Chapter 15 #2
“I won’t be the only one teaching you, you know.” His disgruntled voice catches my focus, bringing my high down a notch. “Look around. Abaddon has a general specializing in every single aspect of combat. Which, given the intentional design of the locusts, is quite a lot.”
I pull my eyes away from him, taking in the surroundings in more detail. They’ve given us some respectable distance, but there are at least a dozen locusts—maybe even two or three dozen—scattered around the courtyard, all engaged in intense combat exercises.
The air carries echoes of their hellish symphony, a cacophony of metallic clangs and insectile buzzing.
Sparring locusts on the ground move at impossibly fast speeds, wielding their spindly mid-limbs like swords as they strike each other over and over again.
Locusts in the air barrel into each other, grappling for leverage.
I watch a set parry until the loser falls out of the sky, landing with a thud on the ground in an unconscious heap.
The victor catches itself on the impossibly vertical surface of the barricade wall, using only the briefest moment to reorient itself before launching off towards a practice target on the courtyard floor.
To my utter horror, I realize its practice target is a tender mannequin crafted in the grotesque likeness of a human. I watch as the locust uses its mandibles to rip out the throat, a blood-like substance oozing from the fleshy filling.
Bile rises in the back of my throat, and I stumble backward.
“Kae?” Dusk places a hand on the small of my back, steadying me. “Is everything okay?”
I can’t answer. I’m too busy breathing in through my nose to keep from vomiting.
These monsters have been training for centuries to be the perfect predator of my species, and I’m expected to release them? Trusting they’ll only be used for evil? There are millions of them! That’s a wide margin for error!
“Kae, tell me what’s going on so I can help.”
“Why are they training to kill humans?” My voice is small, quiet. It’s unlike me. I’m usually exceptionally unbothered by gore, with all my anatomy labs and medical shadowing. But this is different. This is a promise of violence, not the aftermath.
Dusk’s eyes follow mine to the bloody, shredded practice target. “They’re training to fight humanoids in general. The Adversary will turn both of our people to their cause.”
I finally pull my eyes back to him. “What cause is that?”
“Anarchy.” A colder, deeper voice comes from behind me, making me flinch. “They want to destabilize the planet so they can seize control, establishing a new world order.”
I turn around, finding Abaddon behind me.
His thick silver hair is partially pulled back, leaving his hardened, cruel face fully visible in the daylight. Unlike Dusk, he’s wearing his full celestial armor—black, gleaming metal, complete with that wraith-like cloak of his that melds into the shadows.
“Is that not what already happened with the rebellion? You know, the story of Lucifer Morningstar?”
“What is it with humans and their obsession with the devil…” Dusk mutters from beside me, but Abaddon ignores him.
“No,” he answers. “That was different.”
“How so?”
Annoyance inches into the finest features of his expression. “Do you intend to live in the past, or are you coming with us into the hereafter?”
“Who says history isn’t relevant for the future?”
“For you? I do.” He storms past me, not bothering to look my way as he stalks forward.
“You will maximize the use of your time here. Come now, girl. I will briefly show you what facilities you will have access to, then I must be on my way. The Messenger should be capable of managing your training for now.”
“Don’t think about it so much,” Dusk instructs, his voice vibrating in that musical mid-pitch of his that I’m so sick of hearing right now. “Just swing.”
“Oh, jeeze, why didn’t I try that yet?” I bite back.
I’ve tried every way possible to hit the stupid tiny ball. Concentrating, closing an eye, shifting my weight, pretending it isn’t even there… Maybe if my muscles weren’t so utterly exhausted from the first five days of the week, I might stand a chance.
Instead, I swing my pathetic wooden sword through the air with what should be perfect form, and I miss the ball entirely. It stays perfectly perched on the pole, not even wobbling from the airflow. It’s like the damn thing is mocking me.
“I knew I should have played more sports as a kid,” I grumble, mostly to myself. “I have no hand-eye coordination whatsoever.”
An obnoxious smirk plays on Dusk’s pretty, plump lips. “Well, I’ve seen worse. Then again, I’m pretty sure there are toddlers with better aim than you.” I glare at him, but his golden eyes only twinkle with amusement. “The human kind, too.”
