Page 96 of Angel Lost

My fingers trace the slave mark at the back of my neck. I’ll never be the seer I was meant to be while this cursed bond stains my skin. But maybe, just maybe, this tincture will help.

I crack the vial and down the liquid before I can second-guess myself.

Fire sears through my veins as Farrell’s compulsion writhes under my skin, tightening like a vise. I drop to my knees, forcing my thoughts into order.Angel’s Delight is a tool for seers. My professor recommended it. It’s part of my studies.

It’s enough—barely—to slip through the cracks of Farrell’s ridiculous compulsion. Slowly, the clawing need to tear my skin off, to purge the liquid from my system, begins to fade.

Damn Farrell.

I can make my own decisions. I should be able to make my own decisions. This stuff might be addictive, but I need it. For my studies.Sort of. Mostly, I need it to escape. To quiet the constant weight pressing against my mind. Farrell. Always there. A presence I can’t shake, like a hand on the back of my neck, a shadow I can’t step out of. It’s worse because he’s my friend. A friend who doesn’t trust me. And behind him, his father, buried deep in my mind, deep in my psyche.

I grit my teeth. I’m doing this to prove them all wrong. Despite his stupid slave bond, despite his control, I am worth something.

Shoving my possessions into the locker in the vestibule, I shrug on one of the clean cotton robes and open the door marked for the observatory. The walls of the dome are crafted from a stunning silver metal. My fingers itch to trace the intricate carvings of the constellations. They flicker and glint, reflecting the light from the Gothic torches. Three arched windows reach upward, draped with translucent dark blue curtains that ripple as if there’s a breeze I can’t feel. Each window frames an otherworldly view, while above, the glass dome ceiling reveals the night sky. My chest expands and I reach upward, trailing a finger through the fine mist. The stars are so close I could almost reach them.

My pulse slows and my thoughts clear as the Angel’s Delight works through my system. I wander slowly, in ever decreasing circles toward the scrying pool in the center of the room. One bare foot in front of the other, following an invisible spiral, it pulls me in. The shimmering surface reflects the magnificence of the stars, and the air is heavy with the scent of aged incense, fresh pine, and something ethereal, something I can’t pinpoint.

I sink down in the chair beside the pool. I need more, I need my first time here to be legendary. The velvet-draped chair seems to mold itself to myform as I crack open another vial, dropping the precious liquid onto my tongue. The room shimmers, the edges melt away, the starry sky twisting, merging past with present and future. A lone flute plays a haunting melody as I turn to face the windows, to watch destiny unfold.

There’s a screech, obnoxiously loud, terrifying. Right behind me.

My wings snap out and I flap for the top of the nearest tree, my heart pounding, hands trembling. In the silence, I peer down through the branches, ready to take to the sky, ready to escape.

“It’s just me,” Hewie cries, his voice plaintive. “Didn’t mean to scare you, but I’ve been searching for you for ages!”

Stupid screecher. Spoiling my chill, breaking the calm. The pleasant buzz is gone. I glide to the ground, scowling.

“What do you want?” My tone is anything but friendly, and he flinches.

“Thought you might like the company,” Hewie says, trying to loop an arm through mine.

I snatch my arm back. “I don’t.”

He doesn’t seem to register my bad mood. “What with the others all away on important business, Kai too! Thought you might be feeling left out.”

My feathers droop. “I wasn’t aware until now. Thanks for that.”

Hewie looks a little deflated, smoothing down the immaculate lapels of his blazer. A silk cravat—royal blue, because of course it is—rests perfectly against his throat, and a leather satchel hangs from one shoulder, probably stuffed with all the latest gossip alongside whatever nonsense he considers essentials.

“I tried to call, but your phone must be dead,” he says, pouting slightly.

“I took the battery out,” I say, holding up the stupid lump of plastic. Might’ve jumped on it a few times, too.

Hewie gasps like I just strangled a kitten. He snatches the remnants from my hand, his manicured fingers trembling as he turns the pieces over, wide-eyed. A series of tiny, distressed screeches escape him. “It’swrecked, Zephyr!” he wails. “Although…maybe Raff could fix it?”

I bat the thing out of his hands, sending bits scattering across the floor. “No! I don’t want it fixed, Hewie. That thing was blocking my magic.”

His gaze flutters between the broken phone and me, fingers twitching like he’s resisting the urge to gather the pieces and cradle them.

Sighing, I force my wings back in and paste on my best hippie-dippie smile. “I just don’t vibe with its energy, man. Anyway, I’m all about tuning into higher frequencies, not broadcasting my every move to the universe.”

Or letting Farrell—and the rest of my so-called allies—track me whenever they damn well please.

Hewie toes the screen. “Kind of handy to ask you if you want to go grab drinks though, no?”

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “That’s what you came to find me for?”

He nods.

---