But Troy was a Jinn, and one of the toughest. His exorcisms could ward her off, temporarily weaken her, even send her back to Hell for a short time. But he’d never be able to kill her. It would take a demon, an angel, or something unimaginable to accomplish that.
“Do you want me to thank you?” she said, snarling coldly.
Fury spiraled down and landed on her shoulder, pecking at the earring near her neck, its metal crow’s foot scratching into her skin. Troy batted her away, and even in the wetness, her nails looked lacquered with bright red.
Angel blood.
She licked them clean and spat onto the cobblestones. Her entire body shook. “If—you—ever even think of using that ward on me—”
“Consider us even. A life for a life.” He stepped around her, eager to get inside the church and keep Angela from killing herself prematurely.
Whump.
Troy landed in front of him, blocking off his escape. She was very close, her yellow eyes almost hypnotizing him with their inner fire, and her breath blew back in his face, pushing the wet hairs from his cheeks. “For now,” she said, through lips tinted with the blood from her nails, “you live and speak your mind. But remember that your miracle won’t happen more than once. I could have let them kill you, Sariel.” She smiled cruelly. “But my pride couldn’t stand seeing anyone else’s teeth in your spine.”
“And if Israfel beats you to it? He is a Supernal.”
Troy paused, her ears perking. She’d either heard something he could not, or Israfel’s name had a unique way of disgusting her.
Then she regarded him again and laughed. She was beating her wings, ready to enter the cathedral at the moment when she’d be least expected or wanted, which seemed to be every other second of the day. “I’d worry more about your mates tearing each other apart. It will be entertaining, at least.”
He gripped his knife, heading for the doors of St. Mary’s. It was going to be very entertaining when she saw how mercilessly he could clip a bird’s wings.
Kim licked his blade clean, relishing the blood in spite of himself.
Especially a bird of God.
Twenty-six
Most beautiful of all creatures, was the Star of the Morning. And the eye that gazed upon him already grasped its heart’s desire.
—UNKNOWN AUTHOR, A Collection of Angelic Lore
Israfel was staring at Brendan like they’d never met before.
His eyes were so large and beguiling, Angela clenched Sophia’s hand in a death grip, afraid she would abandon her soul for the sake of another kiss.
Sophia must have sensed the conflict. Breathing heavily, she yanked Angela closer, like they’d belonged to each other for years.
The angel regarded them both with a quick glance, a lovely smile.
Then, for Brendan, his face became unexpectedly apologetic. Thunder and rain erupted through the broken windows, merely highlighting the soft strength of his voice.
“I’m sorry, Brendan.”
Angela’s brother stopped laughing, and he became so still, Naamah could have killed him already. The demon, too, was in shock, as if Israfel had just told her he was ready to kneel at Lucifel’s feet and kiss them.
“What do you mean?” Brendan said, his voice cracking. He was sweating, almost writhing in between words, like Israfel’s mere presence was enough to make him lose control. There was an unnerving wantonness to it all. “Israfel—my angel—”
Israfel didn’t react.
“Kill her. Do it. Burn her.” Brendan pointed at Stephanie. “The witch! Burn her!”
Stephanie stood still, blank in the face and silent. Israfel could snap her neck with a blink of his eyes, and yet he was turning on the person who’d brought him there in the first place. Then, a silvery light circled the angel’s head in a halo of energy. His ears changed, their upper rims growing, slipping between his hair and lengthening into delicate but feathery sickles. Wings. These were another pair of wings, and he tested their muscles, fanning air through the white tendrils near his cheeks.
When he spoke again, his voice was resigned. “Are you ready to go?”
“You promised.” Brendan sank to his knees, but Naamah kept a grip on his hair. She seemed as disturbed as everyone else, her hard eyes never leaving Israfel. “I gave you MY SOUL. MY SOUL.”
The echo could have lasted forever.
His soul? Kim had warned Angela about that kind of idiocy.
Now she was witnessing it firsthand.
Israfel’s loveliness seemed to grow, like he’d calculated it the best way to torture Brendan even further. Angela could see it with a detail that struck her painfully inside. She had envisioned those eyes for so long, the slightest change in them stood out like ink on snow.