by Sadie Moss
I try to speak, but only a croaking sound comes out of my suddenly dry throat.
Downstairs? Hell?
Angels don’t go down there. And for a very good reason. I’d be eaten alive the second I got in. Nobody likes my kind Below.
“You can’t be serious,” Ford says, his tone flat. He’s cleaned up, the blood and dirt gone and a few bandages covering the worst of his injuries. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Fuck that. We can’t go in there!”
“Trin definitely can’t go in there,” Nix adds, and the fact that he’s using my name, even if it’s a nickname of my name, tells me how serious he is right now. Nix always calls me sugar or babycakes or something equally ridiculous like that. He must really mean it.
Knight nods vigorously, apparently in support of Nix.
“What other choice do we have?” Sawyer points out. “I’m sure Beck and Ryland have gone over all the other possibilities—”
“Trust me, we don’t like this any more than you do,” Beck cuts in. “But we haven’t found any other way to get rid of a demon-mark. And the sooner we get rid of this for Trin, the safer we’ll all be.”
“I’m not sure I can go down there,” I admit, scrunching up my face. “I’m an angel. It’ll feel… wrong to me, and wrong to all of the corrupted down there. Like a guitar string that’s out of tune. That’s the best way I can describe it. They’ll all know I’m there, and they’ll come after me, especially with the demon mark calling them. It’ll be a war zone the second I step down there.”
“Do you know of another option?” Ryland asks, in such a prideful and condescending tone that I’m actually tempted to punch him just to knock some sense into him. I’m not trying to be a whiner. I’m trying to warn them about the danger of what they’re suggesting. I’m trying to keep them safe. Am I supposed to just let them risk themselves for me like this without speaking up?
Ford gives a small, rough smirk, and I know he can sense my anger.
“There has to be another way,” Nix insists. “You only spent an hour or two on this. We need more time.”
“More time isn’t going to fix anything,” Beck replies. “We need to act as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that someone finds us and the greater the odds that someone breaks through the security. It’s only a matter of time.”
I have to admit he has a point there, but I’m not sure I’m willing to get on board with this plan so easily. Surely there must be something else we can figure out?
Ford tenses up. I’ve got no doubt he’s about to launch into some tirade, but Remi quickly steps in between him and Beck and Ryland. Always the peacekeeper. I never would’ve expected that to be Gluttony’s role in the group, but now that I know the brothers as people and not just their respective sins, it makes sense.
“Clearly, tempers are running high. We’re all short on patience,” he says smoothly. “It’s been a tough time of it and we haven’t really had a chance to rest. Any of us. How about I make us dinner, we’ll relax and get some sleep, and then we’ll tackle this in the morning, all right?”
Everyone looks at each other. I, for one, think it’s a great plan, and I say so out loud.
The others grumble, but none of them object. It fills me with warmth to know that they’re listening to me. Or, well, they’re listening to Remi. But also me, a little bit, right?
Nix’s kitchen is a technological marvel, designed to provide him with the best and most delicious food while requiring him to do as little work as possible to get it. Typical Phoenix. Remi sets to work at once, eager to be in a new kitchen just like he was eager to be in Beckett’s. I suspect this is a hobby of Remi’s, exploring new spaces for cooking.
The others all settle down, except for Knight, who helps to set the table. I try to help him as well, but he waves me off and gestures for me to sit. I do as I’m told, sticking my tongue out at him playfully. He blushes, a pink tinge coloring his brown skin, and it makes me blush a little too.
In his own way, Knight is holding me just as much at arm’s length as Ryland is, although I know the two men are keeping their distance for very different reasons. I’m not sure Ryland wants me at all—in anything beyond a carnal, physical sense. Knight wants me, but for reasons I can’t quite understand, he won’t let himself have what he wants.
After the food is served, everyone dives in. I’m surrounded by such a warm, homey atmosphere that it nearly knocks me off my chair. Even with all of their bickering—and that’s actually grown less and less as we’ve gone on—I feel like I’m at home among these men in a way that I never did in my little apartment.
