Page 134 of Grim Tidings

For the entirety of my existence, I thought death was something to be battled against. It took one soft woman with eyes like honey to show me something different.

That death doesn’t have to be an end.

That sometimes it can be a beginning, too.

A folder smacks me in the chest, and I jolt. My sword is gone and Rafe is standing on the other side of the bar, his hands in his pockets.

“Sign pages two, four, and eight, then initial on page seven. There’s a photocopy in the back for your records, should you need it.”

I blink. “What?”

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling, mutters something under his breath, and grabs the folder from me. He opens it up on the bar and flips to the appropriate page. He points at the bottom.

“Sign here, and then here—”

“No. I mean—why do you have paperwork? Why aren’t you cutting my chest open?”

Rafe looks exasperated. “Would you like me to cut your chest open?”

I rub the heel of my hand over my heart. “Not particularly, no—”

“Great, then sign here, and then—”

“Rafe.” I press my hand over the goddamned paperwork. “Why am I signing”—I glance down at the words in bold at the top of the page—“a release of liability?”

Rafe reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a purple pen. It’s one that clicks at the top, the name of a local bank scribbled on the side. “Standard offloading procedures for exiting immortals at the Department of Hauntings and Spirits.”

I blink. “What?”

“Christ, boy. Has your hearing gone in your old age?” He drops the pen on top of the folder. “You are being discharged from service. Once you sign that paperwork, you will forfeit your wings. You will no longer be a Guardian Angel.”

“And then I die?”

Rafe’s exasperation magnifies into annoyance. “I mean, sure. Yeah. Eventually, I suppose. You will one day die and proceed to your own afterlife. But not anytime soon, I don’t think.” He considers me with a raised eyebrow. “You were a good Guardian. You should be proud of the work you’ve done.”

I’m so confused, I don’t know where to start. “So, I’m just—relieved of duty?”

“Yup.” Rafe pops the last letter of the word. “Oh. Hold still for a second.”

He waves his hand, and my wings unfold from my back against my will. The force of them knocks some of the bottles against the back shelves loose.

“Whoops.” Rafe waves his hand again.

My wings disappear.

I expected agony when my wings were taken from me. Blood and muscle and sinew and—suffering. Plenty of suffering. An apt punishment for my many failures. I didn’t expect—

Relief.

An aching, delicious relief.

The space between my shoulders is light, the knot that’s settled between the muscle for centuries upon centuries just … gone. I don’t think I realized how heavy my wings had become. I take stock of this new, fragile body, and my heart—

“Christ,” I rasp, my palm over my chest. “What did you do to me?”

Rafe looks unimpressed with my lack of deduction skills. “You are no longer a Guardian Angel, Gabriel. You’re a mortal.”

“I didn’t realize that could happen.”