A Gift of Wings (32 page)

The oracle kept silent for a moment before acceding, “Yes, it is possible. But I do not believe it likely.”

“Understood,” Kev said. “Can you determine why the girl is so important in this?”

Again, Aidan interrupted. “Lucky! Her name is Lucky. She’s not just ‘the girl’!”

Shaking her head, Sambethe replied to Kev’s question as if Aidan hadn’t spoken. “No, Kevin, I do not know why—only that she is. As is,” and here she directed a raised eyebrow at Aidan, “the obstinate, young half-Seraph.”

Aidan sighed. He really had to learn to control himself around her. When his half-brother caught his eye, his expression held equal parts amusement, reprimand, and sympathy.

“Yes,” Kev responded to the oracle. “And isn’t it possible that
he
is enough? We have always known that Aidan’s Gift grants him powers greater than those of most Nephilim—should he choose to use them.” He looked back at Aidan, and this time there was no amusement in his eyes.

Aidan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling as if he’d been scolded once again.

But when Kev continued speaking, Aidan heard his half-brother’s words with pleased surprise. “And I, for one, am sure that he will. He has agreed to step in as second in command of the Forces, and his training is going even better than we expected. I have no doubt that he will use all his powers to combat whatever threat we face.”

When he finished speaking, everyone at the table looked at Aidan. Realizing they were waiting for him to confirm or negate Kev’s words, he nodded, clearing his throat. “Of course. I will do whatever is necessary.”

“While that is a relief to hear,” Sambethe replied, “it changes nothing. We need both Aidan and the girl.” She turned toward Zeke and spoke in a voice that allowed no further argument. “Ezekiel, you must convince the girl to undergo the Making. There can be no other choice in this matter. Too much hangs in the balance.”

The angel closed his eyes. When he replied, his low, resonating voice held all the weight of his millennia of responsibility. “I will talk to her.”

Aidan bolted to his feet and headed for the door, the discordant scraping of his chair legs on the tile floor his final expression of disagreement. If any of them tried to call him back, he didn’t hear them; he was too deep in his own anger and fear. He managed to resist the urge to slam the door behind him, but he clenched his fists and his jaw as his long strides ate the distance to the training center’s outer exit.

As soon as the exit door closed, he cursed and slammed his fist into the building’s stone wall. The resulting pain in his hand gave him some much-needed focus, and he smiled in bitter satisfaction when he saw that the force of his blow had caused tiny cracks to radiate out from the point of impact. Staring at the cracks, he felt his smile take on an ironic curve as he recognized the opportunity he had created for himself. This was about as safe a test case as he could get.

Concentrating his attention on the cracks, the vulnerability at their center, and the essence of the stone itself, he drew on the part of his Gift he kept hidden even from himself and opened his mouth. The note that issued forth sounded no more like music than had his chair legs against the tile floor. It was gritty like stone and pitched at a point of discomfort for even his own ears. As he held the note, he felt it entwine with the stone of the wall, the frequencies that made up the sound reaching into the stone to open its molecular structure, so that it flowed into the open spaces of the cracks and then knit itself back together, healing that which he had broken. He did not make a conscious decision to stop singing. It was as if the note itself knew when its work was complete and dissolved into silence.

Aidan rested his fingertips against the stone, once again smooth and crack-free. It felt warm to his touch, and he flattened his palm against it, holding it there as the heat of creation faded away. He was in awe of the power he was capable of summoning, knew he could take no personal credit for it, knew that it was indeed a Gift—and knew it was a double-edged sword. The power to create was linked to the power to destroy, so much so that the two were flip-sides of the same coin. His Gift was one that required great care in its wielding. He had learned that lesson the hard way—and the result had been the Renunciation of his wings and the suppression of the greater part of his Gift.

Now, he had to stop suppressing his ability and learn to control it. If he could take on the wings again and accept a position as second, he could do this too. He knew with an absolute certainty that came from a place deep inside him—as deep as the source of his power—that he could never master the Gift. Its power derived from the awesome force of creation itself—wild and primal, beautiful and terrifying—and it wasn’t meant to be mastered. But it could be directed and focused, channeled, if treated with the proper respect. As he let his fingers fall from the stone, he realized that the fear with which he had so long regarded his Gift was fading away—and that the space created by its retreat was gradually filling with a sense of rightness and responsibility. This was who he was; it was about time he accepted it.

CHAPTER 21

The sound of a ringtone jolted Lucky awake. She had huddled in a knot of misery in the corner of the couch until she had fallen asleep. Now, she felt dazed, disconnected, as she pushed away the throw she had pulled over herself for warmth and fumbled around for her cell phone. She finally located it on the floor by the far end of the couch. Seeing that the call was from Aidan, she accepted it just before he would have been dumped into voicemail.

“Hi,” she said, with far less than her usual enthusiasm.

“Hey,” came his voice in reply, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Almost everything.” Lucky felt the prick of tears at the backs of her eyes. “I’ll fill you in later. I don’t think I can talk about it right now.”

“Okay.”

Lucky could almost feel the force of Aidan’s need to question her further, but he only asked if she was still up for the show that evening. When she said she was, he suggested he come over a little earlier than they had planned, so they’d have more time to talk. Lucky welcomed the idea; she was tired of being alone.

After Aidan had signed off with a “See you soon,” it occurred to Lucky to wonder what time it was. Checking her phone, she realized she’d have just enough time to shower and get ready before he arrived. She needed a shower, if only to wash away the remains of her tear-fest. Her eyes were hot and sandy, and the skin over her cheekbones felt tight from the salty residue of her tears.

