She had me there. “I assume he had underwear at some point. It’s just that he’s such an uptight ashhole, his tighty whities probably got sucked up inside him.”
Sunny looked like she was going to either pass out from horror or pee herself laughing. Not that we peed. “No, Feather,” she said primly once she could speak again. “Our physical forms are only manifestations of our inner selves. The form itself is not what is attractive, though it can be difficult to remember that after you’ve spent time on the earthly plane.” She set her towel holder aside and snatched the bikini out of my hands. “But to answer your earlier, repulsive question: absolutely no. There can be no merging between Protectors and Angeli.”
“Why not? That sounds an awful lot like a challenge to me.”
“Well, the power differential to start.” She rolled her eyes, picking glitter off her forearm and piling it on the table. “The imbalance would almost certainly unmake the Protector. You would be immolated instantly, if you were lucky. And the Angelus would never… Well, it would be like a human on Earth seeing a baby bunny and wanting to—”
I covered my ears. “Ew! No, I did not need that visual.” I picked up the collected glitter and flung it back onto Sunny, who screeched like a dying rabbit. “Never think anything like that again.”
She made a growling sound and blew the glitter off her cheeks. “Well, you asked.” She paused, a suspicious look crossing her usually open face. “Whydidyou ask, Feather?”
I shrugged and laid a new line of hot glue dots around the bikini top. “No reason. I mean, like, what about a super shiny Protector? Not me. But a Protector who’s legitimately close to High Angeli power level, or what have you.”
Sunny chewed at her lower lip. “It’s not anything I’ve ever thought of, though now that you mention it, it could happen. And maybe should. You know there can be no new Angeli, so Mikhail and Gavriel are sort of stuck here, with no mates.”
“Gavriel has Arabella,” I murmured. “She’s not dead, right?” She was in a room, which creeped me out more than a little. The whole setup was either Sleeping Beauty or Crypt Keeper—I couldn’t decide.
“No, and he will never give up on her. It’s the greatest tragedy of Sanctuary. Well, that and the fact that Mikhail’s soulmate will never even exist. Gavriel had Arabella for a few moments, but the Maker never even got that.” She sighed, then dug a small whisk broom out of the chest of drawers and moved the glitter around on the floor. I felt slightly ill when she mused, “I suppose the Maker could merge with one of the older Protectors. Like Righteous.”
“Wait, is Mikhail… more into masculine energy?” I tried not to let my face show my incomprehensible heartbreak.
“I don’t know. He’s thousands of years old; he’s probably tried everything in every combination.” Sunny shrugged, while I wrapped my dirty mind around that last thought and squeezed it. “But Righteous, Hope, and maybe Valor are the only three Protectors anywhere close to ascending. Not that Protectors ascend anymore. What’s the point? They can’t go to the Celestial Realm; they can’t get their soulmates. Might as well just keep doing the job they know.”
I didn’t know enough to ask the right questions, and I sure didn’t want Sunny using her baby rabbit analogy again. So I let it drop. I jumped up, ready to try on my toga bikini. It fit perfectly, and the prismatic sequins sent tiny rainbows around the room. “I like it!”
“Strangely, so do I.” Sunny shook her head. “Bedazzling, it’s called? You’re good at it.”
“It’s part of my charm.” I lay back on my bed with a sigh. “Probably because of my defining trait. I swear, when I find out who named me, I’m going to give him a big sock in the mouth.”
Sunny’s face appeared over me, eyes huge. “Wait, you know your name? Your true name?”
“Part of it,” I said, sort of wishing I hadn’t brought it up. “But I don’t want to tell you. It’s embarrassing.”
“Tell me.” I ignored her. “Feather!” Sunny leaned over the sheets, wiggling her fingers. “You know, they allow some forms of torture in Sanctuary. And I am well-versed in the dark art of… the tickle!” With that, she leapt across the bed and started tickling my sides, my feet, and every part of me within reach.
“Stop! Stop!” I gasped. “Don’t make me... pee… on my darling Matty Mattress.”
“We don’t pee, Feather. I can tickle you forever.”
“Ahhh! Fine, just stop.”
Sunny lay down next to me, not touching me, but close. It had been so long since I’d had a snuggle buddy. I wondered how Lily was doing, then shook away the thought. If I started remembering my lives, I’d get weepy.
“So, apparently, whoever named me when I was made was having a Very Bad Day. My name is super long, and we haven’t found all of it.”
“That’s unusual.”
“Yeah, well, I’m an unusual sort of girl.” She didn’t know the half of it. I took a deep breath. “But what we have so far is pretty much exactly me.” I held out a hand for her to shake, and she took it, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Sunny, pleased to meet you. I’m Useless Scrap.”
She dropped my hand. The room went quiet except for a small gasp, and I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see her face or watch her leave. Not even Angel Points—or whatever Sunny got for hanging out with me—would entice a Protector to stick around someone who was by definition unnecessary and unwanted.
But I didn’t hear the door shut. I didn’t hear anything at all. After a moment, though, I felt something. Around my still-dirty hand were Sunny’s warm, clean fingers, holding on tighter than ever. And then her arms were around me, pulling me into a full-out snuggling type of hug. Like she didn’t care anything about the smut I left everywhere. Like she was my real friend after all. Almost like a sister.
“Tell me a story,” she whispered. “A true story.”
I took a few deep breaths, and began. “Once upon a time, I had a sister. Her name was Dina, and she was eight years older than me. She had hair the color of sunset, reddish gold, and eyes as green as the spring grass. She loved roses and would pick them for me, popping the thorns off so I wouldn’t get hurt. She was everything I wanted to grow up to be, and everything I’m not. Kind and courageous, smart and loyal. Filled with hope, even though our lives were hard.
“And so creative. She could weave a basket out of dried grasses to carry things in, like fruit, or mushrooms, sometimes frogs. When Sister Veronica once switched me so hard I bled, Dina carried in a whole basket of frogs and let them loose in Sister’s cell. It was right after they’d done the reading about the plagues of Egypt, and the whole abbey thought it was a sign.”
