Page 23 of Seraph's Tears
My stomach knotted in disgust—at them and myself.
“Ask her if she has any proof,” Lilith prodded.
“Why would I lie?” I snapped. If Gabriel ever found out what I was doing…I didn’t want to see more sadness in his weighted eyes. But I didn’t know him well enough to trust him to not toss me out. He’d been a captain in an elite military—he wouldn’t have the patience for any human intrigue.
Absalom frowned, and I shifted in my chair. “I’ll need to tell the reverend something more than ‘just trust Eve.’”
I thought of the feather, still in my dress pocket. A necessary evil. Reluctantly, I withdrew it. Gritting my teeth, I twirled it in my hands to let it catch the firelight.
Absalom reached out to grab it, but I was faster. I snatched it back, stuffing it in my pocket.
His hand slapped the table, making Silence and I jump. “Hey.”
“You can’t have it,” I told him, my disgust and my growing freedom making me bold. “He’d know if it left him,” I lied, though it was clearly weak by the way Lilith raised her brows. It didn’t feel right, revealing something private and special to them like that. I’d bought my protection with the information—I hoped—and I would give nothing further.
Lilith and Absalom’s eyes gleamed. “He’s that powerful?”
I nodded, pride blooming in me at my seraph’s might.
“It really is the Angel, the Herald of Death,” Absalom said with glee. His sister still eyed me skeptically, which I couldn’t blame her for.
“I don’t know how much death is involved,” I hedged.
Absalom pointed a thick finger in my face. “Watch yourself. You know not to blaspheme the angels.”
“They’re called Seraphim,” I corrected, feeling wild and dangerous now that I was a housekeeper and Absalom couldn’t call me before the elders for confession or repentance.
“Have you told him about us?” In her excitement, Lilith forgot to field her questions through her brother.
“He knows I come from a different church than the Church of Saras, and we’re tight knit. I haven’t told him how Zor—the reverend, I mean, has been searching for him, or his father before him.”
“Why not?” Absalom demanded.
“What are the reverend’s plans exactly?” I shot back, freedom making me heady.
He scowled. “What’s that matter to you? His plans are from the heavens, and as parishioners you obey. It is your way to prove your devotion.”
I hated that answer. I didn’t believe it anymore, either. Part of me thought Absalom didn’t know Zorababel’s plans, either. He certainly wasn’t the smartest elder, so it wouldn’t surprise me if Zorababel kept secrets from him. But I nodded along. “But when I speak with the seraph, he will have questions. Right now all I can tell him is our church views him as the Herald of Death, and we’re lucky to have a chance to worship him.”
“That’s all he needs to know,” Absalom said mulishly.
Lilith rolled her eyes, turning her face so her older brother couldn’t see it. “Eve,” she said in a placating tone. “Explain our ways, our sacred precepts, the myths of Erlik and how he is the most powerful of the four gods. Explain what the reverend’s grandfather saw and how it aligned with his visions. The angel—seraph—will naturally be curious and seek a meeting with the reverend.”
“Yes, yes,” I said impatiently. “But we know the reverend wants to bring Gab—the seraph into the fold, to set him up as a celestial being to be worshipped. I’m not sure the seraph will like that idea. He’s very solitary.”
Absalom scoffed. “Who wouldn’t want to be worshipped?”
I slid a glance at Silence. She stared at the grain of the wood table. Worry flickered through me. She was a quiet young woman, but not like that. Marriage to Absalom was surely awful.
“What do I tell him, exactly? When he asks what it means to be the figurehead of our church, what does that mean?”
Lilith glanced away.
Absalom blustered some reply that was more grunts than words.
So. They didn’t know. Or perhaps Lilith did know and didn’t like it.
My gut churned. I needed my freedom. I needed to know that no one would chase me down. Even if I could convince Gabriel and then disappear while the elders’ attention was on him, it felt like a betrayal now that I knew the man and his hopes and fears.
