A Terrible Fall of Angels (Zaniel Havelock #1)(66)

Thinking about Jamie shut down the flow of power. I clanged my shields into place as fast as I could. I wanted out of the room, away from Ravensong’s thanks and Suriel’s questions of “Zaniel, what is wrong?”

I could still see the glow of her cage and the swirl of darkness trapped inside. The cage floated by her shoulder like a well-trained dog. The flare of angel wings glittered around us all, filling the room with white-yellow light and I could not bear it.

I went to the door, pounded on it. “I need out!” I knew they were watching on the cameras. I knew they heard me, saw me. A small hand touched my leg and I looked down to see the raccoon with too much knowledge in its dark eyes. I needed out, not because I wanted to see it, all of it. I wanted to wrap myself in the glow of angelic power like a blanket that I’d missed, like I was a child and needed my comfort object, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t a comfort; it was an addiction. The brush of one angel’s wing is much like another’s and there was one set of wings that I had loved, been in love with their owner, and been loved in turn, but though an angel may love humanity, they are not allowed to be in love with one person. They are not allowed to put the well-being of one human being above all others. Angels are meant to serve God and humanity and creation, not necessarily in that order. Once, I had had the sole attention of an angel of one of the highest orders aimed at just me. She had loved me above all others, and I had felt the same, and that had been when everything went to hell.

I pounded on the door again, but the white-yellow light of all the angels was filling the room until I couldn’t breathe; no, that was a lie, until I wanted to breathe them in, wrap them around me like I had with the energy at the hospital, but this was more, so much more, and it was offered, it was there. They wanted me back. I was an Angel Speaker and there were so few of us.

I pressed my palms against the door and yelled to be let out, to be away from the temptation. The raccoon chattered at me and I realized as I looked into its eyes that it helped ground me, helped chase back some of the glowing energy.

I whispered, “Thank you.”

Then Suriel touched my bare arm and her angel echoed her so that the power whispered over my skin like a sea of kisses that I could swim in, or sink in, or . . . I screamed and slammed my hands against the door. I had to get out!

The white-yellow light filled my vision and there was nothing but the light, and in the light were strands of gold and silver and copper and colors that humans have no words for; symbols and angelic script and scripts that humans are not meant to read trailed around the threads of the universe like music made visible. For one shining moment I heard the music of the spheres and I knew if I reached out far enough I could travel those shining lines on a river of words and sound that had driven Jamie out of his mind, but that I had loved.

I let myself relax into the beauty of it, and then I heard a voice down those shining strings. A female voice said, “Zaniel, is that you?”

I pushed myself out of that glorious view, arms flailing wildly as if I could touch music and sound, as if there was anything solid enough to push against in that place. I fell backward, landing on my ass on the floor, hard enough to jar up my spine and into my head so that I felt stunned as if I’d fallen much farther than just from my feet to the floor.

A woman’s voice said, “Zaniel, are you all right?”

For a moment that voice merged with the one in the vision and I cried out. If I hadn’t been too manly for it, I’d have said I screamed.

Suriel’s voice came again, because of course it was Suriel and not that other voice at all. “Zaniel, are you well? Please answer me.”

“You okay there, Havoc?” Ravensong asked. Her voice sounded hoarse, almost like the croak of her namesake. Human voices would sound rough for a few minutes until my hearing adjusted. The singing of angels could spoil you if you listened too long.

Suriel knelt beside me but did not try to touch me. She knew better. Ravensong didn’t. Her hand rested on my bare arm. If she had been just human it would have been okay, but she was a witch and magic calls to magic.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR




I was thrown back into that place of song and color, where angels traveled on golden threads like spider silk that ran throughout the universe, holding everything together. I realized that the spider analogy wasn’t me. I heard Ravensong think Grandmother Spider, and there was movement along the threads like something huge and monstrous. I thought NO, and the movement was gone, and we were back in the crystal, silver, and gold space where angels in pure form raced back and forth along the singing notes of creation.

One of the angels paused and looked in our direction. It was like looking into fire, except the fire could look back at you. Would her mind survive this? I felt tiny hands on my arm and somehow I knew there was another one touching her, and then I felt pressure, metal slicing through reality, pulling her back from the brink of staring too long into the abyss, even if it was a space that went up instead of down, or maybe went everywhere at once, but even filled with fire and warmth it was still an abyss that would look back at you.

I was back on the floor of the interrogation room with Ravensong gasping beside me as if she’d run a long distance as fast as she could. I could see the Valkyrie standing over her with pale braids and metal helm, her shield held in front of Ravensong, a sword that burned with a light of its own in her other hand. The eyes that glared at me from the helmet were a storm-cloud gray and angry.