Page 149 of Stealing Embers
“They really do need to raise the bar at this institution.” Sable shoots Tinkle a slanted look that he ignores. “He would only take a mate from the more fearsome line fighters, of course.”
“Cherubs?” I guess
“Maybe powers?” Ash adds.
Deacon crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “Could be archangels.”
Tinkle rests his tiny head in his tiny paws. “Imbeciles, all of you.”
“Is he always so complimentary?” Deacon asks.
“We’ve heard worse.”
“I’m talking about the Nephilim who are the most highly-trained and impressive of all when it comes to battle.” We all just stare, waiting for him to get to the point. “The angel line.”
It’s quiet for a beat, and then everyone starts talking over each other. Deacon accuses Tinkle of fabricating details. Sable nerds out and regurgitates what little she knows about the fabled Nephilim line. Ash lobs questions at no one in particular.
It’s a lot of noise for only a few people. As their voices climb, I don’t react. At least not outwardly. Inside, my synapses are going off like fireworks.
Daughter of a seraph and angel Nephilim. A phrase that wouldn’t have made sense to me a few months ago, but is now my new reality.
“I know what we have to do.” I’m not loud, but the others go instantly quiet. Three sets of light, angel-born eyes and the black orbs of the Celestial fix on me. A tar pit of apprehension bubbles in my gut. Chances are I’m setting myself up for more heartache and pain, but there’s only one way to get to the bottom of these mysteries.
“We need to find my father.”
Epilogue
Steel
Ijolt up in bed, throat raw from shouting in my sleep. The thin, scratchy sheet I pulled over me before falling asleep is twisted around my legs.
Sweat doesn’t just bead on my chest, it streams down in rivulets. My hair is so saturated, I could shake drops off like a dog.
As the last vestiges of the nightmare dissipate, my brain tricks me into thinking I can smell sweet honeysuckle and taste the warm cinnamon of her skin on my tongue.
It’s torture, but I close my eyes and hold on to the senses until they fade.
When they do, my muscles are a shaking mess of Jell-O.
I stumble out of the ratty twin bed and lurch to the bathroom. I’m on my knees in front of the toilet before the nausea churning in my gut bubbles up my throat.
I know the drill.
Her spicy taste is wiped from my mouth after I expel a liquid mess of bile and half-digested food. Now all I can smell is my own sickness.
I flush the toilet and watch the vomit circle the bowl before being swallowed.
On shaky legs, I pull myself into the shower stall and turn the water on. The pipes sputter and groan before giving up chilly water.
This place is a dump. Maybe next time I’ll spring for the full-star motel instead of a half-star.
From experience I know it’ll be a few minutes for the spray to heat, but the cold is good for me. It wakes me up and chases the dreams away.
The visions. They started months ago, well before Emberly entered my life, but her presence sure did amplify them.
They’d been beautiful at first. I’d wake with hazy memories of a golden-winged goddess. My heart ached for her at the same time it soared. I was drawn to that beautiful creature like I’d never been to anything else.
And then, as if by a miracle, she appeared to me in the flesh.