Keeper of Crows (Keeper of Crows #1)(31)

“I’m worried about the wrong person overhearing our conversation. Not the Lessons, and not merchants. There are worse things in Purgatory, most of whom work for a very evil man.”

He led me to the couch, his warm hand singing the small of my back. I sank into the worn cushions and he sat beside me, leaving enough distance between us that I could turn and point my knee toward him.

“I’m really confused. Gabriel didn’t exactly clear things up.”

“I know. Where to begin…” He exhaled heavily, gathering his thoughts. “Crows,” he started, “have always ushered souls to and from Purgatory.”

“So, why are you here?”

“When Christ was crucified, the veil was torn completely in two. The archangels hurried to repair it, but it was difficult to mend. The fabric was stretched tightly, thin over the Earth. After several years, it was clear that the fissures that happened occasionally due to the strain were here to stay. It wasn’t safe for souls anymore.”

“Were you sent here to guard Purgatory and help souls?”

He smiled lightly, his shoulders relaxing. “Mostly,” he hedged. There was more to the story, but he didn’t want to discuss the fine details just yet. I had other questions, so I asked one of those.

“You had wings, right? What did they look like?”

His smile faded. “I did. The crows I command were born from my wings. They had to become part of me, and they are obedient to me alone. I’ve seen them watch you, though. It’s strange. It’s like they know you’re a part of the veil.”

“Better watch out. I might take your crows away, Michael.”

Shaking his head playfully, he silently told me that wouldn’t happen. I imagined him, the way he looked before he came to this place: dark hair, morphing tattoos, oil slick feathers in great wings that arced behind him, holding a broadsword and kicking demon ass. He would have been fierce, but then again, he still was. He was intimidating.

“I’m not, and I don’t know that I really looked the way you’re imagining.”

With complete sincerity, I looked into his eyes, softening into caramel. “On behalf of all womankind, I hope you looked exactly the way I imagine.”

When he laughed, the room was filled with a presence that was larger than the air and all the objects in it. Then he sat back and sighed. “I do miss them, though. My wings.”

“I bet you do. I imagine that was really hard to accept.”

He swallowed. “It was.”

“So, can I ask a really nosy and rude question?”

“You may ask, but I will choose whether or not to answer it.”

“Okay. Who were you and Gabriel talking about, and why do you think he’s coming for me?”

The Keeper, Michael, threaded his fingers together and pursed his lips into a tight line. “What do you know about your father?”

“I know he’s a lying bastard who hated my mother, hates me, and can’t seem to keep his dick out of any woman half his age who pays him the slightest bit of attention. He’s just...incapable of most human emotion,” I said, feeling glad to have that out in the open.

“He is also a crosser.”

“A crosser? What’s that?” I asked, although my gut said I wouldn’t like his answer. My gut didn’t lie.

“When the veil was torn, certain souls escaped from Purgatory and walked the earth. You see, some who come here, like you, have bodies waiting for their souls to return. Others who come here had bodies who have passed away. Their soul has nowhere to go but to Heaven or Hell. If a soul with no body escaped and walked among the living, they would appear ghostly, like an apparition. That was what most people assumed: that the dead walked among them. It wasn’t exactly the case.”

I couldn’t even form a rational thought.

My father was a crosser. His soul was an escapee.

“But he has a body. On Earth, he has a body. He’s young and real. This is...it makes no sense, Michael.”

“He took one. It’s not the first one he’s taken, but if he takes over a body, he can live normally on Earth. He can have a life, a family. He’s taken many lives in order to walk among you. He’s had numerous families over the years. Your father is one of the most dangerous beings among the realms.”

Of course, he was. My father was a bastard. I raked my hands through my hair, frustrated. This couldn’t be real.

Could it?

“And his name isn’t Warren Kennedy.”

I huffed. “What is it?”

“Malchazze.”

Several minutes of trying to absorb the gravity of the situation later, and my internal freak-out still hadn’t subsided, not in the least. “So, he’s evil? Then send him to Hell.” I wouldn’t lose sleep over it.

Michael frowned. “I can’t without the order.”

“Well who can send him? Who can give the order?”

“No one here.”

“Then get someone to help!” I screamed in exasperation. “Ask someone to come and banish him. Ask your freaky demon friend to drag him down through the tar.”

Michael stood and walked to the sliding glass door. “I have no demon friends,” he hissed, composing himself again before speaking. “Demons approve of his actions here. If souls aren’t rested, if the Lessons learn nothing, then the souls are forfeited to Hell. And he’s made it easy for them to work the system. Purgatory was intended to be a place of rest; a place for souls to learn what they did wrong, and to complete their journeys. Lessons aren’t supposed to be here. They don’t belong here. But demons are using Purgatory for their own purposes. The Lessons the demons bring belong in Hell—like the man you saw punished—but now Purgatory is just another layer of Hell for some people, another realm of torture until they descend. That’s not the way it was meant to be.”