Before I knew what was happening, he raced behind a shelf and vomited into what I thought might be an empty harp bag. When he emerged, his eyes bloodshot but filled with dangerous knowledge, I mimed locking my lips.
“Feather, you’re a High—” he began, but I rushed forward and slapped a hand over his mouth.
“Bye, not hi.” I stared into his face. This was news I didn’t want reaching the Guides’ ears. He nodded, understanding.
I turned back to the group, who had been watching every move we made with wide eyes. “Did you all know that if thegate doesn’t get music—song, preferably—pretty much round the clock, the gate will fall and the Abyss will rush in?”
Truth blinked. “True, in every terrifying detail.”
“Do you know any more songs?” I pressed. “Ancient ones are best, but I don’t want you getting in trouble. Someone told me the Guides made a rule against them. Listen to this one.” I sang one of the easiest songs Rumple had taught me, in Latin. They echoed me, getting it perfect on the first try.Showoffs.
Then I had a thought. “You can’t play instruments out there… but if no one’s around, and you can sing even a bit in High Angelic, maybe your healing song would be good for the gate, too.” They looked skeptical but I sighed. “It can’t hurt to try.”
I held up the music and sang through it, though my throat began to burn by the end. By the end of the short verse and chorus, they were all giving me puppy dog eyes. Then I asked them to echo me. The first time, most of them grabbed their throats in pain. After I’d gone through it twice, though, a few of them could sing it down an octave. Their pronunciation was excellent, too.
“Why can you sing angelic?” I asked during a break. “And listen to it. Like, your ears aren’t bleeding. Aren’t you young?”
“Yeah, we’re all High Angelus Mikhail’s latest,” one woman explained, sipping some water from a flask. “We’re different. I don’t know why, but we can… do a few extra things. Hearing it never hurt us like it does the olds. Had no idea we could say the words, though. I guess we have a little more of him in us than we realized.”
I put a pin in that one; I was way too tired and close to making jokes about how good it felt to have a little of Mikhail in me, too. Whatever the reason, it meant these singers could do something no one besides the oldest Protectors and Guides could: reinforce the gate from this side.
We stopped when their voices were mostly gone, and I quickly sketched out the problem, letting them know that Righteous had been taken away. “There’s no one to keep the gate going while Sunny and I find him. We need fighters?—”
One of the others laughed bitterly. “Ask around. We’re no good with a sword.”
I smiled. “Well, Rumple—my friend in the Abyss—said our best weapon is music. So we need you. In fact, I have a feeling music is what may save us all.” They all swiveled their heads to Truth, who was trembling.
“Utterly true,” he whispered. He waved at the rest. “Put away your instruments. It sounds like we’re needed.” They shuffled around, picking them up and putting all but one of them back into their velvety bags.
“Thanks.” I waved, walking back to the door. “Go meet with Sunny. She’ll organize a rotation. We have to find Righteous. Anything you hear, send word with Sunny, or Hope.”
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the Maker Hall.” I held up the music. “I have a big job myself.”
When I reached the workshop,both the Protectors were sleeping, curled up on the cot Mikhail had put near the fire for me. After I stoked the fire and took a few sips of water, I sat on the edge of the soft mattress and began to sing, reading the words on the page until they were etched in my memory. It was a song of healing, all right, and I watched the wound on Heart’s neck close up and begin to glow.
The scar was a strange, feather-shaped divot, as if her own flesh had been carved out along with Glory’s. I sang the songuntil my voice was raspy, only stopping when I began coughing and flecks of blood landed on my palm.
Glory’s hand was there when I stopped coughing, offering me a strip of white cloth. “How did you do that?” She scowled at the blood. “Did you trade our pain for yours?”
“No,” I said, my voice shattered. “I’m new.” I couldn’t get any more words out, and Glory was sitting next to me, her hands cool on my head. I felt odd, dizzy and weak, like I’d been running a high fever for days.
“You haven’t sung in angelic before today, have you, High Angelus Feather?” I shook my head, and she smiled. “You know, I heard other High Angeli sing, long ago. Their voices were almost as phenomenal as yours. But they didn’t have the depth of emotion I hear in yours. So much suffering you’ve lived through, for such a young soul.” I ducked my head. Glory rose, her movements graceful, and poured me a cup of water, carrying it back to the bed. “Don’t talk. Let us take care of you now.”
While I took small sips and tried not to cough, Glory examined the room. With the fire burning brighter, there was enough light for her to make out the dozens of tables covered with tools, the one lined with exquisitely carved figures of High Angeli, and the shorter one piled high with my t-shirts and craft supplies.
“I never thought I’d see inside here. Everyone talks about the Maker Hall like it’s this untouchable, sacred space. But it’s filled with more love than any other room in Sanctuary.” Her eyes fell on the bed. “More love recently, too.” She fanned her face. “This bed… The energy it’s giving off feels like watching a live sex show. We tried to sleep on it but…” Glory laughed at my blush as she gathered a still-sleeping Heart in her arms. “What can we do to help you, High Angelus?”
She rolled her eyes when I insisted hoarsely that she call me Feather. I might technically be a High Angelus, but it just felt weird to hear it.
“Feather, then. We aren’t whole—we’re weak. Our bodies are healed, but our souls are crying out inside for their missing pieces. The drain on our energy is constant. We still believe you should let us be unmade sooner rather than later, and use our energy for whatever you need. The Guides who did this must be stopped.”
I whispered, “You could mate again.” I lifted my wing and pointed to the space where the feather I’d given Mikhail had been.
Glory’s eyes were shuttered. “We could and would, but with no soul knife? Neither one of us can carve out a feather. Heart and I only risked this because, well, she’d just returned from Earth. She’d been forced to make some choices on her mission to save her charges. When she got back, there wasn’t enough purifying gel to help her get clean. We’d been planning to mate for a long while, and when I asked the Guides for permission…” I already knew what she was going to say. “They denied us. Said she had made poor choices, and should pay the consequences.” Glory’s voice went brittle. “She was suffocating underneath the weight of it. She’s named for sacrificial love; she made the only choices she could on Earth. I’m named for love as well. I had no choice but to find a way to save her.”
I nodded, understanding completely. “There’s no other tool in Sanctuary that can cut your flesh? Besides the soul knife?”
