Wings of Redemption (9 page)

Chapter Ten

The next morning, Saffron fumed, but her body refused to help her lash out at her demon escorts. Somehow, they’d slipped her drugs that made her drowsy. She couldn’t blame them for drugging her, considering she’d tried to sneak out of the colony twice the night before and had successfully scratched a Guardian’s face.

She could move, but she might as well have been swimming in paste. She stared at the passing landscape, her head resting against the glass of the SUV’s backseat window.

The vehicle came to a stop at an intersection. A couple standing on the sidewalk kissed. An American Kestrel perched in a tree, glaring down at the street. Saffron swore under her breath.

“We’re almost there,” the demon next to her said. He touched her arm. “Do you need more water?”

“No.” She managed to pull her arm free.

“Have it your way.”

If she had it her way, she’d have jumped out of the vehicle and gone for the nearest phone. Not that it mattered. Her parents were likely dead. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

A little while later, they pulled into the sprawling U-shaped drive of the hospital and parked in the patient drop-off area. Thyme paced around by some potted roses.

Saffron really hated roses. She’d be happy to never see another damned rose. However, the desire to see her sister renewed her strength. She fought her drugged system and shoved the door open.

“Here you go.” The demon reached over her and opened the door. “Wait for someone to help you, or you’ll fall.”

Thyme hurried over, wrapped her arms around Saffron, and helped her out of the vehicle. The demons shut the door and drove off.

A short distance away, her mother stepped out through glass automatic doors, wearing a beige dress suit, twirling a lock of her auburn hair around her finger as she always did when nervous or stressed.

Saffron straightened and gasped. “Mom?” she shouted in French. “Mom!”

Her mother’s gaze found hers. She rushed over, making remarkable time in her heels. Saffron succumbed to hysterical tears as her mother held her close.

“Thank goodness,” her mother’s voice shook. The lingering pneumonia made her short of breath and reddened her eyes. “Thank goodness you’re safe.”

Saffron wiped at her face, her movements still sluggish. “Me? I told you, I was completely fine. You, on the other hand, should be resting.” She embraced Thyme again. “I was so worried about you! Of all the idiotic ideas to go anywhere with those men!”

“You’re the one who went to Eden and practically begged them to kidnap you!” Thyme squeezed Saffron’s shoulders. “You scared the life out of me!”

“Girls!” Their mother chuckled and coughed into a handkerchief.

Thyme headed for the line in front of the reception desk. Saffron followed her mother to a bench and they both sagged against the stained wood.

“We received a threat last night,” her mother said. “We had to leave home and check into a hotel. We tried to reach you, in case there was danger to you also. I haven’t gotten a moment’s sleep.”

“What kind of threat?”

She shrugged and smoothed her hair. “Probably a hoax, but you can never be too careful. Some man called Thyme in the middle of the night and said we had to get out or we’d be killed.
Crisse de Ciboire!
Well, at least nothing happened. We called in extra security for the house. No one got inside, nothing was damaged.”

Saffron’s heart jumped into her throat. Kestrel? Could he have…? “Did the caller give a name?”

“No.”

“Thyme?”

Her sister, who’d been standing in line for the check-in desk, hurried over, her long braids swinging.

“The man who called you. Was he one of the demons you spoke to before?”

“No. He said he knew you in Eden. His French was very accented. Oh, and the call came from the same number the demons gave me to call you a few days ago.”

“
Crisse.
” Saffron slumped against her mother. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Her mouth dried out. “Can I see your phone, Ty?”

“Sure.” Thyme handed over the cell. “I’ve tried calling him a couple times. He doesn’t pick up.”

Saffron sent a text to the number.
Kes? It’s Saffron. Call me. Please.

“We increased security at the house even though we left,” her mother said. “Neither the police nor the security company saw anything unusual. Moving forward, your father is having the entire system re-evaluated. We can go home after your surgery and you can stay with us while you recover, so you don’t have to worry about those awful stairs at your place.”

“That’s good. Thank you.” The stairs would be manageable, in all reality. Normally, Saffron would refuse to be fussed over by her mother. However, after coming so close to losing both of her parents, she wanted to spend time with them.

Later, as Saffron waited to be called by the nurse, the phone vibrated. Shaking, she connected the call. “Kes?”

“Saffron.”

Fresh tears fell. “It was you.”

