by Elara Skye
Before her death, Amelia’s mother always put up candles around the house as well, especially during the holidays. It was a large property, but the smell of apples and cinnamon reached all the rooms. Her father never cared enough to complain, even if he disliked it. She realized then that the church reminded her of home. That must’ve been part of the reason why she always felt comfortable here.
As Amelia sat there thinking about it, she hadn’t noticed the wetness building in her eyes, which accumulated until her vision blurred. She blinked, bowing her head, and allowed the tears to fall without streaking her cheeks. The movement drew Finn’s attention from afar, but it was far too late for him to catch anything. Amelia closed her eyes and pressed the emotion down into an inert little ball inside her chest, schooling her features upon opening them again. The reception was coming to an end, and it’d be time to go home soon. Home to a family dinner, for most—for Amelia, it’d be a large, stuffed-crust pizza in the company of her cat.
She sighed, closing her eyes, and let her mind drift back away from the tapering music…
“Amelia?” Her head snapped up. Finn now stood a few feet away, hands still buried in his pockets. Multitudes of people stood and shuffled up the aisle behind him, inching toward the doors—had the ceremony ended without her noticing? “It is Amelia, isn’t it?”
“Hi,” she choked out. “Y-Yeah, that’s me.”
“Right, I thought I recognized you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You’re fine. My mind was, you know...” She waved her hand, indicatively. “Elsewhere.”
He nodded slightly, studying her face. “Well, I don’t know if you remember me, but I came to your bar about a week ago with a friend. My name is Finn.”
“I remember. Bailey’s Comet, right?”
“Yes, I think that’s what you called it.”
“Right.” She chuckled, feeling her mood tugged upward by a string. “Biggest trauma of my life.”
A sliver of amusement glinted in his eye, pairing with a subtle grin. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention—but I can recommend a veritable therapist. He’s quite good.”
“You want to send me to him?” She smiled. “Man, that poor shrink’s going to wonder what he did to you.”
“Fine by me, I’ve got to rectify my wrongs somehow.”
“Well, technically, it’s my fault. I’m the one who made the drink.”
“Are you saying that we’re both to blame?”
“Is that surprising?”
“No.” Finn shrugged. “Just the easiest argument I’ve ever been in.”
“Well, got to give credit where credit’s due,” Amelia said. “Merry Christmas, by the way. Funny running into each other like this.”
“To you, as well. And it’s not all that weird for me, I like visiting places like this.”
“Churches?”
“Mosques, temples—they’re all the same to me.”
“I see. That’s an interesting Christmas pastime, is this a tradition or something?”
“Not exactly.” He grinned reluctantly. “Tonight, it was either this or my awful company party.”
“Oh, wow. What made it so awful that you didn’t want to go?”
“I actually just came from there…apart from an overly drunk business partner, it was just an awkward crowd.”
Amelia grinned expectantly. “Tell me about it.”
“I mean, if you really want to know, there was a bit more alcohol involved tonight, and...” Finn paused, hesitating a bit. Amelia suspected he was wondering whether she had anyone to tell. “Well, let’s just say an associate’s wife got unexpectedly handsy.”
Unexpectedly? Amelia inadvertently glanced him up and down. The man wasn’t exactly an eyesore. “Wow, that is unfortunate.” She cringed. “For everyone involved.”
“It’s fine; I’d say I’m better off now. More so than my associate, anyway.”
“That poor man.”
“Woman.” He corrected.
Amelia bit back a chuckle. “Oh, man, I’m so sorry. It sounds like you left your partner in a generally un-fun situation, though.”
“Believe me, he can handle himself.” He grinned. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“You’re here too, alone on Christmas Eve.”
“Ah, well, you know. I fought with my cat, so we’re avoiding each other.”
Finn laughed, flashing a brilliant smile. “Got a lot of beef to unpack with your cat?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, you mentioned tradition earlier—is coming here yours?”
