Angela stopped at a picture of the same angel with black wings and long ears. Unlike the real angels, its eyes were larger and its feet and hands had horrible-looking nails.
It was eating a human.
She skimmed the sentences below the gruesome image.
It has been learned through consistent and most excellent sources that these creatures are perhaps the most dangerous of the angelic races. Violent and prone to bloodlust, they have been cited in many cultures as the devourers of human souls, though how this is possible is not entirely known.
Angela turned the page, fearful of what might show up next.
This time the Jinn in the illustration hovered possessively over a human woman. Below, a black cat inked with yellow eyes stared back at her above a new caption.
Regrettably, it has been proven through various instances in history that the children of such union s exist, despite the majority being killed in their infancy. To prevent such a misdeed, often the witch will use a Binding contract to control her lover’s actions, ignoring the fact that this usually leads to tragic circumstances. It has been well said that Jinn, in all their promises, are never to be completely trusted.
She proceeded to read the formula for the Binding, thinking of the gargoyles she’d seen on the mansion rooftops, and how similar they looked to these mysterious Jinn. It made sense. If angels and demons could be depicted with a fair measure of accuracy, then it was entirely possible an artist could chisel out these horrors with a nasty—if much cruder—kind of detail.
No wonder Kim had skipped over this section.
The more Angela browsed, the more the silence seemed to weigh on her, darkness wrapping around her like a thick quilt.
Without warning, there was a loud knock on the door.
Angela’s heart could have shot out of her chest. She gasped, slapping the book closed on her lap. “Who—who is it?”
“It’s me. Sophia. Is it all right if I come in?”
Thank God.
“Yeah. Go ahead.”
The door popped open and Sophia stepped inside, gently shutting it behind her again. She was carrying a small plate of crackers and cheese.
“You scared me,” Angela said, sinking into the bed, her face burning. She pointed at the dresser. “Set it over there. I’m not really that hungry right now.”
“If only I’d known.” Before setting the plate down, Sophia took a cracker for herself and nibbled on its corners. She then made her way to the window seat, passing a picture of the beautiful angel Angela had put on display for Kim. It was an oil portrait with darker colors than she commonly used, most of the image focusing on the angel’s heavy-lidded eyes and enticing smile.
Sophia paused in front of it, suddenly somber.
“I really didn’t think your visitor would be gone so soon,” she said, still examining the picture.
Angela slid the book off her lap, setting it on the floor. That last sensation of Kim’s lips on hers tingled inside of her, forbidden and unmentionable. Somehow, it felt like he’d left only a second ago. “I was tired. Really, I just had a few questions about things, and after that—”
“Questions,” Sophia said, adjusting the ribbon at the end of her braid. “About what?”
“Well . . .” Angela flipped back the covers from her legs. “What did you mean when you said that Stephanie couldn’t be ‘the One’?”
Sophia froze, her fingers still on her hair. “It was nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Angela whispered back. “You were talking about Her, weren’t you? The Ruin. The Archon.”
Sophia whirled on her. “Who mentioned that name?”
But she was too delicate to be intimidating, and Angela continued, vaguely aware that she was treading in even more forbidden territory. “Why do you know it? I’ve just learned that the Archon is supposedly the reincarnation of a pissed-off, dead angel. And no matter how ridiculous that might sound, I can’t help but wonder what Stephanie’s power trip and my dreams have to do with all that.”
The quiet lingered, and for once, Sophia seemed genuinely upset with her. She was trembling. “I told you earlier that it’s not a good idea to toy around with Stephanie. Whoever’s toying with you”—and her face suggested she already knew Kim had his hands all over Angela’s face—“I hope they’ll show how much they really care and let the matter rest.”
“Why don’t you want me to help you?”
“That has nothing to do with it,” Sophia said gently.
She wavered, reluctant to leave the room. But when it became clear Angela would ask more questions, she took the plate away and whisked out into the hallway, leaving for her own room. Angela listened to her soft footsteps and the creak of the mattress, the click of the lamp. Then it fell silent, and Angela cursed under her breath, angry for them both. This was all Stephanie’s fault.