“Kill the demon!” yelled one of the Guides I hadn’t locked in the basement, their voice filled with righteous fervor. In fact, I thought Righteous Fervor might actually be their former name, though the hooded robe kept me from recognizing their features.
“Sometimes I can’t stand this place,” I muttered as I pulled myself back to standing. “I haven’t had a nap in six centuries.” Rafe snorted as I stepped up to his side. “Stop! Protectors, Guides, listen to me. You don’t understand. He’s helping us.”
“He’s corrupted our leader!” a Protector near the rear shouted, his voice filled with terror and outrage. I felt Rafe go still, like a snake about to strike. Setting a hand on his scaled arm, I sent out a mental command to let me handle this.
“Oh, I don’t think so, Gavriel,” he answered aloud, purring strangely, his forked tongue flickering as he pulled away. The Guides and Protectors at the front of the group were now frozen. Not in fear. Actually frozen, as if he’d taken control of their bodies.
Arabella hissed. “Seraphiel, what are you doing?”
A chorus of gasps came from the ones farther back when they heard the name. The ones at the front could not gasp, however. They were turning strange shades of red and purple as Rafe withheld their air. I heard a familiar popping of internal organs from one of them, who I recognized as the Guide who’d recently cut out a mating feather from a newly mated pair, Heart and Glory. I was certain this one had been locked up in the basement, though. Maybe some of the Guides I’d thought Rafe had killed had only been injured.
I wouldn’t blame him if he did kill this fucker. I had been tempted to cut a chunk out of them during my interrogation, when I’d seen their crime in their thoughts. The lack of remorse. But popping each Guide like a pimple wasn’t the answer.
I sighed and turned to face Rafe. “Can you please stop squeezing the Guides to death?”
“They deserve it,” he hissed, sniffing the air. The scent of corruption on Seraphiel was so strong, a sulfurous haze, I couldn’t imagine how he could smell anything, but his eyes narrowed. “She took on all the smut of this realm,” he said at last, staring at a taller Guide whose hood still obscured their face. “She’s only been gone for a day, and yet the stench of pride and vanity, lust and greed, is thick on these ones. They are not worth your concern, Gavriel. None of them are. I think it’s time to raze the realm and start again.”
In the crowd, someone cleared his throat. “P-pardon me, uh, High Angelus Seraphiel? You may not think we’re worth saving, b-but Feather did.” Rafe darted forward, and the crowd parted, revealing a mousy-haired, thin Protector I recognized: Truth in the Smallest Detail. In a split second, Rafe had the man’s toga twisted in one hand and had lifted him off the floor, his brown and gray speckled wings pinwheeling uselessly behind him.
Rafe held the young Protector to his face and inhaled deeply. “Color me surprised. This one’s worth saving. But why do you smell faintly like my little sacrifice?” If Protectors could wet their pants, Rafe’s growl would have had this one doing just that.
Specks of glitter drifted off Truth’s robe as he stammered his response. “I’m… If you mean Feather, I’m her f-friend. And Feather thought we were worth saving. She almost d-died for us. Even them.” His gaze darted to the Guides who were slowly easing toward the door, as if they’d finally realized just what they’d unleashed here.
“She was detested in this realm,” Rafe insisted, shaking the young man until his teeth chattered. “She was tortured and abused by these people! You can’t be her friend and want them to walk away, to pay no price for their crimes.”
The energy in the Hall began to fluctuate, the floor to vibrate. Was Rafe doing that?
No.“The gate,” I murmured. “No one is singing to it.”
Arabella streaked past me. Letting out murmurs of wonder and surprise, the crowd parted as she ran and then launched herself into the air on the widest wings I’d seen on any Angelus. Although I supposed she was truly one of the First Children, not merely a High Angelus.
The floor shook again, and Rafe’s eyes met mine. The madness, as well as the flickers of red fire, began to subside.
“H-High Angelus Gavriel?” Truth squeaked, looking at me pleadingly. “Feather was my friend. She would want to let them live.” His feet still dangled off the floor.
“Let Truth go, Rafe.” I shook my head slightly at his answering growl. “He’s not lying. He can’t.”
“It’s t-true,” Truth replied through chattering teeth. “I throw up if I lie.”
Rafe snarled, licking his lips with that forked tongue. “How would you know what my little sacrifice would want?”
“I knew her. Not like S-Sunny, but Feather was one of my only true friends. She sat next to me in classes and talked to me. She and Righteous taught me—and my friends—how to play instruments. I miss her.”
Another voice chimed in, and a tall Protector stepped forward, shining almost as brightly as a High Angelus. “I miss her, too,” Hope said gently. “She told Sunny all about you, High Angelus Seraphiel. She loved you.” As if the title reminded him of who he had been, Rafe swallowed, and… blushed? His shadowed skin went a deeper shade of gray, anyway. Hope continued, “Feather went to the Celestial Realm, and my beloved Sunny went as well, as the protector of Feather’s, uh, Novice.”
Rafe’s feral expression softened, his dark fangs—sweet Maker, he hadfangs?—vanishing under his lips. “I saw that, in Gavriel’s mind.”
Hope’s smile wavered as she correctly inferred that Seraphiel was more powerful than I was. Than anyone here could ever be. “I miss her so much. Both of them. Did you know, Feather was teaching my lover to play an instrument?” Hope’s voice was easing Rafe’s temper with each soft-spoken, inconsequential word.
“I miss her, too,” he said at last, setting Truth down gently. The floor vibrated again, the rumbling louder. “Come to the gate. Tell me about her.” He nodded at Hope and Truth, mumbling a soft apology, which Truth accepted with a trembling smile.
It gave me hope to see Rafe’s habitual kindness reemerging. He was powerful enough to delve into Truth’s mind, and Hope’s as well, and glean all of their memories of Feather. Possibly permanently remove them. I wasn’t certain Truth appreciated the thought, though. He’d turned a strange shade of pale, shocked to be standing between me and Rafe.
Perception still had my soul knife, so I tucked Mik’s blade into my belt, then handed Truth a golden apple from the table. It had been there since our last meal in this Hall, where Mikhail had fed Feather from his hand, taunting me and Righteous by stroking her thighs, pushing her toga skirt up a little more with every?—
“Gavriel?” Rafe’s eyes shone with amusement and something else. Regret? “You’re projecting your thoughts.”
Embarrassed, I shrugged, following them out the door.