Amelia fell silent for a moment, mentally acknowledging the fork in the conversation. “Little bit. It’s a long story.”
“Too long?”
“Don’t know. Might be, for you.”
“Will it give me nightmares?”
“No, but it might scar you for life.”
“We’d be even, then.”
Amelia smiled, biting her lower lip. “Is that a calculated risk?”
“I’m deadly certain about my odds.”
She sighed. “Okay, well, my mom died a few years ago, and my dad and I aren’t on speaking terms. So, I come here on Christmas Eve and then go home and have pizza with my cat.”
Finn peered down at her, devoid of judgment, maintaining a soft curiosity instead—like he’d lived and heard too many stories to be shocked by hers. “The first half of that was disheartening, the middle part curious, and the last half sounded like a damn good deal.” His grin faltered a bit. “I’m sorry about your mother, though.”
“Thanks. Sorry if that was oversharing a bit.”
“No, not at all. It’s a shame about your father, too.”
“Well, that part’s not as bad. My dad was a shark.”
“Oh, yeah? I bet I know him, then.”
“You definitely do,” the words slipped out.
There was a beat of silence, and Finn tilted his head. “Sorry?”
“Oh—sorry, um, I probably shouldn’t have said it like that. You might know him. I don’t know.” Amelia paused, feeling embarrassed. “My name’s Amelia Var Hart, my dad’s kind of a big deal in the corporate world.”
His grin fell, eyes narrowing with a curious gleam. “You don’t mean Ruben Var Hart?”
She nodded. “The very same. I worked at Hart for a little while.”
“And now...you’re estranged?”
“Yeah. Have been for a few years.”
“Var Hart’s daughter...” Finn repeated thoughtfully. “You know, I think I might’ve heard of you. My partner, Alaric Sae, mentioned something once. I think his assistant was trying to schedule a meeting with your upcoming CFO, but was told that that person left inexplicably, and the company would reach out when they found a suitable replacement.”
Amelia nodded. “Sounds like they gave you too much and too little information at the same time.”
“There was much more to it, I assume?”
“Well, people don’t do these things for no reason.”
“Some do.” Finn studied her more carefully. “But you don’t strike me as the type.”
Amelia’s shoulders sank reclusively, sensing the conversational direction. Her smile faded as she looked away, back at the stained windows. It was snowing outside again, though the flakes of snow were barely visible in the dim light passing through the glass.
“Well, like I said, it’s a really long story.”
“I won’t press you for it,” he answered gently. “But I’ve got time if you want to tell it.”
She blinked, chuckling as she looked back at him. “You must be extremely bored.”
“Genuinely curious, to be honest.” He shot her a warm smile. “You can think of it as a professional curiosity, if you want. What would I have to do to scorn a brilliant employee out of my company?”
The faintest blush pinched her cheeks. “How do you know I was brilliant?”
“Just a guess.”
“Well, if you’re really dead-set on sitting through this...”
“I am, if you are.”
“Okay,” she sighed, “Well, I flew a college friend out to visit me a few years ago and introduced her to a couple of my friends. Her family was really poor, so she couldn’t even afford the airfare on her own. One of my other childhood friends hit it off with her and wanted to see her again, so they dated for a bit, and...” Amelia hesitated. “Bad things happened.”
He tilted his head. “Bad things?”
“Let’s just say you never know what kind of adult your childhood friend will grow up to be.” She shrugged. “Turns out, mine never learned consent.”
Finn’s eyes widened. “Oh...”
“So,” Amelia went on, “at the time, my income was coming from the company. And I had a lot of it, so I offered to cover her legal costs if she wanted to do something about it.”
“And how did that end?”
“It didn’t. My dad didn’t think it was a good idea, and he withheld my pay to stop me from doing it.”
Finn’s expression hardened. “That…sounds extremely illegal. Why would he attempt something like that with his own daughter?”
“Patrick Raymer is the name of my dad’s business partner,” she said. “And my childhood friend was Daniel Raymer—his kid.”
