Wings of Redemption (4 page)

She smiled. “Well, a girl can’t say no to that.”

“Good.” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her more deeply.

The storm died down to distant rumbles and the steady staccato of rain on the glass. Though the heavy blankets separated their bodies, he molded himself against her.

The cell phone interrupted.

He reluctantly released her and folded his wings. She caught him for one more kiss, then grabbed the phone and answered it. “Hello? Thyme!”

Kestrel left a crying Saffron to talk to her sister alone. He headed for the bath, and one of the hidden doors to Dec’s home one floor down.

He dropped into an open area of Dec’s living room, a bland but elegant affair in shades of brown—lots of wood, lots of leather—illuminated by several demon-fire lanterns.

The Guardian sat in a nearby chair, leaning forward. “Morning, Kes.”

“Salut.” Kestrel sat on the back of the couch so his flight feathers hung freely. He shut his eyes.

Saffron’s voice, speaking in French, filled his mind.
You have no idea how worried I was. Of course I came here to Eden. What else was I supposed to do? No, don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.

“I can still hear her.” Kes raked his fingers through his hair.

“That’s unfortunate,” the demon said, his tone sincere.

“If I still hear her after Virgil’s second round of questions, I don’t know if I should let her leave. Where is death waiting for her? Here, or out there?”

“Impossible to know.” Dec leaned back in the chair. “But we’re not in a position to prevent her from leaving. An interrogation is one thing. Holding her prisoner is quite another. The human authorities will take action, and the colony can’t afford that sort of negative exposure.”

“What if I
asked
her to stay?”

Decimus cocked his head.

“Just for a few days. I’ve never detected death more than a week out. If she stays with me, what could happen to her?”

“Undiagnosed heart condition. Freak accident. Choking—”

“Enough.” Kestrel flicked his wings. The mental images filled his chest with pain.

Dec tapped his knee. “You like her.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“But you do.”

“Yes.”

“The two of you have no future,” Dec said, his voice quiet. “She’s a Morin. Even if she’s her father’s opposite, it’s an impossible match. Colony security.”

“I’m not looking for a match. I’m looking for a few days, to keep her safe. Out there, I can’t help her.” He nodded to himself and got to his feet. “It’s my decision. If she agrees, she is staying as my guest.”

“Then, I’d recommend a trip to the colony doctor. Just in case.”

Kes sighed. “Yeah.”

“Roman isn’t going to like having a Morin in the colony as a guest. I will talk to him.”

“Thank you.” Roman, the colony’s leader, had final say in all matters except the affairs of archangels, which rested with the select group of Guardians dedicated to protecting Kestrel’s kind above all else. In the rare occasion of clashing interests between Roman and the archangels’ Guardians, head-butting ensued. However, everyone wanted the same thing at the end of the day: a safe, secure home. Dec was right. If Kes wanted something long term with Saffron, it would be impossible. A Morin with access to Eden was too big a security risk.

He hadn’t been thinking of the future, not even close, but still, the absolution made his stomach sink. He turned to go.

“Kes.”

“Yeah?”

His dedicated Guardian grinned. “Strangely enough, I think this girl is exactly what you need. Live it up.”

Chapter Four

Saffron set the cell phone on the bedside table. Thank goodness, Thyme was safe. She and the poachers had been stranded after they’d tried to drive through a swampy area—so much for being skilled outdoorsmen—in a cellular dead zone. They’d walked to the nearest town and arrived about the time the demons had dragged Saffron into the colony in handcuffs.

Figures.

But being manhandled by demons was worthwhile when it came with archangel kisses. Damn. Five hundred years had taught him how to use his tongue in sinful ways. She covered her face with her hands.

“Saffron?”

She glanced up. “Hey.”

Kes approached from the bathroom wearing a fresh dark-blue shirt and jeans, his hair damp. Water dripped lightly from his flight feathers. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, just emotional overload.”

He nodded. “The water is warm, if you’re interested.”

That did sound like heaven, but… “I have nothing to change into.”

“I’ll find something. Go ahead.”

She all but dove for the bathroom. At home, she kept her life simple. She’d never needed ten pairs of shoes or enough clothes to make a department store jealous, unlike Thyme. Her bathroom, however, would suit the most spoiled of brats. It was her sanctuary.

Kestrel’s shower was large enough to be a room by itself—enough space for wings, for certain. She took her time and luxuriated under the falling water. Now that her head was clear, she stood a chance of figuring out how she felt about being kissed by an archangel. She stepped out and wrapped a plush towel around herself.

“Hi!” An excited female voice called. A hand reached through the heavy drapery that served as a door and knocked on the wall. “Can I come in? I have supplies!”

Who on earth? “Um, sure.”

A woman with two large canvas bags and a wide smile maneuvered around the curtain. Long blond curls fell forward of her canary-yellow wings.

Whoa. Bright.

