“THE APPEARANCE OF THESE SO-CALLED ‘STORM-TOUCHED’ CHILDREN IS UNFORESEEN, AND I AM AS OF YET UNSURE WHAT THEIR ORIGINS COULD BE. MY HERALD-ANGELS FINALLY MANAGED TO RETURN ONE TO ME ALIVE. IF THERE IS A WAY I CAN HARNESS THEIR EXTRAORDINARY POWER, THINK OF WHAT IT COULD DO FOR MY WORK HERE AND THE HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF LIVES I PROVIDE FOR.”
—FROM THE PERSONAL RECORDS OF HORACE J. COOPER
Halle…”
Her name slips from my mouth, and I sink to my knees with the weight of it. The reality of it. The reality ofher, alive and breathing and here after I saw—I saw—
My shaking hands tighten into fists. “What kind of sick, twisted trick are you playing here?”
Over in the antechamber, Halle climbs warily to her feet, her eyes darting wildly around the ceiling, the stained glass walls, the barrier of Herald-angels in front of her that block her line of sightfrom the rest of the room. I don’t think she can see me with those huge metal bodies between us—I can only catch glimpses of her between the gaps—and it’s not like she’d expect me to be here at all. She might not even know wherehereis.
“It’s no trick, Valene,” Horace says quietly, and his voice has that extra-gentle coating of gold again. “That is the real, actual Halle Bruinn.”
I can’t move. Nothing in my body works anymore because I’m toofull. Joy and relief and wonder and fear and so much exhaustion because the grief of her loss had been hanging like iron around my neck and now it’s gone but everything is also exploding inside me like a star.
“How…” Tears clog my throat, choking off the rest of the question.
Horace crouches down next to me, gently taking one of my hands. “I told you from the very beginning, I watch over every soul on Trinity. At all times, I have Archangels patrolling the bottom of the Depths to accept the bodies of the dead.” He reaches up and wipes at the tears running down my cheeks. “Or, in this case, the living body of your sister, saved by my timely intervention.”
“Who’s out there?” Halle calls out loud enough that her words ring against the metal walls and floor. “I can hear someone talking—come out where I can see you!”
Her voice. Her actual voice. Fierce and demanding, scolding like we’re back in our old lodgings and I’m late to dinner again. “Yousaved her.”
“Of course I did. She’s important to you, and as one of my saints,youare important tome.” He stands, gesturing me forward.“I am not a monster, Valene. I’m a miracle worker. Go and see for yourself.”
I stagger to my feet, tripping and ungainly, muscles and bones barely remembering how to function together enough to make it off the dais. I take most of the room in a quick-phase, and Halle jumps back in shock when I appear just outside the antechamber door. It only takes her a moment to recover, though, and then she’s running into me and we’re landing in an ungraceful heap, my bones jarring with the impact. I ignore it. Whatever my body has been through this past week, it doesn’t matter—I’m strong enough for this moment.
“Val!” Halle’s breath is fast, panicked, and she’s trembling all over. “I don’t know what’s happening! That Archangel had you and then I was falling and then somethingcaughtme just before I passed out and woke up here—”
I shake my head, hugging her tight enough to crack bones. She’s solid, she’s here, she’sreal. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay now.”
Halle pulls back, her hands gripping my upper arms as she looks around the chamber. “Where’s Kelda? Is she here?”
“She’s not here, but she’s safe.” I laugh a little, tucking a strand of her wild hair behind her ear even though it’s pointless because she has so much of it. “You’re both safe.”
“You understand now, Valene.” Horace barely raises his voice, but it still rings through the space and Halle goes still, her eyes widening. “Your sisters. Your friends down in the garden who think, even now, that they are hiding from me. Everything you love most in this world is at stake.”
Halle cranes her neck, trying to see past the big metal bodies of the Herald-angels. “Who is that? What is he talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I wipe my sleeve roughly across my face, clearing away the tears and sweat and blood blurring my eyes. “I thought we’d lost you. I really did.”
“It’s all right.” Halle leans into me, letting me hug her again. “I’m here. I promise.”
“You cannot protect them from yourself and what you will become if left unchecked,” Horace calls, and it sounds like there’s true regret in his voice. “But I can. I can ensure they are taken care of as if they were my own family. They will be safe, provided for. Everything you ever wanted for them.”
Halle tenses but stays close to me, muttering low into my ear, “I don’t like the sound of any of that.”
I take a deep, shuddering breath. “He’s right, though… If being a saint puts you and Kelda and everyone else in danger…”
She jerks away, frowning, though she keeps her voice as quiet as possible. “We don’t know that’s the truth. We don’t know any of it for sure. That’s just what he’s telling you.” She jabs a finger hard into my chest. “You’re not just a saint. You’re a duster and a fighter. You’re a Bruinn. What doyouthink?”
I think Horace is right, that all I ever wanted was for Halle and Kelda to be safe. For them to be able to grow up, to age, to have good lives without blood on their hands or the soles of their shoes. To exist someplace where they can afford to be soft. I was willing to destroy myself and everything around me to make that happen. I nearly did.
But now I’m here, on the edge of a world that’s more brokenthan I ever thought possible, and suddenly I don’t know if it’s enough.
Even if I do say yes and let Horace do to me what he’s doing to Gabriel, what he did to Sorcha and hundreds of saints before, draining them of their power until they’re nothing but husks to fit inside Archangel frames—even if he keeps the promises he’s making right now and ensures Halle and Kelda are safe, what then? Trinity goes back to exactly the way it was before? With its secrets buried up here behind an illusion? Whatever’s left of me eventually joins the hosts of Archangels, and a year or two from now, another storm-touched child with wide, scared eyes will be taken from their family to become part of our twisted family.
And across Trinity, hundreds of thousands of people—apothecaries and preachers, shopkeepers and tinkerers—will continue on as they had before, living and breathing and trying to make a go of it with rations of water and naphtha, never aware of how we got to this point.
