Page 49 of A House of Gold
I can see how it’s killing him. The chains are so tight they’re cutting into him, golden barbs buried in his psyche like splinters of glass.
God, I hate angels.
I close my eyes and pull.
The pride hits me like lightning.
Not the gradual build of lust or the creeping numbness of sloth, this is instant. One second I’m myself, and the next I’m perfect. I can feel it flooding my veins like warm honey: absolute certainty that I am the best thing that has ever existed. The smartest, the most capable, the most deserving. Everyone else is just background noise to my brilliance. Look at what I can do, break contracts no one else can touch, survive sins that would kill lesser beings, bend angels to my will through my competence.
No. No. That’s not me. That’s the pride talking.
But it feels like me. That’s the worst part. It feels like the truth.
I’m dimly aware of Barnes gasping, stumbling back as the chains fall away from him in a shower of golden sparks. Free. He’s free. But I can’t think about that right now because the pride is swelling inside my chest like a balloon about to burst,and I can’t breathe, can’t think past the overwhelming certainty of my own magnificence.
My knees buckle.
Strong hands catch me before I hit the floor.
“Easy,” Croesus murmurs, and his voice is closer than it should be. Right next to my ear. When did he move? I didn’t even hear him. “I’ve got you.”
His arms are around me, holding me upright, and the shock of it cuts through the pride just enough for me to remember how to breathe. Angels don’t touch people like this. Not with care. Not with gentleness. They seduce, or they destroy, but they don’t comfort.
But his grip is steady, his chest solid against my back, and I can feel the heat of him against my skin like standing too close to a fire. It shouldn’t help. Nothing should help when you’re drowning in someone else’s sin.
It does though.
“How long?” I manage to gasp out.
“Forty seconds.” His breath stirs my hair. “Can you hold it?”
“Have to.” The pride is still there, still screaming that I’m invincible, untouchable, perfect, but his presence is grounding me. Anchoring me to something real. Reminding me that this isn’t mine. This is Barnes’s curse, Seraph’s poison, and I just have to hold it long enough to get out of here. “Barnes. Are you okay?” I grit out.
“I’m fine.” Barnes’s voice sounds like he’s been crying. Maybe he has been. “I’m free. I can feel it. It’s gone.”
Good. One less soul in Seraph’s collection.
Croesus shifts his grip, and I realize he’s basically carrying me now, my weight entirely against him. His hands are splayed across my ribs, fingers digging in just enough to remind me where my body ends and the sin begins. He smells of old gold and older incense, something rich and heavy that makes methink temple vaults and buried treasure would smell like. Secrets and mysteries.
“We need to go,” he says quietly. “Before Seraph realizes his contract has been broken.”
Right. Right. Can’t purge the pride here. Too exposed. Need to get back to the House, to the ritual room Croesus said he prepared.
I try to stand on my own. My legs cooperate, barely. The pride is making everything sharper, brighter, more significant, like I’m the center of the universe and everyone else is just orbiting around my glory. It’s intoxicating. Nauseating.
I hate that part of me loves it.
“Barnes,” Croesus says, his voice sliding into that smooth, persuasive register that makes people want to agree with him. “You’re going to forget we were here tonight. You came to work, felt a weight lift, and went home to your family. Do you understand?”
Barnes nods, dazed. “Yes. I understand.”
“Good.” Croesus guides me toward the door, one hand still on my waist like he’s afraid I’ll collapse if he releases me. He might not be wrong. “And Barnes? When your time comes, and it will eventually, I’ll be there to collect. That was the deal.”
“I remember.” Barnes is already looking lighter, younger, like someone lifted a boulder off his shoulders. “Thank you.”
We leave him there, walking out of the office and through the empty halls of the firm. Croesus navigates as if he’s been here before, which he probably has. Angels always know where their deals are, where their contracts hide. They can feel them the way I can see them. I know everything there is to know about angels and their prey.
The pride is getting worse. My skin feels too tight, like I’m going to burst out of it any second. Every step feels monumental. Every breath is proof of my superiority. Look at me, walkingthrough this corporate building with an angel at my side, carrying sin that would kill anyone else.
