Chapter 38
Mikhail
“She’s not happy, Mik,” Gavriel said softly. We stood far enough behind Feather that she couldn’t see us. As usual for the past weeks, our disconsolate little mate was swinging her feet over the void, her sheet stuffed in a ball on her lap.
The thing was filthy, but she wouldn’t let us wash it, even though a new spring of fresh water had erupted a week before at the edge of the cloud wall. “It smells like him,” she’d finally explained.
“No, she’s not,” I agreed, assessing my sweet soul. I could feel her grief in the feather we shared, though I knew she had been trying to control the flow of emotions through her bonds to all three of us. She didn’t want us to suffer. “She needs work to do.”
“She won’t. She says she has to watch for Rafe.”
I folded my arms over my chest, looking for a solution.
Feather had taken to sitting on that cloud edge for hours every morning, and hadn’t been sleeping well at night either.
Dark circles marred the skin below her eyes, and even her shining silver hair seemed flat and lifeless.
“I’ve been using the naming chime to create things we need all month.
I’m glad Imriel sent us all the soulfire wells.
I wouldn’t have felt comfortable making so much with the Guides’ feathers. ”
“I would have,” Gavriel grumbled. “Fuckers could be plucked clean and still not make up for all the shit they put her through.” He still held a few significant grudges against some of the Guides, though he knew they had been redeemed.
It was difficult sometimes, living in such close quarters with all the same souls who had been so horrible to our little mate, not to remember their unkindness—though Gavriel had no stones to throw in that regard.
And no one had been anything but kind to Feather since her arrival.
Precious, on the other hand… I stifled a growl.
Gavriel nodded. “You’ve been working hard, Mik. I’ve seen the lovely playhouse bungalow for Precious. And the furniture in the public spaces. I was a little surprised at the barrel I found in the new fields yesterday, and the stacks of enormous purple dild—”
I cut him off. “I didn’t make those. Feather did.
” He laughed as I added, “And to be specific, it was a fifty-five-gallon barrel of lube, and strap-on toys. She also made some very lovely golden hardware before I confiscated the naming chime.” I sent him a mental image of the supplies she had fabricated for his promised dick piercing.
“Shit.” He slapped his hands over his crotch. I laughed so loud, Feather heard me and hopped up.
“Growly, what’s up?” She gave me a thorough kiss, then ran to Gavriel and tweaked his nipple before climbing up him and greeting him the same way.
We both ignored the silver tear tracks on her cheeks.
“So what are we doing today?” she asked with an assessing look at Gavriel.
“Are you feeling back to normal yet? Ready for some… fun?”
“No,” Gavriel moaned, grabbing at one of his shoulders, the faker. “Maybe the pain from my injuries will fade in a year or so. I’m not sure.”
“I was thinking you’d like to make some artwork while we wait for Rafe to arrive,” I said gently to distract her, handing her the bag of supplies I’d grabbed shortly after I heard her sneak out of our bedroom in the wee hours of the morning.
I’d begun making them the week before, after a conversation with Perception.
“Oh, Growly,” she whispered, pulling out the first part of the gift.
It was a hot glue gun, powered by a single barb from one of Truth’s feathers.
He’d caught me on the verge of using one of my own and threw a fit, saying I’d already given too much of myself away, and it was time to let others share the honor of sacrificing for our new community.
“It should never run out of power. And the power barb fabricates the glue.” She pawed through the bag, pulling out the sealed packets I’d placed inside, one of every color of the rainbow.
“Your best birch has been collecting glitter throughout the Limen for the past three days as well. She has a few bags of the stuff, but I made some extras, so you’d have more to work with than just Precious’s dark purple. ”
Gavriel had leaned over the bag to see what was inside, and she picked a piece of pink glitter off his neck with a smirk. “Oh, we have sources of glitter you’ve never even considered, Growly Bear.” It looked like she was going to tug at Gavriel’s trousers to show me something, and I held up a hand.
“I don’t want to know. Where Gavriel keeps his glitter is between him and you.
” I went on, over Gav’s spluttered protests, “And possibly Righteous, as long as he consents.” In seconds, both she and Gavriel were wearing matching blushes, and I laughed loud enough to wake the whole of the Limen.
“Now, I didn’t make t-shirts, because I thought you might like a larger canvas.
” I pulled Feather along to the edge of the cloudbank.
“I also thought perhaps, if you used enough glitter, it could be visible from—”
“From the void,” she rasped, wrapping her arms around me again. “When he comes past, he’ll see it. Oh, Growly, this is the best gift I’ve ever had. If I start now, this place will shine like a spotlight. He’ll have to see me. Us.”
Without another word, she grabbed the sack and went right to the edge of the void. Drawing on the cloud surface with the glue gun, she sprinkled just enough glitter on the semi-circular pattern to stick, then moved on, over and over.
I watched for hours, as did most of the other residents, before excusing myself to get back to organizing necessary supplies. On the way, I passed Perception, who had his eyes on Shadow, as usual. No, on Precious.
The tot had veered close to one of the pools of soulfire that had sprung up, but hadn’t been enclosed yet. None of us knew how deep they ran, but I’d stuck my arm in one and not felt the bottom. My heart lurched; I wasn’t sure Precious could swim.
Before I could leap to her aid, Perception made a short clicking sound with his tongue, sending the dog on a quick route to intercept her. He grabbed her tiny t-shirt with his teeth and pulled her away, distracting her with a game of tag.
I smiled at the younger Angelus in thanks. “I was always called the most perceptive of the High Angeli, but when you suggested last week that Feather needed a job, I realized you saw more than I. You were correct.”
“I only saw the need, Maker. You were the one who knew her best, and perceived which ‘art form’ would suit.” We both chuckled at the liberal use of the term, as we took in Feather’s art.
The pattern—sort of a mandala, stretching out from the edge in ever-widening arches—was filled with angelic sigils and already starting to glow with its own strange power. I was almost certain she hadn’t done it on purpose.
“A divine mistake,” Perception murmured. “The very best kind.”
I agreed, then went to find Righteous to help wheel a barrel of lube into our bedroom, and fabricate some sort of cabinet for the vast array of Celestial sex toys our intrepid mate had created.
I wasn’t certain how long we would be in the Limen.
From what Perception had shared from his conversations with Imriel, there was no record of anyone ever choosing to leave the Celestial Realm, except for the rare Messenger, and so there was no way to know if the gate could somehow be convinced to allow us back in.
But even if the gate were never to open again for me, as long as I had my mate—my mates—with me, I already had all the home I needed.
All the love I had ever dreamed of. And good work to do for as many years as it took to bring the only other friend I missed back to me.
And to her, our small, perfect, naughty center.
As Gavriel had said to her just the evening before as he held her in our bed, she was the only Feather we couldn’t live without.