A Slither of Hope

Book 2 in the Angel Sight Series

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

Copyright © 2014 by Lisa M. Basso

A SLITHER OF HOPE by Lisa M. Basso

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Month9Books, LLC.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Published by Month9Books

Cover designed by Stephanie Mooney

Cover Copyright © 2014 Month9Books

Book 2 in the Angel Sight Series

Chapter One

Rayna

I turned in front of the mirror to examine my wings, hoping that if I angled just so, they’d disappear and never return. Unfortunately, I couldn’t be that lucky. The gray monstrosities protruded from between my shoulder blades and curved up over my shoulders. Still left without much control over them, most of the time they hung out, extending two feet past my arms, and flopping by my sides. The feathers started out small at the top, rounded, almost like soft, downy flower petals, growing in length and layering at the ends. On paper, it would have sounded great. In real life, I looked like a damned pigeon.

Great. Another day in paradise
, I thought to myself while pinning on a long blond wig that had not only seen better days, but had also seen better years.

Life had certainly changed in the last three and a half weeks. Sure, I’d harnessed my ability to see angels as some kind of psycho superweapon, and had helped thwart an evil angel’s plan to align himself with the devil, but what did I get in return? I was an escapee wanted by the Sunflower Serenity Mental Health Clinic, a person of interest wanted by the San Francisco Police Department, and a chick with wings the devil himself wanted in Hell.

I couldn’t be sixteen-year-old Rayna Evans any more. Now I was Lola Penmis, an eighteen-year-old blond with awful bangs who worked at a floral shop-coffee house with no past to speak of.

Kade shoved open the moth-eaten curtains. The glimmer that bounced off my wings flooded our shared bedroom with light, illuminating the dust particles flittering off the drapes. “This is a mistake,” Kade said, shaking his head. “The last thing you need is your friend turning you in.”

I inhaled a furry plume of dust and coughed, waving my hand in front of me. “You say everything I do is a mistake.” I swept across the room, rolling the vacuum behind me.

He collapsed onto the chair by the window. His dark hair, messily slicked back, flipped up behind his ears and at the nape of his neck. “It applies when all your decisions are stupid ones.” He flicked a glance at the vacuum and stretched his long legs lazily in front of him.

This I’m-not-moving attitude of his wasn’t worth fighting. Not today. I ditched the vacuum and returned to the mirror, pushing in another painful bobby pin between my hair and wig.

I caught him in the mirror shielding his eyes from my sparkly wings. He angled one of his own wings in front of the window, positioning the black feathers into the rays to block out the sun. The shimmers dancing across the room cut off, the killjoy smashing my disco ball.

“Gee. Thanks.” I quirked up one side of my lip. “But I haven’t seen Lee since the day he came home from the hospital. I’m going. It’ll be fine. Conversation over.” Almost a month had passed since Azriel, the Fallen angel that wanted to drag me to Hell, went after Lee in an effort to persuade me to go along quietly. “No way I’m bailing on him.”

“Maybe I’ll come too, and you can introduce me as your boyfriend.” His chin was so covered in stubble he looked like he hadn’t shaved in almost a week, and damn if it didn’t highlight that awful smirk on those crazy cute lips.

Instead of continuing to stare—and practically drool—I combed a layer of mascara through my lashes and slicked on a coat of my favorite lavender lip balm. A few stray brown locks caught my attention, peeking out from beneath the cover of blond bangs. “Not a chance. I can handle this.” I tucked the brown away.

“I still don’t see the point of that wig. If people know what you look like, the blond hair isn’t going to magically screw with their heads.” He raised his voice an octave higher and added a thick southern drawl. “I think that’s the girl wanted in questioning for the Stratford Independence suicides. But, wait. No it couldn’t be; she has different-colored hair.”

“Ha.” I feigned a bad laugh. “Why, when you impersonate humans, do you think we’re all from the South?”

He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his neck side to side. “I can’t help it if that’s how you all sound.” He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his wing. The sun had dipped behind the tall building across the street.

At least he didn’t bring up my wings again. While angels and Fallen couldn’t see each other’s wings, apparently both sides could see my smaller version just fine. Which hadn’t sat well with any of us. Always being on high alert, constantly on the look-out for another set of wings wasn’t my idea of fun, but I refused to hide from the world.

I slid the fake ID Kade had acquired from the single shiftiest-looking bum I’d ever seen into my pocket along with my lip balm and burner cell. One I could use for emergencies and ditch if things got hairy.

“So, I’ll see you later then?”

That supremely awkward moment we experienced every time I left the apartment surfaced as I neared the door. The way he watched me, eyes half-lidded, set me on edge. It was as if he was studying me, but not in the usual way people did. He wasn’t searching for the former craziness I swore I still carried around like a sack of potatoes, he was looking for weakness.

After he saved my life—twice—we almost shared an accidental kiss. A few days later, he asked me to move in with him—strictly because I had nowhere else to go. Nearly a month later our friendship was still… odd. In the most uncomfortable way possible.

