by C. S. Wilde
She pushed the door open.
His office walls were light blue, the marbled floor white. A spherical chandelier similar to the one from the hall hung from the ceiling. Fresh air ventured softly through the open arched window, making the taffeta curtains flutter. This high up in the Order, the windows were more like wide doors that angels used to come and go—if they had wings, that is.
The Messenger sat behind a white marbled desk. Golden cracks snaked across the surface, as if someone had dropped the table, then glued it back together with molten gold.
When he raised his head and peered at her, Ezra’s face lit up, and Ava, as usual, lost a breath.
The Messenger wasn’t simply handsome; he was sublime. Like the full moon hanging from the sky.
Ezra might be centuries old, but he didn’t look a day past thirty. His long silver hair was tied in a low braid with a few loose strands framing the sides of his face. And his intense blue eyes—oh, they were magnets pulling her closer.
He gave her a dashing grin as he stood from his chair, and Ava’s mind froze. It simply … froze.
His silken kilt had more intricate patterns than Ava’s, but the color was the same white. His silver bodysuit, a shade or two darker than his hair, hugged his perfect form in all the right places. Ezra’s body was all hard muscles and sharp lines, but his essence was gentle and kind. The combination only strengthened his appeal, and Ava suddenly forgot why she was here.
Ah, yes. Diego.
She cleared her throat and wrapped both hands behind her back. This was her boss’s boss, one of the Order’s three leaders, and the most powerful follower of the Goddess of Love and Life. A man who led thousands of angels throughout the world.
And Ava was here to ask for his help with a puny assignment.
A shiver coursed through her body, but there was no escaping this now.
“Ava,” Ezra said as he approached. “What a delightful surprise!” In a flash of light, his light-silver wings appeared behind him.
Ava didn’t know where to focus—at the drop-dead gorgeous man before her or at the silver feathers with golden tips that resembled glistening jewels.
Lower angels such as herself didn’t have wings, but it was said that the ascended displayed their feathers when they wanted to fly, fight, show off, or have intimate relations.
As a high angel, Ezra often showed his wings to establish dominance, but why did he display them now?
Perhaps he was showing off? Or perhaps he wished to … A furious blush went up her cheeks.
Ezra must’ve noticed it because he coiled his wings in the way of a hawk balancing on a tree, a subtle change flashing across his face.
As a Guardian, Ava could sense others’ emotions, so she caught a hint of embarrassment flowing from him; a purple and bitter sensation that Ezra was quick to pull back in.
“I’m afraid my visit is far from delightful, my Messenger.” Ava scratched the back of her neck.
He sighed in annoyance. “How many times must I tell you to call me by my name?”
“I would. It’s just … I figured proper decorum would help ease you into my request.”
He smirked playfully. “Now I’m curious. Why do you assume I won’t enjoy your visit, then?”
“I’ve run into some issues with my charge.”
“I see. And Vera isn’t able to help?” His forehead furrowed in confusion. “She was my mentor many centuries ago and she guides a great deal of my Guardians. I’ve never seen a mission she couldn’t handle.”
“Oh, it’s not that she isn’t capable. When I talked to her about it, she told me to ask you for help.” She bit her bottom lip. “Directly.”
Ezra’s focus lingered on her mouth for a little too long. “Hmm?” Before Ava could repeat herself, he said, “Ah, yes. So she doesn’t fancy doing her job anymore.”
She shot him a chiding glance. “We both know Vera is anything but lazy.”
“We do. Which is why your presence here baffles me.”
Oh, how humiliating. Ava was standing in this room, making the stupidest request in angelic history, while the old owl sat peacefully downstairs drinking her Earl Grey.
She would give Vera the scolding of a lifetime once she returned to the lower levels of the Order; of this she was certain. Ava didn’t care that Vera was ascended; she would tell her off nonetheless.
