Unlike the other angel, he is not looking through me. Instead, his gaze is so pointed I feel like a small animal in the gaze of a hawk. It makes goosebumps stand along my back for an entirely different reason than with the other.
Without moving, he says, “You brought her, thank you, Bonum. With that, you are released.”
Bonum steps off a few paces to my left and turns to face me, but doesn't go further. With a suddenly stiff posture, the angel on the dais turns to them and glares for a moment. Then he looks back at me without saying anything. His expression unreadable, he takes a few moments, still studying me, before he speaks again.
“So, you’re supposed to embody balance? Or is it that you’resupposed to bring balance?” he asks in a voice that hides a laugh behind it, as though this is all funny to him.
Without conscious thought, I lift my shoulders in a shrug while still meeting his gaze. “Is that for me to know or to figure out?” I ask. The words are unknown to me until they leave my lips.
All humor is suddenly gone from his face as he drives himself forward off his seat and wraps his long fingers around my neck.
“Who do you speak for?” he growls, his face close to mine.
I fight to breathe past the strength of his grip but manage to gasp, “Who but myself would I speak for?”
As he continues to regard me without moving, I feel a bit of sweat slowly run down my spine, dodging the still present goosebumps. Still silently fighting for breath, I follow it with my attention while watching his face.
In a similarly sudden movement, he removes his hand from my neck and returns to his seat on the dais. Once seated, he snarls, “I’ve heard that you killed one of our kind. For that, I should end your life. However, our laws are unclear since you should not exist. Instead of death, I offer you one more chance to go free from this place and choose our side over theirs.”
For the first time in my short life, I feel vulnerable. Standing here small, unarmed, in just a shift with bare feet.
He stares at me, clearly reading my discomfort as he says, “My recommendation,little one,would be that you figure out which side you are on without thehelp of others. The shadows have given you life only so that you may serve their own dark purpose.”
“While we significantly outnumber thedark forcesin this world, we are all that is progress, all that is peace for the humans. It would do you well to consider what it is you seek, what consequences your actions will have, and who you attemptto bestow hope upon. It is not as simple as it may seem in your very limited view of the world.”
“While I have nothing but mistrust and distaste for theartificiallife you were given, it has been done, hastily though it were, and to remove it would cause fallout. The consequences would destabilize that which I want stable.”
As he speaks these words, his eyes drill into mine, and I fight to keep my chin raised and not look away.
“As you will soon see, the life you were given was given selfishly. This is not, and never will be, about you.”
I place his words among the other memories in my head and nod deeply to him. Even as I dislike him, that strange intelligence in me tells me this, too, is accurate.
“I will take that advice in the spirit it was given,” I say. The response once again falls from my tongue without conscious thought.
I watch his jaw slacken for half a breath before it then tightens enough that I wonder how he doesn’t break a tooth. He growls out, “In that same spirit, I offer you agiftso you may not be unwillingly or unevenlyburdenedby one side in this.”
As he states this, he places his left hand, palm up, on his knee. “Give me your hand,” he orders.
Despite my misgivings, my instincts drive me, so with only a moment of hesitation, I place my hand in his.
He closes his eyes, and a sudden slash of pain radiates from both of my shoulder blades. My vision darkens for a moment, and when it clears, I understand I must have fallen to my knees. My hand is no longer in his.
As the pain courses through my upper back with willpower alone, I stand again. As I do so, blackness briefly tries to fill my vision, but I don’t need to be able to see to hear him as he says, “Bring her to a mirror, Bonum, so she may see the beauty of this giftIhave bestowed upon her. Then take her home so she can begin to figure out her role in this world.”
Rex’s voice is as strong as ever. However, as I blink the darkness from my eyes, I see that he looks pale, and there is sweat upon his brow. I turn to Bonum, only wobbling slightly as the pain continues to recede, and they lead at that same quick pace out of the room.
I can’t help but mouth, “ass,” under my breath as I follow.
Bonum leads me back through the same path, but after a bit turns, down a different hallway. We walk through a doorway into a much less bright room. There are benches and mirrors arranged around the edges.
I move forward without bidding to catch sight of myself in the reflective surface and can’t withhold a gasp. Protruding from behind my shoulders are wings just like the angels have.
I twist my body side to side, admiring them despite myself as Bonum stares blankly, straight ahead.
As I regard them in the mirror behind me, their eyes move up towards, but still through, where my face is, and they rasp, “The nickname has become more fitting.”
I feel another chill run down my spine as their mouth smiles without their eyes changing.
