“Your wish, my command. So, she had been targeted by Mr. Wright. When he came to her room that last night, I made sure I was there in her place, her bed. When he got ticked off and attacked me instead, she tried to kill him with a small knife. She tried to protect me.” I took a deep breath, trying not to remember the horror of that night. “I couldn’t let her do that—kill him, I mean.” I’d actually been sort of proud of Lily for standing up to the evil basshole.
“I guess I could have let him live. But if I just wounded him, he wouldn’t have stopped. And I wasn’t going to let him stay there and molest those girls. So I killed him for her. For all of them.” I mimed the stabbing move I’d perfected.
I might as well have thrown a bomb into the center of the circle. Half of the Protectors screamed; a few actually flew away, like my confession could implicate them. Even Sunny scooted as far as she could on her pillow, and carefully looked everywhere except at me.
The main Guide flapped its arms around in the golden bathrobe, sputtering like a motorboat. Not a pretty sound at all. “Assembly is dismissed for the day. Everyone go to the purification chambers, the meditation halls—be cleansed.”
Except for Sunny, they all ran like I’d just announced I had head lice, scabies, and the plague. But then the Guide pointed to the door, and even Sunny left, mouthing, “Talk to you later,” before she flew off.
“Why are they all leaving? I was only telling the truth. I mean, that’s what Group is for. We tell what bad shizz we got up to in our life, get cleansed or what have you, and then get sent back to protect some more, am I right?”
Gavriel—sorry, Boss Guide #1—sighed. “Yes, and no.”
The main Guide finally found words. “Absolutely not. You murdered a human. You admitted to killing him outright. You are unredeemable.” They glared at both the Boss Guides. “Why you haven’t been unmade already is a question for the High Angeli.” Yeah, that cinched it. The new Guides were definitely Mikhail and Gavriel.
“An investigation is ongoing.” Gavriel cleared his throat. “It may be that there were… extenuating circumstances.”
“There can be no excuse for murder.”
I shivered under the Guide’s arctic glare. “Ouch. What happened to ‘it’s my job to help you find your way’?”
The Guide shuddered. “Intentionally killing a human? There are limits to grace.”
I couldn’t help it; I flinched. Deep inside, I had always wondered if there was a chance that I could be forgiven for the crime I’d committed all those years ago. I’d known it was foolish to hope so. But to stand here—if not in Heaven, at least as close to it as I would ever come—and hear one of the angels in charge state it so baldly? That I would never be able to measure up? Never be equal to the ones who deserved forgiveness and grace? It stung more than a little, and I fought to keep my chin from wobbling.
The Guide went on, oblivious to how their words had affected me. Or maybe they just didn’t care. “You are not welcome in this group, in my room. In fact, your presence would be a corrupting influence in all the Assembly Halls. The other Guides will be notified.” Then they were gone in an instant, through some invisible door.
I exhaled heavily, glad to see them go. Or not see them go, whatever. “Of course, there are invisible doors in Hell’s Halfway House,” I grouched, kicking a cushion away with my bare foot. My bare, muck-encrusted foot. I peered around for my sandal. “No coffee from what I can tell, no weed, and for sure no booze—” I whirled around when the remaining Guide—who I was sure was Mikhail—grunted, or laughed. I’d kind of forgotten they were there. I crossed my eyes at him and Gavriel. “I don’t see what’s so funny, Your Growliness. I just got expelled from angel school on my first day.”
Mikhail pushed the massive hood back from his face, and my heart stuttered slightly at the intensity of those flashing, fascinating eyes. Or maybe it was the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke.
“That means more time in my Maker Hall.” A slight smile transformed his scarred, stony face into a breathtaking sight. “I will see you after next rising. Chin up, little Novice. We’ll get you figured out.” He winked at me, and I blew a tiny kiss back. I bit my lip when he got flustered and pulled the hood back up, striding toward the wall and vanishing without another word.
Gavriel made a shocked sound. I ignored him and stared down at the wreck I’d made of the white floor and cushion with my soul smut. “I hope they have good carpet cleaners in this realm.”
“They do,” Gavriel replied, waving a hand at the mess. I blinked. At my feet sat a bucket full of some glowing liquid, and a stack of towels. “We call them Novices. When you get that cleaned, report to the Dining Hall.”
The cold amusement in his voice was utterly familiar. Every jerkface in every new school I’d entered had that condescending attitude down pat. They never had to say “You’re not one of us, and you’re not welcome” out loud. Somehow, someone must have taught them how to squish it all into that mocking tone.
“Yes, your Majestic Imperialness,” I muttered after he’d poofed away through another invisible door. “I’ll just use mygreasehands to scrub thegreaseoff the floor. Let’s ignore the fact that every dang thing I touch gets covered with the farking stuff. This place sucks!”
I wanted to cry, but I was too exhausted. Well, scrubbing floors wasn’t anything new—I’d never had a life on Earth where I was rich. So, I did what I’d always done. I instructed my body to do what had to be done, set it on autopilot, and let my imagination fly.
Fly first class to Hawaii with a team of five Nobel prize-winning scientists, whose great discovery was how to induce multiple orgasms through a combination of scalp massage and compliments.
And I was their very, very good girl all the way to Kauai.
CHAPTER7
Gavriel
There are limits to grace.
The Guide’s harsh words, and Feather’s haunted expression after she heard them, stayed with me for hours. The way her chin, even under all that smut, had wobbled once before she hid her reaction, had made me feel something far too familiar.
Guilt.
When I’d first questioned her, while she floated between life and death, I’d used my soul knife. I’dtorturedher. I was ashamed, though in my own pitiful defense, I had believed her to be a spy. It shouldn’t have mattered.
