Page 48 of Kazimir

“Hidden closures,” I said, deadpan. “You will be able to unfurl them instantly if needed. It is not as silly as it sounds; it is the best protection should an enemy grab you. You will also have battle armor made that accommodates your wings, of course.”

She was mid-swallow on a drink of coffee and nearly choked. “You’re serious.”

“Of course. I would not have my mate vulnerable because of clothing choices.”

She shook her head, amused. “I keep forgetting you’ve thought of everything.”

I sipped my coffee, then let the silence stretch, measuring her mood. She was more herself today; the panic and trauma burned off in the crucible of last night’s pain. But she was also…stronger, somehow. The light I’d glimpsed in her before, that faint celestial spark, had been amplified into a presence I could feel from across the table.

“Devon,” I said, “now that you remember who you are, what else have you remembered? About your powers. Or your training.”

She considered, then straightened in her chair, posture shifting from relaxed to soldier in a single heartbeat. “I was trained for battle,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Angels don’t get wings unless they earn them. My duties were varied. I was a guardian angel but did not have a specific charge. I protected humankind; saved them from evil attacks. This means I trained for frontline combat. I can fly faster than most angels, withstand fire, and heal pretty much anything but decapitation. I’m good with a blade.”

I let a slow smile cross my lips. “Impressive.”

She nodded, counting on her fingers. “I know how to use a bow, and I can speak every human language if I focus on it. I can also see in complete darkness and have an affinity for sensing lies.”

“Anything else?”

She paused, as if remembering a dream. “I can sometimes influence people. Not like mind control, but more like…amplifying a feeling. Or muting it.”

I laughed, genuine and bright. “You have just described compulsion, the most coveted of all supernatural powers.”

She beamed. “Is that good?”

“It is essential and a vampiric trait only the most powerful of us command,” I said. “You will need to be ready with all of your skills for what is coming.”

Her face sobered. “Yes. Sariel is powerful. We always trained to fight evil forces from hell. They are what torment and bring trouble to humans. And it was only when help was sought that we intervened. That’s happening less and less these days.”

“Well, sadly Sariel seems to care less about humankind and more about covering his angel ass. You are a loose end my dear; one he seems desperate to tie off. He is on his way, if he is not already here. He is coming for you.”

She folded her hands in her lap, then looked up at me with that new, fierce resolve. “We’re going to fight him, aren’t we?”

I reached across the table and took her hands in mine. “We are. But not alone. Never alone.”

She squeezed back, her skin warm and vital. “What’s the plan?”

“We will meet with my family today,” I said. “My sons, my daughter. They need to see you for themselves to know who you are. Then, together, we will strategize. I have friends in every supernatural faction. We will call in every favor, every debt owed. And when Sariel arrives, we will be ready.”

She let out a long breath. “That’s a lot of firepower for one fallen angel.”

I shook my head, smiling at her innocence. “You are more than that, Devon. You are the mate of the King of Kings. The entire supernatural world will rally to you if I ask. But more than that, you are their hope—the first angel to choose her own fate in a thousand years.”

She leaned back, as if letting the words soak in. Then she laughed, happy and unguarded. “No pressure, right?”

I grinned, my thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “None at all.”

She reached for her coffee again, her other hand never leaving mine. “Will they like me?” she asked, almost shy.

“They will love you,” I said. “Or they will learn to.”

She smiled, then set her cup down and looked at me with a directness that should have been impossible for one so new to this world. “I’m ready,” she said. “For all of it.”

I believed her.

The family room had been used more in the past few months than it had in the past fifty years. Tilden had seen to every detail: the tea service was set on the mahogany table, and three fresh arrangements of black and red roses perfumed the air. Even the hearth had been swept and kindled, as if a fire were needed in late summer.

I watched from the far end, hands folded behind my back. The portraits lining the walls were heavy with old eyes. I could feel my ancestors watching, judging. Let them judge. None of them had ever hosted an angel.