Dark Kings (Feathers and Fate #1) - Sadie Moss Page 0,3

hair, all dark as well, not a single silver corkscrew in the lot. My hands don’t wither. My back doesn’t bend. My shoulders don’t grow stiff.

I’ve been here for thirty years. I look like I’ve only been alive for twenty-four.

No matter how many more years I live on Earth, I won’t age a day physically. I lost a lot of powers when I lost my wings, but that particular side effect of my angelic nature has stuck with me.

Since I’ve had a rough day, I need a pick-me-up, so for tonight’s entertainment, I pick The Matrix.

Oh, man, I love this movie. When it came out in theaters, I watched it about a dozen times—and if that makes me a nerd, so be it. I just love the idea of rebelling against the system and choosing a life that’s less perfect, less “happy,” because it’s real. It’s genuine.

And, well, the name of the heroine is Trinity. I mean, come on! Clearly, I was meant to love this film. My namesake in this movie is so tough and cool; I wish I could be like that.

Contrary to what many people believe, angels are not these wholly benevolent beings who sit around stringing a harp, but we’re not all avenging terrifying warriors either. I’m not anyway. I actually worked in administration the whole time I was Upstairs.

I sure do wish I could kick ass though. Ooh, I should probably enroll in some kind of self-defense class or take up martial arts!

Ordering Chinese food and curling up with a movie is probably not what I should be doing, but it’s all I really feel up to at the moment. And besides, the parameters of what I should and shouldn’t do have gotten a lot blurrier since I fell. I appealed my banishment, and I’ve been told my case is under consideration, but I don’t receive daily instructions on how to improve myself to earn my way back Upstairs.

I wish I did. I want to go home more than anything. Not that there’s anything wrong with Earth. I like a lot of things about Earth—Chinese food and movies being two prime examples. But it’s not home.

I miss having a home.

The food arrives forty minutes later, and I curl up on the couch to start the movie. Even though I’ve seen this film dozens of times, I still find myself leaning forward on the couch, a dumpling poised halfway to my mouth as I bite my lower lip.

On-screen, the woman dressed in black crashes through a window, landing on her back and drawing her weapons in a flash.

“Get up, Trinity. Get up.” I say the words along with her, my heart racing and my gaze riveted to the screen.

“You know she can’t actually hear you.”

The masculine voice comes from my right, and I yelp in shock, jumping about a foot in the air. The dumpling flies off my fork, slipping through my scrabbling hands and landing on the floor.

I’m not alone in my apartment anymore.

Chapter Three

Trinity

“Frick!” I say out loud—which is very undignified and un-angelic of me, I’ll be the first to admit that.

My head swivels quickly to the right, but I already know who I’m going to find standing there. It’s Anderson, because of course it is.

“Trinity.” He’s dressed in an impeccable tan suit, a dark brown tie settled snugly at his throat, his salt and pepper hair carefully styled. He looks almost but not quite like Morgan Freeman, although when I told him that once, he had no idea what I was talking about. Most angels don’t watch as many movies as I do.

“Sir.” I scramble to my feet and dip my head in greeting.

I’m keenly aware that I’m in just my sleep shirt because I kicked my flannel jammy pants off a while ago when I got too warm, and there are boxes of messy Chinese takeout all around me on the couch and coffee table. And a dumpling on the floor.

I look… well, not like a slob, exactly, but close.

Oops?

Trying to be subtle about it, I casually move my foot a few inches and nudge the dumpling under the couch. I’ll get it later. Shoot, I hope I don’t forget. Then I stand in parade rest, clearing my throat as I try to figure out what Anderson is doing here.

My onetime boss looks amused. “At ease, Trinity. You’re not in trouble. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

I blink. “I’m not?”

Seriously? I was sure that my whole “getting fired for breaking rules” schtick was