Cian

The quality of my vision was rapidly deteriorating, as everything about my body was. Caprice was a mere blur as she stepped back inside my bedroom, waltzing in front of me and placing her hands on her hips. I blinked, trying to clear my burning eyes. "Where's my brother? Lucie? Where are they?"

"I couldn't care less where they are," Caprice muttered, brushing her thumb across my lip. I scowled, spitting at her, and she scowled back, examining the drop of black fluid upon her thumbnail. She harrumphed and cleansed herself with a Kleenex. "That's demon venom, alright. How long have you been coughing that stuff up?"

I dragged a hand across my mouth, unaware I'd recently spit any up at all. I rolled away from her, wincing at the profound aching of my bones. I faced the wall and dug my nails into my palms until the skin bled. It was all I could do not to reach back and scratch the rash on my back, because in the end, that would just speed up the toxin's destruction.

Which, I thought as every fluid ounce of my blood scorched through my body, might not be a bad thing.

"Since last night," I murmured in response to Caprice. "Like you care."

"Wow!" Caprice exclaimed facetiously. "You'd think I'd be here, little one, if I didn't care? I don't like you, but that doesn't mean I want you to die. That would be an inconvenience."

I paused, letting my eyes flutter closed. I thought about last night, about sheltering Lucie, her dark eyes staring up into mine, wide and stunned. My wings were around us, a black canopy, a fleeting moment to ourselves. In that moment, nothing could touch us.

My voice was guttural, something deep in my chest. "You can't take my wings away from me."

"Maybe not. But the Order can."

"Caprice!" I yelped, ignoring the pain searing through me as I shot up, reaching for her. My muscles screamed in protest, my back writhing. Caprice was quicker and stronger, however, as the immortal often were, and had pinned me to the bed faster than I could comprehend.

Her hands held my arms to the bed, her hair hanging down in her eyes, which, this close, I could see were flecked with green and gold. Her wings had escaped her shoulder blades, much more elegant than mine had ever been—they were ancient dark sculptures that were marveled at and awe-inspiring, priceless. I could tell by the smile on her face that she knew it, too. "Goodness," she said with a smirk. "You're stupider than I thought."

"Get off me," I hissed through gritted teeth; she was pressing my back against the bed, and the rash against my skin was grinding excruciatingly against the sheets. The more pressure she added, the more it felt like the ends of a whip were burying themselves in my veins.

"No one is going to sit here and watch the demon venom slowly kill you," Caprice replied calmly. "And it will be slow, and brutal, and all because you were too prideful to let your wings go. I'm calling the Order down, Cian, because it's no longer your decision."

I turned my head to the side and sputtered, more of the viscous night-black fluid flowing past my lips. It was bitter on my tongue, acidic poison searing through every inch of me. "I want Vinny and Lucie here."

"Vinny and Lucie left, because I told them to," Caprice said as she eased off of me, hopping off the bed. "Trust me, now. They don't want to see this."

I had the feeling she was right, though it hurt to admit it. My hand ached for Lucie's; I wanted to be able to look into my little brother's eyes and know he'd always be there. It was them. It was the people who were always at my side, who always made me feel like I belonged somewhere—it was them that always seemed to make pain bearable.

Caprice brought her wings around herself and plucked one, solitary feather from the rest of the flock. I recognized the gesture, and knew what was coming next. I'd seen it done before.

"Knife?" Caprice prompted.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, swallowed the bile back down, and gestured weakly towards my desk. "There's a pocket knife in my drawer."

I gazed up at the ceiling as the echoes of Caprice's clinking and rummaging sounded about my bedroom. I tried not to think about anything, clear my mind, calm myself down, but I couldn't. All I could think about was how my eyes and throat burned and the venom inside of my shoulders was killing me and that I wanted Lucie and I wanted my brother.

I wanted, I wanted, I needed.

Caprice reappeared, still gripping the single feather off her wing. I watched a bit hesitantly as she dragged the pocket knife's edge along her palm. As Caprice inhaled with a grimace, blood welled and dripped over the feather, catching in crimson orbs on the fibers. Caprice's slim fingers released it, and it drifted to the floor.

We both breathed in.

The remnant of Caprice's wing vanished as soon as it hit the floor.

There was silence as both Caprice and I waited, and then two figures appeared in the center of my room with Vinny-like instantaneity. Caprice and I were alone for a second, and then the two members of the Order were before my bed the next, looking around themselves with stone cold gazes. The taller one was a stern man with dark eyes and hair blonder than Vinny's, while the shorter one was a woman with ethnically bronzed skin and raven black hair to her waist. They were both clad in the Order's uniform, which I had only seen once before: a bleached white suit or dress with gold trim.

In all their angelic glory, they were out of place in my messy bedroom, like otherworldly beings from a distant galaxy forged in gold and white.

The man's eyes skipped right over me, landing on Caprice. "Caprice Martinez," he began, "you summoned the Order. I, Samuel, and my colleague, Gabrielle, have been sent. What do you need?"

Caprice didn't look as nervous as I'd expected her to be. In fact, nothing about her posture or expression had changed, which confused me. These people were members of the Order, God's most trusted angels, and if you disrespected them, you could be killed for it. Caprice, however, regarded them as if they were mere unwanted house guests. She gestured towards me. "This is Cian Horne. He's been tainted with demon venom, and it's spreading from his wings," she said, sounding bored.

"Cian Horne?" said Gabrielle. "As in, the mortal?"

Caprice's nod was curt. "Uh-huh. There's only one way to fix him, which I imagine you're already aware of."

"How bad is he?" asked a male voice, Samuel's.

Caprice didn't hesitate. Her tone was unforgiving. "Sit up, Cian, and open your eyes."

There were a million reasons I didn't want to.

One of those million was that it was like peeling my skin off to move at all.

Another one of those million was that, as soon as they saw how far the venom had progressed inside of me, as soon as they saw the illness of my eyes and the severity of the rash ever growing on the skin of my back, I was done for.

I had no other options, however.

I did as Caprice told me, balling up the pain and shoving it down my throat. I was shaking in my skin, my fingers gripping my scorching shoulder blades. The lungs in my chest felt shriveled and useless. Both Gabrielle and Samuel gasped, looked to Caprice, then looked back to me.

"The worst is the rash on his back," Caprice added. "He won't survive another few hours if the toxin keeps spreading at this rate."

"Then the operation must begin now," Samuel said, then looked to his colleague. "Gabrielle, chain and gag him. I'll prepare the tools. Caprice, are you alright with staying?"

She glanced at me. I caught the pity in her gaze. "I've seen worse."

I felt Gabrielle's fingers sliding around my wrist; I was turned on my stomach, face pressed against the pillow. Chains, their strength unyielding, linked me to the bed, holding my limbs captive. Cloth was tied in my mouth, and with an exhale, I laid my head down and sighed. I tried not to think about what was going to happen next, tried just to think about Vinny, and Lucie, and when I'd see them again.

Voices sounded.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Something—as keen as a needle, but much more agonizing—sliced cleanly into my skin. Blood trickled down my back, its heat scorching me. My vision fogged.

I screamed for so long that it felt as if my throat ruptured.