Page 51 of Angels Don’t Date

Hope looked the opposite of delicate. Grim. Determined to see the end of this battle whatever the price, but the price would be high.

“Oh, brother,” Mirabel said, rolling her eyes.

He nudged her. “Exactly. That exclamation of distress was designed for you in this specific instance. What a happy moment of felicity to see its purpose come to fruition.”

She glared at him. “And Felicity is also here, but she’s playing her harp. As if I shouldn’t be the one to play a harp in your band.”

“Orchestra. I brought in a full set of strings. Shall we away to the sound booth? I moved it to another building.”

She glowered. “I hate you.”

He put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead. “I know. I love you, too, Menace.”

They were so cute. I wished I had a sibling who knew me perfectly and loved me so much. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed one shadow slightly thicker than the others. Mitt was not like a sibling even though I’d known him forever. He was more like an uncle who always kept his distance and professionalism. We didn’t hug or show physical affection. I was probably starved for that.

Like he read my mind, Richard looped his free arm around me and pulled Mirabel and me out of the kitchen, past the grim triangle player, Hope.

“Hi,” I said to her as Richard dragged me out. Maybe she’d be tough enough to date Richard. Why did his hand feel so good? I wouldn’t have thought it was okay for best-friends-forever to walk so close, but with Mirabel on the other side, it was totally normal.

What wasn’t normal was the group of people gathered to dress me. All angels. And the dress? It was peaches and powdered sugar, just like in the song, a confection of a dress that felt as good as it looked. But it wasn’t just a dress, it was this creamy lace overlayer like sugar crystals over this peach silk satin, and the whole thing was studded with pearls. If I ruined this dress, I would cry. Also, where had it come from?

The angels did my hair with this gold band with pearls, and then twisted strands of my hair up around it. So pretty.

The makeup was heavier, but left me looking soft and dewy, practically angelic. It took over an hour to get every curl right, and by the time it was done, I looked like a glorious pastel princess who might be on her way to her wedding. The train gave it the wedding vibe. I guess that was the eventual outcome of this show, but it was freaky to see.

Hallie carried my train as we walked to the small building outside that the angels had apparently taken over as a chapel for its good acoustics. But walking in, angels on either sides of the door and the whole space filled with angels and instruments, with Richard at the end of the aisle in his golden armor, it felt like I was walking into a wedding. My wedding.

The Commander stood behind Richard at the end, frowning down at his guitar. Why was the Commander here with his guitar?

I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud until Hallie (Hallelujah!) answered me in a low murmur that I could barely hear, “He’s a really excellent musician, and when he came to deliver a message to Richard, something about relations with the northern giants, he got roped into being part of the orchestra. Most angels have an instrument they can play well enough for funerals, or other events.”

Like weddings. “Ah. Makes sense. I guess I didn’t realize that guitars were part of orchestras.”

The Commander started plucking those first strings of the waltz with a shimmery bell sound of Hope’s setup. Not a triangle, more like a giant xylophone. There were microphones all over the place so every instrument could be perfectly picked up.

Mirabel stood next to the Commander, hands folded at her waist and a look of anticipation on her face. Apparently she’d gotten over her irritation with Hope and the change of recording studio locations.

Richard looked like an angel, all golden hair lit up by the late sunshine, and he looked at me like I was a bride coming down the aisle that he couldn’t wait to say ‘I do’ to. As soon as I reached him, he started with the first verse, singing into his microphone while he gazed at me, yearning in every line of his face. My heart beat faster, but at the same time, it was such sweet, contented aching.

“Her dress is peaches and powdered sugar, stained with pomegranate wine.”

I sang mine, “Morning sun on marble pillars, and midnight tangled in a curling vine.” Still wasn’t entirely sure about those lyrics, but I tried to sound certain.

He grabbed my hand as he leaned closer to sing his line.

During my line, he touch my wrist, sending a bolt of aching sweetness through me.

Then he sang his part, “I was born blazing above the towers, I learned of the shadows where you exist.”

Then our duet at the chorus where I carried the melody, trying to sound like I felt it, the ‘perfect vampire’ bit, and his harmony pierced my bones.

“I am a sun-born perfect vampire, gold in my veins where your hunger feeds

You are the prince of light, fruit, fire,

Sweet on your tongue but you bruise what you need.

Will you step into the light I carry, or will you hide in the orchard of your fear.