“I’m Carny.” She set the bags down and held out her hand. “Grumpy called me. I figured you’d need more than just a change of clothes, though, considering you’re working with a bachelor’s bathroom.”

Someone after her own heart. “I’m Saffron.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Carny pressed her hands together. “We don’t get to meet new people very often.”

The archangel proceeded to cover Kestrel’s mostly bare black counter with brushes and combs and pink bottles of various sizes. “You’re going to
love
this stuff. Eden’s apothecary makes it all from their flower and herb gardens.” She switched bags and took out a pile of clothes. “These should fit you. Take your pick. Sorry they’re all halter tops. I have to tailor the back of other shirts and that’s just a pain. The delicates are unworn.”

“This is very nice of you. Thanks.”

Carny held up a bottle sent directly from heaven—leave-in conditioner. “May I comb your hair?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I need an excuse to talk to you for a moment before Grumpy kicks me out.”

“Have at it. It’s a snarled mess.”

“Perfect.”

“Why would he kick you out?”

“Because he’s a reclusive old buzzard.” Grinning, Carny spritzed the conditioner and took a wide-toothed comb to Saffron’s hair. “So,” the conspiratorial murmuring continued, “Grumpy is far less grumpy than usual today. Whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it. Please.”

If only. “I’m not staying.”

“Carny?” Kestrel’s voice called from the main room, a touch of irritation in his tone.

“She’s my human now!” Carny called back. She carefully worked out a tough knot, grinning. “Kes is going to ask you to stay for a little while.”

“What?”

“He has a good reason. I will leave it to him to explain. He only told me, in as few words as possible, because there was no way I would let him ask for a week’s worth of women’s clothes without providing an explanation.” She chuckled. “I just want to take this opportunity to get my two cents in. Hear him out, and please,
please
stay. He actually smiled at me. Smiled!” Carny met Saffron’s gaze in the mirror, crossed her eyes, and heaved a dramatic sigh.

Saffron’s mind reeled. Stay? In Eden? At an archangel’s invitation? The moment they’d shared in flight had been incredible, and the kisses had been blissful, but those were stolen moments. Nothing more.

An archangel and a Morin? Even though he’d held her so tenderly, there was no way he would ever be able to overlook that. Why the hell would he want to keep her around?

“But, I’m…” Oh, God, if Carny didn’t know—

“Abel Morin’s daughter?” The smile faded from the yellow-winged archangel’s face for a moment. “I know. Everyone in the colony has heard by now. You two shacked up here is the scandal of the century.”

Oh, maudit.

Carny resumed combing. “My father died of old age a hundred years ago. I loved him, and I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but he was very shy. Mute-in-public shy. Yet, I’m the social butterfly of the colony—living proof you can’t judge a person by her family.”

“Thank you.”

“We’re all holding our breath, though, you understand.” A gently voiced warning.

“Fair enough.”

“Try this.” Carny passed a small pink jar. “It’s marvelous.”

Thankful for the change of subject, Saffron rubbed some of the facial moisturizer that smelled like roses and lemon onto her skin. “It
is.
”

“Carny, it’s starting to rain again,” Kestrel hollered. “Lightning.”

“Phoo.” She set the comb down. “Can’t argue with that. I have to go. Later.” She pulled a white cloth from her jeans pocket and wrapped her hair in it. She squeezed Saffron’s shoulder and winked. “
Do
have fun.”

…

Kestrel glanced up from preening his wings—dull, time consuming, but necessary maintenance—as Saffron emerged from the bathroom dressed in white cotton pants and a skin-tight red halter top. The bold color brought out the natural hue of her cheeks and lips.

“I’m not sure why Carny needs to have bright-colored clothing,” she said with a grin.

“It suits you.”

“Thanks.” Her blush deepened a shade. “You’ve made quite the mess.”

He followed her gaze to the layer of feathers on the floor. Well, wasn’t this precious? As if unaware of his own actions, he’d gone overboard and pulled out every single old, frayed feather he could find. His wings gleamed. He hadn’t bothered to clean himself up so thoroughly in the longest time. After all, wings were meant to be functional, not gawked at.

Unless you were trying to impress someone of the opposite sex.

Shit. What was wrong with him? He cleared his throat. “Necessary evil.”

“I don’t meant to offend, but you know, the colony could make a fortune selling discarded feathers. Some of them aren’t that beat up. It would be practical, wouldn’t it?”

“No. Fuck, no.” He folded his arms and flicked his wings. “Many poachers are, or work for, religious fanatics who want us dead because we were supposedly cast out of heaven. They hunt demons, as well. The money is a bonus for those people. As long as the widespread persecution persists, attempting to negotiate over the feathers will solve nothing.”

“But it would help. If feathers were readily available, they wouldn’t be worth so much money. That would put my father and others like him out of business. It’s not about religion at all for my father.”

“People like Abel Morin and the poachers who work for him don’t want the value of feathers to go anywhere but up. That’s why even those without a religious motivation kill us—to make the feathers they steal unique and irreplaceable. Once, a few archangels gave a friendly human business feathers as a gift to try exactly what you’re suggesting. Know what happened? Poachers burned the business down and killed the owners.”

