“I don’t have time for games. Can you do it or not?”
“In theory, it can be done. Assuming all the stars align, of course. And there are a lot of stars that need to align for it to work. But the real question is, why should I?” She throws back the curtains, shocking my eyes again with the panoramic view of the destroyed city. “After all this time, is there any chance you haven’t been lured to the other side? Why should I help the fallen?”
Raffe walks to the counter where his sword lies. He slides the blade out from the scabbard, managing to make the gesture non-threatening, which is quite a feat considering the sharpness of the double edge. He flips it in the air and catches it by the handle. He slaps the blade back into its sheath while watching Laylah expectantly.
Josiah nods. “Okay. His sword hasn’t rejected him.”
“Doesn’t mean she won’t,” says Laylah. “Sometimes they cling to loyalty longer than they should. Doesn’t mean—.”
“It means everything it’s supposed to mean,” says Raffe.
“We’re not made to be alone,” says Laylah. “No more than wolves are made to be solo. No angel can endure such solitude for long, even you.”
“My sword hasn’t rejected me. End of discussion.”
Josiah clears his throat. “About those wings?”
Laylah glares at Raffe. “I don’t have kind memories of you, Raffe, in case you’d forgotten. After all this time, you show up in my life again with no warning. Making demands. Insulting me by flaunting your human toy in my presence. Why should I do this for you instead of sounding the alarm and letting everybody know you had the nerve to come back?”
“Laylah,” says Josiah nervously. “They’d know it was me who helped him.”
“I’d keep you out of it, Josiah,” says Laylah. “Well, Raffe? No arguments? No pleas? No flattery?”
“What do you want?” asks Raffe. “Name your price.”
I’m so used to him taking charge of a situation, so used to his pride and control that it’s hard for me to see him like this. Tense, and under the power of someone who’s behaving like a scorned lover. Who says celestial beings can’t be petty?
Her eyes slide to me as if she wants to say her price is to have me killed. Then she looks back at Raffe, weighing her options.
Someone knocks on the door.
Laylah’s eyes widen in alarm. Josiah looks like he’s just been condemned to hell.
“It’s just my dinner,” says Raffe. He opens the door before anyone can scramble away.
In the doorway stands Dee-Dum, looking professional and detached even though he can’t miss seeing all of us in one glance. He’s still in his butler’s outfit with the coattails and white gloves. Beside him is a cart bearing a silver-domed tray and silverware laid out on a folded napkin. The room fills once more with the scents of warm meat and fresh vegetables.
“Where would you like this, sir?” asks Dee-Dum. He shows no sign of recognition, no judgment about Raffe’s near nakedness.
“I’ll take it.” Raffe takes the tray. He also shows no sign of recognition. Maybe Raffe never noticed the twins at the camp. There’s no doubt that the twins noticed Raffe.
As the door closes, Dee-Dum bows but his eyes never stop tracking the scene in the room. I’m sure he has every detail, every face memorized.
Raffe never turns his back to him to show his scars, so Dee-Dum might still think him human. Although I wonder if he saw Raffe at the club with his wings displayed through his jacket slits. Either way, Obi’s people can’t be happy that two escaped “guests” of their camp ended up in the company of angels at the aerie. I wonder if Raffe were to jerk the door open right now, would we find Dee-Dum with his ear to the door?
Laylah relaxes a little and seats herself on a leather chair, like a queen taking her throne. “You appear uninvited, eat our food, make yourself at home in our place like a rat, and you have the nerve to ask for help?”
I meant to keep quiet. Getting back his wings is as important to Raffe as rescuing Paige is to me. But watching her lounge in front of a panoramic view of the charred city is too much for me.
“It’s not your food, and it’s not your place.” I practically spit out the words.
“Penryn,” says Raffe in a warning voice as he puts the tray down on the bar.
“And don’t insult our rats.” My hands clench tight enough to score nail marks on my palms. “They have a right to be here. Unlike you.”
The tension is so thick I wonder if it’ll smother me. I may have just blown Raffe’s chance to get his wings back. The Aryan looks like she’s ready to break me in half.