A Gift of Wings (47 page)

Lucky’s heart stopped beating twice more before the three hours were up. Each time, Aidan found himself holding his breath and counting the absent beats. And, each time, thank all that was holy, only a few beats were missed before the heartbeat resumed, slower, steadier, and stronger than before. Then, as Aidan watched, the livid burns on Lucky’s back began to heal, changing, in the space of a few minutes, to beautifully intricate black patterns. As the wounds healed, the swirling blackness between her shoulder blades gradually settled into an even more intricate pattern, which somehow combined all the Marks as well as something of Lucky herself into a new sigil that was uniquely her own.

The gradual fading of the sound of her strong, even heartbeat filled him with a sense of relief and satisfaction rather than alarm. It had worked! He wanted to whoop with joy. As a huge grin crawled across his face, he could feel the tension in the room, which had ratcheted to nearly unbearable levels, dissipate in a rush, as if it couldn’t wait to vacate the premises.

Zeke and Kev were also grinning; even Malachi’s lips turned upward in a smile. Sambethe just looked satisfied and smug, which sort of made him want to slap her, but he was so relieved that Lucky had survived the Making—that she was now Naphil and could fight off the blasted poison in her system—that even Sambethe’s smug expression couldn’t annoy him for long.

Soon after her wounds had healed and her sigil had settled, Lucky began to return to consciousness, making small movements and quiet waking sounds. It took every ounce of control Aidan could muster to stop himself from shooting off the bench, on which he’d sat far too long, and rushing to her side. Instead, as was appropriate, it was Zeke who moved to kneel beside her, whispering instructions and words of encouragement as he helped her rise to her knees.

Precisely as the last second of the three-hour waiting period ended, Uriel appeared in all his distant and terrifying brilliance in front of the dais upon which Lucky and Zeke knelt. With no small amount of surprise, Aidan realized he’d forgotten all about the Archangel. He hadn’t been aware of Uriel’s presence during the waiting, but he hadn’t sensed his absence either. How was it possible for one so sublimely noticeable to fade into the background so completely? He’d have to ask the Archangel about that someday. He and his fellows among the Forces of the Fallen could put such a skill to good use.

You have great strength, Lucky Monroe.

As was usual when the Archangel spoke, Aidan couldn’t tell if he heard the words or if they were somehow communicated to him through his other senses.

I offer congratulations on your successful completion of this Making. Sensitive no more, you are now Naphil. Exactly what this means remains to be seen. As a child of the Banished, with two Archangels serving as Makers, your circumstances are rather more than unique.

Uriel paused, his unblinking, flame-filled eyes seeming simultaneously to study Lucky, scan the room, and look beyond this time and place toward something only he—and perhaps Raphael and Gabriel, who now stood on either side of him—could see.

Your wings and your particular Gift will reveal themselves in time. We await the revelation with interest. In the meantime, newly Made Naphil, you are now counted among the Fallen. May your Making be of benefit to us all.

Even with his eyes closed, Aidan felt like the radiance and heat of the Archangels’ sudden departure was burning his retinas. As soon as the brilliance faded, he was on his feet and headed toward the dais and Lucky.

His progress was halted by the unexpected touch of a hand on his arm. Aidan’s impatience turned to surprise when he saw that it was Lilith who had detained him. Curious as to what she might want with him, he took in her bright scarlet hair before locking his eyes on her impossibly emerald ones. It was hard to believe this woman was anyone’s grandmother, let alone Lucky’s, even though he knew that, like Zeke, she was much, much older than she looked.

He said nothing, just raised an eyebrow as he continued to hold her gaze.

Letting her hand fall from his arm, Lilith answered his silent query in light, husky tones. “I know she will not want to see me or talk to me now. But I also know that at some point, she will.” Withdrawing something from the pocket of her dark cloak, she held her hand out to him. “Please give this to her. Tell her I offer my congratulations and a grandmother’s love.”

At the sound of disbelief Aidan was unable to hold back, her lips twisted in a mocking smile. “You’re right, of course. Scratch the ‘grandmother’s love’ bit. I can hardly expect her to believe it. Take it, boy—it won’t bite!” This last was uttered as she thrust her outstretched hand toward him. He held out a palm to accept her offering, and she dropped a delicate gold locket into it. “Give her this, and tell her to call for me when she is ready. I can provide some of the answers she seeks should she see fit to ask.”

A frown settled on Aidan’s forehead as he regarded the locket in his palm. “Where did you get this?” he asked.

Lilith either didn’t hear his question or chose to ignore it. She hurried toward the exit, lifting the hood of her cloak to cover her brilliant hair.

“Wait!” he called, but she had already stepped through the door and disappeared.

His frown deepening, Aidan slipped the locket with its broken chain into the pocket of his jeans and went to join the others who were gathered around Lucky.

CHAPTER 31

Exactly what this means remains to be seen. May your Making be of benefit to us all.
Uriel’s words echoed in Lucky’s ears as she scanned the faces of the friends surrounding her. Behind their relieved smiles and quiet congratulatory words, she could sense the same gravity that now filled her. She had survived the Making, but she didn’t feel at all like celebrating. Emotionally, she felt as drained and empty as she had after the Striking.
Exactly what this means remains to be seen.
She felt as if her life, her personality, her self had been burned away. She was no more than an empty vessel waiting to be filled. And what might fill that emptiness was a mystery.
Your circumstances are rather more than unique.
They weren’t even sure her Making would have positive results.
May your Making be of benefit to us all.
What if she’d gone through this for nothing? Or worse, what if, somehow, something bad would come from what had been done here?

“Josh,” she whispered. At least she knew of one good thing she could do now. Helping him was why she’d agreed to the Making in the first place. Not knowing or caring if she was interrupting or speaking over anyone else, she said in a louder voice, “I have to get to Josh. I can help him now. We have to go now, so I can help Josh.”