Of course, I had takeout, and my fictional friends through the books, movies, and television shows that I watched. And that was fun, to lose myself in those worlds and to relax. But I didn’t realize at the time what I was missing. I didn’t know what I needed. Now that I have this, I don’t want to let it go. It feels incredible to be surrounded by these men and their energy, to feel like I’m included as part of a group.
I’ve never had that, not since I fell.
Sure, I had my group therapy once a week for fallen angels, but I never really felt comfortable there. A lot of those people were angry about being stuck on Earth, and I never really was, despite how badly I wanted to go home. I never felt like I fit in with the other fallen angels.
I fit in here though. Maybe I didn’t at first, but I do now. I feel like I could fit in even more if they would open up to me like Sawyer did earlier, if they would let me see all of them.
But then again—what’s the point in hoping for that kind of closeness if I’m just going to lose it all again soon?
As soon as I complete my mission and redeem the sins, I’ll get to go home. And that will be good. I missed having friends, having a community.
Although, now that I think about it…
How much were my friends back Upstairs really friends? Did any of them support me when I was brought before the committee and kicked out, hurled down to Earth? Did we actually spend time together hanging out like this?
No. Never.
Actually, I’m not sure angels ever really “hang out.” Most of them would consider it below them, I think. Nowhere near solemn enough for them.
A rush of sadness washes over me as I contemplate the future. Despite all the struggles and challenges I’ve faced recently, I’ve had more fun in these past weeks than I had in years before all of this started. I feel alive and… happy.
I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose these men.
But I fear that no matter how this all plays out, I will.
Chapter Eight
TRINITY
Nix has plenty of rooms all over his enormous house, despite the fact that he doesn’t usually have a lot of visitors. I settle down into one of the guest rooms after dinner and try to sleep.
But I’m too worried.
Anderson’s not going to be happy with me. He must be wondering where I am and what I’ve been up to. He didn’t get inside Nix’s complex, so I’m not sure he actually knows I’m here. If nothing else, he must know that I left the country for a while and that there’s something crazy going on with me. He must be driving himself insane wondering what I’ve done. None of this is anywhere even close to following protocol. If I were a good angel…
Well, I’m not a good angel, am I? Not really.
I never really have been. When I worked Upstairs, I never obeyed or followed the rules without question like I was supposed to. That’s why I was cast down. And now I’m running around with the seven sins, sleeping with them…
Falling in love with them.
I bite my lip as the thought filters through my mind, as if I’m afraid I’ll speak the words aloud if I don’t clamp my mouth shut. And I’m scared to say them out loud. It’ll make the truth seem more real than I’m ready to deal with right now.
Throwing the covers off, I slip out of bed. It’s late, I know, but I just can’t lie here staring at the ceiling an
ymore. I’m going bonkers, and my mind is veering into dangerous territory. I have to walk around and do something or I’ll go absolutely insane. I suck at video games, always have, but Nix must have a few that I can play. Losing myself in some mindless game sounds perfect right now. It’ll be a distraction, if nothing else.
This place is nice, I think to myself as I put on a robe and wander through the darkened halls. Beckett’s penthouse is arguably fancier—he’s got the best of everything, after all. How could he not, when he’s the personification of Greed?
But Nix’s place is more homey. It feels more lived in. The fancy technology is here because it suits Nix’s tastes, not because it’s the latest or the best gadget on the market. There are little personal touches all over the place, like art on the walls, a huge DVD collection, a few articles of clothing strewn about. This feels like a place that Nix really loves to be in, a place where he can be himself. I like it better than Beck’s apartment, to be honest.
I step into the darkened living room, casting my gaze around. There’s a massive TV on one wall and a video console beneath it. If I can’t find a game I want to play, maybe I’ll just turn on the TV and watch reruns of an old sitcom.
