I tugged on the handle, feet squishing inside my boots.Sogross.
Unlike the wet mess that was New York City, the guild was, as always, warm and sunny, because the sky looming beyond the domed skylights that sheltered every room and hallway was Elysium’s and not Earth’s, and it never rained in the land ofangels.
As I skirted around the fountains in the Atrium, a rainbow-winged sparrow dove toward me, then veered right, probably put off by the reek of city rolling offme.
“I’d do the same,” I sighed, just as someone squealed, “He’s comingtonight.”
As I turned down the hallway that led toward my dorm room, I caught the tip of orange feathers swishing around a corner and the squeak of rubber soles on the white quartzfloor.
We didn’t have many male visitors in our all-female guild, so who was thishe?
I magicked my wings into existence, feeling like they, too, were waterlogged and deserved a little sunshine even though feathers were impermeable and weighed as much as powdered sugar. As I slurped down some of my milkshake, I dug through my bag for another napkin but came up with my dog-eared paperbackinstead.
“Watch where you’re going, Fletching!” a strident voice I knew oh so well from my endless celestial history classes, screeched right as I banged into a largebody.
The contact ripped the paper straw filled with raspberry milkshake from between my teeth and sprayed the thick pink liquid onto the torsoof. . .
Ofa. . .
I gulped as my gaze climbed up a leather-clad chest that ended in a face chiseled to such perfection it seemed cast from metal instead offlesh.
Before milkshake could drool out of my mouth, I snapped my lips shut but then remembered I owed my victim an apology. I swallowed. “S-Sorry.”
“Clumsy, clumsy girl. Here, let me get that off you, Seraph.” Ophan Mira’s entire hand ignited with golden flames, which she ran over the archangel’s brown leather tunic, burning away the pale splatter before it stained the supplehide.
I blanched.Seraph?I was in the presence of one of theSeven?
Oh, holy babydemon.
The fire must’ve thinned the amount of oxygen in the pale stone hallway, because breathing became supremelyarduous.
“Thank you, Ophan.” The archangel had the molten voice of all my imaginary book lovers. “What’s your name,Fletching?”
“M-my name?” Istuttered.
Archangels were at the top of the celestial food chain; Fletchings were at the bottom. I’d never known one to take an interest in us. Then again, they didn’t come around to Earth all that often, too busy reigning over Elysium where a handful of new inhabitants arrived eachsecond.
“This is Leigh,” my history professor said, obviously deeming me incapable of stringing wordstogether.
“Ley, not Lee,” I corrected. How many times had I told Ophan Mira of my preference? Granted, she so rarely used my name, favoring the termFletching.
“Leigh.” As the archangel pronounced my name, which sounded like warmed honey dripping from his tongue, he inspected mywings.
Although my best feature, I tucked them into my back. Our lineage caused our kind to have two types of feathers: colorful—human-angel mix, colloquially called hybrids—or colorful and metallic—pure angel, otherwise known asVerities.
And then, there wasme.
“Verity.PureVerity,” he murmured in awe. “Howrare.”
What my feathers lacked in pigment, they made up for inluster.
“I didn’t even know pure Verities were still being born,” he added, tracing my silver down with his eyes. “How many feathers are you from joining us in Elysium,Leigh?”
“Um . . .” I moistened my lips. “Uh.” His stare was short-circuiting mybrain.
I’d heard many stories of the golden boy of Elysium, most from Eve. Only a century and twenty-some-years old and he’d won one of the coveted seats on the Council of Seven after several acts of bravery—most in the human world, but one in the celestial world. That was the one that had landed him the promotion. We weren’t given specifics as to what had happened, just that it had taken place in Abaddon, where he’d volunteered as a guard during his formative years even though most new angels kept away from the dark place infested with high-rankingsinners.
An elbow jammed into my ribs. “Leigh’s missing eighty-one feathers,Seraph.”
