As Brownie slips away, Buns shivers despite her overheated skin. “Okay, sweetie,” she gives Zephyr a half-smile. “I like you best when you’re wearing nothing at all anyway.” Zephyr’s eyes get bluer just as Buns’ iridescent skin glows golden and she closes her eyes. In a poof, like a smoky distraction in a magician’s trick, Buns transforms herself into a kaleidoscope of golden-winged butterflies. The flock floats and ungulates, swimmin’ in the air of the library. A landfill of coats, sweaters and pants collapse in the middle of the room at the loss of Buns’ former shape.
“You’re next,” Zephyr says to Anya with a smile as he waits, holdin’ the vase as the first few of Buns’ velvety-winged thoraxes crawl into it.
The pit of my soul shakes in the next moment. The windows linin’ the library shatter inward. Jagged shards of glass scatter golden butterflies, preventin’ pieces of our Reaper angel from enterin’ the portal. Hoards of fallen angels crawl into our sanctuary. Cold air infiltrates, too, turnin’ my breath to wisps of white vapor. Powerful brown, white, and gray-colored wings unfurl from the backs of the evil angels. Their strong hands draw steely blades from jewel-encrusted sheaths.
Raisin’ both my hands, I hit the enemies’ first wave with magical white-hot beams of light. The flesh of evil Power angels burns from their bones, renderin’ them to dust. Clouds of ash rise in the air. It doesn’t stop the next wave. Hundreds of monstrous vulture-winged angels with brown and white feathers emerge from it.
From somewhere behind me, black-feathered arrows rip through the air. The arrowheads pass by my eyes, striking the foreheads of the fallen Power angels ahead of me. Anya ratchets four more arrows to the bow, firin’ them off in one bow stroke. She sets four more with lightnin’-fast speed and strikes the eyes of her targets, fellin’ them in less than an instant.
“Russell!” Zephyr calls to me. “Catch!” He throws the fragile portal vase with the force of a comet. The vase becomes a net, catchin’ several golden butterflies within it as it tumbles through the air.
My reaction is ingrained. I shift into reverse. My feet move as my eyes follow the trajectory of the vase spiralin’ through the air like a football. I stumble, runnin’ into furniture in my path, but I never take my gaze from it. Spreading my wings, I leap into the air as the urn soars by my head. Its smooth surface slides over my fingertips. I fumble with the amphora shape, it tumbles from my left hand to my right and back again. I secure it in my grasp. Catching as many golden-winged creatures out of the air as I can, I stuff ‘em in the portal. They disappear in a swirl that mimics the Milky Way.
From the corner of my eye, I see Anya being forced backward toward one of the walls lined with bookcases. “Zee!” I roar. He glances at me. His back is covered with golden butterflies as he wields his broad sword with vicious intent. It flows through the onslaught of angels before him, stemmin’ their tide and keepin’ them in front of him so they can’t crush any of the butterfly pieces of our Reaper. “Catch!” I yell.
I toss the portal into the air toward Zee. As it rockets to him, it swallows up several flutterin’ butterflies in it’s path. I only wait long enough for him to catch it in his raised fingers before my hands swing to the books on the shelf behind Anya’s head. I cast a spell that has tomes flyin’ off them, strikin’ the snarlin’ angels bearin’ down on my girl. It only stops a few. A large Power with silver-gray wings manages to slip through them. Anya drops her bow at his approach because she’s out of arrows. Drawin’ out her bone-handled knife from her thigh holster, she grips it firmly in her fist. The towerin’ angel swings his silvery sword, intent on cuttin’ her in half. She ducks and it misses her by less than a millimeter. My fear for her safety is a steely blade cutting my belly in two.
Pure emotion ignites from me in the form of fire, causin’ several whirlin’ flames to dance forth in spinnin’ orange tornadoes from my chest. Hot and angry, the first whirlin’ fireball finds the silver-winged Power as he makes another pass at Anya. When the fire crashes into him, his body ignites, flames eatin’ him until he’s nothin’ more than rollin’, churnin’ ashes.
While the other fallen angels surroundin’ Anya meet a similar fate, I use my rage to push the more fallen angels back with an invisible protective field that I wind around Anya, Zee, and me. The Fallen are thrust from the room back outside. I seal the broken window frames with a spell. Zephyr drops his sword. He pulls the remainin’ golden butterflies off his back and deposit them in the portal he still holds. “Thank you, Russell,” he says as the last butterfly disappears inside the portal. “Anya, you’re next.” He tilts the portal in Anya’s direction as an invitation to depart.