“It’s a silly request indeed,” she said. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Ava went to leave, but a warm, strong hand wrapped gently around her wrist. She turned back and almost slammed against Ezra’s strong chest.
He smiled down at her, his breathing all too close. A soft citric scent came from the tower of hard muscle before her, and she took it in. The proximity lit up a sizzling sensation in her core.
His wings spread behind him as if he were stretching before a run. Getting ready for … something.
Something Ava shouldn’t be so eager to know.
“I didn’t say no,” he admitted quietly. “In fact, working an assignment might be a good distraction from my duties.” He played with a strand of Ava’s hair, curling it around his finger. “I suppose Vera always has a plan.”
“That she does,” Ava croaked, her voice feeble. No. Feverish.
Ezra watched her with adoration, almost as if she was a precious thing to him. But she couldn’t be. Ava was a simple Guardian, one of the many thousands he led.
He cupped her cheek and peered at her with those kind blue eyes that stole all her common sense. Gods in the Heavens, his gaze was a physical force that kept her right where she was.
He leaned closer and … were they about to kiss?
They shouldn’t.
Ezra was her superior, he would never … well, neither would she. Regardless of the hierarchy, there were lines they couldn’t cross.
He seemed to realize the same, because his wings vanished into thin air, jammed back into his essence.
He stepped away and cleared his throat. “Take me to your charge. Let’s see what we can do for him.”
THE SETTING SUN drenched Diego’s small bedroom in a warm shade of orange. Ezra stood beside Ava at the foot of the old man’s bed, stoic and silent.
“Brought in the big guys, huh?” Diego asked, a certain bitterness in his tone. “None of you can help me. Will you please give up?”
“Never,” Ava assured.
“Why?” His legs moved from under the covers as if he wanted to stand up and leave, and yet, he didn’t. “There are so many people out there who need you.” He stared out the window and pressed his lips in a line, his fingers clutching the covers. “Don’t waste your time with me or my son.”
Ezra stepped forward, genuine curiosity in his frown. “You don’t understand the gift that has been bestowed upon you.”
“So go help someone else.” He showed them the door. “Leave me alone!”
Ava laid a hand on the bed rail. “The Gods will not abandon you, Diego. Or your son.”
“Gods? As in plural?”
Ava nodded.
His angry manner gave way to amusement. “If my mamá was alive to hear this … She was a devout Catholic her whole life. Me on the other hand …” His lips twisted at the corners. “I’ve always been more of a ‘we’re-all-space-dust’ kind of guy. Looks like we were both wrong.”
“There’s no right and wrong,” Ezra said, his tone overflowing with kindness and understanding. His light was incredible, his generosity endless, and his devotion to mankind, oh, it was spectacular. “It does not matter what you or your mamá believed in. We’re here to help you either way.”
The old man’s chin dropped and he blinked back tears. Ezra was destroying the walls Diego put up, one by one.
Perhaps Vera was right to ask Ava to work this case with him. The Messenger was magnificent in every single sense of the word.
“Now, your son Samuel has quite a history,” Ezra continued. “At first we couldn’t find him in our databases because you never registered him as
yours.”
“His mother wanted that. She was an independent woman and we didn’t love each other. Besides, I was away on duty most of the time. I let her do what she thought was best, as long as she gave me some weeks with him when I returned home.” Diego studied his own hands as he fumbled with his fingers. “It worked for a while.”
“And now he’s leading a small drug gang,” Ezra added carefully.
Diego clicked his tongue. “The son of a veteran who dedicated his entire life to this country. Ironic, heh?” He raised his head and focused on Ezra. “He wasn’t always like that, you know. He did great at school up until he was seventeen, but then he met the wrong group of people. They dragged him into this.”
“He allowed them to,” Ava corrected.
It was a harsh truth, but one Diego must face to begin his recovery.
He sniffed and cleared his throat. “He did.” A grievous silence ensued until he continued, “His mamá said society failed him, but it was all me. I served my country and forgot to serve my son.” A sob burst from his lips.
