I shake my head. “I never met my father. I didn’t know that he was an angel until recently,” I reply.

His expression turns thoughtful. “There are many Seraphim where we come from, too. It would make sense for God to choose one among them to create you,” he reasons.

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” I ask tiredly, giving him a ghost of a smile. My head is pounding. I sway again as tiny black spots swim in my vision. “What order of angel is Reed?” I ask, catching myself and striving to maintain my balance by sitting back on my heels.

“He is like me, a Power angel. We are created to prevent the Fallen from taking over the world and to keep the universe in balance,” he replies with authority.

My lips turn downward. “And I seem to have been created to do the opposite. I throw everything off balance with my mere presence,” I state flatly.

One of his eyebrows arches cunningly. “Perhaps…or perhaps you are the perfect balance…human and angel,” he says as if he is considering all of the angles to our puzzle carefully.

Tires screech on the pavement just beyond Reed’s driveway, and my eyes snap open wider. Time is up for the bargain I would’ve made with this angel. The gravel in the drive crunches and sprays as the wheels of a car toss the pebbles recklessly behind it. Applying the brakes at what sounds like the last possible second, there is hardly a breath between that sound and the sound of Reed’s voice calling from the foyer.

“Evie!” he says, but I can’t answer him. I don’t want him to come up here. I want him to be safe. My eyes fall pleadingly on the angel in front of me, because only he has the power to make that a reality.

“She is here,” the angel replies, sitting back and continuing to watch me. In seconds, Reed is in the room and has me cradled in his arms. He presses my head into his chest, ignoring the fact that there is someone else in the room with us. “I did not harm her,” the angel speaks to Reed in a defensive tone.

Reed presses his forehead to mine while he ascertains that I’m intact, and then he lets me go, whirling on the other angel in the room. Reed’s shirt tears instantly and falls away from his body, while his gray wings arc out in menace. He flies at the other angel, driving him through the door and out into the hallway.

“Reed, don’t, he didn’t hurt me! Please stop!” I plead when they come crashing back through the doorway, grappling with each other.

The other angel sprouts his own light brown wings, which topples the furniture and knocks artwork from the shelves. He and Reed pitch back and forth near the center of the room like gladiators in an arena. Reed lands several brutal punches before the other angel throws him back. Reed continues stalking him, looking for another angle to penetrate his defenses.

“Zephyr,” Reed scowls blackly, “she is part human. Can’t you hear her heart racing? I’m surprised she hasn’t fainted from fear,” he grits out. “What did you do to my door?” he asks when he notices that it hangs at a severe angle from its hinges.

Zephyr maintains a defensive stance, shrugging his shoulders toward the door as he says, “She locked the door. I should have had her before she got here, but she is quick. I was surprised she could outrun me.” He smiles at me appreciatively, and I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

“I thought you were going to kill me,” I say quietly, gaining their attention. I try to keep it, hoping to distract them from killing each other.

“I intended to kill you,” he says, and although his voice was very silky, I know he means every word he says. “The way Reed spoke of you on the phone, and then looking at you, I thought you had persuaded him to help you.”

“Why didn’t you kill me then?” I ask him out of morbid curiosity, seeing Reed grow more and more tense.

“You convinced me not to,” Zephyr replies, glancing at Reed to see that he is no longer out for blood, but listening to our exchange.

“How did I do that?” I ask tiredly, not understanding how I had convinced a hostile angel not to do what he is essentially programmed to do.

“You didn’t cower or bargain with me for your life, but offered your life to me to save Reed.” Reed growls in reaction to Zephyr’s words. “But, the fact that you granted me forgiveness for what I was about to do to you, that is what really tied my hands. You have such courage…”

“Zephyr, if you ever do anything like that to Evie again, you will pray for death,” Reed says in a quiet tone.

Zephyr grunts. They are eyeing each other speculatively as if to size up the competition, should that day come. Zephyr’s response shocks me more than anything else that I’ve been through tonight when he says in a serious tone, “I will kill anything that attempts to harm her.”

As I force my legs to move toward the attached bathroom, they feel heavy and lethargic. When I reach it, I close the door behind me, leaning against the wood feebly. I want to lock it, but I’ve been shown, first hand, that it won’t matter, should one of them really want to get in. Fighting the urge to fall apart right here, my throat burns with unshed tears, but I know that if I start crying, I won’t stop, so I try to hold them off. I’ll just stay in the bathroom until Zephyr goes away, I think.

After using the facilities, I go to the sink to wash my hands. Shock is the forefront emotion to what I see reflected in the mirror. I have indeed sprouted wings; there is no getting around it, and they aren’t just red, they are crimson. They are small, petite almost, by the standards I have seen for wings; those being Reed’s powerful charcoal-gray wings and Zephyr’s light brown wings. My wings only reach to my waist, while Reed’s are longer, almost the entire length of his body.

Can I move them voluntarily? I concentrate on lifting them, but I have little success. Maybe it’s because you’re tired, I think, seeing myself in the mirror. I look wilted. How am I going to put them away if I can’t seem to move them? I can’t even get dressed! Feeling disgust, I turn away from the mirror and see Reed standing in the open doorway. I gasp, bringing my hands up to cover my breasts again.

Reed holds up his hand in a gesture of concern. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I brought you something to wear,” he says soothingly, entering the bathroom. In his hand he holds a long-sleeved, black garment that appears to be made of cashmere.

“How am I supposed to put anything on with these sticking out of my back?” I ask in a soft tone, not looking at him. I don’t want to see his reaction to my puny little wings that are bad-girl red.

“I bought several of these for you earlier, anticipating that you would need them. Here, this top slips on in the front and ties in back. You put your arms in the sleeves, and then a ribbon at the nape of your neck secures it in the back. The back of the garment is mostly bare until about midway, and then another ribbon threads through the fabric on both sides like a corset, so your wings can remain out or they can be retracted. You need only pull the ribbon tight and tie it in the back here at your waist. It will allow your wings to move freely while the fabric remains in place against your skin.”

I nod, taking the garment from his hand without looking up. Turning away from him, I slip it on. I attempt to tie the ribbon at the nape of my neck, but my hands shake, so I keep fumbling with it. Reed brushes my hands away gently, tying the ribbon for me. He then makes quick work of the ribbon at my waist. Turning me toward him again, he hugs me tight in his arms, and I nearly break down, but I manage to hold it in.

“You are so quiet, Evie. You have to tell me what you’re thinking,” Reed urges.

“I was thinking that this is a very clever design for a top. The material is so soft and warm. Thank you,” I say. “I was worried that I was going to have to wander around half naked until I can figure out how to retract my puny wings.” I say the last part with a measure of the contempt that I have for my new limbs.

“You don’t like your wings?” Reed asks me, sounding surprised.

“Not really…how come they’re so small, and why can’t I move them?” I ask him, looking at the middle of his chest.