A Gift of Wings (17 page)

Again, she nodded.

“Well, imagine your experiences of the last few days magnified tenfold.” As Lucky’s eyes widened, he continued, answering her unspoken question. “Yes, even your experience this afternoon. Imagine that times ten, and you have some idea of what your birthday could be like. Then imagine that with no one there to take care of you or to help you understand what’s happening.”

“Okay, I get the birthday thing now. Can we move on to the explaining part? What is going on anyway?”

Zeke sat back in his chair. “You are what we call a Sensitive, Lucky. You’re one of a group of humans who have the ability to recognize us as we are, to see beyond the glamours we sometimes cast.”

As he spoke, his face became translucent, like the image from a film projected onto a screen, while behind it alternated the faces of a bull, a lion, and an eagle. Around his human body appeared the shadowy form of a great winged creature, equal parts eagle, lion, and bull.

“Am I seeing you as you are?” Lucky asked in a shaky voice.

The shoulders of the winged creature and the human-looking shoulders of the man she knew as Zeke both shrugged. “Only in part. It is very difficult for human Sensitives, or even Nephilim—half-angel hybrids like Aidan here—to comprehend me as I truly am. What you are seeing is the closest approximation your mind is capable of making at this moment. It may change over time, as your powers develop.”

Lucky studied him in silence, watching his form shift and morph. Then the images coalesced into a human form once more, and she saw just Zeke: light gray eyes above high cheekbones, long honey-wheat hair, conservative attire.

“What are you?” she asked.

He smiled. “Didn’t you pay attention to my lecture at all, my dear?” he teased gently.

When she shot him a look, he relented. “Yes, I know, you were somewhat distracted at the time. To answer your question, I am what you would call a Cherub, one of the order of Cherubim. Not exactly what you would expect, eh? Definitely not a chubby baby with wings. The best description that has been recorded of my kind is the one I quoted from the book of Ezekiel, from which, incidentally, I adopted my name.”

“Zeke isn’t your real name?”

He shook his head. “No. My real name would be unpronounceable for you. When I chose to live among humans, I needed to adopt a human name. As I wanted one that would seem normal to your kind and yet have some connection to the truth of my being, ‘Ezekiel’ seemed the best choice. It has evolved into ‘Zeke’ over the years.”

Lucky shifted her gaze to Malachi, who was now seated on the arm of his chair. The crows no longer perched on his shoulders and arm, but had flown to various windowsills, where they walked back and forth and looked out onto the street below. “And what about you, Malachi? You’re not a Cherub or a Seraph. I can see the shadows of wings around your shoulders, but they don’t burn like Aidan’s, and the feathers are black.”

Instead of answering her question, he first offered her additional information. “Not all half-Seraphs have flaming wings like Aidan’s; they can take other forms. But you are correct in your assertion—I am neither Seraph nor Cherub. I am something altogether different.” As his eyes met hers, she noticed for the first time that they were a startling shade of amber, warm against his dark skin.

Zeke cleared his throat. “Malachi was once a Sensitive, just like you, Lucky. Now, he is—something more. But we will get to that later. Our present task is to determine how to help you through the next few days and, after that, how to attend to your education and training.”

“Education and training?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. You will need much of both in order to make use of these new powers of yours. Fortunately, we have the resources available to help you. I, for example,” he continued with a smile, “can offer you a wealth of information—relevant and irrelevant—as well as help you focus your mental powers, so you can both use them to better effect and shield yourself from those who would turn them against you. Sambethe can teach you about spells, potions, divination, and healing. And Aidan and Malachi can teach you how to protect yourself and train you for battle.”

“Battle?” Lucky’s voice was alarmed.

“Zeke,” Aidan inserted, “maybe we could save some of this for another day. She’s been through a lot already.”

“Yes, of course,” the angel responded. As he rose to his feet, the others stood as well. “Suffice it to say that you are very important to us, Lucky, and we will do all we can to help you fulfill the promise of your—”

A voice both young and old cut across Zeke’s words in an eerie sing-song, as Sambethe’s body stiffened, and her eyes rolled back in her head: “The Destroyer awakes. Ancient and undying, it takes its form. Both Naphil and not Naphil, she will unwind the threads. Light and Dark, she will unwind the threads. Only then will the Destroyer sleep once more. Both Naphil and not Naphil, she will unwind the threads. Light and Dark, she will unwind the threads. She will unwind the threads. She will unwind the threads. She will unwind the threads….”

The sing-song voice trailed to a whisper as Sambethe repeated the words over and over. When she finally stopped speaking, she collapsed against the arm of her chair. As Malachi moved to assist the woman, Lucky swung her eyes back to Zeke to find him studying her with a face grown stony in its gravity.

“She was talking about me, wasn’t she?” she asked. “What did she mean ‘both Naphil and not Naphil’?”

It was Sambethe, not Zeke, who answered her. Her words were halting and breathless, and she leaned against the arm the kneeling Malachi had placed around her. “It means… that you must… be Made Nephilim.”

“No!” Aidan rose to his feet. “Zeke—”

The angel cut him off with a wave of his hand. “As you so correctly pointed out earlier, Aidan, Lucky has had a long day. Let’s save this discussion for another time. I would like to talk to Sambethe about it more myself in private. Lucky, your birthday is Sunday, I believe?” When Lucky nodded, he continued. “Can you meet me here, outside the OI, Sunday morning, early, say 7:00?” He paused, reaching into his jacket pocket. Coming up empty-handed, he continued, “I was going to give you my card, but I seem to be out of them.”

“I already have one. You gave it to me when you told me about your lecture.”

“Right. Good. In the meantime, then, please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything—if you see or sense anything that frightens or unnerves you, or if you just need reassurance that what you are experiencing is normal.” He reached out to take her hand in his. “No matter how strange this all may seem, I am here to help you, Lucky, and I take my responsibilities quite seriously.”