“I…see. I didn’t know about that.”

“It happened in 1930 and the poachers were never convicted. There was a demon witness to the arson, but of course the human court didn’t trust her testimony.” Kestrel sighed. “Normally, poachers are extremely careful about human laws to avoid prosecution. Clearly, they are willing and able to cross that line if pushed, and we can’t overwhelm them by flooding the market. We don’t shed feathers like this often and there aren’t many of us left.”

“Oh.” Her face fell.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, he forced a grin, determined to lighten the mood. “Breakfast?”

“Oh, yes, please.” She settled a hand on her stomach. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Going on nine. Virgil is waiting, but I told him I’d bring you down after we ate.”

“Thanks. What’d he have to say about that?”

“I hung up when the strings of curses started. Frozen waffles okay?”

“Depends,” she said. “Do you have real maple syrup or that fake crap?”

He bristled his feathers in exaggerated indignation. “Real, of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way, and the colony produces plenty.”

“Nice.”

She headed for the kitchen, and he made quick work of cleaning up the castoff archangel on the floor. When he rejoined her, she sat on a bar stool and had the first set of waffles in the toaster.

He pulled dishes out of the cabinet and went to the fridge. Thankfully, he had orange juice and raspberries to offer, as well. He typically didn’t have much variety on hand, but he was growing in some new flight feathers, which required decent nutrition. If not for that, the calories flight consumed, and the energy drained from his psychic talent, he wouldn’t care if he lived on cheese and crackers.

Hmm. Just one more way he’d stopped giving a damn about life without paying the sentiment any notice.

“So.” She fidgeted with the maple syrup bottle as they waited on the waffles. “What happens after Virgil is done picking my brain? Not that I know anything he’ll find useful, by the way. I stay the hell out of my father’s business. Will I be allowed to leave without…anything else coming up?”

Kestrel leaned on the counter. “What did Carny tell you?”

“Uh—”

“She told you something. I know her. And you look guilty.”

Saffron sighed. “She said you might ask me to stay here for a few days.”

“Did she say why?”

“Just that you had a good reason.”

He passed her the first set of waffles and added a second pair to the toaster for himself. “Yes, I would like you to consider staying in Eden as my guest. For a week, tops.” He chose his next words with care. “You see, all archangels and some demons have extrasensory abilities. Our term is ‘psychic talent.’”

She nodded. “My father mentioned that once. He thought it was a rumor, though.”

“Not at all.”

“So you
do
read minds!” She leaned back.

“I cannot read your mind, I promise. Our individual skills run in families. Some are healers. Some are mind readers. Carny can make plants grow before your eyes, as her father could. The colony has fresh fruit and vegetables year round thanks to her.”

“And you?”

“They call me the grim reaper behind my back.” He clenched his teeth. He’d never had to explain himself to someone who didn’t already understand his talent. He often didn’t have to explain at all. Usually, he could just take someone aside and they’d put two and two together before he opened his mouth. “I know when someone is close to death.”

She worried her lower lip. “Close to death, as in a gunshot victim?”

“Like that, except I know before the gun is even drawn.”

She blanched. “Are you saying I’m going to die?”

“Yes. No!” He reached for her hand as she swayed. “I’ve helped others avoid death many times. This is a problem that can be solved, Saffron. That’s why I want you to stay.”

“But, if you’ve seen the future—”

“I’m not seeing the future.” He stroked her hand. “You could say I’m witness to an arrangement of dominoes in real time, constantly rearranging themselves. People walk in and out of death’s shadow more often than you’d think. For example, if someone stepped out in front of a speeding car, I’d sense the imminent death. That doesn’t mean the car won’t swerve a second later. All I’m privy to is how circumstances are lined up in a given moment.”

She sat in silence, absorbing the information. “But you don’t know how long I’ll need to stay?”

“I’m afraid not. Whatever’s looming over you is not fleeting, like the car example. It’s been constant since you drove up to Eden’s gates. Maybe longer—I can’t sense anything beyond a distance of a few miles. However, I’ve never sensed a death more than a week ahead of time. That instance turned out to be a demon planning a suicide.” He narrowed his eyes.

She stiffened. “I’m not suicidal.”

“Good.”

“Is this why you took an interest in me in the first place?”

“Yes.”

She folded her arms, but not fast enough to hide her shaking hands. She did that a lot—attempted to look fierce when she must feel anything but. Had to respect that. “How does it work? Do I have a scythe hovering over my head?”

“No.” Kestrel touched his temple. “It’s your voice. When you arrived at the gate and started yelling, I heard you clear as a bell, even though I was up here at the time—we’re over three miles from the gate. My father, who also had this talent, called the phenomena ‘death whispers.’”

“Everything I say out loud, you can hear, even if you’re not in the room with me?”

“Yes.”