“Oh.”
“Yup.” Amelia nodded emphatically. “Bit of a conflict of interest.”
“So, that’s why you resigned?”
“I don’t know if ‘resigned’ is the right word for it, but yes.” She shrugged. “There wasn’t a single lawyer that my dad didn’t own, that felt like challenging him. I was too young to get my inheritance yet, I didn’t have an income, and I didn’t have anything saved up. So, between having all that and keeping my mouth shut, I left.”
His face sank. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was inevitable.”
“How?”
“I didn’t agree with my dad’s decisions. I don’t know what would’ve happened if I tried to accept my inheritance while trying to fight him about it. I probably wouldn’t have gotten it at all.”
“You weren’t living comfortably enough to put up with things as they were?”
“I was for a really long time.” She paused. “But after my mom died, no one was around to keep me sane anymore. Might say my limits were her legacy.”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “But playing some kind of role is a part of life, no matter what you do or where you go. Everyone will want something from you.”
“That’s not exactly true,” she said, grinning a bit. “People want you to uphold your commitments, but they won’t necessarily want something from you. That’s just spoken by someone who’s still surrounded by people like that.”
Finn peered at her blankly for a moment. “And you’re doing fine now, I presume?”
“Yup. Rock bottom’s been a pretty warm swim.”
“Wow.” He smiled faintly. “Well, I can’t help but think it’s a shame that you and I didn’t meet sooner.”
Amelia fidgeted, feeling her throat constricting a bit. “Why do you say that?”
“I think it would’ve been refreshing to work with someone like you.” He tilted his head curiously. “You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a job?”
She laughed, releasing a bit of nervous energy. “Oh, no. I’m happy with my life in the woods.”
“Ah, that’s a shame.”
Amelia took a deep breath and sighed, looking out the window again, then down at her phone—it was already past ten.
“Well, anyway...it’s getting pretty dark out,” she said, her voice was soft and gentle. Inviting, even. “I should probably get home. I don’t want to be out too late.”
It occurred to Amelia that she didn’t mind him tagging along with her.
Instead, Finn glanced silently out the window. “I suppose I should get going, too. Believe it or not, I’ve got to be up early.”
The tightness in her throat now spread to her chest and shoulders, settling in the form of cold disappointment. “On Christmas?”
“You’d be surprised at how much has to get done tomorrow.”
Amelia nodded solemnly, feeling the warmth leave her body. It wasn’t that strange, she supposed. Not for someone at his level. And it didn’t matter that she’d allowed herself to think for a moment that tonight would be an exception—for either of them, in different respects.
“It was nice meeting you, Amelia,” Finn said as she stood, extending a hand down to her. “Var Hart.”
“Varis,” she smiled as she took it, letting him lift her from the bench, “I go by Varis around here.”
“Varis. I’ll definitely remember that—” Finn paused, his voice trailing off suddenly. Confusedly. A subtle, indiscernible question surfaced in his expression, and he looked down at their intertwined hands.
A heartbeat later, the confusion was gone. Finn reared back sharply, pulling his hand away as he looked up at the altar.
“Hey, you okay?” Amelia asked.
His eyes darted back to her, then dropped back down to his hand. Without answering, Finn opened and closed it tightly—wincing a bit.
“Yes, I’m—” he paused again, tensing a bit, as though some biting pain was waxing and waning with every movement. Finn lifted his fist to his chin, lips pressed together into a thin line. “Please excuse me.”
Amelia watched dumbfounded as he turned and stalked back toward the double doors. She might’ve called out to him, if not for the urgency—after all, she’d forgotten to ask about his bar trick.
Chapter Four
Finn set foot in the foyer, then broke off into a run through the outside doors.
