Page 75 of Veil of Death and Shadow

“Wait,” I held the warm cup of tea between my hands, focusing on the heat of it to help ground me, “seriously?”

He arched one of his dark brows, the color in such contrast with the silvery-white hair on the top of his head. He nodded. “Seriously.”

I took a long pull of the tea, savoring the burn as it coated my throat and chest on the way down.

When I thought of angels, chubby babies and blond-haired harp players came to mind.

I studied Kieran, my eyes locking on his piercings, his tattoos, that fuck-me-smirk he often wore like a dare. He looked like a drummer in a punk band more than some winged protector.

Not to mention he didn’t exactly fuck like an angel either.

“You don’t look like the type,” I said.

“Yeah?” He shot me a devilish grin. “Type, eh. How many angels have you known exactly?”

Okay, fine. We could play this game if he wanted to.

It wasn’t like I was busy—he’d quite literally gotten rid of my only two customers. And they didn’t even want anything other than steam. Now, I understood why.

“And do you regularly fuck your charges?”

The curve of his lips flattened.

“No, that’s not exactly allowed.” He considered for a moment. “Or at the very least, if it’s not directly punishable, it’s incredibly taboo.”

“But you fucked me,” I said, as if he needed reminding.

“I did.”

“So . . .”

“You weren’t my charge then,” he said with a sigh, as if this whole conversation was growing very tiresome. He spread his arms out. “Now, you are. Meeting me before was just an . . . unfortunate coincidence.”

Ouch. Way to knock a girl when she’s down.

“But the day of The Undoing—” I frowned, “you saved me from becoming a human pancake. That’s a very guardian angel thing to do, assuming I believed in such a thing.”

He tilted his head and, just like that, guardian angel or not, I felt like his prey again. “So it would seem.”

“What were you doing there that day then? And why did you save me if I wasn’t even your . . . charge?”

“I was seeing to a different charge.” He sniffed, then drummed his fingers soundlessly on the booth. “And then you were there, and I just . . . stopped you.”

“How many charges do you have?”

“One at a time.”

“Say I believe you; how long will you be my guardian angel?”

He shrugged. “Until my job is finished.”

“What exactly is your job? Have I always had a guardian angel?” I asked, slowly starting to come around to the fact that maybe he wasn’t fucking with me. “And also, angels are actually real? Does that mean that there’s a heaven and hell? Is hell different from the world that opened up in The Undoing?” I leaned over the bar, considering, “Isthishell?”

“You’re a lot chattier than you were earlier. I think I preferred you then.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He exhaled, closed his eyes, then leaned his head back against the booth, exposing the dark tattoos that lined the column of his neck. “No, not as you know them but, yes, there are dead people who take on . . . jobs of sorts. I don’t know, I don’t know, definitely not.”

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