Page 65 of The Fifth Soul

We walk inside and find it alive with activity. Almost every table is taken. Despite the business of the place, no one looks up at us as we enter. The few who make eye contact with us don’t look twice. It’s almost creepy how little people seem to care about two newcomers.

We take a seat on an empty corner table with two chairs. We haven’t been sitting for longer than a minute before a woman approaches us. Her expression is bored and hurried.

“What can I get you?” She taps her pen on the notepad in her hands.

I look around and spot an older man eating soup with such an expression of bliss. I gesture to him. “Whatever he is eating.”

The woman turns to see what I am pointing at. “That’s something he makes at home and brings here to eat.”

I blink. “Why would he do that?”

“He gets lonely.” She taps her notepad again.

I look at the menu written on the boards above the bar.

“Surprise us,” Brandon says to hurry this along. She murmurs something under her breath and takes her leave.

“I’m allergic to seafood, Brandon.” My scowl narrows at him. “I can’t just order and eat anything.”

I look back at the old man eating the soup. He surely looks to be enjoying his meal.

“Focus,” Brandon reminds me. “I don’t believe these people are so disinterested in strangers. They must have alerted the guards already.”

The girl returns with a basket of fries and other fried items. She leaves it on the table without a word.

“Maybe every single one of them is a guard,” I say. The fries are crazy good. I try a pink sauce sitting in the basket, and I have to fight my moan from escaping. It’s amazing.

“You think so?” Brandon asks while looking around with fresh eyes. He examines the surrounding patrons with new lenses. “It’s a possibility. All the angels I’ve seen have wings.”

I shake my head. “They only show them when they want to.” I take another fry.

He nods. “It’s always been in political events, so it’s reasonable to think they were showing them as part of their uniform.” His eyes watch as I take another fry covered in a pink sauce. His smirk is teasing. “Good?”

“Good evening.” A strong voice says over us before taking a chair from another table and bringing it to sit with us.

I’ve seen Gabriel only a few times, but I could never forget this face if I tried. He is a big guy, nearly seven feet tall. Saying he’s beautiful is an understatement. Most angels have a lure of beauty, but Gabriel’s is beyond that. Shoulder-length golden brown hair curling at the edges frames his strong jawline perfectly. He has a boyish yet manly look about him. Today, his jaw is clean-shaven. His golden-brown eyes always carry a glint of humor, which is currently missing. Instead, his scowl is firmly in place. It turns from Brandon to me, back and forth.

“Good to see you, Gabriel,” Brandon says with a smile that would have anyone confusing them for good old friends. “We’re here to talk to you.”

I lean back to watch it play out.

“Is that so?” Gabriel's tone conveys he’s not amused.

“We have an offer you won’t be able to resist.” Brandon crosses his arms and leans back. His posture is comfortable, and his voice is relaxed. “This is Bianca.” He gestures to me. Gabriel looks in my direction, and I give him a little wave with a tight smile. “She has a very special gift. We want to offer the use of the gift in exchange for a favor.”

Gabriel’s solemn expression breaks as a laugh escapes him. His grin is mocking. “What makes you think I care enough about her gift to exchange a favor?”

“Her gift will allow you to see your brother.” At the mention of Mel, Gabriel’s gloating expression falls. “He is who we want the favor from, not you.”

At the mention of his brother, Gabriel’s eyes darken and a confrontational posture takes over his body. I can see he’s ready to spring into action.

“We know you only get one day a year with him,” I intervene. “With my gift, you can see your brother outside of the winter solstice.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly, like we have placed a tempting fruit in front of him.

“At what price?” he whispers. His eyes look like a mirror to my own. Mel is his Matias. I can see plain as day that there isn’t a price he wouldn’t pay.

“I can assure you it’s nothing that could cause harm or suffering to anyone,” Brandon promises.

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