Page 51 of Seraph's Tears
My heart skipped a beat, and I held my breath to better hear the answer.
“Mortals are no match for us,” Azrael agreed. “As long as they do not know our weakness, we have every advantage. We could smite them now, before they pose a problem to us.”
He was right. If the people from my cult never learned how seraphim reacted to saltwater, they could not fight against enemies who descended from above and had superior senses and healing abilities. Ayim was a powerful thing, and I was sure I barely knew the half of it.
If you are so powerful, why kill humans as if they are a threat to be eliminated? I wanted to demand. Did Azrael just hate humans?
“We originally kept ourselves hidden because we did not know the dangers in this world, nor how humans would react to us,” Gabriel said slowly. “But if we need to protect ourselves, of course we will do what we must, especially now we know we’re some of the most powerful beings in their world.” He sighed. “If we can, we should avoid bloodshed. Some humans…they are the best people either of our worlds could offer. We ought to respect that.”
I took a deep breath, pasted a smile on my face, and strode briskly into the room.
“Lunch, gentlemen,” I chirped.
All three males turned to face me. Castiel, brown eyes soft and kind even though he brought dangerous news. Azrael, black eyes cold as obsidian, and Gabriel—Gabriel, whose eyes turned the shade of the forest after a summer rain.
Castiel smiled first. “Thank you. Bring it here, then. Eat with us.”
Azrael crossed his arms and stared blankly, as if he was granite. Or maybe I was the boring granite.
I glanced at Gabriel, whose face softened as he tilted his chin in a tiny nod.
“I, uh, I’d love to,” I improvised, “but I’ve left bread in the oven and I can’t leave it unattended. I’ll let you enjoy yourselves up here for the rest of the day.”
Gabriel opened his, perhaps to protest, but I set the tray in Castiel’s strong hands and backed away. I scurried out the door, then raced to Gabriel’s bedchamber for my heavy cloak.
I’ll tell them I need more time. I’ll tell them to leave Gabriel alone. Then I’ll tell Gabriel goodbye.
Tying it around my neck with shaking fingers, I ran out of the house.
Chapter Eighteen
Eve
The village wasn’t too far if you were willing to hurry, and I made it there in under an hour. The worn, gray buildings sprung from the brown grasses of the moorland. I glanced up and down the meandering road that led in and out of town, curving around the rises and falls. No wagons, stagecoaches, or travelers dotted the horizon.
My heart didn’t ease yet. Winter Solstice had passed, so it had only been a few weeks since I’d seen Silence, Lilith, and Absalom, but I knew Zor wasn’t a very patient man.
I picked up my skirts to keep them free of mud in the lane and walked to the tavern. The familiar scent of smoke, burnt bread, and overly sweet beer hit my nostrils. After letting my eyes adjust to the light, I walked to the bar. “Good afternoon.”
The same middle-aged barmaid scrubbed a sticky stain on the countertop. She glanced up, her eyes sweeping over me. She must’ve decided I wasn’t a paying customer, for she looked back down at the bar.
“Excuse me,” I tried again, clearing my voice.
She sighed. “Yes?”
“I’m curious if any outsiders or travelers have appeared lately.”
She snorted. “You’re an outsider.”
I clenched my jaw.
“How is it, working with that angel thing up in the manor? Is he the fire and brimstone type angel, or is he one of those beings who make women do things?” She glanced up again, eyes gleaming with curiosity. Of course she recognized me. The village was far too small to pretend otherwise.
I sputtered, offended. “He’s a gentleman.” Which was not true at all. Gabriel would’ve scoffed at that term, for it was far too mild and human a word to describe this aristocratic warrior in exile. Then curiosity hooked me. “Wait, what beings make women do things?” As far as I knew, our world had only humans. Perhaps long ago we’d had more, but if so that was lost to time. This world was full of humans and, for the past fifty years, Seraphim and the Gar.
I knew very little about the Gar, for Gabriel refused to speak of the war. Were they vicious and cruel? What stories did the Gar tell of Engiel and Onyxa?
The barmaid sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Never mind that. I don’t see why we got one of those dangerous creatures living in our neighborhood. I’ve seen the other one a few times, with the brown wings, and he looks like he could slit all our throats in our sleep.”
