sign, and I swear every bad thought I’ve ever had in my entire existence dissipates in a cloud of dust when she smiles up at me.
Fuck, I love this girl. And I almost lost her more times than I care to admit. More times than I’m ready to admit.
I’ve never been to a fucking peach farm before, so I take a moment to survey my surroundings. It’s my responsibility to protect my murder and Katrina from any harm, to know every nook and cranny a foe could be hiding in.
The first thing I make a note of is the huge white farmhouse towering over us. There appears to be only two levels visible, though I have no doubt that an old house like this will have a basement as well. All of the blinds are currently closed…almost as if the occupants are hiding something. Or hiding themselves. The large wraparound porch is bedecked in picturesque hanging plants, with a swinging bench located directly left of the front door.
Behind the farmhouse rests the peach orchard itself. I count at least thirty rows of trees, their branches now skeletal with the upcoming winter. I imagine it’ll be a beautiful sight when the peaches are growing.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Katrina asks anxiously, rocking back on her heels. Van places a hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth across her pillowy lip, before nodding.
“The omens occurred nearly two months ago, and angels never remain in one spot longer than a few days.” Van’s words only seem to reassure her partially, because even though she nods, her eyes dart nervously.
“We’re just going to look around. See if we can find their new location,” Raz adds, already in leader mode, stalking ahead of us, hand poised so he can send out horrible illusions if need be.
I place a large hand on Katrina’s shoulder in an attempt to provide her comfort. And I know I don’t deserve it, but when she leans further against me, offering me a tentative smile, I feel a flurry of butterflies unleash themselves in my stomach.
The good mood we all shared just moments before in the van evaporates as Raz stealthily ventures forward. Akor has wandered off to the side in what looks like a random way, but I know is strategic. He’s set up to guard Raz’s flank. Van and I, in unspoken agreement, remain behind with Katrina, the most precious thing in the world to all of us. If any harm comes to her…
I flex my muscles, imagining ripping the head off of these angel fuckers. Anger sizzles through my veins as I take a protective step in front of our Center, waiting. Listening. Hoping.
Raz doesn’t even bother to peek through the windows with the blinds drawn. Instead, he merely steps directly to the front door and tries the knob. Surprisingly, it swings open on silent hinges, and I feel my confusion exacerbate.
If the occupants of this house had been the angels, surely they would’ve taken precautions? They wouldn’t have left their house undefended, unless there’s nothing here for us to find in the first place.
Maybe there were never angels here. Maybe we read too much into the signs.
Van releases a hiss of breath suddenly, and we all turn to see an angel blade—one of the deadliest weapons in all the realms—pointed at his throat. The glistening white metal has an eerie golden glow to it, not unlike their damn halos. Behind Van, golden face contorted into a hideous scowl, is an angel.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing on my property?” His eyes flash white for a brief moment, the only sign that he’s beyond pissed, but outwardly, his face remains cool.
And if he’s here…
Raz quickly jumps off the patio, two blades in his hands. Akor merely saunters forward, whistling and spinning that damn sword around like a baton.
It’s not a moment too soon. The very next second, two more angels emerge from behind the house, where the peach trees are meticulously planted in perfectly straight rows. One carries a bow, a glowing arrow already nocked, and the other has a small dagger similar to Raz’s.
Katrina whimpers softly as the remaining two members of the flock move up the driveway. One is tall, almost freakishly so, with obsidian hair swept away from his chiseled jawline. The final one has hair so blond, it’s almost white. His wings are on display, and unlike the other four, he’s the only one who doesn’t carry a