Shadowdance(122)

The man who stood before them was of a similar height and build to Jack, his features stamped with the strong lines of a Roman coin. But that was where all trace of humanity ended. His skin was silver-white, translucent yet not, as if he were made of cut crystal. Even his hair, which curled about his temples, was brilliant silver. Most unnerving of all were the shimmering white wings that made two graceful arcs from behind his broad shoulders. The man let them look their fill, then smiled. A genuine gesture that seemed almost fond. “Master Talent.” His crystalline gaze shot to Mary. “Mistress Chase.” It was a voice so rich in timber that it shivered with power. “I am Augustus.”

“Doesn’t quite help me out, mate,” Jack snapped, his fists clenching. Mary knew him well enough now to understand that his protective instincts had been roused the moment Augustus spotted her.

However, Augustus’s friendly smile grew. His form shimmered, and he became a dark-haired, dark-eyed man who might have been an Italian. “In one life,” the man went on, “I was known as Marcus Augustus, Roman soldier and reprobate.” He shrugged, looking almost sheepish. “I lost all memory of myself for a while back then. However, I believe you’d best know me as Mr. Augustus Maximus.” That strange, almost beguiling smile returned. “After all, we are both members of the same society.”

“I don’t know any regulator by that name,” Jack said with a scowl.

“No, I don’t suppose you would, as I am not a regulator.” He took a small step forward. “My dear Poppy Lane calls me Father.”

Not Poppy’s father, but Father.

Jack gave a start. “You’re Father?” The enigmatic founder and head of the SOS.

He made a neat bow. “The very one.”

“Where have you been?”

A good question. According to Poppy, he disappeared for long stretches at a time.

“Here and There,” Father said. “There are three main planes of existence for my kind. Here, There, and Nowhere, which is the place your kind calls Hell. I might further explain it to you one day, but for now I’d rather discuss you.”

“And why would you do that?” Jack asked.

“Because we are blood.”

At this Jack straightened. And Mary eased closer. Something deep within said to trust this man. But that wouldn’t stop her from keeping up her guard.

“All angels are what you might consider blood relatives. My true name is Ramiel. Though I’d rather you call me Augustus. It feels fitting somehow when I am Here,” he mused.

Jack gave Mary a quick glance. “A Watcher,” he said. “One of the fallen angels.”

“We did not fall,” said Augustus. “We arrived. To be with man.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “A rather good choice, if you ask me. But it is true that all of the so-called fallen are cursed in one manner or another.”

Though Mary was not in her flesh, a shiver seemed to run through her spirit. She’d thought angels would be something less than human, something terrifying and menacing. Wrath of God and all that. But this man, he was more human than any supernatural Mary had ever come across. Every nuance of emotion expressed itself on his face and shone brightly in his now-dark eyes.

“I know your sire,” he said to Jack in a voice laced with gentleness.

Jack tensed, and Mary knew he loathed to show any hint that he cared. But he did. The child in him would. Even if the man had accepted his past. “I’ve heard that claim before. Forgive me if I do not jump to plead for the answer.”

Augustus shook his head slightly. “From Amaros, the cursed one. He is troubled.”

“An understatement.”

Augustus leaned against the iron balustrade. “For a fallen, it is quite easy to discern who your father is. For there is only one angel who has the gift of true healing. Raphael.”

Jack laughed then, an uncomfortable and incredulous sound. “Raphael? He’s a bloody archangel, not a fallen.”

“Debatable,” said Augustus with a small smile. “Regardless, there are only two beings in existence that possess healing blood. Raphael. And you.”

Jack’s lids lowered, his lashes hiding his eyes. But his shoulders tensed, and Mary rested her hand there. He would only feel the chill of her spirit, but even so he leaned closer as if he needed that contact. “What is he like?” Jack asked softly.

“He is impetuous. Full of life. Creating you was a mistake on Raphael’s part.” Augustus noticed Jack’s scowl and smiled. “A mistake in that he lay with Angela Talent, a woman who had no notion of what he was. He never took into account how fragile her mind might be.”