Wings of Redemption (7 page)

“Yeah.”

Cherie led Saffron away with a hand on her shoulder. Saffron glanced back with a lingering grin.

The humans disappeared through a wooden door. Kestrel paced. What would Cherie find? Would she give Saffron a clean bill of health? Would a definitive cause for alarm be better than remaining in the dark?

“You all right?”

Kestrel turned and faced his Guardian, who’d stepped out of nowhere, as usual. “They’re discussing her medical history.” He pressed a finger to his temple. “I can still hear her every word.”

“I asked if
you
were okay.”

Kes stared at the wooden door. “Of course I am.”

“Right, sure. Why the white-knuckled fists, then?” The demon moved closer and leaned his shoulder against the wall. After a quiet moment, he said, “I overheard the conversation in the café.”

“Privacy, Dec.”

“Not a lot of room in that building.” The Guardian lifted a single shoulder in a non-apologetic shrug. “I need to admit that one of the reasons I reacted so strongly yesterday is I know you’ve been considering taking an early out, one day.”

“I’ve never told you that.”

“I’ve seen the way you look into the storm clouds. What I never realized was that you thought your father flew into that storm on purpose.”

Kestrel stretched some tension out of his wings.

“It really was an accident, Kes,” Dec said.

“How can you possibly know?”

“Because he was in the middle of making big plans for your three-hundredth birthday.”

Kestrel shut his eyes. “
What?
”

“The entire reason he was out that day was to invite the archangels who lived outside the colony, including a female he was hell bent on setting you up with.”

A humorless laugh escaped Kestrel’s throat. He scrubbed his face with the heels of his hands. “That sounds like Dad.”

“The last thing I wanted was for you to feel any guilt over the accident. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I didn’t want you to feel at all responsible for his death.”

“Make it up to me by not giving up on my sorry ass?”

Dec smiled. “I’ll be here. It’d be cruel to sentence someone else to the likes of you.”

“Thank you.” Kestrel lifted his wing and brushed the demon’s arm, a symbol of trust he extended to very few.

“You and the girl have gotten quite cozy.”

“She’s…” Kes shook his head. “Irresistible.”

“She’s lovely and she puts up with you. Cue the Hallelujah chorus. I’d vote you keep her, if she were anyone else.”

Chapter Seven

Saffron sat on a padded examination table in what could have been a doctor’s office in any hospital in the country—save for the clay replica of a fanged humanoid skull. The scent of sanitation chemicals annoyed her, as did the ugly anatomy posters. However, Dr. Cherie had been efficient and compassionate. Now, they only needed to wait for the results of a few tests.

The wait would be short. Unlike in a human hospital, there was no
system
to complicate matters. No “we’ll call you in a week.” Instead, just “Hang in there, sweetie, I’m going to look at the CAT scan and blood work results. I’ll be right back.”

Dr. Cherie had confirmed what Saffron already knew—she seemed healthy. However, some things could only be found through tests.

Saffron rubbed her sweating palms on her cotton exam gown. She’d never had to wait for possible bad news before. All trips to the doctor had been routine physicals. Suddenly, the room seemed too small and the air too stuffy. Unable to sit still, she slid off the table, only to pitch into the counter when her knees refused to support her weight.

She couldn’t wait in here alone, but she had no idea how to get back to the foyer. She’d been in and out of several rooms for the tests. Time to put the psychic talent to work. She whispered, “Kes?”

She waited a moment, leaning back against the counter, gripping the edge with shaking fingers. The clock on the wall ticked loud enough to hurt her ears. “Kes.”

A soft knock reached her ears, as did the voice she was hoping for. “Saffron?”

“Come in.”

The door opened and Kestrel shouldered his way through, his wings tight to his body. He stood in the small space like an eagle stuffed into a canary cage.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and collapsed against his chest. “Waiting for test results. I just needed company. Sorry.”

His warm hands smoothed down her back. “No need to apologize.”

