fifteen
“You.”
The word comes out as a whisper, but loud enough that the angel chuckles.
Afriel tilts his head, a look of amusement on his face. “You look much braver out here in the open than cowering in the shadows.”
“You knew I was there?”
He chuckles again. “Of course.”
My eyes flick to the crowd, but I see no sign of silver-dusted feathers. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Why would I bother? You were no threat. I figured you’d be lucky to make it through the night, anyway. I’m glad I was wrong.”
Afriel shrugs and leans against the bar. “So why is it that you’re now here posing as a waitress? I heard you had a rendezvous with the archangel. Come to become his pet, have you, Amara Jones?”
I straighten, fighting the chill that rushes down my spine. I feel a foreign urge to get on my knees and beg for my life. He says it as a threat, wanting me to know where I stand, wanting me to know that he knows exactly who I am. A person’s name holds such great power, but the moment you say it out loud, it gives that power back to them.
“How do you know my name?”
“I am the archangel’s second. My job is to provide him with information. To steer him towards victory, and to defend him at any cost.”
His explanation brings me little comfort.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not here to become anyone’s pet, nor am I here to fight in your fucked-up little game. So go find some other toy to play with.”
“Nathaniel told me you might cause trouble.”
Afriel’s eyebrows shoot up, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “Relax, little one. They are here and fighting by choice. I suppose some of your kind have a strange fantasy that they can win in a fight against an immortal. We merely give them a safe space to test that theory. They always leave with their lives intact. I can’t say the same about their egos, though.”
My chest grows ever so slightly lighter. I look at Afriel, but find it hard to meet his eyes, the silver so piercing. He wears armour, as all the warriors here do. A brass chest plate that moulds around his body perfectly. Black leather pants held up with a pleated gold belt more intricate than anything I own. Brass vambraces that cover his forearms, with matching brass pauldrons over his shoulders. A sword sheathed between his fiery wings that could cut my head off before I finished blinking. His red hair stands out like a signal fire. He has such handsome features, but they’re more boyish than the archangel’s. He is an unusual and beautiful monster.
“He knows I’m here?”
I finally ask.
Afriel’s smile is bright as he contemplates my question. “He said he’d bet his title on you following him here.”
I scoff, wanting to protest, but realising he’d have won that bet. “So what’s it going to be? The guillotine? A good old-fashioned hanging? Forcing me into the ring with your psychotic counterparts so he can watch me bleed to death? What’s his poison?”
The angel grins, shaking his head lightly but ignoring my question.
My brows creep up. “Has he sent you to do his dirty work?”
Afriel turns to face the ring, where a new fight has begun. This one is between the black-haired angel and a human woman. She can’t be much older than me.
“He sent me to make sure you don’t go around stabbing his people.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “So he’s sent you to keep an eye on me?”
Afriel gives me a look that says he has much more important things to be doing right now. “He didn’t want to have to break your deal and execute you for getting yourself into trouble.”
I roll my eyes. Of course the archangel sent him to prevent an inconvenience. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Clearly.”
Afriel’s smirk returns and he gestures to the apron around my waist. “Nice disguise.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice. Humans only seem to be welcome here under certain conditions.”
I cringe as I see the woman in the ring thrown up against the wall. “Where is he?”
“In a meeting.”
That’s annoyingly vague. “I need to speak with him.”
Afriel winks. “He said you’d say that.”
“We made a deal. He hasn’t fulfilled his end of the bargain.”
He bites his lip as if suppressing a laugh. “He also said you’d say that.”
“Did he have anything useful to say, or was he too busy obsessing over what I might say?” I sneer.
“You do not want to push his buttons, little one,”
Afriel growls as he narrows his eyes on me.
I find myself swallowing, taking a moment to rethink my line of questioning and avoid a painful end. “So how did you get stuck with babysitting duties?”
I find it hard not to stare at his big bright wings pressed up against the bar. I wonder if it hurts to lean on them.
“He does not trust the others. They would undermine him. They would have their way with you.”
His gaze turns fierce, the tone of his words making their meaning clear.
“And you are more honourable than that?”
Afriel scowls at me. If Xavier were here, he’d tease that I’m always making friends wherever I go.
“I am the archangel’s second for a reason. I have his trust because I respect him and his orders. I will only touch you if he orders me to.”
His scowl turns back into a wicked smile at the last remark.
If the archangel is the most powerful of them all, then Afriel is not far behind. It’s no wonder he’s painted to look like a burning fire. “Well, thank you, I suppose. For babysitting me. I bet it’s not your ideal way to spend your evening.”
He tilts his head. “It’s not the worst way to spend it.”
