She giggled. “They’re soft, like a brand-new pillow.”
No one had ever compared my wings to apillowbefore.
I sneered and pulled them from her grasp. “They’redivine, not pillows. Do you even understand what that word means?” Seriously. A pillow? I was aghast at such an ugly comparison.
“Which word—divine or pillow?” An impish grin curved her mouth.
“I see you have a sense of humor.”
“Yeah. Sometime Sister Mary hits me over the knuckles when I make jokes. It hurts. A lot.”
The visual image she created made me pause. “Anna?”
“Yeah?”
“Where… No,whatis this place?” I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as to where I was, but I needed her to confirm my suspicion.
“An orphanage called theHoly Sisters of Charity.” She put her hands in her lap. “The Sisters said my parents didn’t want me when I was a baby because I was sick and blind. They say I’m lucky God loves all children, or I might’ve been placed in abadhome.”
Inside, I seethed. Of course, they would tell her that. Wretched creatures.
“But that can’t be completely true, can it? Because I remember being able to see colors for a little while, when I was little, until my eyes went completely dark.”
The ability to form words escaped me. I didn’t normally deal with children because number one: they were true innocents. Number two: no matter what vicious punishments I dealt, I would never allow my army to hurt children. Human adults were quite adept at hurting their young, and I was more than happy to deal with the grown-up scum.
“Are you still here, Lucian?” A tiny line creased her brow.
“Yes, Anna. I am still here.”
“Do you think the sisters are right, that my parents left me here because I’m broken?”
I sat on the cold floor, propped my elbow on my knee, and leaned my chin into a palm. “I can’t answer that, but I have a question for you. Why were you praying for me?”
“Because I love you.” She beamed a smile my way.
Frozen in place, all I could do was stare at this tiny, perplexing human and wonder what kind of fucked-up cosmic joke God was playing on me.
Chapter 3
Anna Sill
Ten Years Ago
ThoughIcouldn’tseehim, I could tell by the way he spoke and his careful steps he must be beautiful. Besides, the Bible said all angels were beautiful, sometimes so much they hurt a person’s eyes.
At least I don’t have to worry about that. And he doesn’t act disgusted or scared while talking to me, like most adults do.
At least, not that I could detect.
My room, which normally smelled of lemon cleaners and mothballs, now smelled of cinnamon and some other scent I couldn’t place. Woodsmoke with a hint of something spicy, like pepper?
“Anna,” Lucian said in his low, smooth voice. “You don’t understand love, not yet.”
“I do too. Sister Carrie says love doesn’t see what’s on the surface. She says real love is accepting everything about a person, their flaws and sins and pureness in the soul and still believing in them despite their imperfections.” It was true. She’d told me this just the other day, when I’d asked her to explain why some of the other kids called me names and tripped me when I walked the halls with my cane.
“They are frightened of what they don’t understand,” she’d said as she held my hand and pulled me from the library. “But even so, you must still love and pray that they will open their hearts and walk the path of God.”
I tried to love and forgive them, I really did, but sometimes it was hard to keep my anger inside.