She found it easy to let go of her sense of dread, focusing instead on the rise and fall of his chest and the scent of post-storm air that clung to his shirt from their flight to the medical center. She let out a heavy exhale and the small, downy feathers that cradled his arm danced in her breath.

“Doesn’t that tickle?”

“Huh?”

“Your feathers. The backs of my arms are so ticklish, I’d never be able to tolerate—”

He lifted his hands and brushed the tips of his fingers over the spot in question. She should have seen that coming. She yelped and tried to wiggle free, but he locked her against him with his arms around her middle. Then, damn him, he folded his wings forward and swept his feathers up the back of her body.

She struggled, half laughing, half screaming, as he repeated the torture with his wings several times. He stopped and covered her mouth with his before she could catch her breath. His face was taut from suppressed laughter.

“Never tell an archangel you’re ticklish,” he said.

“Noted.”

“It’s too late for you, my dear.” He kissed her again.

A knock on the door interrupted. “Is everything okay in there?”

Saffron stepped back and smoothed her hair. “Yeah, come in.”

Cherie entered the room with a folder under her arm and one eyebrow arched behind a pair of reading glasses. She looked from Saffron to Kestrel. “Well, don’t you look smug?”

Kestrel shrugged and pulled Saffron to his side. “Did you find anything, Cherie?”

“Yes.”

Saffron tensed and the dread returned in full force.

Cherie’s expression softened. “It’s treatable.”

Saffron sagged. Kestrel rubbed her shoulders.

“You have an aortic aneurysm. The condition is more typical in older humans, but can occur in youth, especially when a defect is present from birth, which I believe to be the case here. For an aneurysm of this size on the largest artery in the body, surgery is essential to prevent rupture, which would cause fatal internal bleeding. With surgery, however, your prognosis is excellent.”

Kestrel’s arms came around her from behind. She let her head fall back against his shoulder.
Prognosis is excellent.
However, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling she’d had since breakfast.

“You’re certain it’s a good prognosis?” she asked Cherie. “If Kestrel’s hearing my voice in his head…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.

“You’ll be fine
only
if you get the surgery. Your condition will be fatal if untreated. Given that these aneurysms often lack symptoms, Kestrel certainly saved your life.”

Even though she faced surgery, she managed a smile. “Thank you.”

“Can the surgery be done here?” Kestrel’s arms tightened.

“Preferably not,” Cherie said. “I have minimal experience with the procedure. Same for the other doctors on staff. Aneurysms simply don’t occur in the demon or archangel population. Saffron, who is your primary physician?”

She gave the name of the doctor and the hospital.

“I’ll pass my results on to them. Expect the surgery to be scheduled before the week is out. We’ll see to transportation.”

“What about risk of rupture in the meantime?” Saffron dropped her hands to her middle, which concealed the hidden aneurysm.

“Avoid heavy lifting or anything with harsh contact, like boxing. Otherwise, go about your normal activities. I encourage you not to shy away from exercise, as it is far more beneficial than harmful. Sex is fine, too.” She cleared her throat. “If I understand Kestrel’s talent correctly, he should stop hearing your voice now that we’ve set a solution in motion. If not, there’s a likelihood of impending rupture and we’ll resort to emergency surgery here.”

Saffron fought a wave of nausea. “Can I go home? I’d be close enough to the hospital for emergency surgery there.” She spoke the words even as she hoped Cherie would insist she stay. Once she left the colony, she’d certainly never be able to come back. She squeezed Kes’s hand.

“I’d rather you stay here where Kestrel can detect changes at any time. However, the decision is yours.”

“I’ll stay.” She craned her neck and met Kestrel’s gaze. “Can I call Thyme and tell her what’s going on?”

“As soon as we get back to the tower.”

Cherie smiled. “Good. Kestrel, would you please step outside?”

Kestrel left and the door shut behind him. Saffron shivered without his body against hers. She sat on the exam table.

