Page 91 of Stealing Embers
“Have you looked your fill yet?”
With a squawk, I jerk away from Steel.
Losing my balance, I tip over onto my butt. My wings flare wide, sending pebbles and red dust swirling around us.
We both start coughing from inhaling mouthfuls of the dirty air.
“I’m not sure there’s a right answer to that question,” I force out between hacks.
“What happened?” Twisting my torso, I see Deacon jump down from his perch and race to us. Looks like someone finally decided to phase into the spectrum world with us.
The spectrum sky is a pale pink with a lazy river of orange running through it. Delicate snowflakes of frosty purple start falling from the sky by the time he joins us.
Deacon bends over to help Steel to his feet.
Once he is vertical again, Steel brushes a hand through his hair to shake out some of the dust as a few lingering coughs leave his chest. Gingerly moving his limbs, he checks for injuries.
“I’m a bit banged up, but I think it’s all superficial.”
“What happened?” Deacon repeats, trading looks between us when I join them on more even ground.
My wings are so long, the ends brush the earth. I hike them up as best I can to keep them clean. Why that matters, I don’t know.
“Rockslide? Avalanche? I’m not sure what you call it. There used to be a jutting ledge right there.” I indicate the spot I’d dragged Steel from. “The boulder just cracked and then buried Steel.”
Deacon’s eyes appraise the mess. “What boulder?”
Steel’s curious eyes take in the rock pile, no doubt noticing it’s mostly comprised of stones the size of our heads or smaller.
“Oh, right.” I bring a hand to my forehead and itch along my hairline, bringing my cuffed bicep into view. Looking down, I realize I’m in my full golden garb and armed to the teeth.
I suppose that makes sense. It’s what happened the last time I sprouted wings.
“I kinda . . . blew up the boulder that fell.”
Deacon’s gaze swivels and narrows on me. “Blew up?”
“Yeah, I shot a fire ball or something out of my hand and poof, the rock sorta disintegrated.” Whipping my hands up, I hold them palms-up. “And before you ask, I have no idea how I did that.” I swipe a hand up and down in front of me, gesturing to all my gilded greatness. “Or this.”
“You look like you did before.”
Steel’s body isn’t quite angled toward me, but he’s not quite turned away either. His gaze is lasered in on something over my shoulder, but when I sneak a peek behind me, I don’t see anything all that interesting.
Purple snowflakes are starting to gather in Steel’s and Deacon’s hair, and it’s only then I realize I’m not cold at all.
Reaching up, I pat my own head to find it wet rather than snow-dusted.
Strange.
“But you did manage to morph, that’s good news.” Deacon studies me with the detached eye of a teacher. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like this. As you know, some Nephilim do manifest wings in the spirit realm when they reach full maturity, but I’ve never seen any like yours. And the armor that morphs with you . . .” He lets the sentence drop as he walks a slow circle around me.
Well, this is awkward.
“I think Steel triggered the morph,” he concludes.
“What? What would Steel have to do with this?”
Deacon stops circling me and plants his hands on his hips. “I’m not saying it was Steel, himself. I mean that you needed to help him. It was the same before. Maybe your urge to protect is the key, or at least part of it.”