Archangel's Enigma
Page 66
“Yes, I suppose they are.” Especially in comparison to a boy who had claws and fangs. “You said you were human and not human. When you were younger, were you more not human?”
A slow, sly smile. “You’re clever, Andi.”
She pulled his hair again. “Answer the question.”
Baring his teeth at her, he said, “Yes, I was more not human. But I knew how to play with other children.” A sudden darkness in his eyes. “I never played with angel or mortal children before I came to the Refuge. My before-friends were snow wolves. The other children were all dead. Ghosts.”
28
The scholar in Andromeda wanted to follow that dark thread, but the woman who’d fallen so entirely for this man knew down that alley lay only hurt for him. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “Did you make good friends at the Refuge?”
“Yes.” A flash of fangs. “Some parents said I was a bad influence, but the children liked me.”
“Of course they did.” Andromeda laughed. “Are you still friends with those children now?”
“Yes. Especially with two of them,” Naasir said. “One works with Galen, the other is a scientist on a tropical island in Astaad’s territory. When I visit, he gives me fish to eat.” Naasir looked dubious. “I eat it to be polite, but I don’t understand fish.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re a good friend.” She could just imagine him eating the fish while trying to figure out why anyone would eat fish. “Tell me the rest of the story.”
Fingers brushing over her hip, he grinned. “Because I didn’t understand I wasn’t supposed to touch wings, I’d do things like wait on top of bookshelves or cling to the ceiling and drop down on unsuspecting angels. Before they’d finished shrieking, I’d have torn off a feather and run away.”
Andromeda’s shoulders shook. “You were a little terror.”
“Yes,” he said proudly. “Then one day, I jumped on Michaela.”
Andromeda’s laughter dried up. “Did she hurt you?” The archangel renowned for her vivid green eyes and flawless skin the shade of milk chocolate, her beauty the muse of poets and artists through the ages, was not known for her patience.
“Michaela wasn’t an archangel then, but she was dangerous all the same. Only her scent was . . . not what it has become.” Naasir frowned, as if trying to figure out the change. “She was fast though. She caught me by the foot before I could run away and, holding me upside down with a grip on one ankle, her arm stretched out so I couldn’t get her with my claws, she said, ‘You are in trouble.’”
Andromeda swallowed. “What did you do?”
“I had one of her covert feathers in my hand and I offered it back to her. When she didn’t take it, I growled and clawed and tried to get away.”
Andromeda’s heart was in her mouth, though Michaela clearly hadn’t done Naasir any lasting harm if he was telling her this tale. “Did she take you to Raphael?”
“No. She carried me to Jessamy and told her I needed lessons in civilized manners.”
“Did Jessamy make her let you go?”
Naasir shook his head. “I’d torn up all my schoolbooks the day before and eaten the schoolroom’s pet bunny.”
Andromeda knew she shouldn’t, but she burst out laughing. “You didn’t.”
“It was there and I was hungry and no one told me I couldn’t eat it,” he said with an aggrieved look on his face. “Why would you put a bunny there if it wasn’t for eating?”
“Poor Jessamy.” Wiping away her tears, Andromeda shook her head. “What did she do?”
“She locked all the windows and doors in her study space in the Archives, then held on to me while Michaela slipped out and pulled the door shut behind her, making sure it locked. When Jessamy released me, I raged all around the room, tearing up things, clawing the furniture and even biting her.”
Andromeda’s smile faded. “You felt trapped.”
“Jessamy didn’t know all of my life before, didn’t understand what it would do to me to be caged. As soon as she realized I wasn’t just angry, but scared, she opened the door.”
“And you ran?” she guessed, her heart hurting for that small, scared boy who didn’t know how to be in an unfamiliar world.
Naasir’s answer was a surprise. “Jessamy was crying. Even though I was scared, I knew that was bad, so I went over and patted her hand and said sorry for biting it.”
Andromeda’s own eyes turned hot.
“She went to her knees and told me that wasn’t why she was crying. She was crying because she’d made me afraid when she’d just wanted a chance to talk to me without me running away when I got bored.”
Andromeda could well imagine Jessamy’s distress. The teacher of angelic young had a heart so huge, she loved each one of her charges as if that child was her own. “You decided to stay, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t like Jessamy crying—she was always nice to me, even when I tore up her books. I put my hand in hers and we went for a walk to a place with gardens, where she took a seat on a stone bench, put me on her lap, and started to teach me what I needed to know so I could live in the world without people being angry with me all the time.”
The ache inside Andromeda, it was so deep now, for the boy he’d been. “How long did Jessamy teach you such things?”
“For years.” Naasir’s tone held a deep vein of affection. “It took me time to learn but Jessamy is patient. Every afternoon, we’d sit in the garden and she’d teach me things the other children already knew. Like how I shouldn’t growl at people even if I didn’t like them, and how bunnies and other animals in the Refuge weren’t for eating.”
