“You think it’s deliberate?” He nudges me back to the couch.
I drop with a huff. “You were born here,” I say. “Besides me, have you ever met another angel?”
Luca shakes his head.
“That’s your answer,” I mutter.
“We could always call the enclave,” he suggests. “They suck, but they do have connections. The angel appearances could be happening all over. Maybe you’re the coincidence and not the kids.”
I consider that, a flicker of hope springing to life in my chest. It dies before it can fully form. “Then why are they always close to me?” I ask.
Luca shrugs, sinking into the couch by my side. He stretches his arm over the back, fingertips grazing my wing. I’m too numb to even consider arching into his touch.
“I don’t have the answers, Celine, but you, me, and Harry can’t figure this out on our own,” he says. “I hate to say it, but we need to spread the word.”
I frown. “Do people ever do that?” Gossip thrives in the Fringes, but it’s all basic bullshit. People don’t volunteer important information in our world. Especially not for free.
“No, but what choice do we have? Harry is out of room, and these kids aren’t exactly fountains of information.”
Luca’s words ring in my ears as the uncomfortable truth that they are. With a groan, I lean back against the couch. He’s right, and as much as I hate to admit it, my full-body itch won’t let me sit this out.
“Fuck it,” I tell him. “You’ve convinced me to bring in backup, but we can’t plaster it on a billboard. We should only discuss it with someone who can help.”
“Alistair already knows.”
“Yeah,” I grumble. “That was Harry’s choice. What’s your point?”
Luca rolls his head to the side, his lashes thick and dark around his hazel eyes. “He could involve himself more,” he says. “And no one’s information is better.”
“Alistair doesn’t do shit for free,” I remind him. “Everyone knows that.”
“He would do it... for you.” Luca raises his eyebrows, making it impossible for me to misunderstand his meaning.
I glower at him. “Thanks for that. Until this moment, no one has ever confused me for a hooker. Congratulations, Luca, you’ve now gone where no man has gone before.”
“Oh, shut up,” he snaps. “I’m suggesting you ask him for afavor not fuck him. Good to know that’s where your head went, though.”
I open my mouth to shut him down, then close it as an idea takes form. I roll it around in my head, the feathers in my wings perking up as I consider the pros and cons. The more I think about it, the more I believe it might be the solution to both our problems—the angels and Ciprian’s nosy ass.
Luca sighs deeply, then closes his eyes and whispers, “You’re about to make things more complicated, aren’t you?” I stare at him silently until he opens his eyes. “Please, Celine. Tell me you’re going to ask the guy for a simple favor.”
I keep my mouth shut for two good reasons: one, lying to him outright would knock me on my ass; and two, Luca doesn’t want the truth.
FOURTEEN
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #192:
Dress to kill.
CELINE
I think all the gods in the universe are out to get me.
It’s been seven work nights since I made my plan to recruit Alistair. Seven nights of perfect outfits and zero fanged appearances. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose.
My impatience takes on a life of its own.
Dressed in crimson red silk, tonight’s one-piece hugs my body in ribbons of varying widths. The range makes it hard to achieve anything close to symmetry, but I’m managing it... carefully. And I look damn good. With lipstick a shade darker than my lingerie, I’m confident Alistair won’t be able to deny me anything while I’m wearing this. If he shows up.
