Chapter Forty-Six
I promised myself to at least do an hour workout so I wouldn’t slack while Josh recovered, and knowing him, he would reprimand my ass for not keeping up. When I arrived in the training room, I saw Baron leaning against one of the pillars, arms crossed, smirking as I approached. “Welcome. I thought you might show up here.”
“Uh, hi?” I replied, dropping my backpack at my feet.
“Since Josh is out of commission for a bit, I will be training you,” he declared.
“And here I thought I would get off scot-free.”
Baron gave a hearty laugh and chucked a dagger at my head. Thankfully for his sake, I caught it without blinking.
“Nice. Your reflexes are quick. A good sign that you’re catching up to the others.”
“Should we test yours?” I asked, getting ready to throw it back at his head.
Baron held up his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m only trying to help.”
“Where’s Chloe, your actual Scarlet?”
“We finished training this morning. She’s an early bird.”
“How miserable.” The idea of rolling out of bed that early was nauseating.
“Are you ready?” He held out his hand for the dagger.
“I guess so.” Plopping it in his open palm, I joined him on the blue mats.
Putting the dagger away, he replaced it with a long sword. “We’re going to try this today.”
“Why? My signature weapon is a dagger. When will I ever wield a sword?” Was he losing it?
“Sometimes, using something other than your weapon makes you a better fighter. If you can master a dagger, a sword, and a bow, then anything can become a weapon in your time of need.” He slashed the air, testing its weight.
“But a sword?”
Baron rolled his eyes. “Yes, a sword, now catch.” He tossed it high in the air, directly over my head.
I watched the weapon come down, judging where the pommel would land, exactly in my hands.
“Let’s begin.”
Baron taught me how to wield a sword properly. Every pace, swing, and lunge became a mantra as I counted the steps in my head, swiping at the air, pretending to slay a demon. Next, he rolled out a few dummies, lining them up on the sidelines, and locked the wheels so they wouldn’t roll away. He instructed me to try the different combat moves and to pay attention to my form as much as possible.
I swung the sword directly through a dummy’s neck, the head slicing clean off and falling to the floor. I gave Baron a triumphant smile, who only sighed in response.
I deflated like a balloon. “What?”
“Great job.” The dummy head made a loud thump, rolling across the floor. “Only some demons grow back their heads,” noted Baron, picking it up and tossing it out of the ring.
“Since when?” I scoffed.
“Since forever. The heart is their direct line to their life source.” Baron rolled a second dummy from the line, replacing the old one. It occurred to me that the first time I slew a Magidoz, I got a lucky shot to its heart.
“Demons have hearts?”
“They all came from something; nothing is born sinister.” He pushed another couple dummies my way.
“Again?”
“Yes. It seems Josh has slacked a bit in his training.”
“In his defense, we only had two training sessions, and then they threw us to the wolves.” I positioned my body back into a fighting stance, ready to strike.
Baron shook his head with laughter. “Excuses, excuses.”
I re-positioned my body and pivoted several times, driving the sword through the dummy’s chest, missing my mark by a fraction of an inch.
Baron wheeled another dummy over to the far right of the ring. “Again.”
“We’ve been at this for at least an hour,” I complained, a soreness beginning to form in my bicep.
“Any sign of weakness is a free trip to your grave.”
“You’re worse than Josh.”
“I don’t have feelings for my Scarlet.”
His remark fueled the fire that started to sizzle in my body, and I steadied myself in the line of sight of the dummy, my feet clockwise. With perfect precision, I pierced the heart exactly where I swung the sword, stabbing through the fabric and removing the arm. “He doesn’t have feelings for me.”
Baron kicked two more my way. “What do you call it then?”
“It’s his job to protect me.” I got into position, sword at the ready.
“It’s not a job, it’s an honor and a privilege.”
Spinning once, I threw everything into my hit, slicing the dummy clean in half. “Doesn’t count as feelings.”
“It seems my words have affected you, because that was another shit move. Again.”
I groaned, getting more irritated by the second. What the fuck did he know? Stab the heart. Just stab the goddamn heart. Focusing on the last dummy, blocking out whatever negative comments or thoughts came my way, I jumped, sword raised above my head, landing the blow dead center.
“Nice. Next time we’ll try the bow.” Baron removed the last dummy and slipped on the punch mitts. “Grab the black boxing gloves and come stand before me.”
I returned the sword to the table of weapons and followed his instructions.
Baron lifted both mitts and said, “I want you to punch. I’m not looking for proper technique. I just want to feel your strength.”
“That’s it?”
Baron barely moved an inch. He nodded once, signaling with the punch mitts to hit. I held up my gloves and gave them everything I had in one punch.
“Not bad. Now, keep going,” he ordered.
I huffed in protest and wailed in more than just a punch, with each strike starting to yell, freeing the tension and frustration, tears falling down my face as I punched with all my strength.
“That’s enough,” Baron demanded.
I kept punching and sobbing with each blow.
“I said, that’s enough, Remi.” Baron stepped back, throwing me off balance.
I threw off the gloves and rested against the wall, breathing heavily. “Sorry.”
Baron gathered the boxing equipment, organizing the gloves on the table. “No, I’m sorry about my comment from earlier. It was out of line.”
I wiped my tears away with the back of my hands, and Baron handed me a bottle of water. “It wasn’t that.” He waited until I continued, knowing there was more bottled up inside. “It’s everything, from my grams’ death to Heather not passing the Blessing. I’m losing control.”
“In what way?”