Golden wisps of light flowed from Ezra’s mouth as he said, “Don’t bear a burden that isn’t yours.”
Diego’s shoulders relaxed as the words penetrated his skin, but a chilling swarm of guilt and sorrow still swirled inside him; a sense of hopelessness all too common to most humans.
“You’ve been through so much,” Ava added. “We will help the both of you. You have our word.”
“Are all angels this stubborn?” Diego snapped, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.
Ezra’s wide, pure grin made him seem younger somehow. “No.” He pointed his chin to Ava. “Just her.”
The old man chuckled, then took a deep breath and looked up at her, his warm, black eyes watering. “Why me?”
She shrugged. “Chance. Fate. Who knows but the Gods?”
“I assume you tried to reconcile with your son and it didn’t go well?” Ezra asked.
“I’m military. What did you expect? We’d been estranged for years, but I figured I had to try again.” He showed them a long, dark scar on his thin arm. “We Garcías can be a bit … hot-blooded.”
Ava gasped in horror. His own son had done this to him. Heavens, maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew with this mission.
“Took me months to recover,” he went on. “Samuel said I was no father to him, and that I should stay away. This scar was my last warning. So I did what he asked.” His voice failed and he swallowed dryly. “I’m not as strong as I used to be.”
It was clear to Ava that the things Diego had seen and done during his years in the military had weakened him, turning the brave soldier into the frail man lying before them. But the situation with his son had been the killing blow.
This was a man ready to die. And helping Samuel was the only way to fix Diego.
“Thank you for your time. We’ll keep in touch.” Ezra turned around, hands wrapped behind his back. “Come, Ava. We must prepare.”
Her forehead wrinkled as she followed him out of Diego’s room. She closed the door gently behind her. “Prepare?”
“We have one course of action here.” He pivoted on his heels and peered at her. “We must infiltrate Samuel’s gang.”
3
F irst, Ava had to learn street lingo, which was a mighty task in itself.
She finally settled for keeping silent most of the time and letting Ezra do the talking. After all, he was much better with languages than her, probably because he had a natural talent—he spoke over twenty different ones.
Then again, centuries of existence did give him an advantage.
Second, she insisted she learn how to fight. Ezra disagreed, but Ava wasn’t one to give up easily. So on the third day of preparation for their mission, she dashed into his office and pointed a long sword at him.
“What are you doing?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and a playful grin as he closed the book he was reading.
“You’ll show me how to fight,” she said decisively. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”
He set the book aside on his table and crossed his arms. “You do know humans use guns these days.”
She frowned. “Do they?”
“Of course. Swords are good for fighting supernaturals.” His thumb drew an invisible line across his neck. “Nothing like a good beheading to make sure they stay dead. But swords haven’t been a human’s weapon of choice for a while now.”
She blinked, not sure whether to believe him or not. Then again, time passed rather quickly for an immortal creature, and it was hard to keep up. Missing certain changes was inevitable, she supposed.
“Fine, then.” She put the sword back into the sheath attached to the white belt around her waist. “Show me how to use a holy gun.”
Guardians like her weren’t prone to violence. Leave that to Warriors and Archangels. Ava hadn’t fought with swords or daggers since her initiation decades ago, and even then, she had only covered the basics. Wielding holy pistols was out of the question since she’d never bothered learning.
Now she had no choice.
Surely human bullets couldn’t hurt a strong supernatural such as Ezra, but Ava was a lower angel. She was pretty certain she wasn’t bullet—or blade—proof. And although she could create a weak shield around her, she couldn’t tell if it would be enough.
After all, she’d never been attacked before.
The Messenger stepped closer, his blue gaze stripping her bare as if she was an onion he carefully peeled. “Tell me what’s wrong, Ava.”
