Celestial (Angels of Elysium #2) - Olivia Wildenstein Page 0,1

hands on Matt’s shoulders, then steered him back toward the bar. Where Jase was slim, Leon was a mountain of a man with more tattoos than most convicts on the guild’s holo-rankers.

Leon flashed me a smile lacking a tooth from a recent brawl. Although his Harlem bar was trendy with the college kids, it was also ‘all the rage’ with neighborhood druggies and dealers. “Nice catch, Celeste.”

Matt began to growl obscenities that would’ve cost him a whole bunch of feathers had he been a fletching.

“Why, thank you.” I’d started hanging out at The Trap after meeting Jase last semester in my Criminal Justice class. And then I kept hanging out at the basement bar and grill for Leon’s extra-greasy, extra-delicious cheeseburgers and Jase’s easy company. And because you could take the girl out of the guild, but not the guild out of the girl, on busy nights, I kept an eye out for licentious activity.

“Cash or credit?” Jase repeated amiably.

Matt cranked his stubbled chin up. “The fuck I’m paying.”

“You dose a girl’s drink in my bar,” Leon growled, “then try to rip me off? Jase, get Tommy.”

“Who’s Tommy?” Matt’s voice lost its defiant edge.

“A retired Marine who just so happens to be a real talented sous-chef.”

Tommy was the strong, quiet type with facial tattoos that inspired fear in most people. He’d always been perfectly indifferent to me, so I had no beef with him.

When Jase started toward the kitchen, Matt extracted a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. “No cops. I’m leavin’. And I promise, you’ll never see me again.”

“That’s nice, but what I want you to promise is to never drug a person ever again. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah. I’ll never—” Matt gulped. “Never do that shit again.”

“Good. Now hand over that stash of pills you brought into my bar.”

Matt slid a hand inside his boxers and pulled out a small Ziploc, which he shakily lifted.

Leon slapped his arm away. “I don’t want your fucking ball sweat in my face.” He snatched my empty beer glass. “Toss it in here.”

Matt dropped it in, then flipped his cap around, attempting to shade his face from the growing attention coming our way. I heard him mutter a shit when the head waitress and Leon’s on-again-off-again girlfriend Alicia said, “Got it all on film, Leon.”

“Thanks, babe.” And then he dropped his voice and murmured something in Matt’s ear that made the gym rat squirm and turn as white as the diamonds frosting the cross dangling around Leon’s neck.

For the first fifteen years of my life, I’d been taught to reform misbehaving humans gently, by offering them a hand to guide them toward the right path. During the ensuing four years, I learned that threats and brute force worked just as well, if not better. And way faster.

Someone tapped my upper arm—the blonde with the large hoops. “My friend and I wanted to thank you.”

“Don’t mention it but watch your drinks next time.” When the girls turned toward Jase to profess their undying gratitude—I swear, they kept him engaged long after saying thank you—I fished my cell phone from the pocket of my teal silk bomber to check the time and noticed a missed text from Muriel.

I smiled as I read it. Even though every Friday I went home for the weekend, every Thursday, without fail, Mimi asked if I’d made other plans and reminded me it was fine if I had. Weekends were sacred family time, and since Mimi was my only family now, I devoted them all to the woman who’d unfailingly cared for me after I lost Leigh.

Leigh . . . Thinking of her still hurt. She’d been my best friend, my sister, my anchor. The night she took her life, I’d been devastated. And then I’d been angry. Angry at Jarod for steering her away from her duty. Angry at Leigh for allowing him to do so. Angry at Seraph Asher for burning her wings and tossing her back on Earth with blistered crescents on her back. Angry that I hadn’t been enough to keep her in this world.

For weeks, I’d hated her, and then I’d hated myself for hating her.

And now . . . now, I simply missed her. The same way Mimi missed Jarod, the boy she’d raised as her son.

My thumbs flew over the screen: I’ll try to get there for lunch, but I need to meet with my advisor, so don’t wait for me if you’re hungry. And then I added: By the way, I