Page 161 of Wings of Lies
“You will—” I could hardly speak. “Never—get—his name,” I stuttered.
The satisfaction on his face kept me from continued slashes from all my whimpers and tears.
He walked over to my mother with his feather. “Should we see if a Reversal Rune will force her from her slumber?”
Air existed in a place far out of reach, taunting my lungs. “No,” I gasped.
I burned, blistered, melted, froze, and shattered.
After everything my mom did for me, she didn’t deserve this pain. I wouldn’t let him do that to her. No matter what she’d done to me or how misguided, she just wanted me safe. And I wanted her safe. I was never supposed to be born, and if I gave him the answer, he’d kill me. But if it kept her from this pain, that was okay.
“I’ll—” I clenched my teeth, holding back a wail at the pain, breathing forcefully through my nose. When my Glory sprung to my skin, it didn’t feel hot—more energy than fire. But now, I understood how I incinerated a tree in seconds and how the ice from my purple flames blistered Oliver’s skin. “Tell you. If you make a runed deal with me.”
That seemed to intrigue him.
“A three-way bind,” I gasped out. Because if I died, I didn’t want it to be nullified. “I’ll tell you, if you make a binding promise never to hurt, touch, or abuse Saraqael, my mom, again.”
He grimaced but agreed. I didn’t expect him to yield so readily. My maker was essential to him, or he knew a way out of the binding. Since I had the memories of my past back, I knew what rune he needed to carve, and I watched as he carved the correct one on each of our shoulders.
“Tell me,” he demanded once the feather left my skin.
I could die happy now, knowing my mom was safe from his fists. But I’d also die happy expressing my following answer. Michael was in for one hell of a treat.
With enough breath to whisper out my words, I explained. “My maker, my father, is the corrupted and uncorrupted. He is death and sin. Life and redemption. He is the ruler of the Seven Circles. A king. He is the Seraphim cast from your clouds to bring balance to the world.”
That’s how my mom found her loophole.
“You know him?” I smiled at his gaping mouth and pale face. It brought me a sickening bout of joy as his rune destroyed my body. If I wasn’t on my deathbed, I might’ve laughed. But the shock on his face was enough to distract us both, especially as a blue fireball came beelining for Michael’s head.
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Apulse resonated as Michael flung up a flaming white arm, blocking his face. He roared in agony as the fireball struck, engulfing and blistering his skin. Astonished, he fixated on his arm, seething gasps escaping him as he processed the unexpected burn. Michael jerked his attention toward the figure covered in a dark cloak, staring down my fake father with murder in their glowing gaze.
But why didn’t Michael attack back?
“A Seraphim shouldn’t be in Elora. Why are you here? Who are you?” Michael asked with a shaky voice—a sound I enjoyed.
The figure bounced two fireballs in his hands. “Who I am is irrelevant, but I’d very much like to know who you are so I can send you a card when you arrive in Hell for your sins.”
I let out a pitiful whimper at his voice.
Aspen found me.
My father’s words made a lot of sense, matching my memories of the texts I read, and Miriam and my mom’s words.The cobalt rings. They signified Seraphim.
Michael sputtered, clearly confused by Aspen’s flames and proclamation. “I’m doing my duty. I’m eradicating impurity and sin as you all tell us to!” He slammed the ebony knife into my other hand to emphasize his words.
The pain of the slice hardly penetrated the pain of the rune, but it was yet another cut for my broken body to attempt to heal as my internal organs fought against the deadly temperatures of my power.
“That was the wrong choice, Michael.” The deadly calm overtaking Aspen’s voice spread goosebumps down my spine. He stepped forward until he stood a few feet from my bloody table. The heat of his fireballs brushed my skin.
“You can’t kill me. It’s against our laws. You need two more to cast judgment.”
Aspen hid underneath the hood of his cloak. “And what of the female, Archangel Michael? Did she receive all three votes from the council before you cast judgment?”
“She—” He swallowed. “She’s a Dream-Walker! I figured you would be pleased by my actions. She’s born of pure sin! Her maker is?—”
