nodded, settled Precious on one hip, and hopped up to go find my best birch. When we got to the right cloudbank, Righteous gestured me inside, following close behind. Mikhail was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, with his hand wrapped around one of Feather’s.
I flinched when I entered her room. In less than a day—if time even worked that way here—my closest friend in every realm had wasted away.
The small space was all blue clouds, much more pronounced colors than the rest of the place.
I was glad to see glitter flecks here and there on the cloud walls and squishy furniture.
I put Precious and Dado down to decorate the floor with a few more scuff marks and smut-glitter.
Anything to make this place look less like a hospice room.
Which was, I knew, precisely correct.
“Birch, you look like hammered dogshit,” I said, mock-frowning.
“Don’t these people have medicine? Powers, or some fancy fuckery?
” Every time I cursed, the clouds grumbled.
I stared at one wall that kept going and snarked, “Well, you want me to talk nice, you fix what’s wrong with my girl here.
I’ll have the sweetest mouth. A dildo-damned honey mouth.
Made of sugar mouth.” The clouds didn’t answer. “I fucking thought so. So shut up.”
Precious and Dado toddled over to the corner of the room, where Dado lifted his leg and peed golden light onto the lowest cloud, turning it a sickly shade of green.
“Goo Dado,” Precious praised, stroking his floppy ears. “Goo ebil Dado.” She made three marshmallows at once, and fed them into the dog’s slobbery mouth.
Feather started coughing, and I commanded Ry to quickly get her some water, then lifted the silver hair away from her face, glad to see the horns had completely vanished when we’d come through the Limen. “Birch, what the… You’re not coughing!” She was laughing her ass off.
“You practicing lines for your next porno, Sunny?” she finally gasped out. “Talking to the walls? You’ve lost it, birch.”
I stuck my tongue out at her and flopped down on the bed. As Righteous went and fetched us water like a good boy—though he turned a really weird shade of deep gold when I said that in thanks—I caught her up on everything that had been going on with Precious, and the Choir Leader.
For some reason, Mikhail bristled, flexing his giant hands into fists when he heard about Imriel’s reaction.
“I’ll just go have a little chat with the man,” he said, pressing a kiss to Feather’s head.
He and Righteous exchanged a look, and Ry took up what could only be a defensive stance in front of the doorway. Not that we had any weapons.
“Does Mikhail have his soul knife, or something?”
Ry shook his head. “No weapons allowed in the realm,” he said.
“The soul knives are made of a combination of Celestial and Abyssal energy, in any case. They would never let one in. Maybe a Celestial sword… I mean, they make them out of sacrificed wings, so they can’t actually—” His eyes narrowed.
Ry was a prodigious swordsman; I could tell he felt naked without a weapon. But this train of thought had to stop.
I growled at him. “What the fuck, Ry? Don’t even think about it. I already saved your pretty, pretty princess wings once.”