Holding her arms out, she swallowed her anxiety while the room went quiet and Dex hauled her wings up from the floor to hold them behind her.
His presence, warm and solid at her back, eased some of her fears. “They’re heavy at first, but I promise that weight falls away almost immediately. And you only need them to fly anyway, which is something else you’ll have to learn how to do.”
Fly. She could now fly. Good Jenny, the world sure was a strange and mysterious place.
“You ready, George?” Marty asked with one of her beautifully encouraging smiles, tugging on a piece of George’s long hair. “You’re so pretty, I just know they’re going to be beautiful on you. All that long, dark, wavy hair against the backdrop of those alabaster wings.” She mimicked a chef’s kiss. “Perfection.”
Nodding, George murmured, putting her hands behind her back, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Dex slipped the straps around her wrists and slid her wings upward to place the thick bands on her shoulders.
Two things happened then, a peace like she’d never known crept into her soul, whispering soothing words, and spreading a balm of healing over her bruised heart.
She heard everyone oooo and ahh. She heard the women coo. Well, except Nina, who muttered, “Holy fuck.”
The weight of them was, indeed, heavy, and George found she had to lean forward to keep her balance. Once righted, she spread her feet apart and stood very still, basking in this strange new feeling.
And then George allowed herself to be swept away by the sheer joy wearing the wings brought. Every square inch of her skin tingled, alive with an indescribably acute awareness.
A warm light spilled from her hands, so soft and supple, it was almost a tangible entity. But the best discovery of all? For a brief moment, her mind cleared of all the excess baggage she’d carried around like a heavy weight on her shoulders every single day for what felt like forever.
Guilt, grief, the fear her life would explode and fall apart at any moment, all of it melted away and a distant path, though fuzzy and muddled, became a little clearer.
But then the second thing happened. George had been so enraptured, so overwhelmed with wellbeing, she didn’t even think about Nina and her vampiric sensitivities.
“Turn her the fuck off, Dex!” she bellowed, once more stumbling around in an effort to escape the room and the obvious burning of her eyes and exposed flesh.
As Nina pitched forward on lean legs, her fists pressed to her eyes, and Gladys barked a warning, the vampire knocked over an end table and a lamp, sending them crashing to the floor.
George had been so busy basking in the glow of her newly minted angel-ness, she wasn’t prepared to step out of the way when Nina tripped over the lamp’s cord and knocked right into her.
But Nina didn’t just knock into her, she smashed against her, knocking her sideways where she teetered precariously, the heft of her new wings pulling her backward.
And then she tipped over like a felled oak tree, landing on the hardwood floor with a loud bang and a sharp yelp.
As George was faced with the state of her ceiling, she noted it had been a while since she’d dusted. There was a huge cobweb on her fan.
And she’d get right on that.
After she was done learning how to be an angel, that is.
Chapter 5
“Well, now, hold on there, Arch,” George said as she sampled another taste of the sauce she’d been stirring for the pork loin. “You used Dijon mustard in this? Really? I’d have never thought of that.”
He grinned at her, looking quite pleased. “Indeed, Miss. It gives it that extra zing, don’t you agree?”
She smiled at him and nodded, happy to be in such a gorgeous kitchen with such a nice elderly gentleman who loved cooking and baking as much as she did. “It really does. I’d have never guessed.”
“And it shall make a divine sauce that tastes like silk on your tongue when drizzled across the pork loin.” He gave her a chef’s kiss and a cheeky smile before he popped open the oven and basted the loin.
Marty’s house smelled of delicious roasted pork and an apple pie with extra cinnamon and nutmeg. Her double wall ovens were filled to the brim with food for everyone, and everything was exactly the way George had suspected it would be when a group of friends gathered together.
She sighed, content to be in a houseful of people who were enjoying each other’s company, laughing and joking while Muffin and Gladys curled up on the braided rug together in the dining room beneath the feet of the women of OOPS.
She had yet to be brave enough to even look at the talking cat named Calamity, who she’d been introduced to and now sat on the back of Marty’s couch. And to note, was as snarky as her mistress, Nina.
A line had to be drawn somewhere, and for today, George was drawing it at talking cats.
“Talk to me, fair maiden,” Arch gently encouraged. “Tell me what’s on your pretty mind.”
She stopped stirring and watched the lightly bronze-colored sauce gently bubble. “Everything and nothing, I guess. I haven’t really had a lot of time to process everything’s that’s happened yet. It’s enough that I have to guide people when I’m not exactly the poster child for mentally sound, but crazier still is the idea that Heaven and Hell really exist. I mean, I…” She shook her head, still in a state of confusion. “I don’t know how to explain it, you know?”
He nodded, his blue thatch of hair glistening under the recessed lighting as he patted her on the back. “Certainly, I do, Miss. ’Tis much to process, but as I promised, all will be well. There’s never been a time it hasn’t.”
Turning to him, she tucked her hair behind her ears and jammed her hands into the pockets of her worn jeans.