I study the design of his armour, every inch of it carved with details so intricate that it’s easy to believe they weren’t etched with human instruments. “Why can I understand you? You’re from a whole other world, so why do you speak our language?”
I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
Afriel nearly chuckles. “I don’t. I speak all languages at once. Your human mind just latches onto the one that you can understand.”
I bark a laugh in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I’m sure you’d have said that about the existence of angels a few years ago.”
He says as he gives me a pointed stare.
I try to fathom it, to listen for a hint of another dialect but there’s no giveaway. He’s right though, we really don’t know what is possible anymore. What is real and what is myth. “Fair point.”
I duck my head and look around the room. My eyes dart to each corner, looking for any exit to slip away from the archangel’s spy. The bar we lean on stretches all the way to the wall on my right. Ahead of me, the grandstand wraps around the right side and circling crowds hover to the left. On the opposite side of the arena is the bar next to the archway I entered through. To my left, within the thick of the crowd, is nothing but dead space.
Perhaps the archangel isn’t even here. Perhaps he’s hidden away in one of the many huts scattered throughout the rest of the Luminary. It could take all night to find him.
“Is there a restroom?”
I take a step forward, but Afriel is in front of me in an instant, fiery wings blocking my view of the rest of the colosseum.
He frowns down at me and his lips form a tight line. “I’m coming with you.”
I let out a humourless laugh. “You’re not watching me use the toilet.”
“I will guard the door. That is all.”
He moves to the side, pulling his extravagant wings tight to his back and motioning for me to follow him through the crowd.
My eyes narrow on him for a moment as I contemplate my options. I could argue against it, but I’d likely lose. I could try to sneak away, but I’d likely be killed. I take a deep breath and nod.
We squeeze through a tangle of bodies and wings in a tight formation, his body close to mine in a protective stance. Eyes follow me as I walk through the crowd, more noticeably than before. Angels train their gazes on me; some sneer, others raise their brows curiously.
“Why is everyone staring at me? There are humans everywhere here.”
Afriel looks back at me and smiles widely. “You’re being escorted around the arena by the archangel’s second. It’s not exactly a common occurrence.”
He leans in and drops his voice to a whisper. “They all want a piece of you now.”
Afriel turns back to the crowd and focuses on clearing a path through the masses of angels. I follow him slowly, but I’m tugged backward when a hand wraps around my wrist. My breath hitches, Afriel’s name getting lost on my lips as he disappears into the crowd without noticing that I’ve stopped.
I struggle against the grip on me, turning to meet the eyes of someone I’ve seen before.
The dark-haired angel from the arena smiles down at me wickedly. “You don’t have to worry about him bothering you anymore, sweetheart.”
His voice is deep and threatening as he murmurs in my ear.
“Thank you, but I’m perfectly happy with him bothering me.”
I pull against his hold again, but it only tightens.
The angel’s eyes narrow on me, his smirk moulding into a dangerous promise of violence. “You’re not going anywhere, love.”
One hand fists at my shirt, the other grabs my wrist, and I’m pulled through the crowd. I look through the masses of angels for red-and-orange wings, but the archangel’s second is nowhere to be seen. My feet dig into the stone floor, but it does nothing to slow us down as I’m dragged towards the arena.
He wants to make me fight him.
No, no, no. My mind shouts in fear, each muscle going slack, my heart beating too quickly. I struggle against him, but he’s too strong. Fear creeps its way in, but I bury it deep within me, shifting my energy into focusing on the fight ahead.
My foot meets the angel’s stomach. He lets go of my wrist, but when I try to run, he grabs my arms from behind.
He clicks his tongue twice, and I cringe at the sound of his voice near my ear. “Naughty human. Trying to run before the fun has even begun.”
I wriggle my right arm free and drive my elbow into his abdomen. I turn to face him, but before I can make another attack, his fist meets my jaw with a force unknown to man.
Pain unlike anything I’ve known before erupts from my jaw through to my skull. My head whips to the side so quickly that my body follows the movement. As I hit the floor, my vision blurs, and iron coats my tongue.
I roll to my feet as my vision begins to clear, and move my jaw from side to side to make sure it still works. Sharp pain follows, but at least it moves.
My feet feel heavy when I stand, my muscles non-existent. A blurry fist narrowly misses my face as I swivel out of the way, a gust of air tickling my cheek.
He all but throws me into the ring, and I skid onto my knees.
If he’s going to force me to fight him, then I’m at least going to make him bleed.
“I have a new offering,”
the dark-haired angel shouts to the onlooking crowd, but they fall silent, not cheering as they did for the others. “Afriel’s pet.”