Her shoulders dropped and she glanced at her own feet. “We’re about to step into a den of wolves. These humans are consumed by hate, anger and cruelty. They lust for the blood of their brothers. I can only pray Samuel is different.” She lifted her gaze and met his. Ezra watched her with curiosity and a hint of something velvety and warm. Red too, like … lust. “I-I have to be ready. That’s all.”
He laid both hands on her shoulders, his grip gentle and yet strong. “No one ever is.”
There was more, of course, and Ezra, like the great Messenger he was, knew. Otherwise he wouldn’t watch her with a kind smile, his blue eyes waiting; encouraging her.
“I don’t want to be a burden,” she finally admitted.
“You’re never a burden, Ava.” He cupped her cheeks. “If you insist, I can show you some self-defense moves. As for battling, you don’t need to worry. I’ll protect you.”
She appreciated his noble intentions but they were also a nuisance. Ava wasn’t a frail porcelain doll; she could take care of herself.
If only she knew how …
Then again, she didn’t fancy violence. At all. So she kept quiet, part of her affronted, part of her pleased with his decision.
They stayed this way, locked within one another, on the verge of something; something that made Ava’s stomach flutter and her heart rise.
Ezra’s lips parted and he leaned his head down, their breaths mingling as he muttered, “Ava, I …”
A knock came from the door, startling her.
An Erudite wearing her typical light gray bodysuit and light gray kilt entered the room. Her red lips spread into a mischievous grin. “Was I interrupting?”
Ava wasn’t sure if she was grateful or furious. She immediately stepped back and away from Ezra’s reach, but it was too late. Her friend Justine had seen what they’d almost done, and she would swarm Ava with questions later.
“Not at all,” Ezra said, setting both hands behind his back and straightening his posture.
“I’ll be quick, so you two may continue what you were doing.” She winked at Ava as she strolled into the room, carrying a folder. Her brown hair was tied in a high ponytail that swung lazily as she moved. “I’ve come to deliver my research on the Red Dogs.”
Samuel’s gang.
Ezra took the papers and had a peek. “Thank you, Erudite Dubois. This will help me greatly.”
Justine crossed her arms and peered at Ava. �
��I find it remarkable that the Messenger is assisting a Guardian with her charge.” She turned to Ezra and raised one eyebrow. “So long as my friend remains safe, I’m fine with this. Ava isn’t precious to you alone, my Messenger.”
He bowed his head to her and put a hand over his heart. “Your friend will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Ezra’s devotion to the work of the Gods knows no limits,” Ava assured her quietly.
“Oh, his devotion to someone certainly doesn’t,” Justine remarked, and Ezra glared at her with reproach.
Her friend didn’t mind, as it was often the case. “Well, as long as you don’t join in the fun and get yourself in danger.” She hugged Ava and whispered, “Talk to you later?”
“Definitely.”
Ava’s heart shrunk. She hated lying to her friend, but it was a necessary evil. She watched Justine go and close the door with a heavy heart.
“I still don’t understand why you don’t want her to know you’re joining me.” Ezra raised his shoulders. “I can guarantee your safety. She has nothing to fear.”
“And yet, she will fear nonetheless. Justine can be overprotective and hot-headed.” Ava sighed despondently. “She would slap you for taking me on a dangerous mission, which would render her weeks of cleaning duties at the cafeteria.”
He smirked. “Quite right.”
“So, you see, ignorance is for her own good.”
He frowned at the closed door. “It often is.”
4
A va’s heart banged against her ribcage as she put on her disguise. Their week of preparation had come to an end, and today they would infiltrate the Red Dogs.
Beads of cold sweat bloomed on her forehead, and her legs felt awfully weak.
This was it. She would soon leave the safety of the Order to waltz into danger.
A lamb amongst wolves.
She wasn’t a fan of the gray baggy pants and the cropped top that showcased her stomach, but she didn’t have much of a choice.
When in Rome …
She fixed her strawberry-blond hair in a high pony, and contoured her eyes with too much mascara. When she was done, she watched herself in the mirror with a bit of horror.