My fingers twitched, the casual revelation of his age a surprise. I was nearing my seventy-fifth year, though with much of that time spent split between Earth and the celestial plane, my true age was closer to thirty very sheltered human years.
“Are you of the original fallen?” I asked, interest piqued. Their names were all recorded in the archives, but only those with special privileges ever got to read the histories kept there. My father had been one of the few with access, and I’d done my best to remember every lesson he ever taught me during our time together in those rooms, but many of my memories were fragmented or lost altogether now.
Tap gave a single, shallow nod. “Yes, my brothers and I leapt long, long ago.” He turned back to Father Morton. “I can only assume things are not as perfect as your brethren would have thefaithful believe?” His mouth twitched at the corner when Father didn’t respond. “Imagine that.”
“What will you do with the information you’ve learned here?” Father asked, urgency in his tone. Tap shrugged. “I am trusting you, demon, not to use any of this to harm us.”
“I have no quarrel with you, Father. Friendly conversation, remember?”
“Yes, so you said.” He glanced between us, then took a deep breath. He filled his empty glass with ale, though his sigh indicated he would have preferred another serving of spirits instead.
Tap sat back in the skinny wooden chair. “Is Phin your given name?”
“Yes,” I said immediately.
Father shook his head. “They know her as Seraphina.”
Tap’s mouth twitched into a brief smile, expression softening. “Your parents either had a marvelous sense of humor or were trying to hide you in plain sight.”
“Both, perhaps,” Father confirmed.
“I prefer Phin.”
He nodded once. “Understood.” The demon’s silver eyes thoughtfully caressed my face once again before he turned his attention to Father. “What is your plan should he return and see through your misdirection about who she is? If he decides to do something as simple as lift her hood? What if others continue coming here looking for her?”
“Like you?” Father asked, an edge to his tone.
“No,” Tap shook his head, eyebrows pinched together in confusion rather than offense. He absently pushed at his glasses again, moving them up his nose. “Not at all like me. You heard what he wants her for. He spoke plainly.”
“He’s an angel, revered, beloved by Him?—”
“Hehasn’t been seen in at least a century, probably closer to two.” Father blustered, but the demon continued, “And you are wise to be afraid of them.” The statement hung on the air. Finally, the demon sat back again. “Have you considered taking her to the monks? Surely the monastery is more secure than here?”
“The monks are no more trained to fight than I am. It would be unfair to ask them to defend against such powerful beings on her behalf.” I looked away. I’d visited the stone-walled monastery high in the mountains several times with my parents over the years. The monks were always very kind and welcoming. The last thing I wanted was to put them at any risk. “He would take her.” Father said it as though still unsure, despite it being our most consistent fear, as if Armaros hadn’t clearly spoken his intentions.
“Yes. Without remorse. To be used as he pleases, no matter what is best for Phin, with no consideration for what she wants.” He turned to me, jaw flexing in his agitation. “Are you in communication with your parents?”
The remaining warmth drained from my face. I missed them desperately. “Not since I came here.”
“As I suspected. You fear the Heavenly for good reason.” His face pinched again, gaze far away as he glanced toward the door, one hand twisting the rings in his earlobe.
Father sighed. “I promised I would watch over her. Swore to keep her safe. We’ve been lucky so far, very lucky?—”
“It seems to me your luck has run out.” His voice grew loud and he tilted his head, one eyebrow raised as he appraised Father Morton.
“Father?” My chest was tight, heartbeat throbbing in my ears, several terrible scenarios playing out in my mind and words piling up in my throat. “Who were the three visitors?”
He hesitated, swallowing and opening his mouth several times without actually committing to saying something.
“This is important, Father,” Tap insisted. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
The priest sagged, gaze shifting between us, shame in his eyes. “Travelers. Angels. Two men and a woman.” I swallowed a gasp. “They stopped by the tavern, here, several shops. Asked some… unusual questions. Brother Frohman from the Spruce informed me of their visit as soon as he was able, as did Georgina. She said they stopped into the chandler while you were there.” Georgina hustling me out the back door floated into my memory. I reached up to touch my hair out of reflex. Tap’s silver eyes were fixed on mine, and I blushed under their intense scrutiny.
The demon, mouth tight, changed subjects. “What is it you do here, Phin?”
“Sorry?”
“Do you have talents? Skills?”
