Page 147 of Stealing Embers
“War?” My eyes grow a size or two. “Ash, you didn’t mention that.”
She throws her hands up, palms facing the ceiling. “Yo, I didn’t know. I don’t have every angel in the codex memorized.”
War. That’s heavy. Shuffling to the couch, I plop down in the space next to Sable and angle toward her.
“Tell me everything you know about him.”
“Hey, why is no one asking me? I’m the one who knows the mighty warrior.” My eyes flick to Tinkle for a brief second before refocusing on Sable.
“Hold up. Your father can’t be a descendent of Camiel. At least not the one I’m thinking of. Camiel is a seraph.”
I glance at Ash. “She’s going to flip.” She nods her agreement. “According to Tinkle, my father isn’t descended from Camiel; my fatherisCamiel.”
It’s Sable and Deacon’s turn to exchange a look. After a beat, Deacon strides over and sits in the chair Laurent vacated. Ash has found her way to the other armchair, so we’re all seated, huddled around the odd little Celestial who has resumed rolling around the table like a soccer ball, haphazardly knocking into teacups and saucers.
Deacon rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “Tell us everything. Start from the beginning.”
“There’s not much to tell.” I take a moment to catch them up on what little information Tinkle provided.
Sable steeples her hands under her chin when I finish the quick recap. “It just can’t be. Not a single seraph angel fell from grace during The Great Battle. And Nephilim are descended from the Fallen. An angel has never sired a child with a human before.”
“Just because it’s never happened before doesn’t mean that it can’t. That’s a weak and rather ignorant argument, don’t you think?”
Tinkle has a bit of a point.
“But you are right about one part. There’s never been a union between an angel of grace and a human.” Matching looks of confusion blanket our faces. Tinkle’s words seem contrary. “Angels can only procreate with the angel-born themselves.”
“Are you just making this stuff up on the spot?” Every detail Tinkle reveals just gets more bizarre.
Tinkle stops his rolling and glares at me. “You make it sound like I’m lying. Celestials are incapable of lying. It’s not in our nature. We only tell truths . . . and occasional half-truths.”
“Well, there you have it,” Deacon declares with a slap of his hand on his thigh. He leans back in the wingback chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “The seraph, Camiel, isn’t your father. The little rodent got some of the details mixed. Maybe Camiel was just tasked with your protection?”
“Who are you calling a rodent? You brute!” Tinkle pops to his feet and puffs out his chest. “CamielisEmberly’s father. He came to me himself the day her mother was murdered and asked me to protect her. And I’ve done my job all these years.”
Every molecule in my body comes to a screeching halt.
Murdered.
My blood turns to sludge in my veins. I can feel it, thick and viscous, as it forces its way through the narrow passageways. Its slow progression pounds in my head like the beating of a bass drum.
Murdered.
I’d given up the dream of finding loving parents years before. Finding out one of them was no longer alive confirmed what I’d always believed to be true, yet still . . .
Murdered.
The word hangs heavy in my heart. “But you said you didn’t know where she was.”
Tinkle blinks up at me. “Because I don’t.”
Sable’s lips are moving, but I can’t make out the words over the drumbeat in my ears. Tinkle has resumed rolling on the table, as if he didn’t just drop a bomb that rocked my whole world. Deacon’s mouth is moving, the space between his eyebrows pinched, but I can’t hear any words.
Daughter of a murdered mother and an angelic father. Who would have thought?
Something takes hold of me and shakes my upper body, snapping me back into the moment. With her hand on my shoulder, Sable’s face is expectant as she waits for my response to her unheard question.
“I asked if you were all right?”