Page 6 of Lost Feather
“Tripping what?” He shook his head and moved toward the door. “Get out of bed. As you are obviously a Novice and have no wings, you’ll have to walk to the Maker Hall.”
“Maker Hall?” I sat up, leaning toward him eagerly. “Like a maker space, arts and crafts? I’m in! Help me off this huge bed, Growly Bear.”
For some reason, he shuffled backward a step, his nose wrinkling the tiniest bit. A peculiar expression flashed across his craggy face. Not angry now, but sort of shocked. Panicked, even. Had I flashed boob? I grabbed the sheet around my chest.
He muttered, “Not crafts. The Maker Hall is where we’ll go to ascertain your true name. And also to see if your brain is damaged.” He sniffed once, then turned away to breathe deeply. “After your purification, of course. I’ll find someone to escort you.” Then he strode out of the room, obviously expecting me to know what to do next. Stay there? Find a bathroom? Follow him?
Yeah, right. Like I’d lived this long following random giant hotties to their “Maker Halls.” Whatever that meant. Though I did sort of want to explore the enormous corridor full of freaking angels.
Against my better judgment, I lowered myself over the side of the most comfortable bed in the universe. I had on some sort of toga thing that dragged past my feet. Weird, but at least it was comfy and clean, even if my limbs were smeared with some sort of thick grease. Wait, not smeared. It was more like a layer of oily clay that clung to my skin everywhere in thick clumps—like the kind of things you might find in the drains of public showers, but the color of wet cement. And it did smell. Oh well, Growly had said bath time was next. Maybe I’d follow him after all.
“I’ll be back, my darling,” I promised the mattress, running one greasy hand over the sheets. “I’ll be clean and perfect for you. I never thought I’d meet a bed like you, never imagined how it could feel. I’ll return and we’ll spend many long, passionate nights together. No, don’t pull me back in. I promise, I won’t even wear a toga thing. It’ll just be my skin on your—”
A dainty cough interrupted my declaration of passion for the million-thread count sheets. “Are you alone in there?”
“Of course!” I spun back to the doorway, trying for innocent again. I found myself smiling at a freckled face with two gleaming dark brown eyes, topped by a riot of springy black curls that bounced in some invisible breeze. A shimmering curtain of tawny gold seemed to hover all around the newcomer.
“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to get between a woman and her mattress.” She moved into the room, tapping her chin. “Actually, that’s not true. But I’m holding out for the right mattress. And possibly the right woman.” She wiggled her eyebrows, a tiny grin on her face for a split second before it bloomed into a real smile. She wore a white toga that ended just above her knees, and had small, speckled brownish-white wings. “I’m Sunny. High Angelus Mikhail said to call you Feather.”
“Mikhail… oh, Growly Bear? He looks like an enormous lumberjack angel?”
“I suppose? Not that we call ourselves angels, of course. Or lumberjacks.” She put her hands to her cheeks like she was scandalized.
“Yeah, um, Protectors, right? Where is that guy anyway? He ran out of here a moment ago. I’m afraid I might have said something wrong.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Like what?”
“Oh… things,” I mumbled. “Might’ve called him a snack. Came close to calling him Daddy.”
Sunny laughed again, the sound like a waterfall of silvery chimes. “Called him a snack, ha! No, you didn’t, not if you’re still alive. You’re funny.” I opened my mouth to interrupt, but she went on, “I bet you’re hungry. I’ll find you something, but first let’s get you purified, and then to the Maker Hall. You don’t want to keep a High Angelus waiting. They can be really—”
“Grumpy?” I finished, while taking Sunny’s hand. She was at least five inches taller than me, and her skin was warm. I had a toga dress on like hers, though mine was far dirtier, with enormous oily spots seeping through from underneath. I’d need another toga to change into. Maybe I could get a colorful one, tie-dyed possibly.
Sunny made a little face as my grease-coated fingers pressed against hers. The slightly wet, greasy clay that coated my skin was sticky when we touched; I couldn’t wait to get it off me.
“Sorry, I know it’s gross.”
Her wrinkled nose said very plainly that she agreed, but she shrugged. “No worries, you’ll be clean soon. Er, eventually. And word to the wise? It’s not smart to call a High Angelus grumpy.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “Listen, I know he wants me to go get purified—I guess that means a shower? But not, like, one of those scary nuclear decontamination ones, right? Where they strip your skin off with wire bristle brushes…” I sniffed at one armpit. “To be fair, I may need something like that.”
“You said it, not me.” Sunny’s chocolate brown eyes went saucer wide. “But with that much smut on you? On your skin and in your hair? I think a shower is the least of what High Angelus Mikhail’s got planned.”
“Wait, did you call this stuff all over mesmut?” I grinned, remembering Deep Sexy Voice’s offhand reference, and putting it together. The soul shadows that I’d carried around were visible here… but apparently, removable. I did an internal fist pump. “That guy Gavriel said that, but I thought he had to be kidding.Smut. And Growly Hotness himself is planning to bathe me? Could I be dreaming? Because this is a lot like an erotica short I read once. All I need is at least two more guys, some zip ties, and a fifty-five-gallon drum of lube…”
Sunny couldn’t answer. After a minute, she managed to stop laughing long enough to squeeze out two words. “Growly Hotness?”
“Well, yeah.” Wherever this place was, it couldn’t be that bad if there were fun gals like Sunny here. “I mean, it fits, right?”
“If you’re into that sort of thing.” Sunny shuddered slightly. “Now, let’s hurry. You wouldn’t want to be late.”
“Bath time with a stern, firm-handed angel daddy?” I did roll my eyes then, and fanned myself, making Sunny fall back onto the gleaming white floor, breathless and giggling. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
CHAPTER3
Feather
Laughing made the strange room feel, for one split second, like home. Made me think maybe I could handle what this new place was going to throw at me.
