Page 100 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

“Yes, my… fiancé.” Ava glanced at him, but Malachi didn’t take his eyes off the doctor. The disguise was seamless. He could sense no extraordinary power from the creature. No flicker of otherworldly strength. No wonder they’d all been fooled.

The angel, pretending to be harmless, held out a hand. “So good to meet you, Mister…”

“My name is Malachi,” he said, ignoring the offered hand. “And you know what I am.”

A slight waver in the mask. “You’ll have to pardon me, but—”

“We also know who you are,” Ava said quietly. “So no more lies. No more disguises. Let’s speak plainly… Jaron.”

Green eyes widened for a heartbeat before the doctor stepped back. And Malachi watched, never letting Ava’s hand leave his own as Dr. Sadik stood behind his desk with a small smile flickering over his lips.

His eyes darkened to near black, then lightened to a glowing gold color as the mask dissolved. Jaron’s shoulders grew wide and thick. His frame lengthened before them until the being was at least a foot taller than he’d been before, almost seven feet. There was a faint gold shimmer that covered his skin as the mask of the harmless doctor fell away and the heavenly being emerged.

His hair grew longer until thick ebony strands brushed past his shoulders. His human clothes disappeared, and the angel stood before them in nothing but a pair of loose pants. The bronze skin of his torso glowed in the afternoon light and raisedtalesmrose like shimmering brands on his skin.

He was radiant.

Glorious.

Terrible.

The only other time Malachi had beheld an angel, the creature had been cloaked. Jaron was probably still cloaked, but he was letting Ava see him far closer to his true form, if Malachi had to guess. It was little wonder that early humans had thought the creatures were gods. No classical sculpture could compare with the utter perfection of the angel’s form.

And throughout the transformation, Jaron’s eyes never left Ava’s. He stared at her as if Malachi didn’t exist, his eyes glowing with a gold light as he watched Malachi’s mate. When he glanced over, he could sense Ava’s awe. She stood, her heart racing, clutching his hand, but her eyes never left Jaron’s.

“I am Jaron,” he said. The Fallen’s voice was low and resonant. Malachi could feel it pressing against his mind. It wrapped around his body, and he had to fight the urge to flee. “Now you see my true face. Hear my voice.Ava.”

“I…I didn’t know.” She stammered as tears came to her eyes. “I didn’t know.”

“Child, you should not have come back.”

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