“Are you all right?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m at the hospital waiting for pre-surgery prep.”

“Good. Be well, Saffron.”

“Wait—”

The line went dead.

“Saf?” Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Who was it?”

Saffron just shook her head and shut her eyes.

…

Three Months Later

Saffron walked into her father’s showroom and shut the door. The tomb, as she’d thought of it since she’d been a little girl. Her parents were away on a business trip, but security hadn’t given her a second glance when she showed up. She had no-questions-asked access.

She sickened herself, betraying her parents’ trust. However, this was something she had to do. She flicked the light switches and held her breath.

The room illuminated before her. Feathers of all sizes and colors filled the display cases that lined the walls, like a butterfly collection. But these weren’t butterflies. These were men and women. Adults and children. Lovers. Parents.

It was past time they were given peace.

She’d missed Kestrel more, not less, as the weeks turned into months. But how could she go back to Eden? How could they ever make a relationship work?

She would always be a Morin. However, perhaps she could win her archangel’s trust, just as he’d won hers. He’d spared her parents when he had no reason to, so he must feel as strongly about her as she did about him. At least, that’s what she hoped.

It was high time she did the right thing by the archangels. By Kestrel. Her family would always mean the world to her. They may never forgive her, but they’d never stop loving her. She walked around the room the way one walked through a graveyard: looking at the memorials, but unable to see the beings they once were. As she moved, she held a bottle of accelerant upside down, drizzling the sweet-smelling liquid behind her and over the mahogany frames of the display cases. Which were Skye and Thrush? She’d never know. The cases had no names.

In the center of the room, a perfect set of wings hung suspended by clear cords in a massive glass case. White feathers with silver streaks that glimmered like diamonds. Unlike the other displays, this one had a name: Michael. Legend had it, Michael was one of the first archangels to fall to earth, and he’d possessed a psychic talent that provided him an indefinite lifespan. Supposedly, he’d been thousands of years old. Most people didn’t believe in the psychic abilities of archangels, but still, Michael’s reputation had made him the most sought-after target for centuries.

Her great-grandfather had trapped and killed him in 1910 and made the front page of major newspapers. The articles were mounted under glass beneath the wings.

And thus had begun the Morin family legacy.

She splashed the flammable fluid around on the wooden frame. Leaving the area dripping, she moved quickly through the section devoted to younger “specimens.”
Children
. She completed her circuit around the room, breathing hard, chilled, and nauseous.

She tossed the empty bottle aside and stepped carefully out of the liquid on the floor. She propped the door open to feed oxygen into the space and took one last, long look at the carnage her family had instigated.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” she said into the silence. “But it’s the best I can do.”

Finally, she lit a match and tossed it.

Chapter Eleven

“She did
what?
” Kestrel stared at Decimus. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” The Guardian joined him under the pavilion, the same location where Kes had kissed Saffron during the thunderstorm. He leaned against the railing. Dec’s orange eyes were brighter than normal—if that were possible—under the light of the demon-fire lamp that illuminated the shelter for the evening. “She was treated for minor burns and smoke inhalation, then released.”

Kes stared out at the dark gardens. Demons worked, trimming the bushes in preparation for winter. The scent of frost filled the air. Had it been only a few months since Saffron had left? Seemed like years. Long, empty years. Every day, he carried a sense of loss.

“Our liaison in the Montreal Police says every single feather was destroyed. Half the mansion along with them.”

“That’s fantastic news,” Kes said, hearing the flatness in his own voice. Despite the momentous announcement, Kes couldn’t muster much enthusiasm. He was suddenly too tired. Tired of the ridiculous ache in his chest. “I’m going to turn in.”

Her actions made it all worse. Torching the family collection was not only respectable, but redeemable. If there was any way for her, as a Morin, to earn the colony’s respect, she had done it. Kes could conceivably invite her to visit him and Roman would allow it. Of course, he’d burned that bridge, chopped the ropes, and let the bond they’d had fall flaming into a bottomless canyon.

He stepped out from under the pavilion and spread his wings, though they felt weighted.

“There’s more.” The Guardian’s voice held a peculiar weight.

“What?”

“She’s here.”

Kes blinked. “Here? As in
here?
”

“She showed up at the gate. Virgil took her to the town hall and called me. He asks that you come as soon as possible. She’s been giving him an earful. If profanity can kill, his end is near.”