Damn. The night had begun innocently enough. And after a long and harrowing day, lacking a moment’s peace, a throbbing headache was now raging in full force. Amelia’s presence—and their conversation as a whole—was mollifying at first. Enticing, even. Now, it was the cause of the gnawing pain biting mercilessly at his chest. Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone outside to see him running—no one to stop and ask him questions.
Finn careened off the ground in a spinning gust of air, leaving a whirling cloud of snowflakes in his wake. To use his ability to fly—to teleport—he entered the Ether mid-step, swaths of magic cutting through the air behind him, carrying him like wings. His ethereal body careened through the adjacent plane, but Finn felt the pain worsen the moment he crossed over. And so, he barely reached the church’s rooftop before snapping back into his physical body.
The icy cement scraped his skin with the impact, though it left no marks. Finn choked back a cry, turning over and gripping the rooftop ledge tightly. When he crossed back over, the relief was immediate—his physical body hurt less because nothing was wrong with it. The pain was forcing its way elsewhere, like an instinct that wasn’t welcome and never would be.
There was only one thing he knew of that could cause him this much pain. Particularly after touching a human.
It was the force of a guardianship bond, crushing his soul under its weight.
Finn once heard how it affected angels that resisted the assignment, the kind of pain it brought them while demanding their acceptance. The subsequent consequences were worse—so much worse—when they accepted it. There were no exceptions to the fact that the bond made angels reckless. Stupid, at times. Quick to sacrifice strategy in favor of time.
Everything a Dominion angel couldn’t afford to be. Entire kingdoms rose and fell at their behest and orchestrations—strategy, patience, and intellect were their bread and butter.
“Shit,” Finn’s voice was gruff as he tried to stand, but he was already exhausted. Amelia’s amber eyes flashed in his mind, making his heart pound harder.
The bond forced him to his knees again, then back to the ground as it intensified, demanding his compliance. Finn gritted his teeth in pain, but what could he do? If he knew this was the price, he never would have looked twice in that woman’
s direction. He would never have set foot in that bar. Of all the conceivable punishments that could’ve been brought down on him, the burden of a human was one of the worst.
The ledge nearly crumbled from his tightening grip.
Amelia.
That was her name.
With each passing second, Finn quickly realized that he couldn’t fight it. No amount of struggling was making it better—in fact, it seemed to be having the opposite effect. There wasn’t much that he could do about it. Nothing he could do would turn it away. Finn could only accept it.
And just like that, the pressure subsided. Gone the very moment he admitted that the fighting was pointless.
Finn dropped his arms to his sides, loosening a breath as his body relaxed against the cold floor. And afterward, he laid there for some time, watching the snowflakes spiral toward him out of the darkness. Finn’s senses were comparably dull outside the Ether, but they were still sharp enough to hear footsteps suddenly appear on the ground below.
Not that it mattered. Dread sat heavily in his chest, as Finn had a pretty good guess at who was passing by on the sidewalk. He turned, rising to his feet as he tottered over to the edge of the roof. There, he saw Amelia strolling by, ensconced by the glow of the streetlights. His hand clamped down on the ledge, frustration cutting through him as he watched her go.
She was a fully grown, self-sufficient woman, sauntering happily down the dimly lit sidewalk, footsteps strong and confident. Even if she was young by human standards—likely a few years younger than him physically—Amelia’s life was calm and settled. Her past was another story, but the present lived on in a state of normalcy. What did she need a guardian for?
Finn stepped into the Ether as he leaped onto the ledge. He kneeled and waited, perhaps expecting to be struck with a sense of urgency, but nothing came. Not a hint of panic. Nothing to justify the assignment—nothing but his own frustration.
It allowed him a moment to observe the way Amelia’s soul fluttered behind her. It was shapeless and wispy, the way all things appeared in the neighboring plane, though hers was light and airy—and uncommonly luminous. All in all, it was a singularly bright light within the Ether, and an indication that she had committed no severe violations in her life. Uncommon, for a human her age. It was a wonder that none of the district’s demons had pursued her yet—a soul like hers would’ve been quite the conquest.