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“Do you think she’ll be able to help?”
“I don’t know,” Colter admitted. “But she’s our best shot. I’d been looking for her for years.”
I frowned. “Why?” I’d only been in the picture the last couple of weeks.
“This project is much bigger than you can imagine, and I hoped she could help me with it. You see, we’re looking for a cure for diseases, and angels have healing magic. When they left, the healing magic left with them.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised. “Healing magic. That seems like a big deal. How did they use it while they were on Earth?”
“I don’t know,” Colter said again. “They left long before my time. They retreated about four centuries ago, if the history is true.”
“That’s a long time ago.”
“It’s why it’s so hard to find answers about who and what you are. You’re a half-angel, which means, somewhere, there had to be an angel in the mix, and it’s a lot more recent than four hundred years ago.”
I nodded, understanding what he was getting at. My past seemed more and more confusing.
After a couple of hours’ flight, the jet descended, and we prepared to land. The landing was as terrifying as our takeoff, but we touched down safely, and when the jet came to a halt, I could finally breathe.
The door opened, and we stepped out into air so humid, it clung to my skin, and it felt like I breathed water.
The heat was pressing, and I shrugged out of the cardigan I’d worn on the plane, where the air-conditioning had been turned up to full.
A short, thin man, with hair so blond it was almost see-through, came to us.
“Madame Andra is waiting for you,” he said with a bow. “She requests that you see her right away.”
“Of course,” Colter said.
The small man gestured to a car that waited for us. It was more like a dune buggy. We weren’t in the lap of luxury anymore.
While the man drove us along the coastal road, the wind whipped through my hair, and the sun beat down on my cheeks. I closed my eyes and tilted my head up, drinking in the warmth and the light.
When I opened my eyes, Colter was watching me, but he looked away quickly.
We stopped in front of a beach house, built entirely out of woods and reeds. It had a deck that jutted out into the water and steps that led up to a large porch from the sand.
A woman stood on the porch, wearing layers and layers of sheer fabric so that it gave the illusion of being see-through, but it wasn’t. Her thinning hair was gray, cut to shoulder-length.
She held out a bony hand to Colter, and he took it.
“Andra,” he said with a smile.
“It’s been a long time, devil child.”
Colter laughed as if the term had been endearing. “I’ve grown up since.”
“I don’t think you have,” Andra said with a chuckle before she turned her eyes to me.
“Oh, child,” she breathed, and her eyes welled with tears. “You look just like your mother.”
I gasped. “You knew my mother?” I looked at Colter, who looked just as shocked. He hadn’t known.
“We have much to talk about, children,” Andra said. “Come, let’s have tea. Norden will take care of us.”
The blond man nodded and skipped up the steps, hurrying into the beach house.
We followed Andra to a rustic-looking living room with wooden furniture, distressed wood, and a nautical decorative theme. She waved to the couch opposite the seat she sat down in, and Colter and I sat down together. A moment later, Norden hurried into the room with a tray containing a pitcher with light green liquid and fruit bobbing in it, and three glasses. He poured us each a glass.
