always been sensitive. He’d understand more than the others why Severn needed to be caught, not just out of necessity, but because he’d been used too. Solo would capture Severn.
Mikhail dropped off the platform, beat his wings, and soared, circling high above Aerie, where the air was thinner and from where the city he loved didn’t look so damaged. The world was a simpler, quieter place when riding the winds high above it. But for all the peace flying afforded him, he still found himself returning to the gallery, to stand in front of Konstantin’s wings, staring at the lightning pattern of veins latticing the gruesome but elegant arches.
He should cut them down and burn them. His angels all knew he had them, knew he came here for hours. He didn’t care how they all thought him mad or how Remiel was coming to unseat him. He didn’t care about the angels who had died in his pursuit of Severn. Nothing mattered. Just Severn, on his knees, begging for mercy.
He freed his angelblade from his back, between his wings, and approached the splay of demon wings on the wall. He reached up and spread his left hand on the broad bone, the bone that bore all the weight of the right wing. By Haven, the wing was warm, like it had been cut from Konstantin hours ago, not years.
Raising the blade in his right hand, he aimed the tip at the top of the first arch. He just had to plunge it in and tear downward, slicing the membrane in two. It would make a fitting demonstration of how Severn had cleaved Mikhail’s heart in two.
The shining blade’s tip dented the leathery skin. Just sink it in and pull. The wings were a reminder, a risk, a curse. Mikhail almost wished he’d never taken them on that fateful day. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had. He recalled he hadn’t been alone. Someone else had sparked the idea in his head. But blaming another was a cowardly act. He should have killed Konstantin. If he had, Mikhail never would have learned to love, and the agony of its loss wouldn’t haunt him now. He’d still be the guardian angel Aerie needed, but now, he was a curse upon them all.
Warmth throbbed under his hand. The wings were alive like Konstantin was alive. Wherever he was, did he feel the ghost of Mikhail’s touch? He slowly, almost tenderly, stroked his hand along the arch, as far as he could reach. The thick, dappled leather was harder along the bone, protecting it, but almost velvety soft beneath. Did Severn feel that too? Did he think of Mikhail in this moment as Mikhail thought of him?
With a cry, Mikhail plunged the blade in and ripped its edge down the membrane until the blade pulled free. Blood ran down the wall and pooled on the floor, so red against white marble. He pushed himself from the horrible sight. Instead of hurting Severn, the pain of his actions struck at Mikhail’s heart. Guilt… It choked him, dropped him to his knees, beneath his own limp wings. By Haven, it wasn’t even a real pain, but it hurt like one. He couldn’t survive this, survive him. Severn, with his lopsided smile, his bright laugh, and his beautiful blue eyes. Severn, the angel he’d turned to in his time of need and vulnerability. The angel he’d turned to for answers and comfort. The angel who had touched him in ways no other being ever had. The angel he loved. Why couldn’t he stop loving him, why wouldn’t the torture end, why did he feel so alone? He’d only ever tried to do the right thing. Why was he being punished?! Why-why-why!
Numb, thoughts a whirl, emotions turning him inside out, he staggered from the gallery, from Aerie, and descended through the clouds, wings aching, then landed with a stumble on the roof of Whitechapel’s Royal London Hospital. A nephilim rushed over to aid him, but he swept them back with a snarl. He could do this, he could stand… These emotions did not control him! He climbed to his feet only to fall again. This was the allyanse, surely. What else could cripple him so? The rooftop door seemed too far away. Was love supposed to hurt so?
“Sire?”
The nephilim.
“Saphia,” he hissed. “Get Saphia.”
The wait went on for an eternity, but then Saphia’s reassuring tones settled around him, even if he couldn’t make out the words beyond the throbbing