As she plated two slices, I’d stared at all three letterheads, my gaze lingering on Columbia University’s. In the end, I decided New York was too far away from her, so I’d pointed to the Sorbonne’s letter.
The following day, Mimi stepped into my bedroom and handed me a passport. I’d gawked at it, never having owned one before, and traced her last name printed next to my first one—Moreau.
I’d belonged to a race; now I belonged to a family.
I dug my keys out of my tote and let myself inside the shrine of smoke-gray hardwood, black granite, and burgundy velvets that Muriel had bought the same day she’d purchased our plane tickets. We could’ve shared a walkup, though, and I would’ve been equally happy because luxury had never been important to me. Nevertheless, I appreciated the security that came with the fancy address. Even though few people knew of Mimi’s affiliation to the Adler family, it only took one to destroy a life.
“Mimi, I’m here,” I yelled as I stepped through the vestibule and straight into the kitchen, her usual haunt. I flung my jacket and bag on one of the island’s high chairs, then washed my hands before filching a piece of croque monsieur from the platter atop the stove, moaning as the gooey cheese lit up my taste buds. “Mimi?”
“In here, Celeste.”
I trailed her voice into the living room where she stood outlined by the blue afternoon, gaze sunk on the sprawling, green rectangle of park that stretched almost all the way to the apartment I shared with Jase. I tossed the rest of the warm ham and cheese sandwich inside my mouth before pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her skin was ice, but I imagined she’d spent her morning reading on the narrow balcony, her favorite pastime after cooking.
“Ça va, ma chérie?” We’d always spoken French together, even though her knowledge of English was impeccable.
“Oui.”
I often wondered if I’d lose my angelic aptitude to speak and understand any tongue when I lost my wings but dismissed the contemplation, mostly because I had no one to ask. Besides, I’d find out in three months.
As I prattled on about my new assignment and my advisor’s advice, Mimi listened to me with rapt attention and punctuated my rapid-fire flow of sentences with her habitual warm smiles. Warm smiles, I noticed, not slicked in crimson lipstick.
The croque monsieur congealed inside my stomach. “Something’s wrong.”
“Wrong?” Her pitch was off, just like her appearance.
My heart held exceptionally still. “What is it? Do you need to return to Paris? Did something happen to Amir?”
Jarod’s bodyguard was the only person she’d kept in touch with. He’d remained in France, retiring to Nice after the Demon Court was shut down and transformed into a refuge for underprivileged children.
“Amir is fine, Celeste.”
“Then what is it?” I bit out each word so none would tremble. “Mimi, what—”
“Cancer.”
“Cancer?” I repeated stupidly.
“Horrible thing, cancer.”
The compacted cheese and ham sprang into my throat. “Horrible but curable.” I swallowed hard, jamming it back down. “Right?”
“Celeste . . .”
“Right?” When she didn’t answer, pressure built behind my temples. “Mimi?” Her name juddered on my lips.
“I fought. I fought as hard as I could, but the cancer fought harder.”
I froze. No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening. “All those naps. Your diminished appetite. You said you were just . . .” What had she said? Oh, angels, I couldn’t remember, but she’d always had an excuse. “How long—how long have you”—I pushed back a lock of hair stuck to my lashes—“known?” I whisked my lids down, up, down, but the contours of her face kept shimmering.
“Six mois.”
“Six months!” I choked out, feeling like she was beating my heart into stiff peaks with one of her whisks. “Why didn’t you . . . why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was hoping to win before burdening you with it.”
“Burden me?” The words swerved past the giant lump in my throat. “Oh, Mimi.”
Her papery thumb that forever smelled of butter and dish soap stroked my cheekbone.
“There must be . . . have you done chemo? Chemo works. Or surgery. Who’s your doctor?” I took my phone out and tried to type “Best cancer doctors,” but the phone slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the thick rug.
She cupped my cheeks between both her palms. “It has metastasized to my liver, Celeste.”
“What does that mean?”
“That soon, I will have to leave you.”
“Is there really nothing . . . no treatment . . . no . . .?” Tears flowed out of me and pooled around the callused fingers clasping me as though I was made of glass.
She shook her head. “But you’re grown up now and—”
“I still need you! I’ll always need you!”
“Ma chérie.”
“Please. There must be something, Muriel . . . Please.” I wasn’t even sure who I was imploring—this woman or the angels above? I stared at the cloudless blue expanse outside the bay window, wondering if any angel was watching. “Please.” Sobs tripped out of my throat and fluttered the silver-streaked auburn flyaways framing her face. Her hair was always done up so neatly but not today.
“It’s time I go see my Jarod. He’s probably causing all sorts of trouble up in Heaven, trouble that even Leigh isn’t able to contend with.”
Jarod wasn’t in Heaven. He wasn’t even in Hell. He and Leigh had been denied both. And soon she’d find out, because this woman, this incredible and selfless force of nature, was undoubtedly Elysium-bound.
For the first time since I lost Leigh, I wished my soul wasn’t destined for oblivion. But it was too late. There was no way I could earn over six hundred feathers in three months.
“How long before . . .?” I whispered, even though I wanted to roar my heartache and skepticism about the medical proficiency of the specialists she’d visited. They couldn’t possibly have been any good if they hadn’t found her a cure.
“A week, possibly two. Doctors are sordidly pessimistic people.”
Days? I had days left with her?
My tears fell faster.
My heart broke harder.
What had I done to be dealt such a hand? Was it because I’d been disrespectful to the seraphim? Was it because I’d raised my voice against the archaic laws of my people? Was it because I’d turned my back on them?
My lungs felt vacuum-packed, unable to expand and take air. I gasped for breaths between sobs.
“I have arranged everything, Celeste. You will never want for anything. And although I would like my ashes to find their way next to Jarod’s, take them when you feel ready.”
Another sob splintered me. She laced her arms around my hunched spine and pulled me into her with such force I couldn’t imagine her body was ravaged by disease.
I wouldn’t let her die.
I wouldn’t let the malakim steal her from me.
I’d find a way.
I had to find a way.
I’d prostrate myself at the feet of the Seven and beg for her life, because this woman was all I had left in this miserably unfair world.