Haunted

I awoke in something like a bed, soft and comfortable. Trsiel leaned over me. I struggled to sit, but white-hot pain forced me down again.

"Nix," I whispered.

"Gone," he said. "She teleported out as soon as I had a good hold on her."

"Amulet. Found-"

"It's right here."

"Good. Wh-" I gasped as fresh pain ripped through me.

Trsiel's arms went around me, one sliding under me, and his hands moved up to my neck. I gasped again. His hands were nearly as hot as the sword. As soon as his fingers touched my skin, the pain ebbed. He massaged the back of my neck, and I slowly relaxed into the bed as the pain gave way to soft waves of soothing heat. I felt myself drifting toward sleep, only dimly aware that he was talking. I struggled to listen, but could make out only the hypnotic sound of his voice as he reverted to his angelic tone.

"Better?" he whispered.

"Ummm. Getting better."

A soft chuckle. "I'll keep at it, then." His voice sobered. "I can't tell you how sorry-"

"S'okay."

I stretched, then lifted my head and looked around. I was lying on a divan. He'd pulled up a chair beside it. Both were big chunky pieces, postmodern furniture, more comfortable than they looked. Two more chairs flanked a fireplace, and another two were by a window overlooking a cityscape. Art gallery and museum posters decorated the walls. Across the room was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, crammed to overflowing, with books shoved into every space and more piled on the floor underneath. On my right, magazines covered a low-slung table.

"Your room?" I said.

He nodded. "Not much like the other angel quarters, is it?"

I picked up a copy of Entertainment Weekly. "Not much."

His cheeks heated.

"I'm teasing you," I said. "Your room is much nicer. That other one? Kinda creepy."

He gave a soft laugh. I continued flipping through the stack of magazines. Some, like Time and National Geographic, I recognized. Others, I wasn't even sure what language they were written in.

"I suppose this answers the question," he said, sweeping a hand around the room. "Though I'm sure you already knew it."

"Hmm?"

"What Dantalian meant. About me. His… insults. You said you didn't know what he meant, but I know you do."

I flipped onto my back and looked up at him. "That you're part human. Or so he says."

"He's right. Which you also know. Not that I can prove it." He swept a lock of my hair off the pillow, fingers sliding to the end, his gaze fixed on this diversion as he continued, "I told you I'm from the last group of full-bloods. The Creator-He saw problems with the older ones, the first angels and even the seconds. As the world grew, they couldn't keep up. They went from thousands of years of watching over hunters and gatherers to a world that seemed to change every time they blinked. When we-the last group-were created, we were taught to immerse ourselves in the human world-to keep up with its traditions, its language, even its fashions, so that we could better understand those we served."

"Then that's the explanation, isn't it? The training. Not that you're part human."

He shook his head. "That's the rationale, not the reason. We all know it. Some of the older ones try to be more like us, and some of us try to be more like them, but it doesn't work. The difference goes deeper."

"So you think the Creator gave you some human blood? To make you more human?"

Trsiel released my hair from his fingers and nodded. "And when Dantalian brought it up, I saw my reaction, and I hated myself for it, for what you must have thought of me."

"I don't-"

"What a hypocrite, right? One minute I'm telling you I see nothing wrong with humans, and the next I'm flying into a rage when some demon accuses me of having human blood." He shook his head fiercely, eyes blazing. "What a damnable-"

I pulled myself up. "I don't think you're a hypocrite, Trsiel. I saw how those other angels treated you. That's the problem, isn't it? Not having human blood, but having them think you do."

"I care about what it makes me in their eyes. I know I shouldn't-"

I ducked to meet his gaze. "It's okay. You don't have to explain it to me." I gave a small smile. "I'm a witch, remember? I know all about being treated like a second-class citizen when you know you aren't."

I pulled myself up. "But, blood or training aside, whatever the experiment, it obviously worked. You understand and fit into human culture far better than those other angels could, so why the ascendeds?"

"Not all the angels in the last wave are like me. Most aren't. They… assimilated."

"Succumbed to the pressure to fit in. But you didn't."

"It's more like 'couldn't.' It isn't in my nature. And I'm certainly not the only one. There are a few like me."

"Just not enough to fight this new 'only ascended angels in the field' rule."

A slow nod, gaze shuttering, but not before I saw the sadness there.

"But if I ascend," I said. "If I do this quest, and they offer me angel-hood, I'd need someone to teach me the ropes, and Zak… Zaf-"

"Zadkiel."

"Isn't around, so that would be you."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, that's what I'm hoping. Meaning you're not the only one who needs to prove something on this quest. Unfortunately, you seem to be making your case a lot better than I am."

"Hey, you got the amulet, right?"

"I'd rather have the Nix. Preferably decorating my sword."

I laughed. "We'll get her for you, don't you worry. Then we'll finally find out whether all this supposition has been for naught. My luck, I'll finally decide I want to be an angel, and find out the offer isn't even on the table, that it never was."

A look passed through his eyes.

"You already know, don't you?" I said.

He stood, crossed the room, grabbed an apple off the counter. "We should work on our next move."

"No, you should work on your diversionary tactics. That one's as obvious as trying to send me to check on Lizzie before Aratron arrived." I got to my feet. "You've talked to the Fates, haven't you? You sneaky… When did you-what did they say?"

He lobbed the apple from one palm to the other. "It's not my place to discuss this, Eve."

I grabbed the apple from him. "Well, obviously, if you're still worried about proving you could mentor me, the answer was yes. They want me to be an angel."

I took a bite and chewed slowly, turning the thought over in my mind. Like a magnet, it both repelled and attracted, depending on which way I turned it. But, still, no matter how much it might change my life, it would take care of my problem with Savannah…

I took another chomp of the apple and walked back to the divan.

"Why me?" I said.

When Trsiel didn't respond, I sighed and glanced over my shoulder at him. "Okay, hypothetically, if the Fates have a space to fill, why pick me? There must be dozens of supernaturals more worthy of the honor."

"Becoming an angel isn't a reward for goodness," he said, taking the chair next to the divan again. "It's a job, and like any job, it has requirements."

"Such as?"

"Each realm has its own team of ascendeds, pulled from that realm, who tend to matters involving the ghosts in that realm and the living who will eventually come to that realm. The Fates, having guardianship of the smaller supernatural realms, are permitted fewer ascendeds, and have a smaller pool to choose from. So they must choose more carefully and have developed a rather unique, and creative, system for picking angels."