Breathe

Chapter 28

Lucie

"Good to see you," said Caprice, looking at each of us in turn. "Human. Lazarus."

Vinny blinked a few times before his expression cleared. "Oh. Lazarus. Funny. Anyway—what are you doing here? In my mom's wine collection, too?"

I watched with slight fascination as Caprice's wings retracted into her shoulder blades, the feathers folding in on themselves as they disappeared spotlessly into her warm, olive-toned skin. Something about the sight, the mechanicalness of it, twisted something within my chest. She lowered her gaze to the mess of glass and wine she'd made on the floor, heaving a long sigh. "Do you know how many souls I've had to take care of today? It's tedious, all these people dying. I was going to discreetly grab a drink to ease myself, but it seems my motor skills have failed me."

Vinny's expression drooped. "Was that her Cabernet?" he took a wary step forward, and after closer inspection, let out a groan. "God, it is. She's going to end me."

"Oh," muttered Caprice in reply, her eyes trailing Vinny as he went in search of a mop. "So it is expensive."

"It was," I corrected. Reaching underneath the sink, I handed Vinny a container of floor cleaner. He went silently to work, and I thought about helping him, but was too lazy to. "You could've gone anywhere for a drink, your own club, for instance," I said, directing my gaze at Caprice. "Why here?"

"But you already know why, don't you?" taunted Caprice. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, levelling her stare.

I leaned my chin into my hand with an exhale. "Ah. So you know about Cian, then."

Vinny slowed his mopping to listen, watching us with intermittent, sharp glances. There was no reason for him to be furtive, as no one had told him he wasn't part of this conversation, yet he was anyway.

Caprice's tone sobered when she spoke next, her arms folding across her chest. "I noticed you both pull up to the Destiny. It's not far from my club, and Cian's monster SUV is kind of hard to miss."

I didn't disagree with her.

"And like I've said before," she went on, "I've got eyes and ears everywhere. I've known the fallen angels flock to that place for a while, so I knew there was some funny business going on."

"How much do you know?"

"Not enough," Caprice replied. Her dark tattoo winked at me from her shoulder, just above the deep red neckline of her crop top, just below the broad velvet of her choker. Honestly, Caprice confused me. She was hundreds of years old, looked like a woman in her late twenties, yet dressed like some of the kids did at Bay Area High. She even pulled off the grunge style better than I did, which was unfair in around a million ways. "Care to enlighten me?"

I couldn't keep the sudden bitterness out of my voice. "That's what you showed up for, then. What do I look like, your personal encyclopedia? I'm not like everyone else in this city, Caprice; I'm not your damn chess piece."

Vinny tensed, his knuckles going white against the wood handle of the mop. "Lucie," he said, too meekly for it to mean much.

"I'm not interested in playing games with you," Caprice responded, not an ounce of her composure compromised. In fact, there was even a taste of a smile on her lips, as if this amused her in some odd, inexplicable way. "Believe it or not, the last thing I want is to see Cian in trouble. He's been in enough of the stuff ever since the Order put wings on his back. As a fellow angel of death, it's my job to take care of him—"