It was also definitely distant. The tower rose at our side, so close I could have reached past Faith and put my hand flat on the glass. Heart pounding, I looked at my reflection.
A blaze of white fire reflected in the black glass. My halo was back, shining as brilliantly as the midday sun.
And behind it, springing from my shoulders, were the wings.
Chapter 8
I am not an angel!” Krystal and Faith both ducked as my wings swept over their heads. We were hiding out in the old shrine Krystal had shown me yesterday—Faith had gabbled something about the “sanctified ground protecting us” before running to fetch Krystal. I didn’t know what she’d meant, but at least the half-ruined building was deep in the woods and still had most of its walls and roof. The last thing I needed was for anyone else to witness my psychotic breakdown. “There’s—there’s a perfectly rational explanation.”
“For crying out loud, Raf, you have wings and a halo!” Krystal grabbed hold of my jacket, forcing me to stop my frantic pacing. “What more do you want, to be handed a harp by God Himself?”
“I don’t believe in God! I’m an atheist!” I checked over my shoulder to see if my wings had disappeared in a puff of logic. They hadn’t. I groaned, clenching my fists in my radiant hair. “I can’t be an atheist angel!”
Krystal shrugged. “And I’m agnostic. So? I still managed to get you here.”
“I can’t believe he’s really an angel,” Faith said, sounding as shocked as I felt. “I wasn’t expecting one to be so . . . physical.”
Krystal smirked, flashing her pentagram pendant. “Computer-guided laser-etching machine in the workshop. Accurate to a hundredth of a millimeter. I told you it was better than messing around with chalk on a freezing rooftop.”
“Angel-summoning is supposed to be done with holy reverence,” Faith protested. From the way Krystal rolled her eyes, this was not the first time they’d had this argument. “Not in between cutting out gears for your mechanical engineering course work!”
“Excuse me, could we get back to the topic of my giant, glowing wings ?” I snapped, waving them for emphasis. “I don’t care how hard you wished. People make dumb wishes all the time. They don’t cause innocent bystanders to suddenly sprout extra limbs!”
“I didn’t wish,” Krystal said, maddeningly calm. “I made a summoning charm.” She shrugged. “Even if you know the right symbols to call the angel you want, it’s not easy. As Faith found out, if you don’t get every line spot-on, nothing happens.”
“I’m not good at geometry, okay?” Faith said defensively. She turned back to me, her voice softening again. “But the important thing is that you’re here. You’re my angel, and you’re finally here.” She smiled suddenly, as brilliant as the rising sun. “And now everything is going to be fine.”
“Everything is not fine! Giant freaking wings! ” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stop hyperventilating. “Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at here, but I am not an angel. I’m a normal guy! I mean, I have parents and everything. What do you want me to do, show you baby photos? Call up my dad as a character reference? Trust me, I’m human!”
“I’ve met your dad.” Faith chewed on her lip for a second, looking pensive. “Raffi, what’s your mother like?”
“Dead, thanks so much for asking,” I snapped. Faith flinched, looking stricken, and I felt a stab of guilt. “Sorry,” I muttered. “It’s okay, it was ages ago. What do you mean, what was she like? She was my mum.”
“Yes, but how would you describe her?”
I hesitated for a second, trying out and discarding a dozen adjectives in my head. In the end, there was only one that did her justice. “Perfect,” I said, my voice going low. “She was perfect.” Then my head snapped up. “Wait, what are you suggesting?”
“I think you’re right, you aren’t an angel . . .
A blaze of white fire reflected in the black glass. My halo was back, shining as brilliantly as the midday sun.
And behind it, springing from my shoulders, were the wings.
Chapter 8
I am not an angel!” Krystal and Faith both ducked as my wings swept over their heads. We were hiding out in the old shrine Krystal had shown me yesterday—Faith had gabbled something about the “sanctified ground protecting us” before running to fetch Krystal. I didn’t know what she’d meant, but at least the half-ruined building was deep in the woods and still had most of its walls and roof. The last thing I needed was for anyone else to witness my psychotic breakdown. “There’s—there’s a perfectly rational explanation.”
“For crying out loud, Raf, you have wings and a halo!” Krystal grabbed hold of my jacket, forcing me to stop my frantic pacing. “What more do you want, to be handed a harp by God Himself?”
“I don’t believe in God! I’m an atheist!” I checked over my shoulder to see if my wings had disappeared in a puff of logic. They hadn’t. I groaned, clenching my fists in my radiant hair. “I can’t be an atheist angel!”
Krystal shrugged. “And I’m agnostic. So? I still managed to get you here.”
“I can’t believe he’s really an angel,” Faith said, sounding as shocked as I felt. “I wasn’t expecting one to be so . . . physical.”
Krystal smirked, flashing her pentagram pendant. “Computer-guided laser-etching machine in the workshop. Accurate to a hundredth of a millimeter. I told you it was better than messing around with chalk on a freezing rooftop.”
“Angel-summoning is supposed to be done with holy reverence,” Faith protested. From the way Krystal rolled her eyes, this was not the first time they’d had this argument. “Not in between cutting out gears for your mechanical engineering course work!”
“Excuse me, could we get back to the topic of my giant, glowing wings ?” I snapped, waving them for emphasis. “I don’t care how hard you wished. People make dumb wishes all the time. They don’t cause innocent bystanders to suddenly sprout extra limbs!”
“I didn’t wish,” Krystal said, maddeningly calm. “I made a summoning charm.” She shrugged. “Even if you know the right symbols to call the angel you want, it’s not easy. As Faith found out, if you don’t get every line spot-on, nothing happens.”
“I’m not good at geometry, okay?” Faith said defensively. She turned back to me, her voice softening again. “But the important thing is that you’re here. You’re my angel, and you’re finally here.” She smiled suddenly, as brilliant as the rising sun. “And now everything is going to be fine.”
“Everything is not fine! Giant freaking wings! ” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stop hyperventilating. “Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at here, but I am not an angel. I’m a normal guy! I mean, I have parents and everything. What do you want me to do, show you baby photos? Call up my dad as a character reference? Trust me, I’m human!”
“I’ve met your dad.” Faith chewed on her lip for a second, looking pensive. “Raffi, what’s your mother like?”
“Dead, thanks so much for asking,” I snapped. Faith flinched, looking stricken, and I felt a stab of guilt. “Sorry,” I muttered. “It’s okay, it was ages ago. What do you mean, what was she like? She was my mum.”
“Yes, but how would you describe her?”
I hesitated for a second, trying out and discarding a dozen adjectives in my head. In the end, there was only one that did her justice. “Perfect,” I said, my voice going low. “She was perfect.” Then my head snapped up. “Wait, what are you suggesting?”
“I think you’re right, you aren’t an angel . . .
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