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I grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and handed it to Helia. If they weren’t getting her magic from direct contact with her, there were a few other ways it could be obtained. Jerome was around my family and I enough that he just always had access to it. But unless Helia was spending a lot of time with someone, this was unlikely to be how they were getting it. I told her to list everyone that might have blood from her or one of her, as yet unseen, feathers.
At the top of the list was St. Louis University, and below that was The Red Cross. Below that were two other blood banks and then three plasma centers, and finally, the clinic that made serum for vampires in town.
“You donate blood and plasma?” Remiel asked, blinking at her.
“Yes,” she answered. “It’s the gift that keeps giving.”
“But anyone that gets your blood could get some magic from you.”
“Yes, but I’m AB-negative, the rarest blood type out there. My blood can do a lot of good.”
“Why was SLU listed first?” I asked her.
“Because I gave them blood the night Valerie was brought in. Lyzette is AB-positive and needed an extra dose of serum to help her heal. I gave them my blood to make a special batch of vampire serum for her.” Okay, well I couldn’t argue with that. I couldn’t even be mad about it. I’d donated blood a few times, but eventually I’d been told I wasn’t allowed to anymore because two people that had gotten my blood had gone a little mad. Apparently, the brushes with the Stygian now ran in my veins.
For vampire serum, the RH factor didn’t matter-it just had to be the same blood type—and despite the fact that AB mortals could get blood from everyone on the planet, the same wasn’t true for the serum. It had to match the vampire’s blood type exactly. Lyzette could only use serum from people with AB blood type. Giving her type A, B, or O would make her sick and weaken her. I knew this because I was A-negative. All angels have a negative rhesus factor for some reason. Fan-fucking-tabulous. The killer could have gotten a fucking transfusion from my sister and now have some of her power. But it wouldn’t last long, a few weeks at most. Blood cells die and are replaced at an astonishing rate. This guy had been at it longer than a few weeks. So, did he have a continuous supply? There was no way he had a feather from her, because her wings were still internally housed in her body. If they hadn’t gone looking for them, we wouldn’t know she had them.
“I don’t feel good,” Helia said. I knelt down next to her.
“It’s okay, we know you’re not part of this,” I told her. “Whoever it is obtained your magic illegally, and I’ll make sure everyone in the world knows that.”
“No, not that,” she said and her face visibly paled. “It hurts.”
“What hurts?” I asked, suddenly concerned.
“Everything. It feels like my body is trying to explode.”
“My wings erupted when I got angry, I didn’t feel anything and thought it was a magical construct until I pulled out a feather. Strong emotion from Helia, could her wing sacks be rupturing?” I asked Remiel.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Oh, Soleil,” Helia moaned and then fell out of the chair. Her hands never even went out to brace before her body slammed into the ground.
“Call an ambulance,” I shouted at Remiel or Janet or anyone. Remiel knelt next to her. “She’ll heal after I do this,” he said and pulled a large pocketknife from his pants. I grabbed his hand, stopping him from touching my sister.
“If it’s her wings, we can cut her open and let them loose. This normally happens in children and it’s an easy process. In adults, I don’t think it’s as easy. Let me do this, Soleil.” I let go. In my head I cursed Remiel, but I didn’t say it. He plunged the knife in through her shirt just below her armpit on the left side and then cut down her side.
A gold feather immediately spilled from the hole. Remiel grabbed it and gave it a small tug, another feather appeared. Yellowish-white fluid began to gush from the hole. He reached into it, the goo getting on his sleeve, and pulled some more. The tip of the spine began to appear from the hole. More of the fluid came out, and it smelled like death.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. Behind me I could hear Janet talking to someone, and I hoped it was 911. Remiel grabbed the wing spine and pulled. It came out a little more. He looked at me. I gagged and grabbed it with him. We both stood, planted our feet and gave a massive tug. The wing unfurled from the hole and a puddle of goo more than a foot in diameter formed under my sister.
“Other side,” Remiel said to me. This is not going to come out of the carpet, I thought as he cut a hole in Helia’s other side. The smell got worse and I heard Janet gag. I gagged again and fought to stay in control of my body. I couldn’t tug on Helia’s wing if I was tossing my cookies. No feathers came out of this hole and Remiel shoved his hand into my sister’s body. For a moment, I could see her ribs.
“The second sack hasn’t ruptured,” he said.
