I stay out far too late, swooping and soaring above the glowing lights of Seattle. But that’s okay. I don’t have a human job to go back to tomorrow anyway.
Instead, I’ve got a new mission: to find and redeem the seven deadly sins.
Chapter Four
Trinity
Right. So. The seven deadly sins.
Just find them and redeem them, Trin. No big deal. It’s not like they’ve existed, unredeemed, for thousands of years.
I don’t know much about them, to be honest. I don’t think most angels do. We just kind of let them do their thing, and they let us do ours. They aren’t interested in the whole “battle between Heaven and Hell” business, duking it out for the souls of humanity and overall control of the universe. From what I understand, the sins just like to indulge themselves and don’t really care if the people they’re convincing to join them end up in Heaven or in Hell.
They’re all about living in the moment.
I definitely am not going to ask my support group about them. The other fallen will want to know why I’m asking, and if they find out that I might get to go back home if I succeed, they might try to take my place and do the job first. Or, if they’re one of the fallen who resents Upstairs, they could try to sabotage me so I can’t go back, or so that at least Upstairs fails in its quest.
Either way, it wouldn’t be good for me.
So I have to rely on that classic human resource: the internet.
Oh, internet. You’re so useful. I’m so glad you were invented.
Not all of the sins like to make themselves known. I can barely find any information at all about a few of them. But there is one sin who likes to splash himself all over the Wall Street Journal and Forbes. He keeps popping up over and over in my searches, and even though he looks different depending on what decade I search for, I start to recognize the telltale signs that it’s the same man.
The sins are immortal, just like angels and the corrupted. As long as the sins they personify exist and are embraced by humans, then these creatures will exist too. Or at least, I think so. Anderson didn’t exactly give me a handbook on the sins before he left, so I’m flying a bit blind here. Haha. Pun intended.
This particular sin likes to re-invent himself every few decades. He pops up every so often in the history books when I look for him.
Greed.
He’s living in New York City, a place I’ve never visited.
It’s not the distance that kept me away, it’s just… well, I came to Seattle when I fell, and I never really worked up the nerve to leave. I’ve moved to new neighborhoods a few times, and I keep to myself enough that no one’s ever noticed my distinct lack of aging.
I’m filled with equal parts excitement and trepidation at the idea of traveling all the way across the country for this insane new mission Anderson’s given me.
As much as I wish I could fly all the way to New York using the power of my own wings, it would take too long, so after spending a couple of hours doing research, I book a plane ticket. There’s no point in delaying this, as intimidating as the task before me might be. I can’t stall. Anderson’s going to be checking in, and if he thinks I’m not taking this seriously enough, he might give my chance to someone else.
I can’t afford to let that happen.
There isn’t much for me to pack. I mean, what do you even pack when you’re traveling across the country to convince a thousands-year-old personification of avarice that maybe he should try being generous and humble instead of a greedy tightwad? Is there anything I could possibly bring that would make the job less daunting?
That thought doesn’t exactly give me a boost of confidence, so I shove it away as I slide off the bed and begin shoving a few changes of clothes into a small bag.
“Future Trin” will be the one who has to face the seven sins.
And I’m sure she’ll be up to the job, even if I don’t feel like I am.
New York City is a big, loud place, but I think I’m prepared for it. It’s just going to be like a regular city, right?
Wrong.
So, so wrong.
I can feel myself gaping as I stare out the window of the taxi. Oh… wow. This place is absolutely pulsing with life. So much variety, all of these tiny areas with their distinct personalities, and yet it’s still all New York City.
I think I’m in love.
As overwhelming as it all is, it’s entrancing too. I swear I can feel a thrum in the air, as if the city has its own heartbeat.
“Hey, you gonna keep lickin’ my damn windows, or you gonna pay me and get out?”
I jerk as the cab driver’s annoyed voice cuts through my awed reverie.
Crap, he’s right.
I’ve got my palms on the glass, my face so close to the window that my nose is practically smushed up against it, and I’d only have to stick out my tongue a little to be licking the window just like he said.
Flushing, I clear my throat and scoot across the seat to pay him. Anderson didn’t say anything about giving me a per diem or anything, so I’m assuming it’s up to me to bankroll this whole operation. Which will be fine for a while, since I’ve got a bit of money saved up from my time on Earth.
But if this operation ends up taking months? Years?
Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Or live under it, I guess.
I slide out of the cab, and the driver peels away from the curb, leaving me staring up at the daunting building in front of me. Luckily for me, Greed—or Beckett, as he’s calling himself nowadays—lives a high profile life, which means it was easy to find out he’s going to be giving a speech at a charity gala tonight.
I was a little surprised at first that Greed is supporting a charity event, but as it turns out, there are a lot of ways that the super wealthy benefit from charities. From what I was able to gather, business deals will go down tonight that will make the attendees millions—and the whole thing is a tax write-off too. That’s greed at its finest: self-interest masquerading as generosity.
Securing a ticket to this thing would be pretty impossible at the last minute, especially seeing as I’m a nobody in the eyes of New York City’s elite. But I did a little experimenting last night, and just as I hoped, Anderson gave me back my invisibility right along with my wings.
I hike my bag higher on my shoulder, then walk halfway around the block and duck into the alley behind the massive building, glancing around to make sure no one is watching before I slip out of sight. A little shiver passes down my spine as if someone slid an ice cube down my back, and I smile at the familiar sensation. I haven’t done this in years, but it came back as easily as riding a bike—although I actually haven’t done that, well, ever.
Heading deeper into the alley, I make a beeline toward a delivery van that’s parked out back. Event staff are unloading crates of food and carrying everything inside through steel doors that are propped open.
Perfect.
I fall into step behind a woman with frizzy red hair and slip in through the back door behind her.
She heads straight for the massive industrial kitchen, and I follow, making sure to stay close enough to her that her body acts as a sort of shield for mine. I’m invisible, not intangible, and if someone knocks into a person they can’t see, it’s sure to cause way more of a scene than I want.