A Terrible Fall of Angels (Zaniel Havelock #1)(55)
“Did they ask for the names of the officers involved?” I asked.
“They did.”
I wanted to ask if they’d agreed to send someone out once they heard my name, but I didn’t want to say that in front of anyone but Charleston, not even MacGregor, let alone two paramedics I’d just met. Was it arrogant of me to think they’d sent someone because I was involved? The anxiety that made my pulse and heart rate speed up didn’t feel arrogant. If I hadn’t been all grown-up and not a kid, I’d have said I was afraid.
“I need to go check on Ravensong and the specialist,” Charleston said. “Maybe you should go to the bunk room and lie down until they want to see you.”
What I wanted to do was go home; even my tiny apartment seemed like a good idea. I wanted to run away, the way I had when I left the City of Angels and joined the army, but I couldn’t leave Ravensong to them. God knew what they might decide for the betterment of humankind, or to support the latest treaty between Heaven and Hell. I couldn’t leave her with no one here who understood that the betterment of humankind wasn’t always better for the single person involved.
“I’m fine, sir.”
He looked at me like he didn’t believe me, but he let it go. The paramedics didn’t believe me either, but Becki finally started working on her partner’s nose. When he took the dressing off, I knew I owed him more than just one drink; maybe a case of his favorite liquor would say I’m sorry I broke your nose.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I couldn’t see Ravensong, but I could ask to be introduced to the Infernalist who had come to help us. Once I knew who it was, if it was someone I knew from before, I knew then I had a starting point and maybe I could advocate for Ravensong even if they wouldn’t let me in the room with her. I’d have walked out in the bloody T-shirt and slacks, but Charleston caught me in time. I didn’t have another pair of slacks to wear, so he suggested I change into the only outfit left in my locker, so I was dressed for the gym when I came out: an oversized tank top that had started as a T-shirt that I’d cut the arms and neck out of, so it was great for lifting weights but left way too much of my upper body exposed for comfort. At least the running pants were the loose ones and not skintight. My dress shoes had been the only things I’d been wearing that didn’t have blood on them, but they looked too weird with the exercise gear, so I put on the cross trainers and short exercise socks, and clipped my badge to the drawstring top of the pants. I ended up clipping my backup gun, a Sig Sauer 380, in an appendix carry; both my badge and my gun were completely hidden under the loose tank top. I tried to put my tactical flashlight and folding blade in the pockets, but there wasn’t room for them and my wallet. Besides, the pockets were deep, but the material wasn’t heavy enough for too much tactical. If I left the building, I’d need to transfer my badge to a lanyard so I could wear it around my neck, or flash my badge and identify myself fast to any other cops if needed. I so did not look like a cop in this outfit unless I was going undercover at a gym.
There were Infernalists at the College who predated me by decades. It could have been one of them, but the moment I saw the woman standing with her back to me I knew it wasn’t any of the old guard. She’d cut her hair short since I’d seen her last, so that it was curly and blond like when she was seven. The bright yellow of her hair looked stark and wrong above the black of her robes. Suriel hadn’t taken the final loose-fitting robes when I last saw her; she’d still been in street clothes, or what passed for street clothes at the College. Until I left the College, I hadn’t realized how outdated the fashions had been; at least they’d let the girls wear pants. Now here she was in black robes like a priest; becoming an Infernalist took longer than almost any other specialty because of the dangers involved. I hadn’t realized until this moment that I’d never doubted she would succeed. Suriel never failed unless she decided that she no longer wanted the goal.
She’d been there to see me take the white and even to have the golden sash added, but I hadn’t been there to see her finish her studies and take on her mantle of responsibility. She was almost as delicate as the paramedic Becki was. Somehow, I’d forgotten that Suriel was so small. She’d always been the strongest of the three of us, the most determined. She never seemed small; shorter than me, but never small.
She turned and the shock of seeing her after all this time thrilled through me almost like fear. Her eyes were still that pale, bright blue that I remembered, her blond curls like a short startling halo around the triangle of her face. The black robes looked less like a priest from the front: no high, stiff collar, just a rounded neckline more like a regular T-shirt, though I realized for the first time that it was cut more like a woman’s T-shirt than a unisex one. There was nothing but the unadorned black, no red sash to mark her as an Infernalist or badge to tell me her rank or if she’d specialized further, though I knew she must have, or she wouldn’t have been sent here today. She had to have earned her blue sash for healing, because she was here to help Ravensong, wasn’t she?
She smiled and her face looked genuinely happy to see me, though her gaze took in my outfit like it was unexpected. We hadn’t been allowed to cut up our clothes at the College, so exercise was always white Tshirts with black shorts or pants; sweatshirts were allowed when it was cold. There had been a uniform for everything we did at the College of Angels.