His laugh is maniacal, bouncing off the walls of the colosseum. No one else dares to make a sound.
I rock to my feet, turning around quickly to scan for any signs of Afriel or the archangel. “That’s right. I’m Afriel’s pet. The archangel’s second,”
I say breathlessly as I lift my chin. “Neither he nor the archangel will be very happy if you lay a hand on me again.”
The angel’s smile only turns wicked. “Don’t you worry, love. I’ve taken care of your little friend. When he comes to, I’ll just find him a shiny new toy to play with.”
I take quick steps backward until my body hits the barrier. The angel leers down at me, his body caging me in. The scar that runs across his face gleams in the light. He looks as if he’s expecting me to run, as if it’ll make it more fun for him if I do.
That’s it.
Before I die, I’m going to leave another scar on the twisted monster in front of me. If he wants me to play, I’ll play. But I’m certainly not his toy.
The pain in my jaw has faded to numbness, the adrenalin spreading through my veins acting as the best kind of painkiller. He takes several steps back before turning to face the crowd and holding his arms out to invite them to cheer for his performance. They stay silent.
I run at him with all the speed and strength I can muster, but it’s not fast enough. He brings his arm out to hit me in the stomach. I anticipate the move and instead slide under his arm and wing, grabbing at feathers as I do.
The angel roars and falls to one knee. I take the opportunity to kick him in the spot between his wings where his sword would normally be. He roars again as he tumbles forward.
The crowd stays eerily silent. The only sounds that echo through the room are my short, sharp breaths.
I grab his right wing and pull it backward; it feels as if I’m pulling at a limb. As if it’s about to dislocate. He screams in agony and uses the momentum from his other wing to create a strong gust of wind that throws me off balance.
When I stand, he’s in front of me again, his features dark with the promise of death.
All I need is to buy myself time for Afriel to get to me. If he’s coming back for me. Fear gnaws at my insides, reality setting in. If the archangel’s second doesn’t come back, I will die here, and Jeremy will die at the hands of the fallen angel.
The dark-haired angel moves so quickly that I don’t see him coming. He grabs me by the throat and holds me in the air, snarling through his teeth.
I don’t claw at his hands as instinct tells me to. Instead I lift my knee and grab the dagger from my boot, slicing at his forearm. He winces in pain, but doesn’t let go.
I drive the blade through his shoulder instead, forcing his hand open. I fall to the floor, pull the dagger from his shoulder, and hold it up in a fighting stance.
His shoulder drips with golden blood. The crowd is so silent that I can almost hear each drop hit the ground. The angel snarls at me, grabbing both my wrists and squeezing tight until I drop the blade. I kick out and aim low, but he sees it coming and dodges.
“You just don’t die, do you?”
the angel growls, pulling at my hair and dragging me backward.
Dick move. I scream in agony, reaching up to grab at his wing, but he moves it out of the way.
“Now the fun begins.”
The angel’s voice is loud and depraved as he pulls me out of the arena and through the crowd. It splits in two and follows us as he walks through, with a screaming human in his hands like a trophy. He’s parading me in front of the spectators, making sure they all get a chance to see him kill me.
We stop at the back wall and he holds me up against it, his hand wrapped tightly around my throat. My blade sits discarded in the ring, my only defence lost. I gasp for air as he squeezes.
Everyone else in the room freezes. Eyes pin to us, human and angel alike.
I push my thumbs into his eyes, clawing as hard as I can until he lets me go. Then I bite his wrist.
The angel hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. I watch gold liquid drip from his skin.
My lips curve into a weak smile as I try to catch my breath. That’s two marks I’ve left on him.
His gaze turns from wicked to pure evil in an instant. The game is over. He’s done playing with me now.
The angel lunges towards me, grabbing at my shirt – but he freezes in place as the crows splits apart.
Another angel storms through the parted sea of onlookers, moving towards us with a fierceness that makes me shiver. This angel is much larger than my attacker, fury radiating off him like heat.
My tormentor is torn off me in a blur of white and silver. Relief washes through my veins and I sink to the ground. I gasp for air, trying to regain control of my lungs. Muffled voices sound from above, but the world is nothing but darkness to me.
“Isaach! How dare you? You know the rules. We do not kill them.”
“Why are you protecting her, archangel? She’s a human!”
“She’s not the one I’m protecting right now. You are. She was kicking your ass.”
I feel the world slipping away as a small smile tugs at my lips.
Strong arms surround me and spread warmth through my body, lifting me off the ground. The last thing I hear before I’m pulled into darkness is a voice filled with hate that whispers in my ear, “You shouldn’t have come here.”