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“What?” I couldn’t help asking. I didn’t like the way he was scrutinizing me.
“Sorry. It’s been a long time since a human was pregnant with a Nephilim. I guess I expected some kind of visible indication.”
“Archangels can’t sense angelic power or see souls or emotions,” Nate explained. “He can’t sense our baby.”
Something warmed in my chest when Nate saidour baby, but it was quickly doused when Micah strode across the room toward us.
“Can you walk?” he asked Nate.
“I’ll be fine,” Nate gritted out.
Micah rolled his eyes. He fished around in his bag for a second and pulled out a glass bottle full of a syrupy substance. “Sierra,” he said calmly. “I need you to hold his arms and try to keep him still. This is going to hurt like a bitch, but it’ll speed up the healing process.”
I nodded, gripping Nate’s biceps, grateful someone was finally doing something about his back.
Micah poured the tonic onto the wounds and Nate hissed, arching his back and clenching his hands into fists. Micah didn’t react at all, simply produced rolls of bandages and got to work binding the wounds.
“Do you have anything for Sierra?” Nate asked through clenched teeth.
“No. I don’t have anything safe to use on humans. We’ll have to wait for a messenger to look at her.”
“Joriel?” Nate asked.
Micah’s expression darkened. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with him yet.”
A tension settled over the three of us as Micah finished with Nate’s bandages and helped him to his feet.
“Where are we going?” Nate asked, his hand finding mine and lacing our fingers together.
“Heaven.”
Nate’s hand tightened around mine. “I’m not leaving.”
“You don’t have a choice in the matter.” Micah didn’t sound upset, he was just stating a fact. “And save your speeches about love and angelic duty. Your girl’s coming too.” Micah pulled a hoodie from his bag and handed it to me before retracting his wings and pulling on a shirt himself.
I blinked at him dumbly. “Don’t you have to die to go to Heaven?”
“Not always. Now put on the sweatshirt.”
Okay, so Micah was about as boss and apathetic as Samuel. Speaking of which… “What about Samuel?”
“I’ve already talked to him. I believe he’s heading back to New England right now. So I’m your only option for getting out of here.”
“We get it,” Nate snapped. “You can lay off her. We’re coming.”
I had to let go of Nate’s hand to pull the hoodie over my head, but as soon as it was in place, he grasped my fingers again. The sweatshirt swamped me, making me feel like a child in it.
We followed Micah out of the warehouse into the crisp Georgia night. I looked up at the sky full of twinkling stars. After hours in that warehouse, it felt good to be outside in the open air. Flying would feel even better. I glanced at Nate’s bandaged back. How long would it take before his wings grew back? And how was that even possible in the first place?
I didn’t dare ask any of those questions out loud. Micah and Nate both seemed on edge, and for the first time in my life, going to Heaven seemed like something to fear. Prior to very recently, I had been secure in my belief that God loved me, that I couldn’t do anything so bad that He wouldn’t forgive me. Now that I was carrying an explicitly forbidden child, I was beginning to question that belief.
Micah led us to a black car with heavily tinted windows. Nate went straight for the back door, pulling me in after him while Micah took the driver’s seat.
Nate leaned forward, keeping his back from touching the seat.
“How do you feel?” I whispered.
“I’m fine.”
