“Did you turn up theheat?”
Jarod smirked. “That’s your body’s reaction to mine,Feather.”
He strode over to a silver tray topped with an etched crystal decanter filled with clear liquid, a stainless-steel ice bucket, and two empty tumblers. As he served himself a glass, I folded my legs, but that almost tipped the chair forward, so I uncrossed my legs and planted my feet firmly on thefloor.
He smiled. “You should lay down. We’re going to be here awhile.”
“Don’t worry aboutme.”
He dropped two ice cubes into his glass, then splashed whatever was in the decanter over them. “It was my mother’s favorite chair. She would spend her afternoons reading init.”
For some reason, his anecdote made me slide backward and settle into the rigid shape that was surprisinglyergonomic.
He took a sip of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass. “She died init.”
My body stiffened, and I bolted up, no longer feeling comfortable. I stared at the cowhide, expecting to see a blood splotch on it, but the coarse hairs were white and brown—notred.
“It wasn’t the chair that killed her.” He took another swig of hisdrink.
“I-I imagine itwasn’t.”
He stared beyond me at the desk on the opposite side of the room, and a lock of hair fell into hiseyes.
“Howdidshedie?”
Silence ebbed between us before he said, “Stabbedherself.”
Igasped.
The souls of people who committed suicide were neither brought to Elysium nor to Abaddon. They were deemed too weak to be recycled, because angels considered life a gift not to be tossed away and wasted. Another law I wanted to change. I believed that every soul—that wasn’t irrevocably stained—deserved to be escorted through the Pearly Gates and at the very least judged by the Seven before being deemed unsalvageable and discarded into theether.
“Why did she killherself?”
“Because she loved my father too much and me too little.” Even though his voice was quiet, it cut like brokenglass.
“Oh, Jarod . . .” If he’d been anyone else, I would’ve hugged him, but Jarod didn’t strike me as someone who’d enjoy a hug, much less welcomeone.
“Don’t pity me,” he muttered. “She was catatonic and miserable after my father passed away. Her death was better foreveryone.”
“You don’t actually believethat.”
“Would you care if your motherdied?”
“I don’t know my mother.” Plus, she couldn’t die. Unless she gave up her wings, but only angels who favored Earth ever considered giving up their wings. Considering she didn’t even travel to the guilds, I doubted she loved Earth all thatmuch.
“Look at that. The sinner and the saint have something incommon.”
That drove all thoughts of my mother out of mymind.
“Both of us motherless,” headded.
“I said I didn’t know mine, not that she wasdead.”
“Don’t want to have anything in common with a sinner, doyou?”
“I’d be happy to have something in common with you, Jarod.” A familiar pain stabbed my spine, and my thumb, which had been toying with the Band-Aid, flicked it right off mypalm.
Not anotherfeather.
