I rolled my eyes. “He’s going to end up with a huge ego if you keep this up.”
“But it is an ego well deserved,” the Crone replied, slipping her hand from Zayne’s skin. “Do you not agree?”
“I agree,” I muttered.
Zayne shot me a half grin. “We owe you a thank-you, Crone.”
“Is that so?” Bushy white brows lifted.
Zayne nodded. “You gave her the means to help me.”
“But those means did not come without strings,” the Crone reminded us.
“I know.” I lifted the baggie. “We have your feather.”
Her smile grew as she eyed the bag. “I knew you would not fail.” Those eyes, as sharp as anyone half her age—whatever that age was—rose to mine. “You feared that you would. No one would blame you for that. Either you restored him or ended him, and that is no action taken lightly.”
“No.” I placed the baggie on the table. “It wasn’t.”
“I like you,” the Crone said.
“As much as you like him?” I countered.
Her laugh was raspy. “I like both of you. Together. You’re two halves meant to be one. Always have been. Always will be.”
There was a skipping motion in my chest as she looked down at the feather. “It’s sad, is it not? What Gabriel plots to do to this world and to Heaven.”
I stilled. I’d never shared with her what Gabriel planned...or that he was the Harbinger, but I wasn’t exactly surprised that she knew. “I could think of a stronger adjective to describe what he plans, but yes.”
She nodded slowly. “I’ve lived a long time, but I never thought I’d live to see the end of days.”
My breath caught.
“We won’t allow that to happen,” Zayne spoke up.
“No, I do not think you two will,” she said, and confusion rose as she curled gnarled fingers around the top of the baggie. “Not now at least.”
I glanced at Zayne and saw that his perplexed expression most likely matched mine. “I’m not really tracking what you’re saying.”
“I don’t suspect you will. Not for a very long time.”
Well, that statement sure didn’t clear anything up.
The Crone lifted the bag, holding it in one hand as she ran her fingers along the outline of the feather.
“You going to tell us what you plan to do with that feather?” I asked.
She looked over at me as she opened the baggie. “Nothing as dangerous as what you plan.”
“And what do you think I plan?” I countered.
“She has a long list of dangerous things,” Zayne tacked on, helpful as always.
The Crone only smiled. “Sometimes you got to raise a little Hell to get things done.”
25
Istared at her as tiny goose bumps broke out over my skin.
“Thank you for this,” she said, nodding at me and then Zayne as the man from the last time I’d been here appeared, still wearing a suit. He carried a champagne glass to the table and placed it front of the Crone. The liquid was a frothy pink.
“I told you that there are all manner of things that can be accomplished with a feather from one who has Fallen.” The Crone slipped said item from the bag. “Especially one who still carries grace within them. There is only one other in this world and beyond, but his...well, I’m not quite sure any beauty can be accomplished with his feather.”
“You talking about Lucifer?” I watched her curl the feather in her hand.
“Who else?” She held her hand over the opening of the glass. Her lips moved, her voice too fast and low for me to understand, but whatever she said sounded like a prayer to me.
Zayne shifted across from me, his brows knitted as he watched the Crone.
“I’m leaving the city today,” she continued, opening her hand. Flecks of crumbled feather dusted in golden light fell into the glass. “Heading south to visit my grandbabies.”
“Sounds like as good a time as any to get out of the city,” I commented as she dropped what was left of the poor feather onto the table.
The Crone picked up the champagne glass. “But I doubt they will recognize me.”
My heart thumped against my chest as she lifted the glass to her lips. I started to move forward—
“It’s okay,” Zayne said, voice low. “Whatever she is doing, it’s okay.”
He was sensing her intentions—her soul—and whatever he was feeling didn’t concern him. I guessed that was good since she took a drink of whatever the hell she’d concocted...and kept drinking.
And drinking.
My eyes widened as she downed the entire glass in one gulp like she was a pro at doing shots.
“Goodness,” she whispered hoarsely, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth as she let out a little belch. “Woo, that has a bite. Tangy.”
Slowly, I looked over at Zayne. He blinked, his head jerking back. “Holy...”
My gaze snapped back to the Crone and my jaw hit the floor. “Shit...”
I don’t know what I was expecting when I looked at her, but what I saw wasn’t anything on the potential WTF list.
It was like watching someone age...in reverse.
Her snowy white hair thickened and darkened to the shade of midnight, lengthening as the springy curls became defined. The skin of her forehead smoothed and the heavy lines by her eyes and bracketing her mouth disappeared. Her cheeks and lips plumped as her jawline became defined. Her body shuddered, her back straightening and her shoulders lifting. The chest of the bright pink shirt lifted and the dark spots along the hand still holding the champagne flute vanished as if someone had taken an eraser to them.
My jaw was still on the floor when she tipped her head back and the lines around her throat faded. She swallowed, lowering her head.
Her eyebrows were the last to change. They thinned and darkened, following the graceful curve of her brow bone, and now I was staring at someone who appeared to be no older than her late twenties or early thirties.
Someone who was stunningly gorgeous.
The Crone placed the empty glass on the table. “Why age gracefully when you can erase the years with a drink and a spell?”
I closed my mouth, having literally nothing to say in response to what I just witnessed.
She smiled, her gaze flicking between the two of us as she rose from the chair with the fluidity of someone who didn’t look like they’d break a hip. “It’s time for me to leave.”