Two blackened stumps jut out of his back, with some sort of garish bronze-like metal covering them. It looks like the metal was poured on while molten, because there are still now hardened drips of it burned into the flesh of his back. Little whitefeathersstick out around the metal edges, as if what was oncethere is trying desperately to grow back but can’t because of the metallic cap.
What. The. Hell.
He turns his head to look over his shoulder at me.
We share a long, weighted silence.
He knows what I’ve seen.
“Are those—” I reach out instinctively to touch them.
He yanks away, standing up quickly with his hands covering his groin. “Do you have a covering?”
I stand too, my knees and shins soaked from the pool we’ve created under the pump. I hurry to hand him the large gray towel I brought.
Wings.
Those werewingson his back. Wings that were brutally shorn off and kept from regrowing by molten metal. If such a thing were even possible to survive.
“Here.” I turn my face away, giving him privacy as he wraps the towel around his waist. Wings. White wings, judging by the feathers. Does that mean he is—or was—an… My head can’t even wrap around what he might be.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
When I turn back, we face each other in the gathering twilight.
“I must leave you now,” he says.
I shake my head immediately. “No. You can’t. You’re not strong enough.”
Standing tall and lanky now—barely more than bones wrapped in skin—he looks painfully, heartbreakingly young.
“I’m poison to any who are near me,” he says, taking a step back. “You’ve seen the truth of what I am.”
“And what is that? An angel? Afallenangel?” I ask, taking a deliberate step forward. “I’m not easily scared off.”
He comes forward suddenly and bares his teeth—the movement would be menacing if he wasn’t swaying on his feet.
“Youshouldbe scared of me.” His voice drops to a hiss. “I am the hunger in the darkness. I am the monster that separates crying babes from their mothers. I am slow death, the angel of Famine, a Horseman of the Apocalypse. Run before I steal all the fullness and life you’ve ever known, little girl.”
I laugh in his face.
The sound obviously startles him. His attempt at menace crumbles.
“Oh, honey.” I reach out and pat his lean, mud-streaked cheek right before he can jerk away. “You’re adorable.”
His eyes widen.
“I’m a much bigger monster than you,” I tell him matter-of-factly. “Now come inside. You can barely stand on your feet. Let’s both get some dinner.”
TWO
PHOENIX
I feelhis eyes on me as I eat the reheated stew at the small wooden table. He’s sitting across from me now, no longer shivering in just a towel. I managed to find him some clothes—a thick sweater and work pants that hang off his too-thin frame.
But he looks better.Much better.
And he won’t stop staring at me.
