Breathe

Chapter 2

Cian

I hadn't called Lucie for a reason. It was because she didn't need to know where I was.

      Caprice's club was a vacant building in the daytime, which made sense. It was a nightclub, after all, forged in the ambiguous hours from dusk till dawn in which anyone could be anyone, could do anything. During the day it was nothing but an empty expanse of wood flooring, showered in glitter. Even her neon signs were dark.

      The door was open. I stepped inside, shoving my hands in my pockets, eyes flitting around the open space around me. The bar was as empty as the rest of it, a still life of wine and shot glasses. Alcohol in oddly-shaped bottles reflected sunlight into my eyes; I lifted a hand to shield them. "Caprice? Are you here? I need to talk to you—"

      "My little one!" came her voice, echoing through the lofty ceilings. It was then that I saw her appearing from the back hallways, waltzing across the dance floor to greet me. Her pixie cut had been freshly trimmed, and—as usual—she'd managed to cram herself in a bodycon dress that looked a little too tight to me. I eyed the stretch of the fabric warily. Lucie would never wear anything like that, I thought. Whenever I saw her, she was in denim shorts and t-shirt, maybe a skirt when she was feeling extra girly. "You could have called," Caprice said, now standing in front of me. The tattoo at her golden collarbone winked at me.

      "Maybe I didn't want you to be expecting me," I replied.

      Caprice's eyebrows twitched. She motioned to the empty bar, and we wandered there, seating ourselves. Her lips tightened, as if she'd read the graveness of my tone. "Fine. What's this about, then?"

      I swallowed down my discomfort, tapped my nails across the wood of the bar. "You've worked for the Order way longer than I have."

      She rolled her eyes and muttered, "That's true..."

      "So do you know anything about an angel gaining their wings back?"

      The room had already been mostly silent, but it was more deadly so now. The only noise was outside—chirping birds, subtle tunes of human voices, the faint crash of a wave against the shore. Caprice blinked her dark eyes at me, her entire expression filling with surprise. "Cian..."

      "You don't understand," I begged her. "I can't live like this anymore. I thought it didn't bother me, but it does, Caprice. I'm slower now. I can't do my job anymore. The...the constant energy my wings gave me? I miss it like crazy. When I had my wings, I was unstoppable—and now I'm just this thing. This thing that doesn't even have a name."

      Caprice swallowed, and I dropped my eyes to the glitter-covered floor underneath us. "You asked me once," I went on, "if I recognize myself in the mirror. Well, I don't. I don't know what I am. I want something promising again."

      It was quiet again, without my voice in the air. I heard Caprice sigh, and she leaned her forehead into her hand. I waited for her to say something, maybe even ask me to leave. I waited for her to laugh and tell me I was being ridiculous. I waited for her to make some cruel joke, just like always. I mean, Caprice only assisted when there was something in it for her, something she gained from the circumstance.

      So I was just wasting my time.

      "Fine," I hissed. My voice was firm and acidic, and Caprice flinched because of it. "Sorry for bothering you and your stupid club. I'll just—"

      "You certainly are an anomaly, Cian Horne."

      I froze. Anomaly. For some reason, the word struck me like a bullet, even if it was all I'd ever been, since the accident.