Page 44 of Angel's Smoke

Bronze craned his head up, a chunk of charred skin dangling from his fingertips. “Isn’t our home private, though?”

Tungsten wadded up a sweatshirt and tossed it at Bronze’s face.

Anna managed to smother a snort, which was saying something about her brain finally responding to the right social cues given the unfunny circumstances. Then Iron was leading her down a dark stone corridor. Though she’d been given a tour of the place when the others had first brought her in, she was still amazed at the craftsmanship and smoothness of it all. It was the difference between knowing a masterpiece existed and actually feeling the materials used to create it. Evenly spaced electrical lanterns, pristinely arched ceilings, and giant metal doors that, before the angels had welcomed their soul bonds into their home, had only operated by the magic of their metal alone. It was all the stuff of fairy tales. A belowground modern-day enchanted castle of sorts.

And here Anna was, desperately trying to hold a wad of cocktail napkins near Iron’s wound so she could prove her usefulness and keep some of the blood off the granite floor.

“This one’s mine.” Iron halted her in front of yet another massive door, this one located at the end of the hall where the other living quarters were. When the slab of metal creaked open, it was the final welcome ushering her into a world she’d only wondered about.

Iron’s suite. The place where he laid his head each night.

But when she took a turn around the room, she had to stop herself lest she trip over her jaw.

Every single wall of his space was made up of floor-to-ceiling white marble. It chased away any lingering darkness that had followed them in from the evening’s horrors and set up shop like a field of blooming wildflowers hell-bent on taking a stand against insufferable sadness. Already, Anna’s cheeks pinched against the rims of her glasses as she smiled wider than she could remember. It was impossible not to. There was just so much . . .

“Light,” she breathed. Anna walked over to the closest wall and ran her fingers along the ridges of the stone. It was sensually smooth, with dappled striations etched in rivers of gold and silver. “How did you get this here? We don’t have this kind of white marble in New Hampshire. Did you clean out Vermont’s marble mines or something?”

She followed the track of one of the marble veins, which led her to mounted wall displays of massive weapons, instruments she recognized but couldn’t immediately place, and various clay masks and other ceramic artifacts. Did the man know he slept in a museum? Crap, should she have taken her shoes off?

“The marble came from the Carrara quarries in Italy. It’s just an overlay, though, and is only about an inch thick. I bonded it to the granite some time ago.”

Iron shut the door and walked over to a dark oak dresser situated beneath a massive mirror. He reached into his flannel pocket and removed the test tube he always carried around with him, then placed it in what looked like a ceramic teapot. He then balled up his flannel shirt and chucked it into a nearby hamper.

He was rummaging through his drawers when Anna asked, “How the hell did you bond marble to granite?”

He shrugged, his back muscles doing interesting things to accommodate the gesture. “I played around with the iron oxide in the marble. There isn’t usually much of it in marble since the stone’s mostly made up of calcium carbonate, but what’s there was enough for me to use my metal to make it adhere to the granite.”

“It’s truly breathtaking. It sure as hell beats the pastel paint chips I have in my desk drawer back home. Somehow, the idea of repainting my office with some variant of not-white-marble suddenly feels like a disservice.” Anna sank down on the bed, suddenly getting hit with every ounce of exhaustion her adrenaline had been keeping from her. “You know, I think I need more light where I live, something that brings out a smile, like this,” she said, gesturing at the walls. “I imagine the baby would like that. Poor thing’s been in the dark for so long, after all. Can they even detect light yet? I have no idea.”

All at once, images of her dream cabin pelted against the fortress she found herself in, and the beautiful wooden space she’d carved out for her and soon her small family seemed like a dreary default to a life she should have upgraded long ago. But like anyone who refused to install the latest software for fear of losing what they loved about the old stuff, it was futile. The world was a master at planned obsolescence, always changing and evolving, and if she didn’t change with it, what would that mean for her baby?

There were a few sharp rips, then papers crinkling. More rummaging in a drawer, then the sound of it snicking shut before Iron joined her on the bed. He’d taped up his neck with fresh gauze and medical tape and had a bundle of folded clothes in his hands. She studied his face and tried to find the fear she was harboring reflected back at her, something large and heavy enough to overwhelm her to the point where she’d run screaming right back up her mountain and into the cozy socks and shielded comfort she was used to.

Instead, what she found was Iron’s russet hair unbound and tumbling in waves around his shoulders, which were bare except for what his tank top covered. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were cast down at the corners, as if in resolute acknowledgment that something had shifted between them, but the scales hadn’t yet settled on whether it was good or bad.

“Those glasses suit you,” Iron said, skimming his gaze over the rims of her pale pink cat eye frames that, up until a few days ago, only her virtual clients ever saw her wear. “They play well with the green in your eyes. It’s a stunning effect.”

“Thanks,” she replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Kind of lost my old pair, so I’m having to get used to the higher prescription.”

“Theproperprescription, you mean?” he asked, and she thrilled at the teasing lilt to his tone. Man, she liked this Iron. The one who battled her in Scrabble and chastised her about her empty-calorie addiction without ever needling the wholearen’t you a nutritionist?point to death. He knew, just as she did, how much of a walking contradiction she was, but living that role was fun and easy with him and made everything about their time together in her little cabin feel warm in a way the space never had felt before.

“Quiet, you,” she said, narrowing her eyes, before finally working up the courage to ask the question that had been worrying a hole through her chest ever since he’d returned. “You got that injury because you exhausted your fire, didn’t you?”

All the air got sucked out of the room on the wisps of her query, including bits of whatever essential stuff always starched his shoulders. “Yes. But I still got the job done. I always do.”

She shook her head. “You shouldn’t have to find a workaround, though. Your fire is a part of you. It’s heartbreaking how you can’t access it when you need to.”

It had been a nagging worry that had dug its claws into the back of her mind and then army crawled its way into every thought that had surrounded her time with him.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one in this room who has trouble accessing deeper parts of themselves.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Iron dropped the pile of clothes into her lap. Another one of his flannels sat folded on top, but she didn’t realize there were more clothes beneath it. A pair of mesh athletic shorts and a T-shirt. “I think you know or you wouldn’t be hiding.”

Anna ran her fingers along the flannel, not daring to meet his eyes. “You’re casting aspersions.” She winced, even as she spoke the words. That was a phrase her mother had always tossed around the house like throw pillows meant to cover up their family’s otherwise gross lack of morals. It was a proper phrase meant to chastise in a proper way while concealing exactly nothing. She fucking hated it, yet the defense came flaring to life on demand regardless.

Shewashiding, but was it worth it to come aboveground if the sun she was seeking kept avoiding her behind the clouds?

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