I nod. “I’m delighted to hear that. Is it your second thought?”
My fallen angel grins again, and once again the sight of it zings through me. “What is it you Americans say? I plead the fifth.”
I burst out laughing. Possibly that should concern me more, but I’m reasonably sure he’s joking. Probably. “Duly noted.”
Nariel leans back casually, still posed against the branches, and now that he’s not quite as much in my face and looking all portentous his attractiveness ismuchmore obvious.
Oh, who am I kidding? His ominousness was also extremely fucking attractive.
A smart,sexyfallen angel.
“This isn’t your natural form, is it?” I ask suddenly. “Or do they cut off your wings when they exile you?” I purse my lips. “Sorry. That’s a rude question, isn’t it?”
Nariel’s smile falls away, but he doesn’t look ready to rip off my head. “Angels do cut off the wings of exiles, yes. They eventually grow back, but given how little magic there is in Dark Earth, they grow back differently.”
I wait, and when he doesn’t offer anymore I prod, “So you do look like this, except with wings?” Unfair, that he could potentially look cooler.
“I’d prefer not to shred this jacket with a display, if it’s all the same to you,” he says dryly.
I sigh dramatically for comedic effect, as I don’t actuallyneedto see a man who is this hot already, but without his shirtandwith wings. I just want to, and my curiosity is a powerful thing.
But also, I’m getting the sense that he thinks his demonic wings are twisted, and scrutinizing him For Science may not be the most thoughtful way to respond.
And I’m stalling, anyway. Just because I’ve made enough difficult decisions today for a year doesn’t mean I don’t have to make any more.
I started this, and I’m the one who has to finish it, because no one else can or will.
I know what I want to do. Do it, self.
Do. It.
“In that case,” I say, as if this request means nothing more than what it sounds like on its face, “since you can fly, can you help me retrieve some more proto-wands? There are some likely ones higher-up, but the branches get too thin to climb.”
“You could use magic to get them,” he points out.
“And I intend to, but if you’re not going to pose for me I wouldn’t want you to get bored before the next firefight.”
Nariel flashes a quick smile I barely have time to not visibly react to.
A blink and he’s gone.
A blink and he’s back with another stick, exactly the right length.
He raises his eyebrows at me.
I glance up to see which one he took while my heart pounds, because he can definitely move fast enough to kill me if he wants to. I may have a wand, but my reaction time is not superhuman. The idea that I would have time to hex him if he tried anything earlier is now laughable.
Okay. The salient facts are:
1. Nariel is definitely a force to be reckoned with, but he might be willing to help me.
2. The angels will consider him an enemy, but they might also consider me one already.
3. He has his own goals for another world, but currently they’re not only not in conflict with mine, they conveniently coincide. More magic in Low Earth can only be good for the spirits of Dark Earth.
4. Am I playing fetch with a demon?
Okay, that one’s just my brain trying to keep me calm.
