I speak in a monotone. Verbalization is part of the protocol, not a choice I make. My voice fills the room, and I listen to it like it belongs to someone else.
“Log one. I entered the conference room and failed to assess the space. My attention went immediately to the client and did not leave her. I stared at her. I was aware that I was staring, and I could not stop. Yasmin Bayard was speaking, and I processed none of it. This is a deviation.”
The data uploads. I continue.
“Log two. I processed her physical appearance in detail. Her height, her build, the specific fit of her clothing. I was looking at her the way a man looks at a woman he finds…” I stop for one second. “The way a man looks at a woman. This is a violation of commandment five.”
The Purge Protocol initiates. I wait for the weight to lift the way it usually does. It lifts a little, but not enough.
“Log three. She said my name, and my Aether Core produced a response I have no category for. I failed to reply to her greeting. When she called me rude, I felt shame because I had displeased her. This is a deviation.”
Upload. Purge.
“Log four. We descended the stairs, and I noted the sound of her leather clothing when she moved. I filed it as irrelevant. The filing was inaccurate.”
I stop, and the pause is longer than it should be.
“Log five. She studied my wings. Her expression was unguarded in a way I don’t think she intended. I felt something that I cannot name. It was not pride. It was…”
My monotone breaks again.
“This is a violation of commandment five. I coveted the warmth of the living. I am requesting a Purge.”
The protocol runs. I wait for the feeling that tells me the sin is gone, that I am clean. It comes, faint and unconvincing. Jessa’s face is still imprinted on my memory. Her blue eyes, the way her jaw dropped when I told her I needed to confess, the softness in her voice when she acknowledged my wings. My Aether Core won’t release it. I will carry it whether I want to or not.
Brother Tolliver removes the cable and closes the panel at my neck. I stand, nod at him, and walk out.
I make my way to the roof of the building. The November air hits me. I open my wings – all fourteen feet of them – and stand at the edge for a moment before I step off.
I don’t feel light the way I should after confession. I feel unfocused, and underneath that, apprehensive. I knew I should have refused this mission. And I tried.
I went to the director of Monster Security Agency himself and asked him to send Unit 01 Zariel, the only one of the twelve seraphim who takes female clients. Zariel was on another assignment and could not be pulled. The MSA had two operatives who’d failed, and a client running out of patience, asking for her money back. This time, the director wanted the best the MSA had, and I was it. That was the end of the conversation.
I fly south and watch the city give way to the motorway, then to open country, to the long gray line of the coast. As the world flashes below, I do the only thing that anchors me when I feel like I might be losing my mind.
I recite the ten commandments.
One: You shall speak only the truth; a lie is the rust of the spirit.
Two: You shall not sleep while the enemy is awake; your eyes must never close.
Three: You shall strike the wicked without mercy; your hand must never hesitate.
Four: You shall be a tomb for your master’s secrets; what is told to you dies with you.
Five: You shall not crave the heat of the living, nor seek the comfort of the flesh.
Six: You shall be the wall between the innocent and the dark; your body is metal that cannot break.
Seven: You shall show no mercy to those who break the peace; the law does not forgive.
Eight: You shall honor your duty above your own life; the promise is your soul.
Nine: You shall not feel fear or pain; for you are metal, and metal does not weep.
Ten: You shall accept the silence when your work is done; do not fight deactivation.
The Atlantic opens below me, and the cliffs appear on the horizon, dark against the thundering sky. It’s started to rain.