“Do you have any other questions for me?”

“A million.”

“All right. First, count to ten out loud.”

Saffron counted.

Cherie turned toward the door and shouted, “Kes?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Kes called back.

“Excellent.” Cherie touched Saffron’s shoulder.

The relief hit so hard, Saffron buried her face in her hands and cried. Though far from okay, at least she had Kestrel—the archangel who shouldn’t have cared about her, but did.

…

If she were anyone else.

Kestrel shoved Dec’s words aside and focused on the matter at hand, namely not flying into a building in his distraction. Now that would be an embarrassing way to die. He could see the headline now:

Idiot Archangel Flies into Building Thinking about Female. Does Species Proud.

In much need of some flight time, he’d left Saffron to shower. He’d made a couple trips between the business district and the tower, stocking his home with a variety of food. Now, he just circled. He beat his wings and flew higher, away from the buildings and into open sky.

He wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the wide swath of blue between storms. Nal streaked over with her cardinal-red wings, circled him, and shot off down the valley. Rave, with his raven-black plumage, ascended and flew at Kes’s side. Onyx, Rave’s recently fledged daughter, flew to their left, struggling but holding her own with the strong drafts that made the forest canopy below them sway.

Kestrel had never had the strong desire to be a parent—he couldn’t contemplate raising a child without envisioning how he’d explain to him or her the species’ plight, or worse, wondering if the young would end up on the planet alone, the last of the race. A small part of him regretted not having children, but the idea of giving a child such a burden caused him pain.

However, he couldn’t begrudge Eden’s mated pairs. He envied them. They refused to give up on survival or on family. They were simply braver than he.

Rave—Eden’s lone telepath save for his young daughter—turned his head to the side and stared at Kes with an expression of pure shock.

No, we’re not brave. We’re terrified. You’re not alone in that pain.
The other archangel projected his bass voice directly into Kes’s mind, the infiltration accompanied by a physical sensation much like the air pressure change during a swift descent from a high-altitude flight. Not painful, but noticeable.

Kes swallowed and nodded. He’d never admit to fear out loud. With the telepath, honesty was the only option.

Speaking of honesty, what the hell is going on with you and the Morin woman?

Giving Rave a careful answer was impossible. His thoughts and emotions sped through his mind, everything bare to the other archangel in a matter of seconds. At least he was used to it, and Rave had never, in the three hundred years Kestrel had known him, betrayed anyone’s trust.

Kestrel punctuated the mental-stripping with a firm thought:
Her family doesn’t define her.

That’s tough to swallow, Kes.

Yes, it was. Why was that so easy to forget in her presence?

I have to agree, if she were anyone else, this would be something to celebrate.

This?

Crush. Lust. Infatuation—

Infatuation? No, no way. It’s nothing that serious.

Right. Whatever you want to call it. I’m happy for you, for what it’s worth. You needed a little air in your lungs.

“She’ll be gone in a few days,” Kestrel muttered.

That’s for the best. By the way, Virgil wants me to meet her before she leaves.

Why?

To get all the details of the Morin mansion, of course. Her parents’ schedules. Anything and everything she knows. With that information, the Guardians can plan an effective assassination.

A wave of anger on Saffron’s behalf flooded Kestrel’s system, followed by shame directed at himself, and then resolve. No infatuation trumped his own species.

We’d all be a lot safer with the Morins dead. My daughter would be safer.

Kestrel shook his head. The Morins weren’t singularly responsible for the poachers. There were plenty of other Collectors around the world.

True, but anything is better than nothing, especially in our own backyard, and it’s a chance to destroy the feathers and put our loved ones to rest.

Too right, on all counts. “Stop by any time.”

I will. Be well, friend.

Rave banked and escorted his daughter back toward the colony.

Kes glided for a few more minutes, letting his mind blank to all but the wind over his body. When the sun stained the western horizon orange and red, he turned, increased his pace, and headed for the clock tower.