Lucille
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
This morning, the doors had changed from the rune to Lilith standing beside two shrouded females.
They wore the same long, skin-tight dresses and were branded with Lilith’s six-pointed star.
Lilith had her hand gripped tightly around the female’s neck on the left, while the female on the right stood farther off to the side.
Were they the coven members she had talked about avenging? I assumed so. But what importance did the image have if they were all dead?
“What are you trying to tell me?” I murmured.
Entering the spacious library, I opened my mouth to call for Cato.
But he was already here.
“You’re late,” he announced.
Knowing no excuse or explanation would help my case, I resigned myself to, “I’m sorry.”
He gave me a sharp nod, then led me to my table. We both sat, and Cato gently moved a stack of books out of his way.
“Let’s review. Start from the top.”
I began explaining Somnivado, and he held up a hand to stop me.
“Do not regurgitate my words. Explain it to me as if you were talking to… the general’s second.”
Interesting choice.
“Are you saying that because you think Alexei’s dumb?” Or did he have some weird vendetta against him? I could totally see Alexei breaking the no-food rule with Cato’s books.
Cato only blinked.
Right.
I simplified my explanation of Somnivado, including all of Cato’s margin notes, then went into detail about my dream-walking experience.
He gave me a slow, approving nod.
“If you didn’t find answers about your friend’s sister, try again. Now, Intraverso.”
“A type of dream-walking that allows you to reexperience your past. Like Somnivado, you hold a question in your mind, but then you need to ground yourself in the past.”
“How?”
“Anyway you can.”
His pursed lips crinkled in disapproval.
I sighed.
“Sensations. Thinking about past smells, sights, sounds, things you touched, and the emotions you were feeling at the time. Depending on the question you’re asking, it could take more thoughts of specific sensations or fewer.”
“Good. And your experience?”
I watched him closely as I recounted my dream-walk to the past, including Miriam’s prophecy and my mother’s little note in the margins.
But Cato gave nothing away.
“Next. Inviso.”
“Wait. That’s it? You have no comment on the prophecy or what my mother hid?”
“I cannot provide wisdom on things I do not know.”
I abruptly stood, knocking back my chair.
“But you’re an ancient Throne! You should know something.”
He slowly rose to his full height, clasping his hands calmly in front of him.
“I know that you are a Throne with the abilities and resources to find the answers yourself. Continue your studies. We’ll reconvene tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
He turned and moved toward the bookshelves.
“Wait! What type of angel has the power to rip me from a dream-walk? And speak in my head? She says she saw your book about dream-walking. Is that possible?”
Cato stiffened, the muscles on the back of his bald head tightening.
“The type that could destroy a kingdom. Do not trust or listen to her.”
So my instincts were right.
He twisted to look over his shoulder, meeting my gaze with black-and-white speckled Throne eyes.
“Is my meaning clear?”
“Yes.”
He shrewdly analyzed me for another second, as if my answer wasn’t enough, then left me with my Infernus itching beneath my skin.
Training started unexpectedly well. Maybe because MJ had rounded up my squad and told them to hit the weights, or it could be the giant grin, swollen lips, and rosy cheeks gracing my best friend’s face.
He glowed with dazed happiness, as if he were reliving the moment.
He had to be. Otherwise, I had no idea how to explain why he hadn’t changed stations and kept lifting a barbell with no weight on it.
Sliding up beside him, I waved a hand in front of his face.
“Must’ve been some kiss.”
“Oh, it was. Started here”—he pointed at his mouth, then lowered his hand—“and traveled all the way down to—”
“If you say balls, I’m going to shove you outside and order you to run ten miles by yourself.”
He laughed.
“I’m happy for you.”
“Me too. Next time I’ll tell him how I feel.”
Wait, what?
“I thought that was what you did?”
His head bobbed side to side.
“I mean… kinda, if you count jumping his bones as expressing my feelings. But no talking was done. Except for a quick got to go at the end.”
“Oliver!” I exclaimed.
That explained why he’d decided against clothes. He’d intended it to work out exactly like it did and forgo the emotional vulnerability altogether.
“Sam can’t be another fling. I promise I’ll find your sister,” I said, lowering my voice so no one else would hear.
He slumped.
“Have you tried?”
“Yes, but I haven’t connected. I’m still learning.”
I ignored the sudden guilt over keeping my previous dream-walk from him. I needed solid answers first.
“Are we going to do this all day while you two gossip, or are you actually going to try to lead us?” Rissa bit out.
A jolt of adrenaline shot through my body. My thoughts scrambled. Heat bled into my cheeks. I searched the arena for MJ, needing guidance. More like needing her to tell me what to do. How to do it. When to do it.
Unfortunately, she stood with Ronen near the outside doors, talking to their Dreads and the Nightmares. Based on Ronen’s anxiety and stony expression, it wasn’t a good conversation. I’d find no help from them. Nor from Aspen, who sat near the Devils as they paired off for hand-to-hand matches.
I didn’t know whether to be pleased he didn’t want to train or worried.
Like before, Oliver turned me around.
“I’m your eyes, remember?”
“How about the leader too?”
He flashed a don’t look at me expression.
“May I suggest pairing us up for the weapons range? Until you figure things out, it may be best to use Moira’s routine. Then there’s no pressure to do anything new right this instant,” Ichi said quietly beside me.
That was a great idea.
“Okay.” I cleared my throat.
Rissa stared at me like you’ve got to be kidding.
Did she think I did that to get their attention? My throat was just dry. Possibly shrinking. I swallowed too many times to count.
“Can everyone round up, please?”
Metal clanged and rattled as the rest of the squad continued with their weights.
Great. Fine. I’ll just talk louder.
“We’re going to the weapons range. You can pick your own stations. But not your partners. I’ll pick those.”
Oliver’s face scrunched like I’d said something wrong. Or maybe it was my tone? Was I not demanding enough? Did they hear the waver at the end? Was my voice too high-pitched?
I wiped my sticky palms against my uniform, scrubbing away sweat and arena sand from the textured leather.
I could do this.
More confidence and louder, Lucy.
“Dusty, you’ll be with Zera. Matt with Valarus. Rissa with Enora, and Oliver with me.”
We’d have the comfort of Ichi’s smile and brutal training. I still had a lot to learn and only trusted her to teach me.
Fortunately, they all stopped what they were doing and moved toward the weapons range.
My lips twitched, and hope spilled through me, easing the heat my uniform fought against.
“Way to go…” Oliver trailed off, stopping the premature celebration.
Dusty and Matt paired up. Valarus and Zera paired up. And Rissa and Enora went to separate stations, preferring to be alone.
They followed my first order—just not the second.
I pathetically searched the crowd again for MJ and Ronen like a child looking for their parents.
Ronen gestured to every squad but ours as he spoke to his Dreads, while MJ sectioned the Trenchers into smaller groups. Probably for patrols.
They were busy. They were more concerned with the infection and keeping Hell safe.
And here I was wishing someone would yell at my squad and tell them to listen to me when that was my damned job.
I think I hated myself just a little then.
“Come,” Ichi urged. “We’ll train. When the time is right, they will listen to you.”
“Or I could send them into their deepest fears,” Oliver offered.
I preferred option C, where I wasn’t acting like a Bowel babe, as MJ would put it.
Leaving them, I marched toward Dusty and Matt, who stood in front of the weapons wall discussing which one they wanted to start with.
My Infernus sang in my ears as if delighted by my frustration, eager to come out and play.
“I’m sorry, but are you two mentally impaired? Because I know you’re not deaf.”
I stood behind them with my arms crossed.
Dusty whipped around, his dreads snapping like weighted cords. Guilt widened his pale green eyes.
“We—”
Matt clamped a hand on his shoulder and turned toward me without any particular hurry.
He was Dusty’s antithesis—the light to his dark. Not just in skin tone and hair, but in the remorse lingering in Dusty’s eyes compared to Matt’s unflinching arrogance.
“We figured it would be best to work together since we know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. We can push each other.”
“That’s great. But I disagree. More importantly, I gave you an order.”
He smiled and lifted one shoulder as if he were trying to be cute.
“I guess we have a difference in opinions.”
Opinions?
“Go switch with Valarus.” My nails dug into my fists as I held back my twitchy Infernus.
A full night of free rein in the fireplace, and now it was demanding more. It could feel my desire to unleash it. One pull. One tug, and Matt could be begging for his life on the spit-and-blood-coated sand.
Arrows flashed through my periphery, thunking into targets. Swords shinged and clashed behind me. Boots shuffled, skin slapped, and squad leaders shouted orders.
We stood in the arena’s cacophony, tension tightening with each second Matt refused to move.
“It’s fine—”
Matt’s hand dug into Dusty’s shoulder as he grinned at me.
He reminded me of Moira, except he hid his vileness behind pleasantries and manipulation.
I stepped toward him, mirroring his fake grin.
“Careful, Matt.”
“Of what?” He laughed, throwing his hands up.
Pressure built behind my eyes as my Infernus hovered just beneath the surface.