But as my gaze sweeps the room, I stop in my tracks, startled. My hand flies up to my chest as my heart jumps in surprise.
It’s so late and quiet that I thought I would be alone. But Knight is standing near a window, so still I almost didn’t notice him at first.
“I didn’t think anyone would be awake,” I admit, blowing out a breath as my heartbeat returns to its usual slow pace. My bare feet pad softly over the cool floor as I move toward the couch. I sit down on the plush cushions and pat the spot next to me, inviting Knight to sit down.
He hesitates for a second, and I’m almost certain he’ll slip away into the darkness like a shadow vanishing in the moonlight. Just like he did the night I woke up to find him sitting at the foot of the bed as I cuddled between Nix and Remi. I’m bracing myself for the disappointment when Knight moves—but to my surprise, instead of walking away, he comes and joins me on the couch.
I would celebrate the victory, but that’s a little hard to do when I catch sight of the expression on his face. His face is shadowy in the darkness, but I can see enough of his features to tell he looks unhappy and uncomfortable.
Ugh. I want to hug him. Out of all of the sins, Knight alone seems to hate who he is, the sin that he personifies. The others like who they are and revel in their sin, but not him. From the moment I’ve met him, I’ve had the impression that he would do anything to get away from his sin if he could.
The others always seem to keep an eye out for him, to watch his back protectively, and I’m pretty sure that’s why.
It’s not that he’s the baby of the family.
It’s that he’s the most broken.
“How are you feeling?” I ask softly.
Knight shrugs as if to say, Who even knows? Then he holds up his hand, palm flat, and makes a wobbling back and forth gesture with it. So-so.
I don’t understand the sign language that Knight’s developed with his brothers. The sins have existed for millennia, far longer than modern society, so Knight’s sign language is from before American Sign Language was invented. In fact, it might even be comparative to words or a language that isn’t even widely spoken anymore.
But I want to communicate with him. I want to crawl inside his head and see what’s going on in there. I’m determined to understand him better, and I refuse to let a little thing like language get in my way.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I press. “You’re not asleep.”
A tiny smile tugs at his lips. He shakes his head in acknowledgement of my words, then lifts his chin at me as if to point out that I’m not sleeping either. His brows pull together a little, and he cocks his head.
If he could speak, I think maybe he’d ask me if I’m okay.
Good question.
“I’m…” I pause, thinking. “I think I’m feeling the way you do. I think I’m feeling envy.”
Knight makes a face, looking a little confused.
I take a deep breath. “I don’t know what I want,” I admit. “I’m not sure I ever did. I thought I knew what it was—all this time, ever since I fell, I’ve wanted to get back home. Upstairs. To Heaven.” Just admitting it is painful. “But now I don’t know. And before, when I was up there, I wanted to help people, but I sometimes wasn’t sure how best to do it.”
I’m rambling, I can tell. Even though I can’t sleep, it doesn’t mean I’m not tired, and that exhaustion is destroying my brain-mouth filter, letting all kinds of stuff escape.
“I feel like I’ve changed a lot since I came down to Earth,” I continue. “And I’ve changed even more since I met you all. It’s not a bad thing, but it’s scary. I see these people with goals, with drive and passion. It’s the most wonderful thing about humans. Their lives are so short compared to ours, but they burn all the brighter for it. They have this wonderful purpose that they just… decide on. They have causes they fight for. And I don’t have anything like that.”
Knight shifts a little closer to me on the couch. His dark eyes almost seem to gleam in the light, and I’d bet anything that he’s sensing the envy in me.
I sigh, shaking my head. “Heck, forget a cause to fight for. I don’t even know what makes me happy.” Then I scrunch up my nose, reconsidering. “Or, it’s more like… I’m beginning to realize I wasn’t happy this whole time, maybe not ever before, because I’m finally starting to be happy now. It makes me see what I was missing, you know? The problem is, I don’t know what to do with it or how to keep it.”