A slow, sly smile. “You’re clever, Andi.”
She pulled his hair again. “Answer the question.”
Baring his teeth at her, he said, “Yes, I was more not human. But I knew how to play with other children.” A sudden darkness in his eyes. “I never played with angel or mortal children before I came to the Refuge. My before-friends were snow wolves. The other children were all dead. Ghosts.”
28
The scholar in Andromeda wanted to follow that dark thread, but the woman who’d fallen so entirely for this man knew down that alley lay only hurt for him. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “Did you make good friends at the Refuge?”
“Yes.” A flash of fangs. “Some parents said I was a bad influence, but the children liked me.”
“Of course they did.” Andromeda laughed. “Are you still friends with those children now?”
“Yes. Especially with two of them,” Naasir said. “One works with Galen, the other is a scientist on a tropical island in Astaad’s territory. When I visit, he gives me fish to eat.” Naasir looked dubious. “I eat it to be polite, but I don’t understand fish.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re a good friend.” She could just imagine him eating the fish while trying to figure out why anyone would eat fish. “Tell me the rest of the story.”
Fingers brushing over her hip, he grinned. “Because I didn’t understand I wasn’t supposed to touch wings, I’d do things like wait on top of bookshelves or cling to the ceiling and drop down on unsuspecting angels. Before they’d finished shrieking, I’d have torn off a feather and run away.”
Andromeda’s shoulders shook. “You were a little terror.”
“Yes,” he said proudly. “Then one day, I jumped on Michaela.”
Andromeda’s laughter dried up. “Did she hurt you?” The archangel renowned for her vivid green eyes and flawless skin the shade of milk chocolate, her beauty the muse of poets and artists through the ages, was not known for her patience.
“Michaela wasn’t an archangel then, but she was dangerous all the same. Only her scent was . . . not what it has become.” Naasir frowned, as if trying to figure out the change. “She was fast though. She caught me by the foot before I could run away and, holding me upside down with a grip on one ankle, her arm stretched out so I couldn’t get her with my claws, she said, ‘You are in trouble.’”
Andromeda swallowed. “What did you do?”
“I had one of her covert feathers in my hand and I offered it back to her. When she didn’t take it, I growled and clawed and tried to get away.”
Andromeda’s heart was in her mouth, though Michaela clearly hadn’t done Naasir any lasting harm if he was telling her this tale. “Did she take you to Raphael?”
“No. She carried me to Jessamy and told her I needed lessons in civilized manners.”
“Did Jessamy make her let you go?”
Naasir shook his head. “I’d torn up all my schoolbooks the day before and eaten the schoolroom’s pet bunny.”
Andromeda knew she shouldn’t, but she burst out laughing. “You didn’t.”
“It was there and I was hungry and no one told me I couldn’t eat it,” he said with an aggrieved look on his face. “Why would you put a bunny there if it wasn’t for eating?”
“Poor Jessamy.” Wiping away her tears, Andromeda shook her head. “What did she do?”
“She locked all the windows and doors in her study space in the Archives, then held on to me while Michaela slipped out and pulled the door shut behind her, making sure it locked. When Jessamy released me, I raged all around the room, tearing up things, clawing the furniture and even biting her.”
Andromeda’s smile faded. “You felt trapped.”
“Jessamy didn’t know all of my life before, didn’t understand what it would do to me to be caged. As soon as she realized I wasn’t just angry, but scared, she opened the door.”
“And you ran?” she guessed, her heart hurting for that small, scared boy who didn’t know how to be in an unfamiliar world.
Naasir’s answer was a surprise. “Jessamy was crying. Even though I was scared, I knew that was bad, so I went over and patted her hand and said sorry for biting it.”
Andromeda’s own eyes turned hot.
“She went to her knees and told me that wasn’t why she was crying. She was crying because she’d made me afraid when she’d just wanted a chance to talk to me without me running away when I got bored.”
Andromeda could well imagine Jessamy’s distress. The teacher of angelic young had a heart so huge, she loved each one of her charges as if that child was her own. “You decided to stay, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t like Jessamy crying—she was always nice to me, even when I tore up her books. I put my hand in hers and we went for a walk to a place with gardens, where she took a seat on a stone bench, put me on her lap, and started to teach me what I needed to know so I could live in the world without people being angry with me all the time.”
The ache inside Andromeda, it was so deep now, for the boy he’d been. “How long did Jessamy teach you such things?”
“For years.” Naasir’s tone held a deep vein of affection. “It took me time to learn but Jessamy is patient. Every afternoon, we’d sit in the garden and she’d teach me things the other children already knew. Like how I shouldn’t growl at people even if I didn’t like them, and how bunnies and other animals in the Refuge weren’t for eating.”