“What is that smell?” Janet asked, gagging and stepping outside the door.
“I think it became infected,” Remiel said. “But that’s just a theory.” I stared at the wing protruding from my sister’s body. It wasn’t yellow and it wasn’t white. It looked like the polished gold that you make jewelry from.
“Please call my parents,” I told Janet. “Let them know what’s happened with Helia.”
“Of course,” she said and took a few more steps away from the room. I didn’t blame her. My office smelled horrible. I wasn’t sure what kind of cleaners it would take to get rid of it, but I was certain I was going to have to pay a professional to take care of it. Most angels got their wings during a magical temper tantrum when they were kids. The sacks ruptured, the skin, unable to contain the extra pressure of the released wings, split open and suddenly an angel had its wings. That was not how it had worked for Helia or myself though, obviously.
I heard voices outside our office and Janet announced that paramedics had arrived. She then told me my parents were going to meet Helia at the hospital. Then she called someone and asked if they could get blood and other stuff out of carpet. I didn’t hear their response, but she said that was fine and she’d pay extra if they could come right now, lots of extra. Remiel pulled out his credit card.
“What?” I asked. looking at it. He handed it to Janet and Janet gave them the number.
“They’re on their way, I’ll split the cost with you,” she said, handing the card back to Remiel.
“No, it’s our fault, we knew they were archangels and never had them checked for wings.”
“Nephilim don’t have wings,” Janet said, and it sounded mechanical and forced. They were trying to get Helia’s exposed wing to fold up, so they could get her out of my office. Remiel walked over and pushed on it. Nothing happened.
“Do you have smelling salts?” he asked. “She’ll probably have to be awake to fold it up.” They started an IV in my office and Helia woke up. She looked sick and in pain. She looked at her wing with the same shocked look I’m sure I had when I plucked one of my own feathers.
“That’s better than red,” she said.
“And since Mom and Dad bought you a red Hummer, they won’t clash with your car,” I told her.
“A Hummer?” She frowned.
“I got a pewter grey one. After paying for mine, they seemed to realize your compact car wasn’t going to work once yours and Ariel’s wings were released and bought you one too. But they got it in red.”
“Oh,” she said and looked at her wing again. Then she tried to move it. She pulled it in and rolled her head to look at the other side. “I only have one?”
“The sack on this side ruptured, but not on the other side,” Remiel said. “It’s there, it’s just still contained in the sack.”
“Good, I was thinking I was going to look really stupid with one gold wing.” She nodded. I tried to go with her, but she told me I had to stay and catch the guy that had her magic. I understood that sentiment and sat in the lobby to await the cleaning crew.
“That was more excitement than I bargained for today,” Janet said.
“Right?” I commented dryly.
“Could he have stolen a bag of her blood?” Janet asked.
“That seems really unlikely given that he’s most likely a cop,” I said. “But I suppose so.”
“Better hers than yours,” Remiel said, coming to sit with us in the lobby. “You don’t give blood, do you?”
“My blood makes people go a little crazy, so no.”
“Let’s go talk to our detective at the sheriff’s department,” Remiel said. “No doubt everyone is now paying attention to my profile, which could be a bad thing now that I think about it.”
Remiel got a call from my father as we drove. He put it on speaker phone, and it started with dad yelling at Remiel about cutting open his daughter and sticking his hands in her. Then he apologized and told us that Helia’s wing sacks were incredibly thick, thicker than any the doctor had ever seen, which was why they had never ruptured on their own before now. The sack had gotten a tear in it recently, and that tear had created inflammation and an infection, which is why it had ruptured and spilled pus all over my office carpet. They were taking her in for emergency surgery to remove the sacks, free her other wing, and make sure all the infected fluid had been removed from her torso. Then he lectured me about not staying for the surgery and told me it was scheduled for that afternoon. He also said he was not going to let me out of it for any reason. Remiel could catch bad guys on his own if I we hadn’t done it together by then.
“Her idiot husband probably caused the tear. We could go see him when we finish at the sheriff’s department,” Remiel said.
“He’s a miserable prick,” I told him. But it wasn’t a terrible idea. It might relieve some stress to go put the fear of everything immortal in him. Especially with a scary uncle that could hear his thoughts. However, revenge would be petty and make me feel worse about myself later. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t fantasize about it later when I was trying to fall asleep.