“
Why
is she here?”

Dec glowered. “At the gate, she was yelling for you. Go on. Don’t keep the lady waiting.”

Kes took off and shot through the night toward the town hall, using the strategically placed lights on the tops of the buildings to guide his way. Why was she here? He could understand her wanting a piece of Virgil. She deserved that. Why had she asked for him?

Well, she deserved to have at him, too, if that’s what she wanted. But, what more was there to say?

He landed on the central flight deck and walked into the lobby. The Guardian on duty—a scrawny juvenile in pre-training—nodded in greeting and pointed toward a set of closed conference room doors.

Despite the hell he was likely in for, he hurried onward, eager to see her.

Inside the simple but large room, Virgil sat at one end of the conference table. Saffron sat on the other, her arms tightly folded.

“Finally.” The demon stood, his eyes wide. “From the way she’s been yelling at me, you’d think I’d tried to kill her loved ones.” Despite the flippant words, his tone was humble, his voice quiet.

“
Crisse.
” Saffron glowered and pointed at the Guardian. “
Ostie de ciboire de crisse.
”

“You have my upmost respect for your recent actions, Ms. Morin.” Virgil glanced at Kes. “I’m gone.” He rushed out the door.

Kestrel stood still, his mind blank to everything but the sight of her. She wore her hair down, the dark-blond strands cascading around her delicate violet sweater. She stood and walked toward him, revealing that the top was actually a sweater dress that continued over her curving hips and halfway down her thighs. She balanced on heeled sandals, her steps light, as if she treaded on a fragile floor. White bandages hugged parts of her right hand and arm.

His stomach dropped to his feet. He whispered, “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger, Saffron.”

She stopped in front of him. “I was careful.”

“Not careful enough.” He took her arm and ran his fingers over the neat cotton strips.

“Why do you care?” She stared intently at him, her tone guarded.

“Because, Saffron.” He swallowed. “Because I do.”

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his lips. Ran her tongue over his.

Clutching her, he warmed for the first time in three months, a deep chill finally gone. When they broke free for air, he refused to loosen his arms. She dropped her head to his chest, a soothing weight.

“Did you get in trouble, helping my family?”

He chuckled with no humor. “The demons got to the mansion and your parents were gone. No one knows I had anything to do with it. I think some suspect, but they don’t have the guts to accuse me.” He sighed and stroked her hair. “Why are you here?”

“Because I forgive you,” she murmured.

He scoffed. “You can’t.”

“I have. Because of you, my mom met me at the hospital and my dad brought me sandwiches from our favorite deli after I’d recovered from surgery.” She stroked his feathers, making him hold her even tighter. “This colony wanted my parents dead—probably still does. I don’t blame any of you for that. But you…
you
saved their lives, despite what they’ve done to your kind. Thank you.”

“Saffron.” He kissed her temple, her lips, her throat. Was this really happening, or was it a cruel dream? He ran his hands down the curves of her body. Warm, vital, real. Her scent filled his lungs. No dream could ever do her justice. “I’ve missed you.”

“However, I expect groveling.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” She pulled away and folded her arms. “A lot of groveling. So much groveling, I’ll have to spend a lot of time here, if the demons will allow it.”

“They will.” He teased her ears with his fingertips. He loved how she shut her eyes and leaned into his touch whenever he did that. “Define…groveling.”

“Hmm.”

He wrapped a wing around her and ran his flight feathers up the back of her legs.

Her lips pinched. “Tickling is not groveling.”

“Yes, it is.” He repeated the motion.

She tried to wiggle away, but he caught her with his other wing and cradled her head in his hands. He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her until she calmed.

“I haven’t been able to move on from you,” she said, all teasing gone from her voice. “I love you, Kestrel. I didn’t know what to do about that, so I burned the feather collection. My parents might not speak to me again for a decade, or two or three, but I needed to be welcome back here. I needed you.”

“I love you, too.” He stroked her cheek. Kissed her jaw. “How’s your sister handling it?”

“She’s pretty mad, too, actually.”

“You two share a house, right? Do you need someplace else to stay?”

She smiled.

“If I’m going to grovel long term, I want to do so properly. Stay with me.”

“Yes.”

He picked her up, carried her out of the room, and out onto the flight deck. As he flew to the tower, she kissed his neck, and for the first time in a long time, he looked forward to what was going to happen next.