The steamy shower went a long way toward reviving her. As the hot water sluiced over her head and shoulders, it carried away not only the physical marks of her tears but also the deep despair that had filled her. Aidan was coming to pick her up, and she would see both Josh and Mo at the show. Sure, things might be a little rocky between her and Mo, but they could work through it. She’d figure out a better way to integrate her two worlds. And she’d just have to ask Uncle Matthew or Aunt Beth about her mother. Maybe she could even talk to G-Ma—if she caught her on a more lucid day. With the clearing of her head came the understanding that none of them would have lied to hurt her. Misguided or not, they had kept the truth from her in order to protect her—much like she was keeping the truth from Josh and Mo. Lying didn’t necessarily stem from a lack of love; sometimes love was the strongest motivator of all.

Shower complete, Lucky pulled on her best skinny black jeans, which she tucked into a pair of tall black boots and paired with a soft gray scoop-neck sweater with elbow-length sleeves. She slipped the Light-Bringer’s Medallion under the neckline of her sweater and covered most of the chain with a jade green scarf she wrapped around her neck. Surveying herself in the mirror, she decided the result wasn’t bad. At least, the scarf accented the color of her eyes.

She was just about to pull her hair up into its usual ponytail when the sound of the buzzer announced Aidan’s arrival. She stuffed the elastic band into the pocket of her jeans and hurried down the hall to buzz him in. Opening the door, she heard the creaks and groans of the old building’s stairs as he made his way up to the top floor. By the time he reached the third-floor landing, her heart was pounding as if she were the one climbing multiple flights of stairs.

“Hey, you,” Aidan said, catching her eyes with his own.

“Hey, yourself,” she replied with a small smile, stepping aside so he could enter the apartment. Turning toward him after closing the door, she caught him scanning her face with concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She nodded, noticing that the apartment somehow seemed much smaller with him in it, as if it were dwarfed by his height and his sheer presence. “I’m better now. The shower helped.”

“Tell me about it?”

She nodded again and, taking his hand, led the way to the living room. He sat down at one end of the couch and drew her down beside him. Keeping her hand in his, he turned so that he was facing her, bent knee resting on the couch cushion. He offered no questions, just waited patiently for her to speak, his fingers warm and firm against hers. Lucky turned toward him, her knee and shin touching his.

“I guess I exaggerated a little when we were on the phone,” she began. “Everything isn’t so bad.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his thumb stroking the back of the hand he had clasped in his own. “What happened anyway?”

Lucky told him about her discomfort with Josh and her subsequent realization that she’d have no choice but to lie to her friends and family from now on, her falling out with Mo, and the unexpected discovery of her mother’s unacknowledged Sensitive abilities and resulting suicide.

When she finished the story, she showed him the letter her mother had written to her infant self. It wasn’t anything she had planned on doing, but as she told him about the letter, she realized that she wanted him to read it. She not only wanted Aidan to see for himself what she had discovered, but also to bear witness to it. The truth had been denied, hidden away, and she needed someone else to see the letter, to read it and give it a reality outside the paper on which it was written and the confines of her own mind and heart.

After Aidan finished reading the letter, he looked at her in silence for several moments. Then, setting the letter aside, he opened his arms to her.

Lucky didn’t hesitate. She was in his embrace in an instant, relishing the warm strength of his arms around her. Pulling her close he positioned her on his lap, and she relaxed against him. She could feel the steady beat of his heart under her palm where it rested on his chest.

Snuggling her head against his shoulder, she said, “If I hadn’t met you that night—if Josh hadn’t invited me to come to your show—the same thing could have happened to me.”

“But you did—and it didn’t.” Aidan slid his hand under her scarf so he could rest it against the side of her neck.

“It’s just—I wish she had had someone to help her too.”

Aidan did not reply, but his thumb moved back and forth over her cheek and jaw in a light caress.

They sat like that for several moments, the stroking of his fingers and thumb against her neck and cheek conveying both comfort and support. Lucky couldn’t tell how the texture of his touch changed, the shift was so subtle. But suddenly the movement of his fingers against her skin was no longer soothing, and her heart quickened its rhythm at the same time that she felt the acceleration of Aidan’s heartbeat beneath her hand. Turning more toward him, she slid her hand up to twine her fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. His mouth brushed her cheek, feather-light, before settling on her parted lips.

It was several moments later when Aidan drew away from her. “We’d better go—or I’m going to be late.”

Lucky was gratified to see that his breathing was as ragged as her own. She nodded but made no effort to move off his lap. With a wicked grin, he leaned down and caught her lower lip between his teeth for an instant. Then he lifted her with ease, shifting her so she was once more sitting beside him.

Now that she was no longer touching him, Lucky’s thoughts were a little clearer. She ran her fingers through her long curls and retrieved the elastic band from her pocket. When she pulled her hair back to secure it into a ponytail, Aidan stopped her.

“Leave it down,” he said, the rising inflection on the last syllable making the words more a request than an order. “For me.”

Looking into his blue eyes, Lucky let her hair fall back around her shoulders. The warmth of his smile conveyed his thanks. Standing, she put the abandoned elastic band back in her pocket and went to grab a light jacket and the small purse that was the evening’s stand-in for her usual backpack. When she returned from her room, Aidan was waiting by the door.

Lucky was surprised when he led her not to the motorcycle to which she had become accustomed, but to a silver BMW roadster.

“You do own a car,” she teased. “I thought your only choices were motorcycle or wings.”

“Actually, I prefer those,” he said, opening the passenger door for her. “But they sometimes have their limitations, especially where passengers are concerned.”