“I’ll be here.” He stretched a leg over the arm of the chair. “If you need me.”

Yikes.

I made another nervous sound and left, refusing to look back.

***

I rubbed my knuckles together in the hopes a single nerve would fire again, careful not to spill the two hot chocolates in my hands, and I breathed into my violet scarf, trying to avoid the pit of fear in my stomach due to standing just above the freaking bay. My stomach quaked, chest pounding. Why did it have to be water?

The longer I stood staring at the forty-foot-high Christmas tree, the more people gathered around it, ghosting through my wings, leaving me chilled to my soul. To avoid being swallowed by the crowds, I was constantly stepping back and to the left. Freezing cold air blew off the water of the bay surrounding Pier 39, not only cooling the surrounding area, but leaving it damp as well. I bumped my knees together, reminding myself to get a thicker winter jacket with my next paycheck, and make Lee promise I’d never have to meet him anywhere near the bay again. I brushed my arm over the book in my pocket, the one I carried everywhere with me, wishing I could leave my fear behind and lose myself in my favorite story instead of braving the outside world.

A group of men and women, all in red and white Santa hats, took to the stage in front of the massive tree and began singing “Joy to the World”. Red, gold, and silver ornaments twinkled and ribbon bows dripped off the tree that was scheduled to be lit in ten minutes, according to the announcer.

Holding a tree lighting celebration before Thanksgiving seemed odd after the non-festivities both in Safford and at the SS Crazy, where religious holiday celebrations are considered insensitive to the other patients. It must have bumped up the shopping in the area—it certainly drew a crowd.

A hip bumped mine and almost toppled me over. So obviously not in the holiday mood, I turned to scream “watch it”, but found Lee by my side. A black and white snowflake beanie covered up his trademark spiky hair, and his black jeans fit closer to his body than usual. A pair of brand-name shoes covered his feet, plus he had new frameless glasses. Gone were his favorite square black frames, zip-up hoodie, and worn-out Vans. It was official: Lee had been swept away by a T.A.R.D.I.S. and replaced by a hipster.

“I’m glad you showed.” I handed him the H.C. with extra whipped cream. I purposely trucked several blocks out of my way to Ghirardelli Square so when we met I could hand him only the best. “When I posted on your wall, I wasn’t sure.”

“I almost didn’t.”

This whole time I’d been trying to conceal my nervousness, confident that our friendship could withstand anything. Time, mistruths, even death. But now, I got the feeling I was overshooting.

“Okay.”

This is good
, I tried to convince myself.
Honesty is good, and a steppingstone to opening communication, which leads to understanding.
I could still hear Dr. Graham’s therapy sessions in my head.

“Your dad told my mom that you were…”

“Crazy,” I filled in, hardening myself to the unexpected mention of both my dad and my mental status. The burst of coldness from the pier under us chilled my heart a little, too.

Lee’s hand tapped against his favorite drink, the one he hadn’t taken a sip of yet.

He hadn’t even looked me in the eye either. This was a mistake. I should have left him out of this, given us a clean break. He deserved at least that after Azriel’s possession, which nearly caused him to commit suicide.

The carolers finished their song with too many flourishes. Farther down the pier, I could hear a jazz quartet playing… the same freaking song.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asked.

I took a swallow of what was now thick, tepid chocolate. “Because I wanted to start my life over.”

“I get that, at first, but why not tell me later?” In my peripheral, I saw him turn his head to look at me.

“I see angels. That’s why they locked me up. Do you think that’s fair?” After his run-in with Azriel, Lee had admitted to seeing his wings. Though there was no telling if that had been wiped from his mind somehow or if it had been suppressed. It was still a pretty big shocker to deal with.

“I…uh, guess not.”

That didn’t really tell me if he remembered or not, so I went on, “And I’m assuming you know the cops want me for questioning.” Of the three successful suicides at my former high school, I was still a person of interest wanted for questioning in two of the cases. Allison Woodward, who I found the day Cam arrived, and Cassie Waters, the night of the Halloween dance. When she pressed a gun to her temple on the roof of Stratford Independence—and pulled the trigger—right before Az swooped me up and tried to sacrifice me to Hell.

“Yeah, they came by, and urged Mom and I to call if you tried to get in contact.”

Worry fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird. I used the breeze, angling my wig so it would cover more of my face. I darted a gaze in every direction, searching for any possible sign of the boys in blue, but there were too many people and the sun was quickly setting, darkening the sky.

“Don’t worry. You saved my life. I wouldn’t turn you in.”

I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“But I should warn you—” he started, but couldn’t finish.

“Hey.” Gina Garson waved at us, gracefully maneuvering through the increasingly large crowd beside us. “Sorry, the line for the bathroom was major,” she spoke to Lee. Only to Lee. The sweater she wore hung loose, but I could still see a small bump in her stomach. “Really good to see you, Rayna. And nice hair.”