Page 52 of Seraph's Tears
I blinked. I’d forgotten how suspicious humans would be of the seraphim. I’d grown too close to Gabriel. “He’s not bothering anyone. He doesn’t even charge rent.”
She snorted. “What an endorsement. He’s making you spread your legs, isn’t he? I hope he hasn’t pounded your brain out of your skull. Remember they’re dangerous, girl.”
“Other travelers as guests?” I insisted, frustrated with the conversation and returning to the important topic. “A few stayed last month. It could be the same ones.”
“Aye,” the woman told me. Finally. “Three men and a woman. Just up the stairs.”
“Thank you.” But my heart sank and my stomach rolled over in concern. They were here. Early.
Did I confront them? Run back to Mirkwold? Pack my bags and disappear? If Zor had sent Absalom and other elders out here, then I was rapidly running out of time to escape a bloody flogging and week in the prayer closet. He cared about Gabriel more than me, so if I could slip through his fingers while they were trying to convince Gabriel to be their in-house god to worship, then that was my best chance.
Yes, I needed to do that. I needed to flee.
I hoped I had enough time to tell Gabriel goodbye. “When’s the next coach passing through town?”
“Tomorrow noon.” She eyed me. “Maybe you still have a brain in that skull after all.”
Tomorrow. So soon.
Probably not soon enough to get away from Zorababel’s guard dogs. But far too soon to leave Gabriel. Pain shot through my chest.
“Thank you,” I murmured. “I’ll be back to buy a ticket tomorrow.” I turned and strode for the door. I reached for the handle, but before my hand lit on the rusty piece of iron, the door swung inward.
I hopped back a step to avoid a collision with the worn wood. Daylight spilled through the threshold, silhouetting the shape of a man. “Excuse me.” I ducked my head and stepped aside, my thoughts a million miles away, thinking of where I might run and what sort of job might take me.
“Look who it is.”
The familiar voice struck my ears, causing my head to jerk up. The smug, condescending tone made the hair on my body stand up. I glared.
“Eve Lovejoy, my erstwhile betrothed.” Zorababel Grimshaw smiled at me, his voice forceful and loud as always, as if he was constantly giving a sermon.
“Zor,” I stammered. “Wh-wh-what are you doing here?” My thoughts and half-made plans scattered like chaff in the wind. My heart raced and my hands turned clammy. I glanced behind me, looking for other exits. There were none.
Memories of birch switchings, silent treatment from the congregation, crusts of bread for members isolated in the prayer closet flew through my mind.
I faced him, squaring my shoulders. “Reverend. What do you want?”
Gabriel
I rubbed my chin, thinking about everything Castiel and Azrael had shared over lunch. We piled the dishes on the tray and set it off to the side.
“Azrael,” I said finally.
He perked, his wings tightening at his back. “Yes, sir?”
“Can you discreetly find out more about this group?”
Azrael nodded.
“Discreetly,” I emphasized. “I don’t want any of us showing up on the front of their newspapers again. We never want any human to learn about our ayim and the saltwater concern.”
Azrael’s lips twisted, and Castiel huffed.
“Eve said her church—cult—has a fascination with the day we Fell. They’re convinced it means we’re heralds of death or going to ascend as gods.”
“I just want to ascend home,” Castiel muttered.
I winced, the old pain pricking at me.
