isn’t amusing.” Mikhail glowered from high up on his hay bale tower.
Severn kept his smile, maybe even widened it some. Had Mikhail contemplated leaving him out there in the field? He must have argued with himself over it. Leave the lying demon-angel in the dirt or carry him to safety so he could question him and discover what really happened for them both to land in a field somewhere outside London? He hadn’t asked any questions, though. His pride probably wouldn’t allow it.
Severn filled his lungs with air and sighed hard. “Well, I guess we’re both outcasts now.”
“I’m not an outcast. When I return to Aerie, I’ll force Remiel aside.”
“Just like that?”
“He’ll have no choice.”
“He stabbed you in the back and threw you off the edge. Your angels did nothing, and you want to go back?”
Mikhail’s eyes widened before narrowing again. “They were afraid.”
“Yes, of you.”
Mikhail shoved off the bales suddenly, spread appearing wings, and landed a few feet from Severn, his wings still unveiling. “This was all your doing.”
Severn stayed sitting on the floor and kept his smile as Mikhail loomed over him. If Mikhail was going to attack, there was little point in resisting. “Yes, I’ve lied since we met up until Tower Bridge, but I did not summon Remiel to deal with you, and I did not make you put demon heads on stakes to line the killing fields, and I did not ask you to kill people in your pursuit of me. For someone so full of shit, you sure do shine, Mikhail.”
Mikhail’s wings flared, but whatever he’d been about to do, the sound of the barn door creaking open had him turning instead.
An elderly man stood in the doorway, his threadbare coat bigger than him, and his trousers tucked into his wellington boots. He aimed a shotgun at Mikhail. “Mary!” he called. “There’s angels in the barn!”
Severn heard a muffled reply from outside and glanced up at Mikhail’s stoic face. He was not about to handle this well. Mikhail knew they were both at risk of being found if a single person misspoke. He just might be unhinged enough to threaten or hurt the farmer.
Climbing to his feet, Severn opened his hands. “We were just using your barn as shelter. We’ll be on our way.”
“Put the gun down,” Mikhail growled.
Severn laughed lightly and placed himself between Mikhail and the man. “We’ve had a rough few days.” He added again, for emphasis, “We’ll just be on our way.”
The door opened wider, and a short, well-rounded woman squinted into the barn. “You can’t aim guns at angels, Barrie!” She grabbed the shotgun from Barrie’s hands and cracked it open, disarming it with well-practiced ease. “Sorry about that. You two look pretty beat up. How about you come have some tea and a bit of cake. A nice cuppa makes everything better.”
Going with them wasn’t the worst idea, and he could ensure they didn’t call in the correctioners. He tilted his head and side-eyed Mikhail. “Cake?”
“I—”
“You’ll have to put your wings away, mind. Our house ain’t big now.” She marched out with Barrie hanging back, holding the barn door open.
“Best c’mon,” he said. “I’ll never hear the end of it else.”
Severn made for the door, and Mikhail followed, silently tucking his wings out of sight once more. The idea that Mikhail would even sit and drink tea with humans was such a novelty, Severn found his smile blooming. Until he felt the heat of Mikhail’s glare on his back. He couldn’t know about Severn’s wings, could he? No, the illusion to hide them had held. He’d only reveal them when he was sure Mikhail wouldn’t rip them off again. And right now, the chance of that was high.
Chapter 22
Mikhail
Brunch with the humans was a distraction from everything he should have been planning for, but he rather found he enjoyed their endless chitter, the sweet slice of chocolate cake, and the jam-filled biscuits.
Mary produced one of Barrie’s shirts and insisted Mikhail wear it, saying his naked torso was distracting. He looked at the blue-checkered pattern, then at Severn’s attempt to hide a smirk behind his mug, graciously thanked the woman for her kindness, and tugged the garment on.
When she asked Severn if he, too, would like a change of clothes, he hadn’t heard and stared instead at Mikhail before blinking himself out of his reverie to accept her offer. So now they both wore patterned shirts. Severn’s was green. It brought out the blue in his eyes.
When the conversation