Chapter Ten #2
“The village was…skeptical at first.” I recalled the first time I had met them, flying in with Castiel, Azrael, Daniel, and one or two others.
Back when Azrael was willing to tolerate human contact and back when Daniel was alive.
The villagers had arrived with pitchforks and torches.
They’d seen our wings and had fallen to their knees, begging forgiveness for their sins.
We’d been in this world long enough to understand their religious beliefs about angels. Sometimes people’s religious fervor got the better of them, and they became dangerous. A handful of humans would never take down one seraph. But a mob gripped in a religious frenzy? I didn’t want to find out.
So we’d promised the villagers extra prayers to their god from our lips, blessings every other year, our guardian presence from demons and the Gar, and no tax or rent.
That last bit hushed up any of the remaining naysayers.
And they learned quickly to keep their mouths shut about me and Castiel, in fear a plague would one day take their village.
Or I’d require rent in arrears. Both were terrifying.
I sketched out this information in rough terms.
She glanced sideways at me. “Do they still worship you?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Worship me?”
She wrung out the sponge, then dropped a few more soap flakes into the water. “You know. Like, honored. As a…celestial being or whatever. My church calls you the Herald of Death.”
I stared at her in surprise. “I was a warrior. I did bring death to our enemies. But why would your people call me this?” The thought unsettled me.
“The founder of our church saw you all fall from the sky. He says you kept hold of your weapons and you led the way to the ground.”
Unease churned in my gut. It was hard to hear of people watching my worst moment. I knew humans had seen it, but hearing about it from their eyes made my skin prickle.
“You were the first angel—the first seraph—he’d seen. You rounded up your people and raised your sword high in the air.”
I vaguely remembered doing that.
“And the demons fled from you.”
“Gar,” I corrected absently. “That race is called the Gar.”
“He went to the field, to find you,” Eve said, as if reciting a story. “But all that was left by the time he arrived was a feather. He took it home. And that night, his mother died.”
I jerked away from her. “I had nothing to do with that.” Good grief, what did these people think I was? A god?
“It was a relief,” Eve continued. “She’d been in much pain. Later he had six visions from Erlik about angels and death.”
I forced a harsh laugh. “And because of that, some fool decided I was the Herald of Death?”
“He wanted to worship you. Give you the honor he thought you deserved.”
I shook my head, crossing my arms. “What honor? I’m a failed captain in the middle of a war. I’m stranded with my people, and even though I swore to get them home, I couldn’t do that. What honor is there in that?”
She stared at me with those brown eyes, and I suddenly felt naked, as if she’d stripped not only the clothes off me but my skin as well. “It’s not your fault, you know.”
My wings hitched. “You weren’t there,” I muttered.
“Precisely.” She gave a sharp nod. “That’s why you can trust my opinion as objective truth on the matter.”
I laughed. Out loud. And laughed again from the sheer surprise of it. It had been too long since I’d laughed, I realized. What a dear little human this Eve was.
She stopped and looked at me, a surprised smile on her face, too. “So you do laugh.”
I rolled my eyes. “On occasion.”
Her expression sobered. “I don’t know you well, Gabriel. But from what I’ve seen, you’re a deeply responsible, devoted person. Do any of your seraphim believe you’ve failed them?”
I thought about my people, their faces spinning through my mind. “I….”
“And there you have it.” She nodded again. “No one blames you for not finding a way home. You’ve clearly done what you can.”
I rubbed my face. “I think…I think I will be failing them if I continue like this. If I can’t find a way home, I should make it as easy as possible for them to settle here. Built a decent life, if not a good one.”
She studied me. “What do you mean?”
I sighed and glanced around the Great Hall. “It means I need to spend some money. And you need to hurry up on cleaning that glass.” I nodded to the oriel.
Eve gasped in mock outrage. “I’m not the one with wings.” She pointed above her head. “Do you see how high that goes? Do you see any ladders around here?”
I chuckled again, that rusty sound reverberating in my chest. She laughed with me this time, and that ache in my chest disappeared completely at the sound of her voice.
“We’ll see, Housekeeper, we’ll see what I can do.
” I couldn’t imagine liking her any more, or finding her even more beautiful if she was a seraph.
Her face sobered. “Would you ever use your sword again?”
Surprise rippled through me, and my wings jerked. “What do you mean?”
“I saw your sword in the corner of your room. I wasn’t trying to snoop, I promise!
” Her face reddened. “I was cleaning. Very well, maybe a little snooping. It’s beautiful, Gabriel.
It belongs above a mantelpiece or in a place of honor.
” She took a breath, watching my face. “Why is it hidden behind dust and cobwebs, Gabriel?”
Shame, icy and wet, trickled down my spine. I resisted the urge to ruffle my feathers. “You found it? I wondered where I’d put it.” Actually, no, I hadn’t. I tried not to think of it at all. “It’s a reminder of all I lost. All my sedge lost. Everything I failed to do and be.”
She sighed and nodded. “I was afraid of that.”
I blinked.
“One day, when you are ready, I would love to see you flying with it in hand.” She stepped closer and pressed her palm to my chest.
My heart throbbed under her warmth.
“I hope you are ready soon,” she said wistfully, then turned and went back to the oriel.
My feet wouldn’t move. My wings wouldn’t even flutter. I stared at her back, the gentle slope of it while she stretched. “Maybe,” I said gruffly, and turned away, hoping she hadn’t heard me.