I dipped a finger in. Sure enough, it tasted better than the finest chocolate fondue I’d ever had, but the zing it gave me made it clear it was pure power. “This makes no sense at all,” I mumbled around a mouthful. Sunny was dipping a small cup into the puddle, and handing it to the others behind us.
“Does it need to?” Truth said, smiling. All the other High Angeli, with the exception of Gavriel and Perception, had wandered off and were methodically looking around on the ground for more soulfire springs, like beachcombers, or treasure hunters. “The Limen was never meant to sustain Celestials. Perception says Imriel hinted that he gave some extra power”—Truth slapped a hand over his mouth at the slight lie—“but I worked out pretty fast that Imriel actually sacrificed some of his own soulfire to provide these… upwellings.”
“Imriel did this?” I asked, glancing at Sunny. She shrugged, and I could tell the jury was still out for her.
But Truth went on. “I’m almost certain what he’s doing is on the magnitude of a Great Sacri… No. It’s close to that, though.Close to a Great Sacrifice. He’s given up something significant so that we could all be out here.”
I knew Truth couldn’t say it if it wasn’t precisely accurate, so I accepted it. “Well, good. We’re kind of refugees, aren’t we?” I stared at the wall. “That seems like the kind of thing a leader ought to do. Take care of their people when they can’t get home.” Although for some reason, it didn’t feel exactly like home. Home was where my loved ones were. “No one can get back in?”
“Not even Shadow, and Imriel thought that might work. The temple puppies have always been special. We’ve all tried, just to see. But you know what? Gavriel hasn’t ever gone through the gate; he could still…”
“No,” my mate said, settling down next to me and dipping a marshmallow into the cup of liquid, then offering it to me. “I have all I need here.”
Truth burped at that. “Maybe noteverything.You know you could go in and back out. You’d get your Celestial gift.” His eyes were troubled. “We may be out here for a very long time, and we don’t know what we’ll need. Percy says Imriel had something to send out anyway.”
And that was how, not two hours later, we found ourselves at the Celestial gate, tying Gavriel up. For some reason, he’d asked Mikhail to do the knots, even though he’d seen clear evidence of my knotting abilities in Sanctuary. He’d mumbled something about “my sort of knots” being “private play.”
Whatever. He’d agreed to go through, as long as we had a tether on him to yank him back if the gate stopped working or something.
I mentioned that he was still glitter-speckled, even after our trip through the Abyss, and they might just throw him out. He said he didn’t care, and that all the realms could use a little more sparkle. I sighed in agreement, noticing the tiny dots of glitter onthe ground all around us. Most of it was Precious’s, though some had fallen off Mikhail’s t-shirt.
“What I wouldn’t give for a hot glue gun and enough glitter to actually do something with it. I’m an artist, trapped for the foreseeable future in a world with no art.”
Hope frowned at me. “We have musical instruments, and our voices. We can dance. And there are odd plants growing on the newest sections of the Limen. We’ll harvest them, weave yarn, and do holy macramé.”
I argued with her about the hierarchy of art forms, trying not to look at Gavriel, and pretending that I wasn’t nervous about what was about to happen. I had plenty of past trauma from being cut off from my beloved soulmates by this very same gate.
“That’s enough riling up the Missus, birch. Come kiss Gavriel goodbye.” Sunny took my hand in hers and walked me over to him.
“Mik, you made it too tight. Loosen it a bit!” Gavriel was buck naked except for the braided rope of golden soulfire he’d produced from his vast reserves.
“It has to be tight, Gav. Stop bitching. I want to get this over with and get Feather back in bed.” Mikhail winked at me. “She needs her rest.”
“Go on, Grumpy. Get whatever your brother-in-law has for you, and then race back. I’ll miss you.” I stepped up to him and waited for my kiss. He gave it to me, with interest and a lot more tongue than I probably deserved.
I faked a smile until Gavriel had his back to me. Righteous and Mikhail were holding the end of the rope with all their might as he pushed through the door, stepping just inside.
When he vanished, I felt the feather in my chest go numb almost instantly. There was no pain at all, but the lack of sensation was disconcerting. I let myself panic then, but quietly. No one remarked on the tears that rolled down my cheeks.
“He’ll be back,” Sunny whispered, slipping her hand in mine. The rope hadn’t been cut, so that was good.
When the door opened again, no more than two minutes later, Gavriel walked out with a peculiar expression on his face and a bundle in his hand. I raced over to him. “What did you get?” He unwrapped the white cloth, tucked it under one arm, and held up a small object. Whatever it was could fit in the palm of one hand, and was golden and shiny as heck. “Another kazoo?” I asked, slightly disappointed.
“Not a kazoo,” he murmured, showing it to the group as we clustered around. “A feather.” The curling feather was so much smaller than the ones I had for mating marks, and I wondered if it was a baby feather, the kind new Protectors molted when they were young.
“By the Maker,” Mikhail whispered, his voice awestruck. “It’s one of Imriel’s. And not just any feather.” I frowned. None of Imriel’s feathers were that small.
“What’s so special about it?” Righteous asked. “Wait, it has writing on the individual barbs.”
“It’s his library,” Gavriel said, with tears in his eyes. “He’s sent me every piece of Celestial music that’s ever been written. Every tune ever played in any realm.” He choked off a laugh that sounded more like a sob. “I offered to give the energy back from Sanctuary, but he refused it. He said we’d need it out here. And then he just gave me his entire life’s work. His treasure.”
“That was your Celestial gift? It’s pretty perfect for you,” I said, but he was already shaking his head.
“No, Imriel’s gift was in addition to my spiritual gift.” He pulled the white cloth out from under his arm, offering it to me. I knew what it was the moment my hands touched it. “I wasn’t able to bring your sheet back, my love—the one we made love on in the Maker Hall for the first time. That was the only object that had any meaning at all to me. And to us.”
Mikhail snorted. “I recognize that. It’smysheet.” We both ignored him.
“Are you… giving it to me?” I managed to say, though my throat was tight.
