“Semantics.” He straightens, adjusts his cuffs with casual precision. “Noon, two days from now. Vault seven. Don’t be late.”
He turns to go, and I should let him. Should just go back inside and lock the door and try to forget this conversation. But my mouth, as always, has other plans.
“What are you?” I ask.
He pauses, looks back over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not an angel. Not like the seven. But you’re not human either. So what are you?”
For a moment, I think he won’t answer. Then he smiles, and it’s the first expression I’ve seen from him that looks genuine. Almost sad.
“I’m what happens when a human makes a deal with an angel and lives long enough to regret it.” He taps the side of his head. “Four hundred and thirty-six years of service and counting. Bound immortal, if you want the technical term. I traded my death for eternal life in Croesus’s service. Best decision I ever made. And the worst.”
The words settle heavy in the air between us.
“Does it hurt?” I don’t know why I ask. Don’t know why I care.
“Every single day.” He says it lightly, but there’s weight underneath. “But you get used to it. In the same way you get used to eating sins, I imagine. The pain becomes background noise. And eventually, you forget what it felt like to be anything else.”
He walks away then, heading down the hallway. I watch him go, watch him round the corner and disappear, and I stand there for a long moment in the empty hallway before I go back inside.
Lock the door. Deadbolt and chain both.
Not that that would stop him if he wanted to come back.
I lean against the door, close my eyes, and try to slow my racing heart.
Twelve hours.
Twelve hours until I walk into the House of Gold and become...what? A servant? A prisoner? A tool to be used and discarded?
I don’t know.
But I know this: Auric was lying about one part.
The pain doesn’t become background noise. Not for people like us. We just get better at hiding it.
I push off the door and head to the kitchen. Then I pour another glass of water with almost steady hands. The journal sits on the table, mocking with answers in Gramm’s handwriting. And I can’t bring myself to open that door again.
I pick up the journal and carry it to my bedroom. Set it on the nightstand next to my bed. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be ready to read more. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be strong enough to face whatever warnings she left me.
But tonight, I need to sleep.
Tomorrow, I’ll start saying goodbye.
6
The First National Bank downtown has been around so long it’s become invisible. It has a granite facade with brass fixtures tarnishing green with age, and revolving doors that probably haven’t been replaced since the seventies. People walk past it every day without really seeing it—just another piece of the city’s architecture, unremarkable and forgettable.
Perfect camouflage for a doorway to another world.
I stand across the street for a while, watching. It’s 11:47 AM. Thirteen minutes until Auric’s deadline. The lunch crowd is thinning out—businesspeople heading back to offices, tourists consulting maps, a woman with a stroller trying to navigate the cracked sidewalk.Normal. Everything is so beautifully, devastatingly normal.
And I’m about to walk away from it for a year.
I packed a bag this morning. Not much, a few changes of clothes, my ritual knife, a photo of Luna I keep in my wallet. I doubted I’d need much, and if they need me to look a certain way, well, they’ll have to provide.
I left my apartment keys with the building manager and paid six months’ rent in advance from my emergency fund. Finally, I set up the auto-pay for Luna’s tuition, all in preparation.
