Chapter Four
Verrocchio’s new angel is nothing like the old one.
My master turns to the priest, his bottom lip near torn to shreds. “Are you certain this is the angel for my workshop?”
The new angel hisses. All the men flinch. I can’t exactly blame them.
This angel refuses to wear clothes and refuses to use a knife, choosing to bite everyone instead to draw their blood for the blessing that would bind her powers to us and us only.
The former might not have been a problem if the new angel had had the body of a wizened old man like the old angel, but she’s female, perhaps about my age. Not even one of the apprentices can look at her without blushing furiously.
Tangled blond hair falls to her waist, mostly concealing her breasts but not nearly enough.
And—dear God, are those lice? I shudder, feeling phantom insect legs on my scalp, but I refuse to look away like everyone else.
The fairness of her hair is unsettling against the deep gold of her eyes.
She reminds me of the nursing wolf Niccolo and I found in the hills outside the city walls.
How the wolf rose, ghost-pale and still, her white teeth gleaming sharp in the den’s darkness.
The old angel stuck to the shadows like a shade himself. There is something wild and beating and alive in this one.
The priest’s eyes flick toward the street. “If you are displeased with her, perhaps you should not have killed your previous angel.”
Verrocchio’s mouth thins. “He attacked my apprentices. I had no choice.”
The priest flaps a hand, his meaning clear: And your workshop has many apprentices but only one angel. “This is the angel who came when we prayed for your workshop. She is young and powerful. Her magic will be worth the trouble of keeping her.”
None of the other workshops have a girl angel. Is her rareness a mark of God’s favor for Master Verrocchio or a sign of harrowing times to come?
Judging from the crooked frown on his face, I’d say Verrocchio is puzzling over the same question himself.
He swallows and speaks carefully, not wanting to give insult to the holy priest and the church’s work.
“We are thrilled to receive such a… vivacious spirit into our midst, Father. I’m just not sure it’s going to work out. ”
I suck in a sharp breath. Is Verrocchio thinking of sending this angel away for a different one?
He can’t! When the angel at Antonio del Pollaiuolo’s workshop was taken away, it had taken eighteen months to bless them with a new one.
My mother and sisters will be fighting rats for scraps on the streets long before that.
I dig my paint-stained thumb into the stinging bite wound on my palm, thinking quickly.
“Master Verrocchio! I would be glad to take over the angel’s care until she’s settled. ”
He spins around, his face brightening with hope. “Truly, Virgil? You would do this?”
“Of course, anything for the workshop.” Behind Verrocchio, Leonardo catches my eye and mimes gagging. My fingers itch to make a rude gesture back at him, but I heroically resist. So what if he thinks I’m currying favor? God knows he doesn’t need any magic!
Besides, angels won’t strike bargains with just anyone, and this angel looks very much like she’d love to set the workshop on fire and then dance barefoot in its ashes. It can’t hurt to have her like me.
As if realizing that her fate has been decided, the angel turns to me and grins a scarlet-slicked smile.
I smile back and hope I’m not making a mistake.