Wingless (The Lia Hunter Chronicles #1)
Chapter 12

I hovered over the alleyway again. Watching the horrific scene unfold beneath me.

Run, run! I begged myself as the boys pinned me down, their cruel grins visible even from my position high above them. Sensing a presence at my side I turned to see Levi, his white wings beating softly. He glanced below us, an impassive stony expression on his face. His green eyes met mine.

“You do not belong here.” His deep voice proclaimed.

I could do nothing but stare at him, tears dripping down my face into the alleyway below. Moving closer he gripped the arch of my wings in two strong hands, stopping their fluttering. His green eyes were cold and lifeless, staring at me with utter indifference.

With one effortless motion, he tore the wings from my back. Bones crunched, skin ripped, and blood flowed endlessly.

“Why?” I managed to whisper, clutching at his arms.

“You are not worthy.”

My grip loosened, and I tumbled to the ground.

Gasping, my eyes snapped open. Every stuttering breath sent pain shooting through my back and I clutched at the bed sheets. Studying the foreign roof above me it took me a moment to remember where I was. The previous night flashed through my mind, the bar, dancing with Levi, breaking into Quinn’s office...flying. My skin crawled as I remembered I wasn’t in my apartment. The dream leaving me feeling too raw, too exposed to be in an unknown location. I needed the comfort of my things surrounding me, the security that came with the familiar items. Instead, I settled for my gun, unearthing it from the pillow I’d hidden it under the night before.

The cool metal slid around in my sweaty grip but already I could feel my heart rate beginning to decrease. The shaking that rattled my body slowly fading away. The hint of pale sunlight peeking through my curtains told me it was still early morning. I sat on the bed waiting for the last vestiges of the dream to leave me. Afterward, I just sat there watching the crack of sunlight slowly move on the floor as time passed, too bone weary to do anything more. The soul deep exhaustion claiming all I had to give.

Finally, a knock on the door jarred me from my fugue state. Flipping the covers up to conceal my gun I snapped back my shoulders.

“Come in,” I called out, my voice husky from unshed tears and lack of sleep.

A head popped through the door, Jake’s cheerful face pointing at me.

“Hey, I’ve come to escort you down to breakfast.” His overly happy voice grated on my nerves.

Reminding myself that it was considered rude to shoot people first thing in the morning I rubbed a hand across my face.

“Okay, can you give me a minute?”

Nodding, Jake shut the door once more and I climbed out of bed, making my way to the bathroom. Inside I quickly took care of business, before pausing in front of the sink. Taking in my reflection, I winced. My hair was a knotted mess of curls, my skin paler than usual making me look sickly which was only enriched by the blood still coating my left cheek. My gunmetal gray eyes looked haunted and dull, the heavy bags underneath giving them a sunken in appearance. Quickly splashing my face with water, I rigorously scrubbed at my cheek helping which at least helped bring some color into my skin. I managed to tame my hair into a somewhat neat braid and after a quick check of my stab wound – already looking significantly better than it had last night – I left the bathroom. I grabbed my phone and my gun, securing the thigh harness over my sweat pants uncaring of how ridiculous it looked.

Opening the door to my room I joined Jake outside, shrugging at his amused glance at the harness.

“When in the belly of the beast, it would be silly to go unarmed.”

The fact that pretty much everyone inside this building was stronger and faster than me had not escaped my notice. Rather than laugh at my words Jake gave me a serious nod, aging five years in the space of a second. His own hand fell to his side where he no doubt concealed his own weapon, most likely of the silver variety. Shaking off his thoughts Jake’s smile made a reappearance as he began to walk through the corridors.

“Well, I hope you’re hungry. Breakfast is always a big event here at the Aviary.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, those of us who live here always eat together in the main hall, even some members of the royal court join us.”

My feet stumbled and I worked hard to keep from falling on my face.

“The royal court?” I asked quietly, dread building inside me.

“Yeah, those who live at the Aviary at least.”

Oh, god I was going to be sick.

“Uh, how many members of the court live in the Aviary?”

Pausing, a thoughtful expression crossed his face, “The majority of families, so I’d say there’s around thirty of them, give or take a few.”

The room tilted slightly, but I forced myself to calm down. I knew that taking this case would mean there was a chance I’d run into my father. Did I expect it to happen so soon? No, but this wasn’t the end of the world. Besides, it wasn’t as if he would know who I was. The more I thought about it the more excited I grew. I could see my father for the first time in my life, hear his voice, and take my measure of him all without him knowing I was his child. Curiosity quickly overtook any fears I had and by the time we reached the wide arch leading to the main hall I was ready to sprint inside only to be struck dumb at the sight before me.

The enormous room spread out before me, long tables lining the hall, filled with feasting Seraphim. At the end of the long room was a raised dais positioned parallel to the other tables. In the very center, a sturdy looking throne seating Jehiel, overlooking his subjects.

But the thing that stopped me dead was the walls, or rather the lack of them. Enchanted, the large walls were instead replaced with a stunning view of open sky. Vibrant blue stretched for as far as the eye could see. Fluffy white clouds floated around, drifting lazily by. It was as if the room was sitting on a plateau in the middle of the air. Stunned, all I could do was stare dazedly at the sight.

“Pretty cool huh?” Jake’s voice startled me from astonishment.

“It’s amazing,” I said faintly.

“It’s a nice taste for us regular Seraphim,” he said wistfully, “gives us a chance to see what it’s like for them.” He pointed to the dais. It was then that I realized all the people sitting there had wings. The Seraphim royal court.

