Page 42 of Semi-Fallen

We were looking for the reaper who might’ve known my parents, or a fallen reaper, Lane signed.

Evangelyn’s cocky smile disappeared. “Technically, I never fell. There’s a lot of gray area between not doing your job anymore, and officially falling. Let’s just say I’ve been navigating that gray area for a long time now.”

Lucien glanced around them at the veil. Gray indeed. “So, you have the power of a reaper with none of the responsibilities.”

“Pretty much. That’s how I knew you were looking for a reaper. We have a sixth sense about those kinds of things.”

Lane took a step forward. It was you, wasn’t it? You knew my parents?

Evangelyn nodded slowly. “I knew your mother.”

Past tense. Lucien expected that, but he still tightened his grip on Lane when her knees weakened. She never expected good things to happen, but she still hoped. And he knew she’d hoped her mother or father was still alive somewhere, searching for her.

“You ferried her to the other side,” he said.

“I did.”

What happened to her? Lane signed.

Evangelyn swallowed hard. “Love. Love happened to her. And it got her killed.”

Well. That was a bit of a showstopper, wasn’t it?

* * *

Evangelyn the reaper was maybe the most beautiful woman Lane had ever seen. And she would’ve felt plain in her presence if she wasn’t getting such ugly news.

Her adoptive parents were the best in the world. She loved them beyond all reason. But there had always been a quiet, tiny little part of herself that had hoped to one day meet her birth parents. She didn’t need them for anything, but she still wanted to know them.

Based on what Evangeline was saying, that wasn’t going to happen. Ever.

Evangelyn cocked her head to one side and studied Lane in a way that made her a little uncomfortable. What’s wrong? she signed.

“You look so much like your mother,” Evangelyn said. “It’s a bit disorienting, really. It’s like I’m looking at a carbon copy of the woman I once knew.”

“Can you tell us about her?” Lucien asked.

Evangelyn took a deep breath. “Her name was Cassiel. She was gentle. Kind. Kinder than any other angel I’ve ever known. Humans tend to think of all angels as do-gooders, but that is not the case. Fact is, there are just as many assholes as good, kind people in Heaven.” She paused, giving Lucien a pointed stare.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Sorry I was an asshole, and thank you for saving us. Can we continue, please?”

She frowned at him. “Worst apology ever, as expected. But as I was saying, Cassiel was as good as humans tend to think angels are. Everyone loved her, which eventually, became her biggest problem. Sometime in the late 18th century, she was assigned to watch over a painter named Zhao. He was insanely talented. More handsome than humans have any right to be, too.”

Lane released a sharp breath. Cassiel and Zhao. Her birth parents. 18th century. It was a lot to take in.

Lucien tightened his hold on her and she appreciated that more than she could ever express. “What happened to them?” he asked.

Evangelyn blinked her suspiciously glassy eyes a few times. “She watched over Zhao his whole life. But sometime around his twenty-fifth birthday, he started painting angels. Specifically, he started painting Cassiel—before she ever showed herself to him.”

He was psychic? Lane asked.

“He was. He knew Cassiel was real, could feel her presence, but couldn’t see her. It was driving him mad. He was well on his way to ending up in an asylum. That’s when Cassiel broke the only rule guardian angels have.”

“She went to him. Told him who she was,” Lucien said.

Evangelyn gave him a sad smile. “She did. Cassiel said they fell in love after that, but I think they’d somehow loved each other before they ever met. What they had was a stronger connection than any I’ve seen between fated mates. In fact, Cassiel made that same argument when she told Rion she wanted to fall.”

Who is Rion?

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