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When she finished, a strange, dissonant, doubled tone hummed from the lump, almost inaudible, but there. I held my breath, listening to the odd sound, uncertain what that meant.
Perhaps, if we held it over Precious herself and tried again, we could discern exactly what she had done. Maybe I could fix it. Change it back…
“Growly?” Feather’s question interrupted my train of thought. “Does it sound that way because she did rename herself? Or because it’s broken?”
“I don’t know.” I held her hand up, examining the molten, buckled edges of the tool I’d used my entire life to create. It wasn’t gone, but this was almost worse. I knew without asking that nothing I made using this would ever be exactly right.
The familiar glint of stubbornness filled Feather’s eyes before she stated, “I am Feather, the Beautiful Sacrifice, Beloved of Mikhail the Great-Souled, Maker of Sanctuary; best friend to Sunny, The Light of Truth, Ride or Die Birch; Treasured Little One of Seraphiel, known as Rumple, my Teacher and First Love; Secret Crush of Righteous Arm of Justice, Head Protector of Sanctuary who shall henceforth be known as Anaconda Pants; and Chief Antagonist and Adored Nemesis of Gavriel the Grumpy Lightbearer; Leader of Sanctuary.”
The chime let out a single note that ended on what was possibly the worst sound it had ever emitted.
“Did it… Did it just… fart?” Feather glared at the chime, but in seconds, one corner of her lips was twitching.
I stated my name. “I am Mikhail the Great-Souled…” When I finished, the chime made an even louder farting noise, and a tiny puff of air seemed to come from the center of the chime.
“Oh, this can’t be good,” Feather groaned, holding up her palm for me to see. It was covered with flecks of dark purple and charcoal gray glitter. “She really, really broke it.”
“Yes, she did.” I had no idea what the foul sound or glitter meant, and I wasn’t certain why it made me feel slightly better. Almost… amused? Like this was all just some great cosmic joke being played out, and I was waiting for the punchline.
My mind spun with the ramifications of losing a working chime. We weren’t done building in the Limen. We had all the energy we needed, since we could consume the energy that welled up through the cloud ground, courtesy of Imriel and the Celestial Realm. But not to be able to create with the chime… it would be a devastating blow to the morale of our populace. Our friends.
And what would my purpose be here if I couldn’tmake? I was a Maker…
“On a scale of one to Righteous with no lube, where are we sitting, Papa Bear?” Feather’s gaze snagged me, pulling me out of the unusual spiral of self-pity that had threatened.
I closed her fingers over the chime. “We are sitting in the same place we were before we discovered this. The community hall is finished, more or less, though we’ll need to cancel the naming ceremony for now. We all have homes, except for a few of the younger Protectors, like your friend Truth in the Smallest Detail.”
“And Truth and his naked octetlikeshacking up in one room, so they won’t be upset,” she replied, wrapping her arms around me in a much less desperate embrace. “You’re right. And you can make some tools with the energy and your singing, right? You don’t have to have the chime?”
I laughed loud and long. “You’re absolutely correct, sweet soul. In fact, my Master forced me to learn my craft for centuries without any access to that powerful tool. It’s just been so long since I had to create polished works without its help to center their purpose, I’ve gotten spoiled.” I found myself grinning. “It might even be fun. I could teach Gavriel how to do it as well. He’ll need new instruments at some point. He’ll need to learn how to create them from raw energy.”
Feather’s wicked laugh matched mine, and before I knew it, we were embracing, our souls swirling around each other like twin flashes of lightning racing from one soul well to the other.
“You make me feel young,” I murmured, smiling down at her clouded gaze, her kiss-swollen lips. I was glad I’d been able to distract her. Keeping my little soulmate happy was something I could do, with or without a chime.
“Well, youarean old man. You’d better be thankful I had a hidden daddy kink,” she muttered.
“Hidden?” I teased as we heard Gavriel’s mental call, and went to join him in the small park I’d created between our house and Sunny and Hope’s. “You thought you’d hidden it?”
“I have unplumbed depths, Grandpa,” she sassed. “Whole vistas of unexplored sexual desires.”
“If the four of your mates haven’t filled your holes and plumbed your depths by now, birch, you may need to reconsider your mate bonds,” a sultry voice interrupted.
“Hope!” Feather shouted, throwing herself into Hope’s arms, while Sunny and I exchanged concerned glances. Gavriel and Righteous were seated on the bench by the playscape, both of them morose. Gavriel had an arm around Righteous, and the juxtaposition of their golden and dark beauty made me want to paint them like this.
“Where is she?” I asked Sunny.
“Precious flew off. Seraphiel’s gone to find her.”
“Good.” I settled cross-legged on the ground by the bench, and they all joined me in a circle, rehashing the implications of what had happened, and hoping we would find the right approach to help our troubled girl learn to love herself.
CHAPTER5
Feather
“We’re going to ground her until she’s eighty-five,” Hope announced a few moments into our group discussion about the consequences of Precious’s actions. “It’s the only way.”
“That seems a bit harsh,” Mikhail grumbled as he pressed close to me. When I patted his hand and ran the backs of my nails over the mark on his arm where my mating feather rested, he went quiet.
