"Agreed," Merlan said, easing off a few layers into a neat pile until she was down to her bare midriff and a short suede top that had been wrapped and tied in place. She, herself, was not unblemished as she shrugged her wings back. Some were fine scars, some healed gunshots and slices that she'd gotten after Micah had left her. As she turned, her spine tattoo in Norse and Enochian wound around each other was visible. Over it, her wings were laid in what seemed to be tattooed ink, disappearing past the soft material of her trousers. The tips of curled feathers could just be seen curling up around her hips.

With another light tug to make sure her hair stayed put, she was ready to get to work.

"Whatever the weight of anvil, I can carry it," she added, her eyebrow arching. "It's a simple process of mind over matter."