Wrath made Serenity uncomfortable.

Oh, that wasn’t really saying anything. Plenty of people made her uncomfortable, but Wrath? Wrath was different. He was dark, deep. He had the eyes of someone who knew things, who had seen things, and Serenity wanted to know what those things were.

Or maybe she didn’t.

He had recognized her scars, she realized, and that wasn’t a good thing. How did he know? Or perhaps she had only imagined his reaction when her sleeve had slipped up. She didn’t advertise her scars. Even in the summer, Serenity wore long sleeves. She had perfected the “I burn easily” lie, and that seemed to satisfy people.

She went home after class ended and poured herself a cup of tea. She sat at the small table in the center of her kitchen, and she sipped at the drink.

He couldn’t have known.

The details of angelic rituals were closely guarded secrets. There was no way for a mortal, especially a human, to know exactly what happened when an angel cut off its wings. Then again, it was such a rare occurrence that most angels didn’t know, either.

Serenity certainly hadn’t known.

She hadn’t been young, but she had been in love, and she thought years with Oliver would be better than an eternity alone.

How silly she had been.

Their time together had been so short, but so perfect, and even though Serenity was now destined to walk the Earth alone, to die alone, to experience things alone, she thought it might all be worth it to have had those years with her beloved.

She heard a meow and looked down to see Panda rubbing against her leg.

“Hey, little guy,” she scooped the cat into her arms and held him against herself for a long minute. He meowed again and she smiled. “Missed me, did you?”

Panda only purred.

When Serenity finished her tea, she took a bath, and then she climbed into bed to read a book. The words blurred on the pages, though, and she wondered how she was supposed to act normally when she saw Wrath again next week. She hadn’t been so sure he’d come back, but then he’d seen her arms. He’d seen her reaction. Surely both of those things would leave a lasting impression on the stranger who called himself John Smith.

She closed her eyes and set the book down.

It was no use worrying about this tonight.

Serenity would have to see him next week, and she would deal with this then.

For now, sleep.

She would sleep.

 

*

 

The week passed quickly and soon it was time to return to Bradshaw Community Center. The little building had seen better times, but then, they all had. Just as the exterior of the building had worn, Serenity thought the exterior of the people who worked there had worn. What may have started as a summer job had, for many employees, turned into a lifelong career.

This wasn’t always a positive thing.

“Good afternoon, Bob,” she gave a little wave to the man at the front desk, who simply nodded his head at her. Serenity was used to people being different by now. Oh, some of them were quiet and some of them were loud, but they were all unique. They all had their little quirks.

As an angel, she hadn’t been allowed to visit the human realm. That wasn’t her place. Humans stayed in human places and angels stayed in angel places. That was the rule, but she had broken it so many times. She’d been sneaky, and she’d never been caught.

Until she decided to give it all up, anyway.

Serenity went down the little hallway to her classroom and when she opened the door, she was surprised to see Wrath sitting on the edge of her desk.

“Mr. Smith,” she said.

“Miss Serenity.”

“I didn’t expect to see you back here again,” she said, walking past him and setting her things down on the desk. Today, they were going to be doing a little bit of painting. Serenity didn’t often have her students paint just because it was so messy. Although there were no toddlers in her class to go crazy and throw paint around, she had learned that teenagers and even young adults could be just as bad when it came to making messes with art.

“Why’s that?” Wrath jumped off the edge of the desk and moved so he was standing beside her. The scent of sandalwood wafted toward her nostrils. He smelled nice. She’d give him that much.

“You didn’t seem particularly interested in drawing last week.”

“On the contrary, I love to draw. I just don’t always like to answer questions about my work.”

“Unfortunately for you, the entire point of art class is to get better at art.”

“How does answering your questions help me with that?” He asked. Serenity glanced up at him, expecting to see a sneer on his face, but instead she saw openness and a strange vulnerability. Who was this man?

“Perhaps today you should try answering them and see for yourself,” she said simply. She grabbed a stack of paper and began walking through the classroom. She placed a single sheet in front of each student.

“What are we doing today?” He asked. “More drawing?”

“Painting,” Serenity told him as she moved through the classroom.

“Why not just draw?” He asked.

“You like to draw?” Serenity glanced over at the man. He was watching her, but his gaze didn’t make her uncomfortable the way she thought it probably should. No, the way Wrath looked at her made her feel admired. He was looking at her with respect and she wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve that.

“I like a lot of things.”

“Drawing being one of them.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Drawing being one of them.”

“What inspired this interest in art?” Serenity asked. She didn’t want to stereotype Wrath. In her time as an instructor, she had taught students from all walks of life. Some of them had been tall, skinny, clean-cut businessmen. Some of them had been hippies with long dreads and big smiles. Some of them had been scared, afraid of what their art might reveal about them.

Some of them had been eager.

Some of them had been happy.

Wrath, it seemed, was something of a mystery. At first glance, he looked precisely ordinary. Perhaps that was the problem. He wore jeans with a button-down shirt. It fit just right, like it wasn’t very old. It looked new, but he wasn’t playing up that fact. His converse sneakers were still mostly clean. The white toes of the shoes weren’t yet dark and scuffed, which meant he didn’t wear them often. Serenity’s converse had gotten scuffed the first night she’d worn them out.

The only thing out of the ordinary was his leather jacket, which he didn’t seem to ever remove. Although the classroom was warm, he kept it firmly on his body with no intention of taking it off.

Peculiar.

“My boss,” Wrath said.

“Your boss likes art?” What kind of work did this man do? Serenity wondered. His nails were short, but not dirty. Clean. He worked with his hands, she guessed, but in a place where good hygiene was important. If he had been a businessman of some sort, his nails would have been longer, and he would have had a manicure recently.

“Loves it,” he chuckled, and Serenity smiled.

“Me too.”

“Miss Serenity!” A cheerful voice sounded from the door and Serenity turned to see Clemecia coming into the room. The girl stopped when she saw Wrath and snickered. Then she held her palm out. “You owe me twenty bucks, loser.”

“Clemecia!” Serenity chastised her.

“It was a fair bet,” Clemecia insisted. “And call me Clover.”

“I’ll call you by the name your mama gave you,” Serenity said. “And we don’t call people losers in this class. It’s mean.”

“You call Wrath by his nickname,” Clemecia pouted.

“That’s because…”

It’s because John Smith obviously wasn’t his real name, Serenity thought, but she couldn’t very well call him out. Not just yet. He was too interesting, too fascinating, and it had been a long time since anyone interested Serenity. She was used to being the smartest one in the room, but with Wrath, she wasn’t quite sure if that was true.

“That’s because I’m very handsome,” Wrath said without missing a beat. “And I get whatever I want.”

“Wrath!” Serenity gasped, caught off guard. What a cocky, arrogant…

Clemecia laughed.

Really laughed.

She laughed so hard that she doubled over, grabbing her belly as she chuckled. Serenity thought it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. Clemecia was a happy girl, but even she rarely laughed.

“You’re funny,” Clemecia said. “But I still want my twenty bucks.”

Serenity looked at Wrath. With a shrug, he pulled out his wallet and handed over a crisp twenty dollar bill. Clemecia looked at it like she’d never seen so much money before in her entire life.

“Put that away,” Serenity said quietly. “It’s time for class to start.”