Page 102 of Veil of Death and Shadow

Why did I always imagine the worst possible options, never the good ones?

Maybe Sora had left a note, and I just missed it.

Maybe Menace had stolen it. He had been in the habit of moving things around the house lately.

“Relax, Agony.” Kieran’s thumb pressed down gently on my lip, releasing it from where my teeth had been holding it prisoner. “I shouldn’t have teased you about your not-date or your battery-boyfriend.” He arched his brow, as if surprised by the revelation. “And I don’t think Ilikeit when you ignore me.”

Then, as if shocked, he dropped his hand, flexing his fingers again like he was in pain.

Did angels even feel physical pain?

“What do your rings mean?” I asked, my fingers reaching out of their own accord to touch them. They were dark silver, but in certain lights there was this strange iridescence to the metal—black and blue and green, all woven together. Fluid, like an oil slick.

“No.” Kieran pulled his hand back, shoving his hand behind his back, all remnants of his earlier teasing instantly sapped. “Nothing. They’re nothing.”

“Right, sorry.” It felt as if I’d overstepped, though I wasn’t entirely sure why. He’d been overstepping all day. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t.” He glanced at his hand, his expression heavy as he flexed his fingers, then the muscles in his wrist and forearm, as if they were all stiff. “It’s just—the material is dangerous to human touch. My kind awaken with these bands. They are the catalyst for much of our power.” With a deep breath, the sudden tension in his body sank away, replaced by a shadow of the ease from before. “Suppose you could think of them like my wings.”

I nodded, struggling to tear my stare away from the strange metal, now that I let myself fully look.

As if thinking of wings drew them to us, Kieran ducked and swore.

Menace landed softly on my shoulder, his head turning slightly so that he could get a better look at the angel.

He dropped a small stone in my palm—it was swirled with blue and gray, almost like a marble with sharp edges. Pretty.

I dropped it into my pocket and fished out one of the pieces of kibble I carried around, offering it to him as a thank you. I’d be sure to add it to his collection when I got home tonight.

“What’s with the crow?” Kieran eyed him with a strained curiosity. “Is it the same bird from before? The one that tried tolob my head off in your kitchen—and last week, at that medical center of yours?”

Menace let out a deep, startling caw.

“Yeah.” I scratched the back of his neck, trying to calm him. “He’s usually pretty chill. Maybe he senses you?”

“He can more than sense me.” Kieran narrowed his eyes, studying the bird. “He can see me. And touch me.” He tilted his head, revealing a series of shallow scrapes. “Maimed me, actually. Possibly even tried to take my life before your eyes. Yet you’re just . . . petting him as if he were nothing more than a harmless house pet.”

I snorted. “He barely touched you.”

“Little does he know,” Kieren smirked, “that I don’t have a life to take.”

“Can animals normally see and touch you?” I asked.

“The occasional critter will sense that something’s near when I’m around. Animals are often more in tune with the dead than humans. But, generally,” he shook his head. He studied the crow with renewed focus. “And they can certainly never touch me.”

“Oh, um—” I held my hand up, waiting for the soft pinch of his talons to grip my fingers as I maneuvered him between us, “Menace is kind of . . . dead, too. Or at least he died and then came back to life. Sora sometimes calls him Frankenstein, but that never fits right because she really means Frankenstein’smonster. Victor Frankenstein himself never came back from the dead—plus, he was an asshole.” I ran my fingers over the side of his neck. “I prefer to think of Menace more as a crombie.”

“Crombie,” Kieran deadpanned. “Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“A crow zombie,” I said, before adding a quieter, “Seems obvious enough to me.

He ignored the barb. “And this crow of yours came back from the dead?”

“The Undoing.” I shrugged. “He was dead, and then,” I mimed an explosion with my free hand, “after everything settled, he was . . . not dead.”

“Must have one foot in both worlds then.” Kieran pursed his lips, his chin resting on his fist as his stare shifted between us. Then he reached forward and ran his fingers over a patch of my hair, where the black bled to gray. “Perhaps you both do. Curious. The Undoing has certainly made for a more interesting mortal world.”

“No more curious than talking to a dead guy in the middle of the street,” I said, lifting my hand in the air as Menace took flight.

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