twenty-one
If this is how I die, I’ll be pissed. In a dark pit surrounded by giant evil trees and a talking bird is an unacceptable way to go.
I will my arm to move, to raise the blade just a few inches and drive it into the creature’s chest, but the ice spreads through my veins so quickly that I feel frozen.
In this moment, all I want is to say goodbye. To say that I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. I’ve trained my entire life to be able to protect people, and I failed. I failed him.
I think I hear the archangel yell something in the distance, but it’s hard to make out the words. A bright golden light blurs my vision and coats my entire body with heat.
This is it. I’m going to die.
I can no longer feel the claws in my skin, nor can I hear the screeches of daemons. My body falls to the ground, knees first. I don’t struggle. I can’t. All I can do is stay still as my skin lights afire and I’m pulled away from this life.
A strong arm wraps around my waist and fingers splay across my hip before I collapse completely. All I see is light, and all I feel is a tingling warmth as the ringing in my ears clears.
“You’re okay.”
The whisper is so soft that I wonder if it’s in my mind.
The golden light fades, as does the warmth that surrounds me, making me shudder.
I blink once, twice, three times, before my eyes refocus on the world.
The arm around me tightens and pulls me close as the archangel lifts me to my feet. His skin glows faintly, but it fades quickly as the remaining light in the pit retreats into his body.
I’m not dead.
The light wasn’t death calling my name… It was him.
I scan his expressionless face, searching for answers. Smoke fills the air around us, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of burnt flesh. Piles of ash coat the entire visible floor of the chasm. I look down at the claw marks on my arms to find that they too are beginning to fade as the light does.
Whatever he just did not only killed every daemon within our reach, but also healed me.
The archangel slowly slides his arm from my waist. “More will come. Can you climb?”
His tone is cold and distant as usual, despite the fact that he’s saved my life twice in this pit.
I nod slowly, unsure of my own answer. I feel… fine. As if the attack never happened. In fact, I feel like I just drank five coffees.
Adrenalin.
The archangel returns my nod, but he doesn’t wait before jogging to the bottom of the cliff, elegantly dodging hellfire as he does. His movements are slower than they usually are, and I’m unsure if it’s because he’s waiting for me or because whatever he just did to barbecue those daemons alive drained his energy.
I collect myself, taking a deep breath and wiggling my fingers to feel the blood flowing through my veins, to remind myself that I’m alive. Then I break into a run to catch up with the archangel.
The climb to the top is gruelling, but I don’t have any brushes with death like I did on the way down. I’m careful with my foot placement, and always make sure I have something to grip onto before moving.
We climb in complete silence, not speaking until the archangel pulls me over the cliff’s edge at the top with a look of annoyance on his face.
“Thank you.”
He gives me a curt nod and turns away quickly to disappear into the trees.
Oaks tower above us, leaning into each other so that their branches intertwine and create an archway that calls us inside the thickness of the woods. The sun sits on the tops of the trees now, the final light of the day shining through them.
Thanks to our nightmare detour, we’ve not made good time as we hoped we would. I imagine it will take us an extra day to get there if we stop to sleep. My body protests at the thought of pushing through the night, begging me for rest. It’s likely that it’ll be safer for us to stop once darkness falls, though the cool autumn breeze that is already sweeping past us may force us to light a fire.
We don’t speak at all while we navigate through the woods, noting the direction in which the sun sets to find our way. The archangel walks ahead with careful coordination, avoiding fallen branches and stones with ease. I try to follow his path, stepping where he steps, but his legs are much longer than mine and I find myself having to take double the number he does. Occasionally, he glances over his shoulder when he thinks I’m not looking, and I swear I see his lips twitch slightly when he notices me jumping from one of his footprints to the other.
I ignore his mocking smile and focus on the rushing stream of questions that races through my mind. Confusion and curiosity about the archangel’s display of power are at the forefront of things consuming me at this moment. It’s better than the fear for Jeremy that occasionally tries to creep in.
It was as if he extruded a wave of light, incinerating all darkness within its path. I wonder if that’s a power that all angels possess, or if it comes with the rank.
It makes him even more dangerous than I thought.
I suppose in order to lead an army of immortal warriors into battle, you have to wield the most powerful weapon. My gaze traces over the archangel’s back, stopping on the joints where his wings should be. He alone is a weapon of mass destruction.
Yet he saved my life when he vowed to leave me for dead.
“It will be dark soon.”
His voice snaps my attention away from staring daggers at his back. “We should find a place to rest.”
“Do you need rest?”
The question slips out before I can stop it, my fatigue allowing my curiosity to push through my common sense. I asked him the same question back at the AIA and he ignored it. I wonder if I’ve earned myself the dignity of a response now.
His chest rises and falls and he pauses for only a moment, most likely contemplating how much of an inconvenience it would be to kill me for my audacity. “Not as much as humans, but we do need to… recharge.”
Surprised by his answer, I soak up the information, but say nothing.
We trudge through the woods until darkness takes over. The sky is near black without the light from the city and the coverage of the trees blocking any starlight. The only reason I haven’t fallen on my face yet is purely thanks to years of training, learning to adapt to my surroundings, utilising whatever light there is to enhance my vision. Relying on my other senses to compensate for my lack of sight, creating an awareness of my body and the space around me. It’s a technique that was drilled into me for years. My commanding officer emphasised that we should never rely on equipment, that we should become a weapon that can be used under any condition.
So I focus on my breathing, and feel the terrain beneath my feet. The tree roots that poke through the earth are inconsistent, but the ground has a slight slant before the root is exposed, so I feel for it. I hold my left hand out to the side, feeling tree trunk after tree trunk. I listen to the crunch of leaves under my feet muffle as the path turns to dirt. The glow from the moon grows brighter as the tree cover clears.
“Here,”
I whisper. “We should rest here.”
The archangel stops in his tracks and surveys the area, but I continue.
“Daemons are creatures of darkness. They dwell in the shadows. The safest place for us is wherever the light is.”
My words fall flat as the archangel tilts his head, the corners of his mouth twitching, his eyes flaring with amusement. I just tried to explain daemons to the archangel.
My cheeks flush, embarrassment creeping in, but I ignore the feeling and find a well-lit spot of dirt accompanied by several large rocks. I sit down and lean my back against the rock, the jagged edges doing nothing for the stiff pain that comes from scaling a cliff and hiking for hours on end.
The archangel’s eyes bore into me as he watches me with raised brows.
“What?”
The word comes out more aggressively than intended. I tilt my head back on the stone and close my eyes.
I don’t hear his footsteps, but feel his presence as he lowers himself down onto the dirt next to me, his arm brushing mine when he leans back on the remainder of the rock. The touch sends a wave of warmth through my veins, and I inch to the side to get away from it.
“I’m not used to people giving me orders.”
The archangel’s voice is softer than expected; no hint of amusement, but no hint of anger, either.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
My lips curve into a smirk, but my eyes stay peacefully closed. “Don’t want that ego of yours consuming you.”
A soft chuckle vibrates through the forcefield of warmth between us, forcing a shiver down my spine. In this moment, I’m almost thankful for the near touch and the warmth that comes with it, sheltering me from the icy chill of the autumn wind.
“Why did you change your mind about letting me come with you?”
I arch my back and stretch out over the rock, letting my spine decompress. I find my fingers stumbling over each other, picking at things that aren’t there.
The archangel stills beside me, his once-relaxed body turning rigid. My eyes flutter open and lock with a sky of blue. The silver that laces his irises shines brighter in the moonlight, making him appear more inhuman than ever despite his hidden wings.
He doesn’t stray from his typical nonchalant tone. “I figured your death would provide entertainment.”
Annoyance instantly replaces any of the nerves that had begun to fester, and I drop my hands before shooting him a glare. “Pig.”
His lips only twitch at my insult, telling me it’s the exact reaction he was looking for. “Pig who’s saved your sad little human life not once, but three times now.”
He winks at me.
He’s baiting me. He finds amusement in my annoyance. He is a pig. But with that knowledge, I swallow the irritation flooding my veins and force myself to return my own mocking smile. “That is a lot for someone who was adamant that he’d let me die at the first sign of danger.”
