Lost Feather (The Forgotten Angel Book 1) by Merri Bright

Author:Merri Bright [Bright, Merri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bright and Dark Publishing
Published: 2022-06-07T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Mikhail

This kind of sin takes a hell of a lot longer than eighteen years to accumulate.

The words I’d overheard in Arabella’s chambers the evening before repeated in an endless loop in my mind as I watched Feather carving away at the muck on her feet. She wept silently, occasionally cursing in her strange way, with made-up words.

Every time I’d so much as glanced at her this past week, I’d been filled with rage and helplessness. But today, I felt something new. Suspicion.

“Farking shizz grits!” she shouted.

“Why don’t you curse?” I found myself asking. Her eyes met mine, and a smile spread quickly over her features.

“Oh, so Growly can talk today. I wondered if you were in one of your moods.”

“I do not have moods,” I growled. She bit her lip, muttering something inaudible. “Tell me, why do you make up such ridiculous curse words?”

She turned her head back to her task, one arm lifted high as she scraped under her arm. I winced as the smut liquified and flowed to the table, smelling of burning flesh and rancid oil. “I dare you to try walking around with this much smut,” she panted, then folded a small piece of cloth and dabbed it on her arm before she began cutting again. “When you get close to as much as you can carry, you have to make choices, right? Like, ah!” I flinched as she closed her eyes, the tear rolling down her cheek clearing a new stripe of skin. “Cursing doesn’t add a lot of smut. Just a little. But with how much I was gaining each year, I knew I had to make a choice. Even if each word is just a little hit, I didn’t have to carry the burden from cursing, so I didn’t.”

My blood had frozen, and I was dying to ask what she’d meant, but I kept silent. She’d had to make a choice. She didn’t carry any smut that she could avoid. This kind of sin takes a hell of a lot longer than eighteen years to accumulate. Her mystery only got deeper, the more time I spent in her presence.

When she’d slipped into Arabella’s room the night before—I assume fleeing Righteous, since he’d been hounding her constantly—she’d almost caught me checking on my failed creation. I’d barely stepped into the secret passageway that led from my workshop to Arabella’s resting place when I heard the outer door open and creak shut. From where I stopped behind the curtain, I could just make out Feather’s curious behavior.

When Gavriel had entered with the soul knife, and whispered his desperate confession, I’d almost leaped out to stop him. Sanctuary would fall without both of us, but sooner if he was gone. Sanctuary needed us for more reasons than anyone besides Gavriel and I knew.

My main job was to create Novices and repair the Protectors, although in the past I’d had the job of repairing the gates as well. Gav’s pressing work was a greater task; he had to fight the battles that once would have fallen to an entire Celestial army, alone.

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