Angels of Darkness (36 page)

I couldn't even look at him as I waited for him to denounce me.

His voice, when it came, was threaded with amazement. “That was you?” he demanded. “
You're
the one who cut up Reuel Harth?”

I risked a quick look at him and saw nothing but astonishment on his face. “You know him?”

“Knew him. Everyone did. You'll be happy to know he's dead now.”

I took a quick breath. “Did he suffer?”

Corban's mouth opened in a soundless laugh. “Not as much as you'd like, I imagine, but his last three years were unpleasant enough. His face was heavily scarred, you know, from whatever weapon you used. And his reputation was wholly shredded. He was ostracized by Manadavvi and angels alike.”

“Because he raped a servant girl?” I said scornfully.

“Because he killed her,” Corban corrected me. “I see you have the lowest possible opinion of Samarian justice, but the Archangel has reasonable ethical standards, and she had never liked Reuel to begin with. She was happy to levy a steep fine and censure him in public—she would have liked to do more, but Reuel wouldn't confess to the crime and there was no absolute proof that he'd strangled that poor girl. The servants were mostly afraid to give testimony and his wife wouldn't speak at the trial at all.”

“
I
could have told them—” I began in a hot voice, and then abruptly fell silent.

“Exactly. But the woman who had come to her friend's aid so dramatically—and who had been brought to the Eyrie specifically to speak accusations against Reuel Harth—somehow disappeared before the trial began.”

I crossed my arms and glared at him, but I felt a gaping hole open in my stomach. The Manadavvi lord escaped some measure of punishment because
I
had run away? Had I been the one to betray Olive after all?

He answered my unspoken wail of remorse. “It wouldn't have made much difference, I expect. The fine might have been heavier—the condemnation more sharply worded. But the end result would have been much the same.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I always wondered, though,” he said. “How did you get out of the Eyrie? There's the new road that lets people go up and down the mountain, but it was still under construction when the trial was going on. I assume you weren't kept under lock and key—but back then, the only way to get off the Eyrie was in an angel's arms. How did you manage to disappear?”

“I went exploring,” I said shortly. I was so shaken by the various revelations of the evening that I was having trouble finishing the conversation in a normal tone of voice. “And one day I found this—I can't explain it—this open shaft in the back of the hold. With a contraption that moved up and down from the top of the mountain to the base. I figured out how to use the ropes and pulleys to ride the thing down to the ground.”

“Rachel's escape route!” Corban exclaimed. “Of course! She was Gabriel's angelica, you know, and she was afraid of heights, so she didn't like to be flown down from the Eyrie. I'd forgotten that cageand-pulley system even existed.”

“Well, I found it,” I said. “And then I hid myself in Velora until everyone stopped looking for me.”

I could tell by Corban's expression that he was doing a rough calculation. “But that was—what, three years ago?”

“Four.”

“And all this time you've been running? Thinking the angels—or the Manadavvi—were still looking for you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And that's why you're here. At the Gabriel School. Which, as far as I can tell, is at the very edge of civilized existence. You're still running.”

“I suppose.” I was suddenly so tired I could barely muster the strength to answer.

But Corban was energized. He leaned forward, his face alight. I had the sense he might take my arm again, so I scooted back, out of reach. “Well, you don't have to hide anymore,” he said. “Reuel's dead and the angels aren't hunting for you. You can go where you want. Do what you want. Lead a normal life again.”

Laughing faintly, I pushed myself to my feet. I figured I'd better leave while I still had the strength to walk home. “I don't know that I ever led a normal life,” I said. “And I'm perfectly happy at the Gabriel School. All I need these days is a place to rest.”

He stood up so quickly he almost knocked his chair over. “Wait. I want to ask you—”

I had headed for the door, but now I pivoted back to face him. “We're done talking about my life,” I said sharply. “I'll come back tomorrow, and every day after that, but not if you keep asking me questions. Do you understand? I'll help you as long as you need me, but if you don't respect my wishes, I won't work with you anymore. And if you try to make me come to you anyway, I'll leave the school. I'm not afraid to run away. I'm not afraid to start over. I'm not afraid of anything.”

I could almost see the words forming on his lips, something like
You're afraid of things in your past that give you pain.
But he didn't say them. His need for my assistance was greater than his desire to pry into my life. “I won't ask any questions,” he said quietly.

“Then I'll see you tomorrow,” I said.

If I had had the strength, I would have run from the room.

I
had to force myself to go back to the Great House the following day. I had tossed and turned all night, torn between hating myself for revealing so much to Corban and experiencing a fierce jubilation at the knowledge that Reuel Harth was dead. I was also haunted by images of Olive's torn and twisted body, images of Reuel Harth's blood seeping into the bedclothes, and other memories that I usually managed to stuff to the very back of my mind.

I closed my eyes against the pictures in my head, turned over on my mattress, and punched my pillow into shape. I vowed never to tell that story again. I was grateful that, when sleep finally arrived, it came unencumbered with dreams.

I yawned through most of the day, but a growing sense of trepidation made me grow more alert as the sun went down. Even if Corban kept his promise, my confession would lie between us like a sucking swamp. One misstep, one incautious word, and either of us could be pulled back in. Our conversations would be awkward, fraught with knowledge, laced with tension.

I shook my head and forced myself to stand straighter.
Not that our conversations have been easy so far,
I reminded myself. He was an angel and I was a servant girl with a violent past.
You're lucky you've been able to manage to exchange any words at all.

My mouth quirked in a bitter smile. I was certainly right about that.

By nightfall, I was headed back up the hill, bringing a freshbaked loaf of bread from the school kitchen to spare Alma that task, at least. She was up and hobbling around the kitchen, looking as cheerful as I'd seen her.