Mouth suddenly bone dry I haltingly scanned across the line, searching for wings as black as the night sky. A few of the seats were empty and by the time I reached the end of the line I realized with disappointment that one of the empty seats must have belonged to my father.

Disappointment and relief swirled in my gut as Jake led me over to another long table supporting a mountain of food. I eyed it the spread doubtfully, my mind knowing I needed to eat, my stomach refusing to cooperate. Deciding on a simple plate of fruit and a cup of coffee I trailed after Jake once more, shooting sideways looks at the dais as I went.

Coming to a stop at one of the tables, Jake set down his plate and I dropped mine next to him, drawing the eyes of five very curious Seraphim.

“Guys, this is Lia. Lia meet my fellow members of the first fleet.” Jake proclaimed, taking a minute to introduce each one by name.

Geralt, the large muscular middle-aged man with hard eyes and a scarred face.

Cindy, a petite looking young woman, who’s calculating look suggested a quick and deadly mind.

Pierce, the solemn quiet figure who radiated vibes of voluntary isolation.

Riley, the woman in her late twenties that pulsed with barely contained energy, beaming at me with a huge smile.

And Lucas, who bared such a striking resemblance to Riley they had to be related. He was the only one of the group who showed any signs of hostility, flashing me a sneer when Jake said his name.

“First fleet?” I asked the group.

“The six of us are the best in our fields,” Riley quickly replied, her cheerful voice easing some of the tension, “for Lucas, Jake, and Cindy that’s fighting. Pierce is our magic expert, Geralt is our leader and tactician, and I’m the healer.”

“Why stop there Riley, why don’t you just spill all our secrets to the dog.” Lucas’ cold tone poured a bucket of cold water over the mood.

Used to the slur, the words flew straight over my head. Not dropping her smile, Riley placed one hand on the back of Lucas’ head and slammed it down onto the table top. The loud bang halted nearby conversation for a moment but after replaceing the source of the noise it quickly picked back up again. Shocked, I stared with wide eyes as Riley flashed me an apologetic look.

“Sorry about that, my brother can be a real ass sometimes.”

Sitting back up, Lucas glared at his sister, one hand rubbing his forehead.

“Whatever, when this comes back to bite us all in the ass, don’t come crying to me.” He declared angrily. Sliding out of his seat, he stormed off.

“That boy is going to piss off the wrong person one day.” Geralt’s gravelly voice rumbled ominously.

Jake grinned, “I hope I’m there to see it.”

Geralt turned his scarred face in Jake’s direction. “I wouldn’t be laughing Jacob. You and Lucas are cut from the same cloth, you both don’t know when to shut up.”

“Ah but you see, the difference is people replace my pretty face far too handsome to risk ruining it by punching me.” Jake preened.

Snorting, Geralt turned his attention back to his plate.

“So what’s it like being a PeaceKeeper?” Riley asked eagerly, leaning forward on the table. “Do you take down bad guys all the time? Can I see your gun?” My head swam as I tried to keep up with all her questions.

Taking a sip of my coffee to stall, I desperately looked around the room for a distraction. Thankfully one came marching in, in the shape of Levi. So relieved he was there it took me a moment to notice the figure next to him. They paused in the archway, an intense discussion flying between them. My eyes drifted to the newcomer. He was about six foot, his brownish gray hair hung unfashionably long, the muscles in his arms showing he was in good shape. Face pulled into a fierce frown, his hazel eyes sparked in anger and concern. Hanging from his back, a pair of jet black wings.

Somehow I managed to swallow my coffee without choking on it. Without taking my eyes off him I managed a mumbled. “Who’s that?”

“Lord Zachariah, Duke of the East Wind, counselor to the king.” A quiet voice stated. I spared a moment to locate the source, Pierce’s golden eyes regarded me steadily. Giving him a small nod I turned my attention back to Zachariah. My eyes hungrily eating up every detail of his appearance.

My god, I have his nose.

The thought seemed to unbalance me more than anything else. My eyes seemed stuck on that particular feature of his. A nose I’d seen so often in the mirror. It was disconcerting seeing it on a total stranger.

I’d imagined meeting my father a million times. Created scenarios in my head, written speeches on all the things I would say to him. About how he’d abandoned us, how he was a pathetic excuse for a person. Now, with the opportunity in front of me, all I could do was stare at him in silence.

During my childhood, the man I pictured my father as a hero. A winged god who would one day swoop down and save my mother and I. As I got older the fantasy grew more cynical and I began to think of him as a devil that purposefully ruined my mother’s life. Looking at him now I could see he was neither and my mind reeled trying to establish how this new piece of information would fit into my world.

Zachariah turned on his heel, making his way to the dais. Ducking my head, I focused my attention on my plate, using my fork to shuffle around the pieces of uneaten fruit. I felt the questioning eyes of the first fleet on me but I kept my head firmly down. His footsteps trailed through the hall, a quick stride that breezed past our spot with purpose. Emotions swelled within me battling for dominance. Anger, confusion, relief.

A faint buzz from my pocket gladly diverted my attention away. Plucking out my phone I quickly unlocked it, scanning the message from Hutch.

Seraphim named Harry Lumbard was taken last night. Purist symbol left on the pillow.

“Shit.” I hissed. Glancing up at Jake I grimaced, “I’ve gotta go.”

Without giving him a chance to answer I slid out of my seat, walking quickly towards Levi. His eyes widened in surprise at my approaching figure before a grim acceptance settled over him.

“You know,” I said without any preamble.

“Yes.” He growled.

“Let’s go then. As of last night, the clock started ticking.”

We had three days to track down the killer. Three days until their latest victim wound up dead.