Wanted Angel - Sadie Moss Page 0,80

a moment there’s nothing, and then a warm feeling of light steals over me. It’s comforting and soothing. And deep inside of me there’s this feeling of… not home. I used to feel that way whenever I went Upstairs. Now it’s similar, but different.

Familiarity. Yes, that’s what it feels like. This feels familiar, and it’s comforting because of that. But it’s not quite the same as home.

I open my eyes, giving myself a moment to adjust to the light. It’s warm and bright everywhere, and it feels like we’re standing in the middle of the sky. Nix yelps.

“Don’t look down,” Beck advises mildly.

“Easy for you to say,” Nix grumbles. He’s clinging to Ford for dear life. Ford looks rather put out by that development.

“Trinity.”

A female voice catches my attention. I turn, following the sound, and see another angel standing there. She’s the same rank as I am and is wearing dark blue robes. A messenger. “If you’ll follow me. The eight of you are expected.”

We follow her through hallways and past buildings that look vaguely Greek. Remi, Knight, and Sawyer are openly gaping around them. It’s clear they’ve never been here before. They seem fascinated. Ford’s glaring, ready for a fight, while Ryland and Beckett are doing an excellent job of acting like they couldn’t care less and aren’t at all impressed. Who knows, maybe they don’t and aren’t. Nix is still clinging to Ford and looks a bit green. I think he’s got vertigo, poor guy.

The messenger angel leads us to a large, imposing building that looks like it’s made out of a bunch of clouds stacked on top of one another. I’m not sure how you make fluffy clouds look intimidating, but they’ve managed it. I’ve seen this building before, of course, when I was a proper angel and lived here, but I’ve never been inside it. I’ve never been important enough to work there or be summoned by the committee.

Looks like a lot’s changed for me.

Once inside, we’re led to the main chamber, where the messenger angel gives us a warm smile and leaves. I hope her smile means that there’s nothing for us to worry about, but she could just be trying to reassure us or comfort us before the bad news.

Gah, stop it, Trin!

I’m so nervous. If I could throw up, I would. That doesn’t really happen Upstairs, but oh man, I want to.

The sins are here with me. If this was a disciplinary hearing just for myself, then I wouldn’t have to worry as much. I can handle whatever the committee throws at me. But since they asked to see the sins, does that mean they’re going to announce that the sins have redeemed themselves? Does this mean the sins are about to be unmade, taken out of existence?

Staring down at us from a long, high bench is the committee. We’re in a large room tinged with a warm yellow light, like sunlight, and the committee members are all wearing purple robes. Purple has long been a sign of royalty and importance.

All of them look extremely old. Angels can make themselves look any age they want to, but these angels clearly want anyone visiting to see how old they are and how venerated they should be. A lot of angels want themselves to look younger, but for the committee, age equals respect. All of them look like wizened men and women in their eighties or nineties, made small and wrinkled with age.

My stomach is in knots. The committee stares down at us for a moment, and my skin prickles uncomfortably. I try to keep from fidgeting as I wait for them to announce that I achieved my goal and that the sins are redeemed.

Please, I find myself thinking. Please don’t let that happen. Please, please, please.

“Trinity,” one of the angels says. His voice is rather like a wheeze. “It seems that you did not succeed in the task that was set for you.”

Wait.

What?

I gape up at them. What do they mean?

“Of course,” another angel adds, her voice more like a croak, “one could consider this a good thing. Given that Anderson used your appointed task for his own ends.”

The other angels nod. There are murmurs of agreement.

“True, true,” one says. “Her failure was for the best in the end.”

I am… so confused.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “But why are we here? Am I not in trouble? Are they not…” I wave my hands at the sins, who all stand around me, their stances protective. “Are