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The only reason my father allowed her on the mortal plane was she’d already performed her Rites with Thaniel, rendering her light and magic practically invisible to demons and humans alike.
She can mingle freely with humans without drawing their attention because as a fully-fledged angel, her magic is naturally cloaked. It doesn’t draw humans and spellcasters in.
I can’t do that yet.
If only Gael and I had waited.
“Definitelykeep a lid onhow much you resent being there and how much you hate their plane.” She puts a comical amount of emphasis on the idiomatic phrase, likely chosen on purpose as a test.
But her suggestion—idiom or not—is easier said than done. The mortal realm forever changed me. It made me deficient in ways that can never be fixed. Only managed.
I resent that place more than is probably healthy, especially considering it’s where I found Gael.
Sera lifts an eyebrow at me, a question lurking in the sparkling rainbow of her gaze.
And since I don’t like the condescension in her silent question, or her assumption that I can’t parse her inane idiom on my own, I take a shot at her.
“All it takes is context, Bullseye,” I say with a smirk.
Sera frowns at the use of her grade-school nickname.
Because while I think she’s lucky to have the most uncommon combination of both her mother’s and father’s eye color, Sera hates them.
Aunt Audra’s golden-green and her father’s striking teal somehow gave Sera rings of blue and green around a deep russet center.
She thinks they look like archery targets.
But I imagine it’s nice not having your murderous father’s angry violet eyes staring at you in the mirror. Between his eye color and his dimples, I only see him when I look at myself.
Sera shakes her head, choosing to believe the affliction spoke the nickname.
I’ll keep her in the dark about that one.
See? Idioms are easy.
“Anyway, humans never say what they mean. Ever. So don’t get caught up trying to say the right thing all the time.”
I nod again, filing away all her tips in a neat little folder in my brain, and Sera approaches with another ring.
“And remember to adapt to their terms. They don’t call fast-travel shimmering. The demons call it blinking and witches say something else entirely. Oh, and watch your exclamatory phrases. Don’t give yourself away by calling on the Flames or asking Celestus to help you.”
“Right. Any suggestions?”
“There’s alwaysoh my gods, hells, infernal.If you wanted something a little more human, you could go forballs, or any of their curse words, really. Or you can riff on the seven realms phrasing. You’ve got options, just don’t say anything Celestial-adjacent.”
“OK. I’ve got it.”
“Good. Now, here’s hoping for a miracle,” she murmurs and jams the ring on my index finger.
A warm sheet of foreign magic skates down my skin.
At least that’s an improvement. The other charms felt like wet wool pasted against me.
“Huh.” Sera steps back, regarding me more intently than before. “I think we have something here.” She spins around, grabbing something I don’t see from her dresser. “Close your eyes.”
I oblige her.
“Looks like I was thinking about this all wrong,” she whispers. “I was trying to find a humanized version of your natural features.”