“Of course,” Zeke said, his big hand coming to rest on her upper arm. “I will escort you through the Gates one more time. You may be Naphil now, but you need training before you will be able to dematerialize and reform at will in the place you desire.”

Aidan’s warm hand closed around her cold fingers in a quick squeeze. “See you on the other side,” he said, and dematerialized.

As Kev, Malachi, and Sambethe followed suit, Lucky was already moving toward the door, tugging Zeke behind her. When she passed through the entryway, the magic that veiled the room struck her like a cold shower, causing her to release Zeke’s hand. Once through the veil, she was, as before, surprised to find herself dry.

Now that she thought about it, she was surprised by a lot of things. Like how the weakness had left her limbs. And how she was no longer in pain. Yes, she was emotionally exhausted, but her body felt strong and healed, which was pretty amazing considering. The Making had hurt like nothing she’d ever experienced before, and she had been convinced she’d feel the burns on her back for weeks. But she felt no pain, only a tingle of awareness at the location of each Maker’s sigil on her back and the slightest sense of movement in the space between her shoulder blades, where she had learned from Aidan her own sigil would be. She wondered what her back looked like with all those Marks, wondered what her personal sigil looked like. She’d have to find a mirror, so she could take a look.

Zeke came through the door behind her, and she grabbed his hand, already starting to run.

“There’s no need to rush, Lucky,” he said, drawing her to a slower pace. “Your cousin’s condition will not alter in the time it takes to reach him. Sambethe checked in on him before the Making. She said he would remain stable for another day, if necessary.”

“But it’s not necessary. I’m not going to wait another day, Zeke.”

“I did not mean to imply that you should, but you might slow down a bit. The Gates are here, just down this hall.”

Lucky felt a slight frisson as they passed through the wards protecting the room that housed the Council Hall’s Gates of Heaven. She had been too preoccupied on her last trip through these Gates to pay them any attention, but this time she realized they were quite different from the pair hidden in Zeke’s basement. Whereas those appeared to be carved from dark wood, these seemed to have been chiseled from some kind of glistening stone. As soon as Zeke pressed his palm against the central panel and activated his sigil, the wings began to unfold. Light flared around them, glinting off the glittering stone feathers, giving them the appearance of flame. Lucky caught her breath at their beauty, even as the brilliance of the light forced her to close her eyes. Preparing herself for the uncomfortable compression of the passage, she gripped Zeke’s hand and stepped through the Gates—and into the familiar brownstone’s lower level.

She made a move toward the stairs, but Zeke detained her, refusing to release her hand. Catching hold of her chin so he could look into her eyes, he said, “You are wondering if this Making was a mistake, are you not—except for what you can do for Josh?”

At her hesitant nod, he continued. “It was not. That we don’t know the exact outcome does not mean it was a mistake, or that anything bad will come from it. You are strong and kind and brave. Whatever Gift manifests itself in you will be shaped by that.”

Lucky’s eyes filled with tears, and she reached up to clasp his wrist where he gripped her chin. “Thank you, Zeke,” she whispered.

The Cherub leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead before releasing her. She gave him a quick, teary smile, then lifting the fabric of her long skirt so she wouldn’t trip on it, she hurried up the stairs.

When she ran into the guest room she had already come to think of as hers, she found Aidan standing by the bed. He turned as she entered, a bundle of clothes in his hands.

“I was just leaving these for you,” he said. “The jeans are yours—the bloodstains washed out of those. Your sweater was a goner though, so I brought you one of mine.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m more than happy to trade in this dress.”

“No doubt,” he said, as he took a couple steps toward the door. “I’ll wait for you in the living room. Then I’ll take you back to my place, to Josh. Zeke and Sambethe will meet us there.”

“Okay. I’ll be quick.”

She was pulling the dress over her head even as the door closed behind him. Hurrying into the adjoining bathroom, she splashed water on her face and dragged a brush through her bedraggled hair. She needed a shower, but there’d be time for that later.

Turning her back to the mirror, she took a quick peek over her shoulder. Intricate black patterns, like tattoos, formed an upside down V on her back. The sigil between her shoulder blades, like Aidan’s, was black perpetually traced in gold. For a moment, she allowed her eyes to follow the movement. Then she looked away. There’d be time for that later too. Right now, she needed to get dressed.

Not only were her jeans among the clothes Aidan had brought, but so were her socks, bra, and panties. She offered a silent thanks to whoever had washed them and to Aidan for his thoughtfulness in bringing them to her. After she’d pulled on her jeans, tucking the legs into her boots, which she found on the floor beside the bed, she slipped Aidan’s sweater over her head. It was a black turtleneck, meant to fit snugly, and she was sure it did on Aidan, the ribbed knit outlining his lean muscles. On her, like everything she’d borrowed from him, it was loose and long. It was also clean and warm, and after cuffing the sleeves, she decided it probably looked no worse than a slightly baggy tunic.

When a quick check of her jeans pockets failed to yield an elastic band, she took a step toward the door, resigning herself to loose, messy hair. She stopped when a glint of light from the bedside table caught her eye—the Light-Bringer’s Medallion. She slipped the chain around her neck and tucked it under her borrowed sweater before exiting the room and jogging down the stairs to meet Aidan.

He was sitting on the couch in Zeke’s seldom used formal living room, deep in conversation with Mo, who surged to her feet and tackled Lucky before she could make it through the doorway.

“Those were some of the longest hours of my life, girl! Not that I doubted you or anything, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d really prefer never to have to go through that again.” Mo released Lucky and stepped away from her, a curious reserve passing over her expression. “So, you’re not just human now, right? You’re, like, half-angel or something—what do you call it?”