“Remind me again why we have to start sword-fighting with a lacrosse ball?” I rest my toy weapon over my shoulder, biting back a wince from the bruise I took yesterday. My balance in the obstacle course was fantastic, but my dodging? Not so great.
“Because I’ve already taught you everything else I can with your miserable aim. You can’t be trusted with sharp objects yet. If you’d just let us focus on hand-to-hand combat—”
“Hey, Dusk,” I interrupt, beckoning him closer with a serious expression. To my delight, he falls for it. “Did you know there’s been these crazy modern inventions that are, like, handheld canons? We call them guns. They tend to beat out all other individual weapons these days.”
He rolls his eyes, groaning. “Darling, you know that mortal weapons can’t hurt angels.
If you’re using celestially forged amplifying weapons to take down an angel, you have to channel your power through direct contact.
Otherwise, you’re better off using your power directly, and you’re not even close to making progress on that front…
Besides, with all the knowledge in the universe available to us, don’t you think angels would have started with your ‘modern inventions’ if they were really the best option? ”
“Well, when you put it like that, I sound like a fucking idiot.”
Dusk cackles.
“Stop laughing,” I mutter, swinging the sword again. To my surprise, it slams into the little ball, sending it flying through the air. Only a few feet, but satisfying nonetheless.
Dusk whistles, following the ball with his eyes. “I think you just surpassed toddler aiming. With enough luck, you’ll be swinging sticks like an actual adult within the next week!”
“You mean I’ll be stuck with the sticks of my own age group?” I mock incredulity. “Damn. Here I was, thinking I had a chance with the wood of an immortal angel.”
Dusk laughs even harder, smiling ear to ear. “Okay, you got me there—I left myself open for that. I take it back.” Mischief twinkles on him as he bows to me theatrically. “All hail Kae Lambros! Key to the Abyss, Dawn of the Apocalypse, and Prodigy of the Stick.”
I give him a sarcastic curtsy in return. “Thank you, thank you. No autographs at this time, please.”
By the time the weekend finally rolls around, I’m walking stiff-legged back to the castle, wincing at every incline.
The intense, non-stop physical training of this week has whooped my ass in every way possible.
I’m going to have to spend my whole day off—the Sundays of my strict new weekly regimen—soaking my aching muscles in a hot bath, preferably with a strong drink and a good book to keep me company.
“Hey, what’s the status of the books I requested?
” I glance to my side, where Dusk walks with fluid poise, his heavenly body entirely unfazed by the day’s activity.
With his golden tan skin dazzling in the fading evening light of the Abyss, he glimmers like a unicorn.
Comparatively, I’m a smelly troll who crawled out from under the nearest bridge.
“They should have come in the mail today. You can stop by the front desk of our inn to check. They’ll also be able to concierge any future orders.”
An unlimited line of credit for my entertainment and luxury? If it weren’t for the sordid environment and lack of time in my busy schedule, I might actually like the little reprieve. “Remind me again how they get mail here?”
Dusk eyes me with a dashing grin. “Elohim loans them a field agent or two to run their errands. A highly unfortunate position for the lowest of grunts.”
“Sucks for them.” I bite back my own grin, trying—and failing—to keep my eyes off him. Yes, we’re ‘just friends,’ but that doesn’t keep us from flirting relentlessly with each other. He’s unbearably attractive, but I wouldn’t dare ask him to tone it down, let alone to put a shirt on.
The angels have what they call their ‘origin forms,’ but with a bit of time and effort, they can adapt even the smallest details to their preferences.
Apparently, Dusk sees no reason to be anything less than perfectly formed.
His physique is lean and flawless, every muscle perfectly sculpted, his abs drawing my eyes more times a day than I can count.
I’m certain he enjoys the attention. Something has to feed his massive ego, after all.
I’ll admit, I’ve fallen into a dangerously comfortable rhythm with him.
I’ve never had someone so interested in the most mundane of stories from my human life.
I appreciate his curiosity, but I truly don’t understand how anyone could be genuinely entertained by my stories.
No matter how rarely he spends time getting to know humans on a personal level, I simply haven’t had much of an exciting life to share.
I’ve repeatedly tried to get stories from him, but I never have any luck. He doesn’t share a damn thing about himself. While I offer up my whole life story on a silver platter, he’s a champion at keeping me at arm’s length from his personal life.