Brotherhood seemed fun.
“Something you need?” Mason asked
“Nope, was just too depressed to go back to the dungeon aka the demon’s house.” He grinned at me then said, “Just in case you weren’t aware that’s where you live.”
“Thanks,” I bit out. “Because I often get confused about my own identity.”
Something sizzled against my skin and then it felt like claws were ripping me from the inside out. I shifted to keep from bringing attention to myself, to the pain, to what was happening inside my own body.
Tarek shrugged. “What are we doing?”
“Reading.” I drew out the word. “If you want to help all you have to do is open one of these,” I slid one of the texts toward his feet and pointed. “And sound out the really hard words.”
He flipped me off.
I ignored it and grabbed another text from the pile.
Nothing about tattoos so far.
Nothing about goddesses cursing demons either.
I cringed just as the air around us started to pulsate. “I hate it when he does that.”
Cassius just appeared in a flurry of purple feathers, jet black hair, and the smell of ambrosia.
With an irritated sigh, I waited for him to sheath his wings. He tucked them back and then they completely disappeared like they were a figment of our imaginations. But we all knew, they were there, each feather was soft with razor sharp edges just pulsing to draw blood.
“I doubt you’ll find anything in these.” He shoved one of the texts away and stared at me, then grabbed my hand. “Incredible.”
“Thanks, I’ve always wanted to hold hands with an angel.”
“Angels and demons,” Ethan said under his breath.
It earned him another sigh.
Was that all I was capable of, then?
My mood darkened just as ice spread through my veins, compliments of the guy still holding my hand like we were minutes away from an awkward prom photo.
“Strange.” Cassius examined my hand closer. “The ice doesn’t chill the tattoo, only the skin around it.”
“So you’re saying I’ll have frostbite everywhere but where I want it?” I nodded. “Fantastic, I’d say it’s been a great day, but…”
Cassius eyes flashed white. “We’ll figure it out. The good news is we have time, remember? We’re at a standstill with The Watchers, and everything seems to have gone back to normal.”
The Watchers were all fallen angels. Wonderful folks with way too much magic and a huge chip on their shoulders. Mason had given them all they’d wanted: the ability to listen to the heavens and hear the music of creation on a daily basis with the promise that if they behaved they’d be reunited once and for all.
It was a wonderful fairy tale I still had trouble believing.
Because if the worst of the worst could be welcomed into heaven.
What exactly did that say about me? About my race?
The thought haunted me.
It made me question everything about myself, everything about the world I knew, and I hated not knowing answers.
“The Watchers,” Mason said in a gruff voice. “One of them may know…”