Keeper of Crows (Keeper of Crows #1)(30)

“Because I can see it. There is no malice in her. While he is malignant, she is innocent. Look at her.”

Keeper fastened his eyes on me. They swirled to crimson and then faded to a dark blue before turning crystalline once more. “You’re right,” he admitted, his entire posture relaxing. He looked like he was ready for battle seconds earlier, but against me? And who was the tumor in this whole thing? Help said, ‘he is malignant.’ Who the hell was he?

And who was this mysterious friend, anyway? Someone who could procure mood rings and cross the veil, or divide, or whatever weird word they called the barrier today. Looking at Help, I asked, “Who are you—and before you say you can’t tell me, I want your damn name!”

Help amusedly looked from me to Keeper.

“She calls me Help and you Keeper? Why have you not given her your name?”

“Because I don’t understand her.”

“You are too out of touch with the souls of Earth. She makes more sense than most. Don’t you, Carmen?” Help turned his head to the side, quirking a dark brow. “She is honest and forthcoming, if somewhat crude. She values honesty. You should be open and forthcoming with her.”

“I have no idea how my soul compares to anyone else’s, but my attitude is pretty normal these days.” I wasn’t an asshole most days, but I had issues. Keeper did too, and he was an asshole every day, so boo for him.

“She calls you an asshole!” Help cackled, clutching his stomach.

“He is an asshole,” I said, meaning every syllable. “And he won’t give me his name because he doesn’t trust me. I just can’t figure out why.”

Keeper crossed his arms over his chest, brows knitted in confusion. “Why do you think I don’t trust you?”

“Uh…” I started ticking the reasons off on my fingers. “You won’t tell me your name because I’m not worthy, or whatever. Every answer you give me is cryptic, and you get pissed when I ask too many questions. You won’t let me out of your sight, even when you pretend to. Remember the cleansing?” It was my turn to raise my brows.

Help coughed to cover his laughter after Keeper slugged him.

“I am not ‘Help’,” Help said. “My name is Gabriel.”

Fitting. He was smoldering hot, with his dark clothing and rocker hair. The name Gabriel suited him.

“What suits me?” Keeper asked, his lips pulling up at the corners.

“I wouldn’t trust myself to give you a name.”

He huffed. “You’re infuriating.”

I smiled flirtatiously. “You didn’t find me infuriating a few minutes ago.”

Gabriel nudged him hard. “Give her your name. If you trust her, and you should, she’ll need to trust you as well. Especially now that we know why she is here.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “You know why I’m here?”

The men exchanged a look.

“I will be back soon. I have to relay the information. You should find a safer place for her. He knows she’s here.” Gabriel raked his hair back. “He’ll come for her. The only question is when.”

“Handle the human I showed you, or better yet, bring him here so that I can take care of him myself.”

Gabriel smiled. “You might be a little behind the times, but you’re still the most fun.”

Keeper wasn’t a person I’d describe as fun.

“It’s the asshole in him,” Gabriel said with a wink before stepping forward and walking up a staircase made of invisible steps, easily crossing the divide when it appeared before him—in the damn living room. Gabriel didn’t need a fissure. He punched through the same way the crow did. Why couldn’t Keeper do the same and leave this hell hole?

Keeper cleared his throat and held his hand out for me to shake. Warily, I took hold of it. “Carmen Elaine Kennedy,” he began. “My name is Michael.”





12





“Michael?” I asked, my mind catching on. Or at least I thought it was.

Keeper inclined his head, too long pieces of hair falling into his eyes.

“Gabriel?” I looked to the spot at which he vanished.

He inclined his head a second time.

“The Michael and Gabriel?”

Keeper nodded and simply said, “Yes.”

“Angels?”

A smile tugged at Keeper’s normally stern lips. “Archangels,” he corrected. Of course, he was an archangel. In Purgatory. Talking to my soul because it was stuck here. And in this place of gray and shadow, it seemed to fit for some strange reason. He seemed to belong to this place and it to him.

“Why crows?” I wondered aloud, raking my eyes over him. He was delicious.

“I’m not delicious,” he said with a grin.

“You totally are. You look like a dark-haired, hot emo-guy, all tatted up and sexy.”

Then the Keeper of Crows smiled and I could see he was more angel than I’d imagined. In that moment, I knew I was in trouble. Since he could read my mind, he knew it, too. But being a gentleman, he didn’t even make fun of me for having a crush on him. Were his pleas finally sinking in? Was the Keeper-crack taking hold of me? I hoped so, with every ounce of me, I hoped so. The Lessons were terrifying, and if I never saw another one again, it would be too soon.