Page 131 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

Zarek didn’t answer that.

“We’ll outmaneuver them all. We just have to move first before they know what they’re missing,” Gellar said quietly. “What do you say? Will you marry this Angela Duboise? Or face the consequences of your actions?”

FORTY-FIVE

The rose garden was quiet in Paradox when Angela met with Zarek, who’d been waiting for her. They followed the path without speaking for a while, the Keep at their backs as the pale light settled in for a sunset on what had been a very long day.

Her father had left, wearing that infuriating smile that told her the conversation wasn’t finished by a long shot. But she finally had some answers.

Ones she’d never expected, such as that she was a half-angel.

A Nephilim.

“My mother was human,” she said, not to start a conversation, but more to voice what she’d learned to see if it sounded right. “My father loved her. She loved him. And…” She paused, working her way through the recollections of her father. And there were many because Father Michael saw the bigger picture of things, but in so many ways, as if playing ten games of 4D chess where no one else knew they were playing. “The love was real. I know that much.”

The garden path was soft under her shoes as she thought about her mother. Rosaleen, the single mother who’d never married and had never named her father. Yet he’d been there. She remembered the house visits, the half-empty wine glasses on the kitchen table late at night, and how they leaned into each other, sharing whispers that meant nothing to a small child stumbling down the hallway, wiping sleep from her eyes.

When she’d asked her mother who her father was, Rosaleen would simply say that he’d gone somewhere they couldn’t follow and smiled in a way that closed every door on the subject. And so many, like Angela, thought he’d passed away.

But the poor woman, her mother, had helped everyone who came into the apothecary for herbal advice while quietly managing something the doctors later called complications in the corridors of the hospital after the train accident. Mortals can’t carry magick, she’d heard more than once in this realm. Only now realising that her mother’s poor body had carried more than it was built for, and she had never once complained about the sacrifice made to carry a Nephilim child.

It made her wonder if her mother understood exactly what loving an archangel, a powerful being, would cost a woman—and chose them anyway.

She glanced at Zarek, then she exhaled slowly. “He said he named me.”

“Angela?” Zarek gave her that brief smile.

“Angela. Angel. An angel. It’s just another one of Father Michael’s riddles he likes to hide in plain sight.” She barked a laugh that held no humor. “My whole life. Every single day. The answer was there, telling everyone what I was.”

But even then, she couldn’t imagine the truth behind those letters that made up her heritage.

“The powers of an angel, how much do you know about them?”

“Angels keep their own counsel. What the archangel showed us today was…” He paused, as if carefully choosing his words. “We know very little about them. It has Bellus keen to attack the Celestial Accords to learn more.”

“Right.” She turned the medallion over in her fingers, understanding now it was more than just a gift but also some connection to her father. “Father Michael told me about my power base and what it’s built for. You should know, it isn’t for harm. Whatever I am, whatever this is…” She pressed a hand to her sternum. “It doesn’t work that way. We need to be clear about that, I’m not some chosen one. And I can’t be a weapon in your war against Katarra.”

“I wouldn’t let them use you like that.”

“Does Gellar know?”

“He will.”

She nodded, not sure how Gellar would take it.

“You came for me in the dreamscape, through that vortex. I know what it cost, Zarek… to get to me.” She glanced at the armor, where the staves once stood. Now gone. “Thank you.”

Zarek shrugged. “You called out. I answered.”

“You should know that my father…” A word she never thought she’d say until today. “He created the vortex and told me it was a test.” She pressed her lips together as an embarrassed heat moved across her face.

“Test for what?”

“To see how far you’d go to come to my aid.”

“Was it only the vortex?” Zarek asked carefully.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I’ve been asking myself that same question.” She glanced at the lawns of the Keep with the scent rising from the many roses that edged the pathways, and stopped walking. “Did Father Michael break a law by being here? You guys drew swords on him.”