Page 47 of Semi-Fallen

CHAPTER 24

Everything Lane knew about muses came from the movie Dogma. So, she was sort of expecting to see a Salma Hayek-type muse who maybe stripped in her spare time.

The woman who’d stepped out of the rift was nothing like any of the characters in Dogma.

After Lucien had introduced himself to Adrianne’s muse and explained the situation to her, she’d clearly been skeptical, but she’d remained calm and said her name was Seraphina.

She looked like a Seraphina, Lane decided instantly.

Her long, blonde curls were piled on top of her head in an elaborate updo that Lane wouldn’t have been able to pull off with the help of a dozen hair stylists and several gallons of hair spray. It was heavenly hair, as Haven had signed to her upon catching her first glimpse of the muse.

Seraphina was barefoot, wearing only a flowy, near-floor-length gold silk tank dress that had a delicate cape attached at the slender shoulder straps. On anyone else, it would’ve looked like a Met Gala outfit gone horribly awry. On Seraphina? It totally worked.

It helped that she was 5’9” tall and probably only weighed about a hundred and thirty pounds. Tall, thin, gorgeous people could pretty much pull off any ridiculous outfit they wanted.

Lane would never attempt to wear a cape.

Seraphina also had actual flowering vines as bracelets twining up her slender arms, and eyes so blue they looked violet in the dim lighting of the gymnasium.

Yep. This was definitely an angel who could inspire beauty in the human world.

Seraphina had continued side-eyeing Lucien—and all the other supernatural misfits in the room—until Evangelyn the reaper had shown up and confirmed it all.

That’s when Seraphina had hissed, “That rat bastard!”

Lane’s jaw had dropped. She hadn’t expected someone who looked like Seraphina to call anyone a rat bastard, let alone an archangel.

Seraphina and Evangelyn had a subsequent rapid-fire conversation in Enochian that lasted several minutes before she finally gave Lucien a nod. “I’ll help,” she said, mouth set in a firm line. “I’ll side with you over Rion. You have my word.”

Harper clapped her hands together. “Great. What’s next?”

“Funny you should ask,” Lucien murmured.

Riddick’s chin hit his chest. “Because of course it’s Harper.”

Evangelyn clapped him on the shoulder genially. “Sorry, cutie. But your wife’s the only one in this entire place with an assigned guardian angel.”

Harper glared at Evangelyn’s hand on her husband until the reaper raised her palms in surrender and took a healthy step back.

Lucas cocked his head to one side. “How the hell does Harper have a guardian angel? She’s almost been killed like forty-seven times. Is the dude a drunk or something?”

“Almost being the operative word,” Lucien said, shoving the bowl at Harper.

She winked at Lane. “The things I have to do to save you people,” she teased.

And a moment later, Harper’s guardian angel appeared.

He was…a surprise.

First of all, he was the first angel Lane had seen (and she’d seen a disturbing amount of them lately) who looked exhausted. Like, bone-deep, could-sleep-for-a-decade exhausted. His skin lacked the healthy, golden glow the other angels seemed to come by naturally. This guy was pale as milk, several inches shorter than Seraphina, wearing a rumpled suit that looked like it’d been in a moth-infested closet since 1948, and he was hunched over at the waist while he struggled to catch his breath. Had he been running a marathon when they summoned him?

It was Evangelyn who stepped forward and greeted him.

“Hey, Carl,” she said with a little finger wave. “How’s it hanging?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Benny interrupted. “Did you say Carl? Like, Seraphina, Lucien, Evangelyn, and…Carl?”

The angel in question straightened and looked down his long nose at Benny. “Yes, I’m the angel, Carl.”

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