Page 49 of Lost Feather
“So you are a creature of evil then. Did you come here to try your pitiful hand at murdering one of the last High Angeli in Sanctuary?”
Did he mean himself? “Um, no. I didn’t know it was you.” I took another step, and an invisible hand smashed me down. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the bruising pain of knees hitting stone floors.
But I didn’t fall. Something lifted me up. When I peeked over my shoulder, I was shocked to see Righteous there, inches away from me, holding me by the waist away from his body. He set me down gently on my feet, and I mumbled a thank you.
“High Angelus,” he intoned, bowing low before Gavriel, and staying bent. Hastily, I did the same. “We came in search of the Maker. This Novice reported that he was unwell. I am certain she was not the one to spill his blood.”
“I would imagine not; she’s too weak to hurt one of us,” Gavriel murmured, nodding.
Righteous straightened and nodded as well. I successfully kept myself from pointing out that I could hurt anyone with the right weapon… Say, a soul knife.
“The workshop was empty when I entered,” Gavriel continued, his gold and blue eyes scanning the area around us. “I found that curious. Mikhail never leaves his tools unattended. His blood is here on the floor, next to the knife, but he’s nowhere to be found.” Gavriel stepped closer, his face registering shock as he took in Righteous’s appearance. “By the Gate, what have you done?”
Righteous cleared his throat. “Sir, I don’t— I mean, I did pick her up, but I let her go quickly…”
“No, not to her, toyourself. You are Righteous, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you in years, I suppose, but I wouldn’t have recognized you. You were the next in line for… I’m sorry. Of course it’s you, but when did this happen?”
“Recently, sir.” Righteous kept his face averted.
Gavriel prowled around the Protector, ignoring the blood for the moment. I took a tiny step toward the door, but Gavriel’s eyes froze me in place again while he questioned Ry. “What happened here? You haven’t just returned from Earth, have you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “This sort of soul smut doesn’t accrue in Sanctuary without cause. Tell me what you’ve been doing, Protector.”
“Nothing,” Righteous hissed. “It was her.”
I scoffed. “Wait a minute now. I only kissed you one time, like weeks ago. The rest was all you.”
“All me? You attacked me, and no number of purification baths will remove this Hell-sent smut. You are a menace, a disgusting blot on the Realm, a, a—" Righteous sputtered, stilling suddenly as Gavriel sliced him with a glance.
“You kissed her? What could you have been thinking?”
I bristled, but stayed quiet. I wasn’t encrusted with smut anymore. In fact, parts of me were close to clean. Righteous quivered with rage, but didn’t answer. Gavriel sniffed again, reaching out a finger to feel the smut on Righteous’s robe. It didn’t come off on his hand, not even a speck.
“It’s not my smut,” Righteous hissed. “It’s hers. She assaulted me.Taintedme.”
Gavriel swore. “Blame? This is how evil gains a foothold in the purest of hearts. You want to believe you are strong. But you are not stronger than the pull of the Abyss. By the Gate, in the past we had to unmake souls no more tainted than you are now.”
Righteous paled. Gavriel circled the younger Protector—though I had never noticed they were almost the same height, Gavriel only a few inches over Righteous’s solid six feet.
Gavriel stopped pacing. “She may have begun it, but you allowed your righteous anger to become one of the greatest evils. Wrath.”
“High Angelus, I have tried to purify myself. It doesn’t work. Help me,” Righteous whispered.
“Of course.” Gavriel reached for the table behind him, picking up the soul knife I had left lying there in my haste to get help for Mikhail. “You might never have gotten clean if I hadn’t seen you today. The only thing that can burn away this much smut at once would be a Great Sacrifice. You could throw yourself into the gate, help it stand for a few more years.” Huh. I had wondered how unmaking happened, when the Well of Souls—which was the kiln-like door I’d seen—was sealed up. It was smart, really. Reminded me of recycling efforts back on Earth.
Righteous sucked in a breath. “Sir? Am I to be unmade?” Gavriel had begun to nod when I decided I’d had enough.
“Oh, come on, enough with the unmaking. I swear, do you throw away every toga that gets a stain on it?” Both of them stared at me. “Okay, bad question. So, here’s the thing, Righteous. This”—I plucked the soul knife from Gavriel’s fingers before he could stop me—“is a soul knife. Think of it as the loofah sponge from Hell.” I held out one arm and hopped up on the table. “You use it slowly, to cut away any stain that the baths can’t handle. Which, for me, is pretty much all of it.” Righteous made a garbled sound, which I ignored.
“Watch.” Biting my lip, I began to pare away a layer of filth from my forearm. “It... hurts... like… a birch,” I wheezed as they stared at the blood and liquidized smut falling into the channel. “But you… seem… like a big… boy. I bet you can…Holy Shiatsu that stings… handle it.” I blew on the cut I’d made, using my toga to polish the bit of shining skin I’d just revealed. “That was a solid hit. I only need to do that a few more thousand times, and this arm will be squeaky clean. See, no unmaking needed.” I peeked up at the two watching angels.
Both their jaws were clenched, and identical expressions of horror mixed with something else—regret? Confusion? I couldn’t tell—graced their faces.
I blew a muddy clump of hair out of my face. “What? It’s not rocket surgery.” I held out the knife to Righteous. “Wanna give it a shot?”
CHAPTER20
Gavriel
Three things suddenly became clear as I stared down at the Novice who was blithely cutting away some of the worst soul smut I’d ever seen, without making a sound, other than her usual incessant babbling.
