I watched for hours, as did most of the other residents, before excusing myself to get back to organizing necessary supplies. On the way, I passed Perception, who had his eyes on Shadow, as usual. No, onPrecious.
The tot had veered close to one of the pools of soulfire that had sprung up, but hadn’t been enclosed yet. None of us knew how deep they ran, but I’d stuck my arm in one and not felt the bottom. My heart lurched; I wasn’t sure Precious could swim.
Before I could leap to her aid, Perception made a short clicking sound with his tongue, sending the dog on a quick routeto intercept her. He grabbed her tiny t-shirt with his teeth and pulled her away, distracting her with a game of tag.
I smiled at the younger Angelus in thanks. “I was always called the most perceptive of the High Angeli, but when you suggested last week that Feather needed a job, I realized you saw more than I. You were correct.”
“I only saw the need, Maker. You were the one who knew her best, and perceived which ‘art form’ would suit.” We both chuckled at the liberal use of the term, as we took in Feather’s art.
The pattern—sort of a mandala, stretching out from the edge in ever-widening arches—was filled with angelic sigils and already starting to glow with its own strange power. I was almost certain she hadn’t done it on purpose.
“A divine mistake,” Perception murmured. “The very best kind.”
I agreed, then went to find Righteous to help wheel a barrel of lube into our bedroom, and fabricate some sort of cabinet for the vast array of Celestial sex toys our intrepid mate had created. I wasn’t certain how long we would be in the Limen. From what Perception had shared from his conversations with Imriel, there was no record of anyone ever choosing to leave the Celestial Realm, except for the rare Messenger, and so there was no way to know if the gate could somehow be convinced to allow us back in.
But even if the gate were never to open again for me, as long as I had my mate—mymates—with me, I already had all the home I needed. All the love I had ever dreamed of. And good work to do for as many years as it took to bring the only other friend I missed back to me. And to her, our small, perfect, naughty center.
As Gavriel had said to her just the evening before as he held her in our bed, she was the only Feather we couldn’t live without.
Chapter 39
Feather
SOME YEARS LATER
Ilistened to Sunny’s voice while I worked on my cloud mural, fighting back a smile as she recounted the story of what the Guides had recorded asThe Book of Feather: The Redeeming of an Unworthy Realm.The Guides were really into the self-flagellation thing, and liked to be reminded of how awful they’d been, almost to a concerning degree.
It reminded me of the kinky shadow beast I’d left facing the wall in the sex dungeons of Sanctuary all those years ago. I wondered where that little pervert had gotten to. Whether he’d been redeemed and gone on to wherever, or was still haunting the corridors of the abandoned realm… but not every thread of a story could be tied up, not if the story was true.
Or if it hadn’t ended yet.
I glanced at the void, examining it for any changes. Nothing. It was so early in the morning that no one was up except me… and Sunny, Precious, and Shadow, who had surprised me by already being awake and romping around the fields. I loved seeing Precious play like she was still a toddler, though she was almost as tall as me now.
I shook my head and turned back to my work, only half-listening to Sunny. The edge of the Limen was so far away now, I could only just see it, so I stood to make certain my latest hot-glue arch was lined up before I spread more glitter around.
The angelic sigils I kept making between the semi-circular designs, even though I still didn’t even understand them all, flung light out into the void as soon as they were sprinkled, in brilliant, silent shouts for attention. They seemed to flow from somewhere inside my mind, or my soul. I liked to think they originated in whatever parts of me had been melded with Arabella, long ago.
“And then once your exceptionally brave Tata Sunny promised to take care of you, your mommy went backall by herselfto save Papa Gavriel and Baba Rumple and all our friends from the old realm. Papa Gavriel made these big golden swords out of his wings.” Sunny mimed tearing off her wings, and then fighting with invisible swords as Precious sat on Shadow’s back, taking rides around the newest part of the Limen, where my mandala had reached.
The liminal realm had been the size of a bank lobby the first time I’d seen it; now it was many miles long, and at least a mile wide, running the length of the cloud wall between the Limen and the Celestial Realm. There were homes and winding pathways now, and even a playground for Precious.
The other Angeli had been wary of her and Shadow for the first year or so, but Perception had trained the dog beautifully, and once they got to know Presh, most of them had fallen just as in love with her as I was. The Guides in particular had taken it on themselves to act as unofficial aunts and uncles.
Since she’d already been living with her “Tata” Sunny and Hope for months by the time we’d arrived, it had seemed natural for her to move into their bungalow next door, though Mikhail groused about it for at least a year. It helped that she called him her Best Daddy, though she usually did that when she was trying to talk him into making her something with his naming chime.
She’d begun calling Hope Mama long ago, and Presh proudly told everyone that Sunny was her “real mom” as well as me. I supposed a child with three fathers wouldn’t see anything unusual about also having three mothers.
Some days, I could tell Presh chafed under the combined weight of so many parental eyes. We’d all agreed, after the third time she’d tried to fly off into the void on an adventure—though she’d claimed she was running away to check on an imaginary friend—that she needed to be in school. Imriel and Perception communicated via songs passed through the Celestial gate almost daily, and Imriel gave detailed instructions on the sorts of lessons he insisted she have, including complicated songs about Celestial histories, ethics, and control of power and balance. Perception was her primary teacher now, which meant she half-hated him. He never allowed her to slack off.
“Imriel says I’m too easy on her,” he’d confided in me six months before. “I can’t be her friend when what she needs is knowledge. Preparation.”
I didn’t ask about preparation for what. But I knew Imriel was channeling soulfire into the Limen at a ridiculous rate, as if there were some unknown deadline looming. He kept pestering Perception to make sure Precious had everything she needed.But needed for what?
I, for one, was going to let her be a child.
Shadow kneeled down a few yards away, so his passenger’s legs could reach the ground, and she slid off and ran toward Sunny, who was sitting on a bench behind me. Shadow had grown far wider than a pony now, and from the size of his paws, he still wasn’t quite done. Temple dogs in the Celestial Realm didn’t grow this big, Perception had assured us. Or this color.
“Keep going,” Presh urged Sunny, as she picked her way carefully around my still-warm cloud art to sit beside me. She had a handful of pale flowers she’d plucked from somewhere, and began braiding them into a wreath for Shadow’s head.
