tends to have that effect on humans.”
“And you’re not human,” he says flatly.
“I’m mostly human.”
Tucker leans back against the door of the truck and sighs in frustration. “Is this a joke, Clara? Is this some kind of a trick?”
“I’m a Nephilim,” I say. “We don’t usually use that term, because it means ‘fallen’ in Hebrew, and we don’t like to think of ourselves as fallen, you know, but that’s what we’re called in the Bible. We prefer the term
“Angel-blood,” he repeats.
“My mom is a half angel. Her father was an angel and her mother was human. And that makes me a quarter angel, since my dad’s an average Joe.”
The words tumble out of me fast, before I can change my mind. Tucker stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head.
“So you’re part angel.” He sounds exactly the way I did when Mom first broke the news to me, like he’s making a list of mental institutions in the area.
“Yes. Let’s get out of the truck.”
His eyes widen slightly. “Why?”
“Because you won’t believe me until I show you.”
“What does that mean? You’ll do that light thing again?”
“No. I won’t do that again.” I put my hand down lightly on his arm, trying to reassure him. My touch seems to have the opposite effect. He pulls away quickly, opens the door, and hops out of the truck to get away from me.
I get out, too. I walk to the middle of the clearing and face him.
“Now, don’t be afraid,” I tell him.
“Right. Because you’re going to show me that you’re an angel.”
“Part angel.”
I summon my wings and pivot slightly to show him. I don’t extend them or fly, the way Mom did to prove it to me. I think seeing them, folded against my back, will be enough.
“Holy crap.” He takes a step back.
“I know.”
“This isn’t a joke. This isn’t some head game or magic trick. You really have wings.”
“Yeah.” I walk toward him slowly, not wanting to spook him, then turn my back to him again so that he can see them completely. He lifts a hand like he’s going to touch the feathers. My heart feels like it will stop, waiting. No one else has ever handled my wings, and I wonder what it will feel like, to have him touching me there. But then he pulls his hand back.
“Can you fly?” he asks in a strangled voice.
“Yes. But mostly I’m a normal girl.” I know he won’t believe that. I wonder if he’ll ever treat me like a normal girl again. That’s part of what I love about being with Tucker.
He makes me feel normal, not in a plain Jane, nondescript way, but like I’m enough, just being me, without all the angel stuff. I almost start to cry thinking I’m going to lose that.
“And what else? What else can you do?”
“Not much, really. I’m only a quarter angel. I don’t even know all that the half angels can do. I can speak any language. I guess that comes in handy for the angels when they’re delivering messages.”
“That’s how you understood the Korean lady at Canyon. And how you talked to the grizzly bear?”
“Yes.”
I glance down at my feet. I’m too afraid to see his face and know that it’s all over.
The kiss was three days ago, but it somehow feels like another person’s life. Another girl, standing in the barn, kissing Tucker for the first time. Another girl he loves. Not me. Not little pathetic me humiliating myself by starting to cry.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out.
He’s quiet. Tears drip off my chin. He lets out a slow, shaky breath.
“Don’t cry,” he says. “That’s not fair.”
I laugh and sob at the same time.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. His fingers brush at the tears on my cheeks. “Don’t cry.”
Then he puts his arms around me, wings and all. I curl my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest and breathe in the smell of the river on him. Somewhere in the woods a crow caws. A blackbird answers. And then we’re kissing and everything goes away but Tucker.
“Okay, wait,” he says after a minute, pulling back. I blink up at him in a daze.
“Is it okay to kiss you?” he asks.
“What?”
