She walks down the hall, hips swaying, and we both watch her go.
“The issue isn’t Ciprian’s nosiness,” Alistair says once her bedroom door closes. “But the fact that he’s using it as an excuse to breathe down her neck. And yours.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know about the second part. He flirts, but he’s trying to get the upper hand. Unbalance me.”
“Hmm, you could be right, but the way he watches you?—”
“Is nosy,” I cut in.
“I was going to say hungry.”
“I’m not on the menu,” I insist, my cheeks heating. “At least nothismenu.”
“There’s no reason to be flustered,” Alistair says calmly. “You need to be honest about his intentions. They’re far more primal than a murder investigation.”
I groan, dropping my head against the back of the couch. “What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?”
Alistair laughs. “Have you tried being less appealing? Together, the two of you present the most tempting challenge I’ve ever seen. If he’s having trouble ignoring his instincts...” He shrugs. “I’m not surprised he’s using flirtation as a way to get close.”
“Before either of you suggests I make myself uglier to get him to lose interest, I won’t do it,” Celine says, padding into the room in cozy sweats and fuzzy pink socks. “I need the tips right now to help Harry.” Her wings poke out of the slits she cut in the back. She’s so cute, I want to pull her into my lap and keep her there forever.
Gods, that’s pathetic.
“You’re beautiful no matter what,” Alistair says, tilting his head to the side for maximum charm. Celine and I roll our eyes.
“You two are eerily in sync,” he observes.
“Luca copies me.” Celine squeezes onto the couch between us and pokes me in the ribs before turning her attention to Alistair. “What have you learned about the orphans?”
“Do you want it hard or gentle?”
Celine blinks, then sits up straight. “Hard.”
Alistair nods, replacing his playful expression with a more serious one. “Luca was partially right; it’s not only here. Orphaned angels with bizarre stories have been popping up around Nevada, but they’ve all been isolated instances, so no one put it together.” He pulls his phone out, leaning over to show us a map he’s pinned dots on.
Celine stiffens at my side. The map shows eighteen markers, with a cluster centered in Vegas. “There’s something weird about these locations...” I bend over Celine to get a closer look, then jerk away as her wings slice right through the skin of my arm. Fuck. They’re in knife mode, and I didn’t even realize.
“Celine,” I whisper, ignoring the cuts. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out. I swear, no one will hurt those angels or you.”
“N-no, you don’t see. You don’t get it!” She shoots up from the couch, and I barely dodge another swipe from her wings.
Alistair reaches for her. I hold him back by pressing my bleeding arm against his waist. “Don’t touch her right now. Those wings will slice you to pieces.”
“Neither of you sees it. This is fucked,” Celine mutters, fisting her hair with frustration. Her wings spread wide, then curl, providing a metallic, razor-sharp shield around her torso as she paces. I’m not even sure she realizes it’s happening.
“What don’t we see, Celine?” Alistair’s voice is gentle, like he’s calming a wild animal. For a second, she ignores him and continues to pace, talking rapidly in a language I’ve never heard before. It’s similar to the one she uses to communicate with Anika and the other children, but the cadence is different.
I hold my breath, a strange sense of anticipation building at the base of my spine. When Celine whirls to face us and gradually unfurls her wings, I brace for impact.
She closes her eyes, pushes her sleeves up to reveal her bare arms, then stretches them out. “The dots on the map—they’re not a pattern or a coincidence,” she says. “They’re a message. For me.” As she speaks, her skin begins to glow. I take in the small golden marks repeated all over her skin, then compare them to the dots on the map.
“Holy shit,” I gasp. “I didn’t notice before... It’s the same symbol.”
Celine looks at us, her eyes filled with too many emotions to name. “It’s my symbol—the symbol for truth.”
TWENTY-ONE
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #93:
