I’m once more faced with the entire world, before zeroing in on my own state. There are significantly less red dots, and when I continue zooming in, only one cluster of dots remain. When I zoom in further, I get a street view of a large sign and a farmhouse that looks very familiar.
The angels at the peach farm.
There are no other dots in even a one-hundred-mile radius.
What does this mean? Are there no angels in our area? Did Raphael lie to us? No, I don’t believe that. I truly believe he and his flock weren’t the angels who sought us harm. So is it another angel group? One that has gone rogue?
I fumble in my jacket pocket until I’m able to grab my phone. Obviously, I don’t get reception, considering I’m in freaking Heaven, but I am able to access my camera. I take a couple of pictures of the map before zooming the view of the world back out and taking a few more. When I’m satisfied I’ve garnered all the information I could from it, I slip the phone back into my pocket and hurry towards the exit.
I need to get to my murder.
I need to tell them what—
My thought process is interrupted by a loud explosion reverberating through my ears.
Akor.
26
Kastros
My head whips to the side, and I stare down the hall. I’m sprinting towards the danger before I have a second thought, my wings flaring, scraping the sides of this stupid cloud hallway, sending soft purple tufts flying like cotton balls all around me. Fury screams in my veins, and I can feel my power pulsing stronger than ever before.
I round a corner to see Akor and Zolroth in a wide room on the main floor fighting a flock of angels, slashes of magic slicing the air as thick and deadly as any sword.
The angels have blond hair to their shoulders and imperious expressions. It’s those expressions more than anything else, that throw me back to that night.
Memory clutches me and rips me out of the present, forcing me to dive headfirst into the past. Instead of the lavender cloud walls and a diamond studded grand entryway floor, I see the dark shadows of trees on Earth. I feel that magnetic tug that emanates somewhere in my chest—the pull of a Center.
I stumble through the trees and brush out onto a deserted road. Headlights creep around a bend—
A low rumble sounds in my throat, the only sound I can make anymore, and I shove away the memory. I blink hard and swipe fast, grabbing the first angel within reach by his wing.
I twist and bear down until I hear a sickening, satisfying crack. The angel whimpers and looks up at me in shock.
“You shouldn’t be able to hurt us here!” he says. “It’s Heaven. People don’t hurt each other in Heaven!”
“Guess you shouldn’t have your Center around then!” Akor growls.
“I don’t even have a Center!” He stretches out the last word in a whine.
I ignore his pre-pubescent voice, grabbing the sides of his face and introducing him to my knee. Twice.
The iron smell of blood fills the air, and I grin with a dark sense of satisfaction mixed with a bit of awe. We’re hurting these angels without their Center around? Fuck yeah. I know the topic deserves some introspection, but the thought of Centers immediately drags my thoughts to my Center, who’s here and vulnerable. There’s no way I’ll let these angel fucks get anywhere near my Katrina. I flap my wings, ignoring the stupid fucking chandelier that smacks against them, and grab another victim.
His arm snaps in half too easily. With vengeance magic pumping through my veins, I need more. More of a challenge. More of a fight. There are only five angels in here, and I’ve taken out two. Not enough.
Nearby, I hear Akor laugh maniacally as he raises his hand. I watch an angel’s nose magically wrench to one side of his face, bending until it touches his cheek and he howls in pain, before Akor slides his hand in the other direction and the nose follows, a river of blood flooding the angel’s chin in the process.
I grab a new angel, and this time, I’m slow and methodical as I rip feathers from his trembling wings like I’m plucking petals from a dandelion. If I had a voice, I’d say, “He kills me. He kills me not.” But I don’t. So I let my eyes speak for me, reveling in the