“Okay,” Lucky responded. “I’ll call if I need to, and I’ll see you here on Sunday.” After a pause, she added a “Thank you” that sounded suspiciously like a question.

Zeke released her hand and turned to leave the room. Still leaning on Malachi, Sambethe paused in front of Lucky and grasped her arm with bony fingers, studying her without saying a word. Then she released Lucky’s arm and gestured to Malachi that she was ready to follow Zeke. Whistling to the crows, Malachi inclined his head toward Lucky. As he and Sambethe fell into position behind Zeke, the birds settled onto his shoulders and arm. Lucky stared at the empty doorway for several moments after the strange assembly had departed.

Then she looked to Aidan with wide, anxious eyes. He settled an arm around her shoulders, giving her a brief hug. “It’s overwhelming, I know. But you’ll get used to it—well, some of it. Now, I should probably take you home.”

“Oh, no,” she said, her hand flying to her mouth as she looked at her watch. “I was supposed to be at Mo’s an hour ago to get ready for the dance. I have to call her.” Looking around her, she realized something was missing. “My backpack. I must have left it in the lecture hall.”

Lucky raced back to the lecture hall with Aidan by her side. She went straight to the seat where she had been sitting, remembering that she had placed the bag under it when she had first sat down. Finding nothing under the seat, she glanced around the neighboring seats, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

“Over here,” Aidan called from the side aisle closest to the hallway exit.

Lucky was filled with relief when she saw her green backpack, in all its buttoned and graffitied splendor, dangling from his fingers. She weaved her way through the rows of seats toward him and, taking the proffered bag, looked through the pockets to see if anything was missing. Wallet, cell phone, keys, everything was there, except for the locket and broken chain she had tucked into the inner pocket.

“That’s weird,” she said.

“What’s weird?” Aidan asked. “Is something missing?”

“Just my locket. The chain broke earlier—”

“When I startled you,” Aidan interrupted.

Lucky glanced up at him. So he had noticed. “Yes. I put it in the zipper pocket inside. And now it’s gone. But my phone is here and my wallet.” She opened the wallet and extracted a few bills. “Even the money. Why would anyone leave all that and take a broken necklace? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Aidan’s brows drew together. “The locket—I’m guessing that was something you wore all the time?”

She nodded. “It was my mother’s. My grandmother gave it to me when I turned sixteen. She had given it to my mother on her sixteenth birthday. When she found it in my mother’s things after she died, she saved it for me.”

Aidan’s frown deepened, and a muscle worked in the side of his jaw. “Lucky, can you tell me anything more about the man you saw in the office earlier, the one who made you scream?”

She shook her head. “I think I told you everything. He’s average-looking. The first time I saw him he was wearing a long, dark trench coat.”

“And you’ve only seen him the two times?”

“Yes. Why? Do you think he took my locket? Why would he want it?”

“Objects that are worn close to a person’s skin, especially those that are worn regularly, carry with them a connection to the wearer. Such objects are very powerful and can be used to track the wearer or to perform other acts of magic focused on the wearer.”

Lucky’s eyes widened. “You think he took the locket so he’d be able to find me again? Why would he be looking for me? What does he want with me?”

Aidan shook his head. “I don’t know what he wants with you, but, yes, I am afraid he took the locket as a way to locate you. The fact that he’s even aware of you may be our fault. We have some powerful enemies, and if they think you’re important to us….” He cursed under his breath, then added, “In trying to help you, we may have just made your life a lot more complicated.”

CHAPTER 12

Lucky put a hand on Aidan’s arm. “This isn’t your fault. From what Zeke said, it sounds like if you hadn’t contacted me, I might have been in pretty bad shape in a couple of days. Not that that’s completely out of the question now, I guess, but I have a better shot of getting through it.”

Her hand slid from his arm as her cell phone started ringing. “Mo!” she exclaimed. “She’s probably worried about me.”

Retrieving the phone from her backpack, she flipped it open and said hello to her friend.

“Lucky, thank God!” Mo’s voice said in her ear. “Where are you? I’ve been calling and texting for almost an hour now.”

“It’s a long story, Mo. I’ll fill you in later.”

“Well, you better get over here soon, because you don’t have much time left to get ready. We have to leave in less than an hour.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. ’Bye.” Cutting off a flood of words, she flipped the phone shut.

“Come on,” Aidan said, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Lucky followed Aidan out of the building in silence, jogging to keep up with his long strides. Her eyes widened in surprise and alarm when he stopped at a motorcycle parked against the curb a block or so from the OI.

Straddling the bike, he tossed her the helmet. “Get on behind me.”

After struggling with the helmet strap, she swung her leg over the motorcycle and settled onto the seat behind Aidan. He turned on the engine and called over his shoulder, “Put your arms around my waist, and hold on.”

She complied, her breath hitching in her throat as the action brought her into very close contact with his body.

At his loud “Where to?” she leaned even closer, if that was possible, and shouted Mo’s address in his ear. He nodded and, releasing the brake, pulled the bike away from the curb. Lucky tightened her hands on his waist, and then she wanted to jerk them away as she felt the hard muscles of his abdomen flex beneath her palms. Feeling the heat in her cheeks, she hid behind his back, glad he couldn’t see her face. Staring at the cotton of his t-shirt and the muscles outlined beneath it, she realized she was still wearing his jacket. The knowledge caused her flush to deepen.

During the short ride to Mo’s building, she was able to get her treacherous cheeks under control—at least enough so that any remaining pinkness could be attributed to the motorcycle ride itself. She disengaged her arms from Aidan and hopped off the bike almost before he had cut the engine.