Something passes over Knight’s face, but in the dim light, I can’t quite read his expression. He gestures toward the hallway that leads toward the back of the house where most of the guest bedrooms are, where the other men are sleeping. He makes a circle with his finger as if encompassing them all and then points at me.
Ah. A flush rises in my cheeks as my stomach does a little flip, and I’m glad that the shadows and my dark complexion probably hide my blush.
“Yes. I… I think that you all make me happy.”
Knight’s eyebrows shoot up. He points at himself and shakes his head, looking incredulous. I don’t make you happy.
“Of course you do.” I smile at him and take his free hand, the one that he’s not using to gesture, in both of mine, squeezing it. “You make me happy too. You’re thoughtful and you listen so well, and I know you’re always looking out for me.”
Knight blushes and looks down, shrugging his shoulders. The butterflies in my stomach flap harder.
I tilt his chin back up, keeping the connection between us even after he raises his head. “I mean it, Knight. It… it makes me sad to see that you think so little of yourself.”
Knight gestures toward himself in a sweeping gesture and arches an eyebrow, and I understand what he’s trying to say. Or the gist of it anyway.
I’m Envy. I was made this way. Made to want what I’m not.
“I know. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of happiness. And your brothers aren’t perfect, you know,” I point out. “Uncontrolled wrath or constant greed? Those aren’t necessarily good qualities. But you’re the only one who lets it eat you up inside, and you deserve better than that.”
I drop my hand to his chest without thinking about it. I feel Knight’s breath catch, and my own echoes it.
“I mean it,” I say. “You’re a good person, Knight.” It comes out as a whisper, barely audible.
We stare at each other for a moment, and I can feel the energy of my wings trembling. They spring from my back in a burst of feathers, and Knight jerks back a little in surprise. His eyes widen, then they darken as a hungry look passes over his face.
I have a sudden memory of Scotland, and of the night he caught me and Beck making out on the stairs after dinner. I followed him to his room, and he ran his fingers over my feathers in a way that drove me c
razy.
It felt so incredible. Not just his touch, but how fascinated he seemed by them, the way he couldn’t stop staring at them. I want to feel it again, so before I can chicken out, I reach down and take his hand, then guide it to the fluffy wing that rises up over my shoulder.
His nostrils flare, and I can feel a little resistance in his muscles as I rest his hand on my wing. He’s still trying to hold himself back from me, and I have a sudden worry that I’ve pushed him too far. I want more from him, and I want him to take more from me.
But this isn’t just about what I want. Relationships are a two-way street, and I have to respect Knight’s wishes. If he’s not ready to take things further between us, I have to honor that, even if it feels like my body is burning up from the inside out, fire licking through my veins at the feel of his warm fingers caressing my feathers.
I release his hand, allowing him to remove it if he wants to. But he doesn’t. He just stares at the place where he’s touching me, as if he can’t quite believe his eyes.
He does want this.
He’s just scared to take it.
I scoot a little closer to him on the couch, until our knees are pressed together and our faces are just a few inches apart. I won’t push Knight beyond what he’s ready for, but at the same time, I want him to know how I feel. With the other men, they’re often the ones to initiate touch, which I happily reciprocate. But with Knight, I think I have to take the lead. The awful voice in his head is still telling him he doesn’t deserve the things he wants, that he’s not good enough, and I need to prove to him that the voice is wrong.
I notice his brothers doing the same thing. They don’t baby him or coddle him or anything, but in subtle ways they may not even be conscious of, they show him that they want him around. That they love him and respect him.
That he’s enough for them.
I want to show him that too.
“That feels good,” I murmur, and the way my voice comes out almost like a purr says as much as my words do about how much I like this.
His throat works as he swallows, and his gaze is riveted to my wings as his fingers explore the feathers, making my stomach tighten and heat gather in my core. I hold still for as long as I can, but I’ve never been the most patient person in the world.