“I'm feeling
much
better,” she assured me. “I even made it upstairs once, though my ankle hurt for the rest of the day.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That's very encouraging! Soon you won't need me here at all!”

She cast me a quick sideways glance while pretending to keep all her attention on the soup she was measuring into two large bowls. “
I
won't, but the angel might,” she said. “He was very pleased to see me when I made it to the top of the steps—until he realized I was
me
and not you. Then he managed to be polite, but I could tell he was disappointed.”

It was clear she thought there was more to our relationship than there was. “I'm no angel-seeker,” I said bluntly. “I'm not trying to seduce him.”

Alma was neither shocked nor offended. “I didn't say you were” was her mild response. “Though I'm not sure such a thing would be bad for either of you.”

I made a derisive sound. “My life is complicated enough. I don't need to add the indiscretion of falling in love with an angel.”

Her smile—so rare and so unexpectedly mischievous—caught me by surprise. “Oh, I don't know. There's nothing quite like taking an angel lover. Some things are worth the inevitable pain.”

My eyebrows could hardly go any higher. “Someday we'll have to sit down and talk about
your
interesting past.”

Still smiling, she waved a hand to speed me to the door. “Someday,” she said. “Right now, you've got more important things to do.”

I climbed the stairs and entered Corban's room with a breezy step, determined to pretend as if there had been no wrenching confidences the day before. Evidently he had made the same decision, for he met me at the door with a brisk but friendly greeting.

“Good, you're here,” he said, turning immediately toward the central table. “Let's eat quickly so we can go outside.”

“This will be a good night for flying,” I noted, some of my tension easing at his reasonable tone. I set the tray down and served us both. “The moon's still close to full, there's only a light breeze, and it's a little warmer than it's been the past few nights.”

“I hope you brought a jacket, even so,” he said, spooning up some soup.

“Yes, thanks so much for your concern.”

“Because I want you to come with me when I fly.”

I suddenly remembered the part of the previous night's conversation that had led to my emotional confession. I laid down my spoon and said, “I told you, I don't want to do that.”

“Yes, I know, you hated it when you tried it, but you have to admit that wasn't a typical incident,” he said. He was very carefully not specifying
why
I had been in an angel's arms once before, and I grudgingly gave him credit for that. “Flying is—an indescribable thrill. And so many mortals never get the chance to experience it. Shouldn't you attempt it at least once, with someone you trust—to wipe out that old memory, if nothing else? And maybe to find yourself enthralled and delighted? Moriah, don't you want to go
flying
?”

His voice was so passionate and at the same time so pleading that I had to laugh. The pictures he conjured were sorely tempting, but all I said was, “What makes you think I trust you?”

“Well, I know that I trust
you
,” he replied, sounding a little hurt. “I've had to, these past few nights. I would be distressed to learn you didn't feel the same about me.”

“Oh, that was very good,” I told him. “You practiced that, didn't you?”

He grinned. “Not out loud.”

“Corban, I—”

“Will you?” he interrupted. “Please? I have to keep pushing myself, testing myself. Maybe, once I get stronger, I can hire someone to be my guide, but right now I'm not ready to do that. You're the only one who can help me. And I really want to do this.”

“You're a manipulative bastard, has anyone ever told you that?” I demanded.

“No, because I never had to manipulate people back when I could
see
,” he said. He didn't seem offended at my insult. “I could just do what I wanted without asking for help. But now you're forcing me to beg—to humiliate myself—as a kind woman would not do—”

“You don't sound humiliated. You don't even sound humble.”

“But you're kind, aren't you, Moriah?” Now his tone was wheedling.

I exhaled an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. “Let me finish my meal,” I said. “I need to fortify myself against the night air.”

“Yesssss!” he exclaimed and slapped a palm to the table. Then, in case that seemed too triumphant, he hastily added, “Thank you most humbly. I hope you will enjoy the experience, but I know you're a little anxious—”

“Just eat,” I said. “Let's not waste any more time.”

 

 

F
ifteen minutes later, we were back on the roof. I had buttoned my jacket to my throat and pulled on a pair of gloves Corban lent me, but even so, I wasn't really warm until he picked me up and settled me against his chest. It wasn't just his body temperature that sent a spike of heat through my blood. It was excitement—amazement—nervousness. Attraction. I'd never been this close to a man and not kissed him.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he directed. “I'm unlikely to drop you, but that might make you feel more secure.”

“Unlikely?” I managed to ask, not sounding too breathless.

I could see his grin in the lavish moonlight. “Well, it's been a while since I've flown with a passenger.”

“Jovah's balls,” I muttered, then, more urgently, “Corban, if you're not sure you're ready for this—”

“I'm ready,” he said and leapt into the air.

I muffled a squeak and tried not to cower in his arms. His whole body was nothing but strain—muscles bunching, wings working, every bone and tendon pulling skyward. I didn't see how he could do it, didn't see how he could possibly lift from a stationary position to an upward arc, carrying a heavy burden, and it was all I could do not to bury my face against his chest so I wouldn't have to watch as we tumbled headlong to the ground. But the powerful wings drove down, sending great gusts of air all around us, and suddenly we were clear of the roof, we were suspended above the dark sprawl of the school, we were high over the narrow snake of the road, we were
flying.

I wrapped my arms more tightly around Corban's neck and gazed around in rapt astonishment.

The world had never seemed so strange or wondrous. The ground below was a patchwork of variegated textures—corrugated forest, silky sand, a linen weave of grass. Everything was shadowy and mysterious, only half illuminated by the spectral moonlight. It was a landscape from a dream, unreal and beautiful.