I get to my feet, wrapping my arms around me for comfort. There are four sets of doors. I try one set and find they open to a closet filled with my-sized clothes. I frown. The Seraphim intend for me to be here for more than a few days. Good luck with that, I think. I’m outta here as soon as I find the exit.
The next door I open contains an opulent bathroom tiled in a multitude of blue-glass hues. I use the sink and wash up as best as I can. Wiping my face on the towel, I leave it on the immaculate countertop. I close that door and move on to a pair of wooden doors on the far wall opposite from where Xavier exited. When I open them, I’m surprised to find a thick, metal door behind them. It has a hatch-like round lever. Using both hands, I have to throw my back into opening it. The metal is frigid and whines as it scrapes against the metal catch. Shoving the door open, my hair whips around me as the coldest air I’ve ever felt in my life blows it back with enough force to take my breath away.
Stepping outside onto an ice-covered veranda, I look over the frozen railing at the sheer drop that goes on for miles. The veranda is carved out of the side of a mountain, which faces several other rock formations covered by ice and snow. Looking skyward, more balconies pepper the cliff face. The whole side of the mountain has been carved to resemble an ornate fortress. Other than this mountain fortress, nothing exists for as far as I can see. It’s just barren snow-covered tundra and rock formations.
“I wouldn’t advise going far in this weather, not without proper clothing and an experienced guide. The tundra is unforgiving on its best days,” a voice from behind me says. Leonine features meet my stare when I turn.
Cherubim, I think as I look at the angel’s face. His long, golden hair reaches to the top of his light blue wings. His eyes are that of a lion’s, amber irises frame diamond-shaped pupils. He’s wild. I take a step back from him, pressing against the frigid railing. He steps back from me, into my room. Lowering his chin, he almost looks tame. He extends his hand toward me. “Don’t jump. Please.”
“I can fly.”
“The wind here is deceptive. It could slam you into the side of the cliff.”
“How do I get out of here?” I ask, looking around at the bleak landscape.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere without angels.”
“Does a place like that exist?”
I sigh. “How about somewhere with people?”
“Xavier wants you here.”
“I don’t care what he wants.” I look the Cherub over again and have a nagging feeling. “Have we met? Do I know you?” The wind lifts my hair and blows it around, but I refuse to go back inside with him looming in the doorway.
“We’ve met—in a way. You were barely conscious the last time I saw you—Brennus was more than a little brutal to you in Houghton.”
Images of Cherubim flying alongside Reed’s car on the night Russell broke me out of Brennus’ cave come back to me. “It was you—outside the car that night—as Russell drove. I thought I was hallucinating—”
“I had to speak to you that evening. I wanted to make sure you escaped. I wanted you to know...”
“You wanted me to know what?”
“I wanted you to know that we were proud of you.”
“Who’s we?”
“Heaven,” he replies with a wary smile. Snow flurries around me. I quake from the cold. He sees it. “I don’t want you to freeze to death. Do you mind coming back inside?” He motions with his hand for me to come in.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He says something in Angel.
“Err...in English?”
“Atwater.” I move inside. He closes the metal door. I hurry across the room to the fireplace, extending my hands to it to warm them. “He’s my responsibility, you know?” I look over my shoulder at him. He leans against the doorframe and studies me, toying with the hilt of a long broadsword strapped in a sheath at his waist.
“Who?” I ask in surprise as I turn toward him.
“Brennus.” His eyes meet mine.
“What do you mean?”
“I was his guardian angel.”
I stiffen. “When? When he was a faerie?”
Atwater nods. “When he still had his soul.”
The ramifications of what he’s saying strike me. My hands ball into fists. “You let Aodh get him!” I accuse.
“I did.” There’s regret in his eyes. It does nothing to alleviate my anger.
“Finn, too?” I ask. I don’t care if he feels bad. He and Xavier should hang out. They both suck at their jobs.
“All of them,” he affirms.
“Why?”
“I’ve already said too much,” he replies. He moves to the door where he came in. “I’m glad to see that you’re okay.”
“He’s not okay!” I snarl.
“I know,” Atwater replies before he leaves my bedroom. I follow him. I want to know why he’s here and what he’s planning. It’s about Brennus. That makes it about me, too. We’re irreparably tied to one another by blood. By death. By love. By hate.