Tomes seemed to come alive again at her voice. He turned to Gabriel. “Reverend Grimshaw would have considered his sacrifice worthy of finding and claiming someone as holy as you, Herald.” He bowed.
Emotion rippled across Gabriel’s face, gone in an instant before I could read it.
“I am not going to your church,” he declared. And I knew that no force on earth would make him go. He was as immovable as the moorland around us. “And Eve Lovejoy will be staying with me.”
Tomes struggled to hide a frown. “But, my lord?—”
Gabriel glared at him. “If you require something of the god Erlik, you will invite him to your church as a prophet, messenger, and high priest.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the bronze-winged angel behind me. “This is Castiel of Aerie, a worthy seraph who deserves your veneration and honor.”
We all looked at Castiel.
Castiel stared back, arms still crossed over that broad, muscular chest. His wings flared up and back, as if half-cocked and ready to burst into flight. His amber eyes stared Tomes down. Gone was the laughing, annoying man from this morning. In his place stood a fearsome warrior. My whole body prickled at the sight of this deadly being, both so intensely physical and a creature of great spirituality.
For almost all my life I’d listened to Zorababel Grimshaw, now dead behind me, rhapsodize about the might and glory of these Heralds of Death. I didn’t really know what to expect—it was all a hazy image, no matter how many times people recounted the story of the Falling fifty years ago that brought these Heralds to our world. But I supposed I’d envisioned something insubstantial, wraith-like, perhaps shrouded and eerie.
Castiel was as solid and real as my own hand, with more life coursing through him than any being I’d seen before. He’d terrified me when he swept me in his arms and jerked me in the air—I’d never forgive him, even if he was a Herald of Erlik—and the same tight control was still there in his posture, his still wings, the daring glint in his eyes. My heart beat faster just looking at him.
“Erm, yes, I believe we will be grateful for Sir Castiel’s presence.” Tomes hesitated. “We understand that it is the white feathers that draw Lord Erlik’s attention, a way to call out to him during prayer, to request his will be done. Will…” He licked his lips. “Does Lord Castiel also have this close connection to our god?”
Castiel’s expression didn’t change.
Gabriel growled in frustration. “You dare question one of the Heralds, you mortal man? Which of us in this room Fell from the heavens? Which of us comes from Erlik’s throne room?”
Eve coughed.
I glanced at her, noting the odd look on her face. She caught me eying her and immediately turned away. Interesting.
“Enough,” Castiel said suddenly, voice cold. I shivered. Was this truly the same angel who had mocked me? “This is my charge. We will depart today. Ready your things, Elder Tomes. I shall survey this temple you have set aside for our Lord Erlik and tell you if he is pleased with your efforts.”
“Church,” I whispered under my breath. “Not temple.”
Castiel’s eyes cut to me, and I suppressed a jolt of surprise. No one should’ve been able to hear me. I didn’t like how his eyes examined me, as if searching for edges and cracks in my mask. I shivered under the weight of his gaze, but not from cold. From the heat inside me he stoked.
Tomes nodded, his face still paler than usual. “Yes, Herald Castiel. I…” His gaze drifted back to the two bodies lying beneath the shrouds. “It may take a few hours to find what we need. And it is two days’ travel back to Lownden City.”
Castiel sneered. “I shall fly. I would not deign to ride in a cart.”
Ugh, another man full of his own importance. Unless…he was playing a part? Like I sometimes did?
Again, his eyes cut to my face. I held my placid, soft expression. It was never good to show men how quick your thoughts were, especially if they thought it was critical of their actions. I’d already slipped, showing him pieces of my anger this morning. I needed to get back on the path. Quickly.
Three
Castiel
It was a bad day for flying, but I grimly kept beating my wings through the foggy, misty afternoon light. I’d suffered through fifty of this country’s miserable winters, and was beyond ready for my own home. It turned cold enough to be uncomfortable and wet, but not enough for crisp, frozen air filling the lands to the north.
Below me the cart rattled along a dirt path, two dead humans surrounded with ice chips and straw in the back, two live humans huddled in cloaks in the front.
Part of me felt sorry for the sharp, biting girl with the white-gold hair stuck beside that dour man. But she was a part of a cult, as Eve had explained to me, and I could not trust her. Even if I liked the way her eyes sparked when I called her Lily and the way she pressed her lips together as if trying to build a dam against all the words she wanted to scald me with.
They were so slow. I couldn’t even fly as slow as them. I'd press forward, glide, draw back, hover in the air so they could catch up, then repeat. It was maddening, and we’d only been traveling for a few hours.
I thought back to my last conversation with Gabriel before I’d left.
“My charge to you is this: discover what you can about this image of a royal seraph Falling,” he’d said, wings tightly folded. “If you find evidence another has Fallen and returned…” He took a breath. “I won’t be returning. But if we can get the rest of you home, that is enough.”
I’d cocked my head. “Gabriel.”