The archangel lifts both hands up with his palms out, and lets out a sharp breath. “Go ahead. Call me a hero. Sing my praises. Worship me on your knees.”
A wild look flashes through his eyes, and I can’t help but roll mine.
“You will never see me on my knees.”
The words come out through gritted teeth, irritation bubbling to the surface.
He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Slayer.”
“You’re right.”
I hold his gaze, narrowing my eyes. “I promise that you will never see me on my knees, nor will you ever hear me sing your praises.”
The words don’t land; they only make the silver in his eyes flare with a look so… human. Boyish. “Oh, come now.”
His voice is so low that the hairs along my forearm raise defensively. His tone would be threatening if it wasn’t for the sensual promise hidden within his words. “Who doesn’t like a bit of praise?”
I roll my eyes again and turn away from him, ignoring the wrenching feeling in my stomach. The invisible rope that ties so tightly around my torso.
“Hmm.”
I can almost feel his breath on my skin, and for moment I think that I hear him inhale. “I’ll remember not to call you a good girl, then.”
The overwhelming urge to stab him in the jugular overtakes any common sense, and I dig my nails deep into my palms to force myself to concentrate on anything else. I remind myself that he’s toying with me, trying to get a rise out of me.
“So are you going to tell me the real reason you saved my life?”
I cool my expression and face him again, letting the irritation simmer and remembering what I asked in the first place. “Don’t get me wrong, I am extremely grateful that I’m not a pile of broken bones or daemon fodder, but I can’t say I’m not suspicious.”
The archangel’s smirk falters as I refuse to play his game. “I’m collecting favours.”
This time it’s he who turns away. The archangel stares at the stars, the icy indifference I’ve come to know and loathe re-emerging on his features.
“Ah, there’s the price. Favours for what?”
What kind of favours could he possibly need from me, a human?
“For whatever I want, Slayer.”
The archangel says the affectionate nickname with a level of command that tells me he’s done playing my game, too.
I scoff, following his gaze and focusing my glare on the stars above us. I always forget how much brighter they shine outside of the city. “Save yourself the trouble. I’d rather be dead than indebted to you.”
It comes out with more hatred than intended, though I don’t let myself dwell on the small amount of guilt that follows. He may have saved my life, but there’s no changing who he is.
The archangel’s head snaps towards me, his brow furrowing. “You believe I’m a monster?”
There’s a level of disbelief to his question.
He can’t be surprised by this. What does he expect our opinion to be when all they’ve done is kill us? I haven’t exactly been quiet about my dislike of his kind – surely he didn’t think I was joking.
“I believe your kind have mercilessly slaughtered your way through humanity over the past five years. That you’ve led the destruction of our world.”
His eyes soften for a moment, a split second that my mind convinces itself it imagined.
“We didn’t come here to destroy the world. We came here to protect it.”
It’s the gentlest I’ve ever heard him be, as if he’s trying to play the part of guardian angel.
I wave my hands around us and gesture at the traces of destruction through the woods. “Well, you’ve done a great job.”
Sarcasm drips from every word.
The archangel scoffs, shaking his head. “You and your human heart could never understand.”
“How are we supposed to understand when we’ve never been told why?”
Annoyance and disdain blaze to the surface with each word. “We’ve never been given a single piece of information as to why this war is going on. Why it’s taking place on Earth, who we should be rooting for, and how in the worlds we get it to end. You just showed up and started killing. Inadvertently or not, your kind are nothing but monsters to us, because we have no reason to believe otherwise.”
He stares at me in silence for a long moment and I wait for the mocking laugh or the instant dismissal. It never comes. Rather, the archangel’s expression softens into a human one that looks misplaced on his otherworldly features.
“Ama—”
The crunching of leaves snaps our attention away before he can even breathe my name. We both watch the shadows that line the trees in the distance, searching for tree-bark horns and listening for animalistic screeches.
But the sound that echoes through the trees is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. A howl-like cry that promises a slow and painful death, bouncing from tree to tree until it pierces my ears.
The archangel is on his feet with his sword drawn in an instant.
This is no daemon. This is something else.
The archangel shoots a look over his shoulder that sends alarm bells through my head.
“Run.”