Tossing the water bottle aside, I threw my hands in the air. “Everything! Baron, how the fuck does someone go from having no idea any of this shit exists to being dead center, fighting for their life?”
“Your grand—?”
“Ugh! No! Okay? No. I had no idea. All I had was her will stating I must attend if accepted because it would be paid in full. That’s where her money mostly went.”
“But she kept this life a secret? Why?”
“I don’t know, and right now, I have zero energy to find out. I just need time to stop for a few minutes.”
Baron squeezed my shoulder in sympathy. “Nobody is perfect, not even the others. I’m sorry you’re feeling this way, and I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
I felt the weight of his words seep in, giving me a sense of peace for a brief moment. His kindness was genuine, just like his smile.
“You remind me a lot of my friend Jeremy,” I said.
A cocky grin spread across his face like a naughty little child. “Is he as good-looking as me?”
I punched his arm playfully. “Ass.”
A hearty laugh rattled his chest. “Do you want to continue your training… or?”
“Is it okay if I go see Heather?” It was time to switch and check in on her.
Softness appeared in his eyes. “Of course. I’ll go with you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to.”
“I insist.”
We cleaned the area before heading out to the infirmary, discussing future training sessions, when we noticed a smear of blood on the door to Heather’s wing. My heart quickened with each step, my fingers trembling over the doorknob, Baron next to me on high alert. A silent understanding happened between us as I slipped out my dagger; Baron had one of his own, keeping quiet until I completed turning the knob. With a slight push, it creaked open to more blood trailing on the floor, a body battered and bruised on Heather’s bed, except it wasn’t Heather. All the air escaped my lungs as the realization hit Baron; his face contorted in worry.
Ready to run inside, he held up an arm, blocking my path, signaling with his finger to be quiet while he surveyed the area. When the coast was clear, he beckoned me to follow him in, rushing to the body on the bed. Asher lay with blood-curdling from his mouth, his eyes rolling as he gurgled up his blood.
“Dammit!” shouted Baron, trying to cover what wounds he could with his bare hands.
“Do…n…t,” Asher choked, blood pouring down his chin.
“Remi, page the others! Quick!” he ordered in a rush.
I hit the panic button on my pager, which sent a signal to every member in the Order, pinpointing our exact location for help.
“Ul… ro…” Asher coughed some more, blood spewing out of his mouth like a sprinkler.
“Shhh, save your energy,” soothed Baron, putting pressure on the wound in his chest.
Asher gripped Baron’s collar, trying to get him to listen through his stuttering words. “Ulro… DAK.” The last part came out in a harsh cough, spraying Baron in the face with his blood.
The light from his eyes dimmed, and his mouth drooped, blood trickling from his blueish lips.
I slid down the wall to the floor, unable to keep my body standing with my wobbly legs. My stomach twisted in the tightest knot from the scene displayed before me, nausea bubbling in my throat. Heather was missing, and Asher was dead.
Not soon enough, Kal, Anna, and Father Benedict rushed in, halting just before the bed covered in Asher’s blood, then panned over to me hurling my guts onto the floor. Kal came to my aide, pulling my hair back as I emptied my stomach. Anna approached Baron and removed his hands from Asher’s open wound.
“I’ll call the morgue. Kal, check on Josh. Anna, find the Aces, have them check the perimeter, and get everyone into the dining hall. Make sure everyone is accounted for,” instructed Father Benedict. I got my wits about me, wiping the back of my mouth as they left to follow Father’s orders.
Dean Poverly and Thatcher arrived, their eyes bulging from their sockets. Father Benedict explained what they needed before moving to the bed, placing two fingers on Asher’s forehead and whispering some type of prayer before shutting his eyelids.
Baron became a ghost, swaying as he stood, watching the interaction.
“Baron, did you see what happened?” Poverly interrogated.
He could only stare at Asher’s lifeless body, the color completely drained from his face.
I held onto the wall with clammy palms and tried to stand up, my legs shaking with the effort to do so. “No,” I managed to say, my voice hoarse from vomiting.
“Where’s Heather?” asked Thatcher. Her attitude was thick with each syllable.
“I don’t know,” I admitted harshly, trying to breathe through my nose, nausea rising again.
“You don’t know?” she snarled.
“Enough, Nora. Remi doesn’t know,” snapped Father.
Dean Poverly had taken it upon himself to help remove Baron from the room, hopefully to allow him to recuperate from the shock of losing a member of the Order and his friend.
“Nora, go to the dining hall,” ordered Father.
“I will no—”
“NOW.”
His command echoed off the walls. Thatcher stilled, shocked by the force in his voice. Without another word, she turned and stalked out of the room, her white cape trailing behind her.
Father Benedict turned to me, his expression eased, and said, “Remi, did Asher say anything to Baron before he departed?”
It took me a second to register what Father Benedict had asked, “What did he say?”
He nodded once, waiting for an answer.
“His words were jumbled, choking on his blood,” I said.
“No mention of a demon?” The words Ulro and dak came to mind. Words that meant absolutely nothing to me, yet Asher was desperate for Baron to hear.
“Asher managed to say only two words. Ulro and dak. Does that mean anything?”
Father’s face drained of color as he whispered, “That’s impossible.”
Father Benedict and I finally joined the others in the dining hall; hushed voices filled the room until we approached. My eyes landed on Josh.
He was awake, sitting next to Anna, with a sling over his left arm. He took notice of my presence, but there was a lack of emotion on his face.
Not the reunion I wanted.
My heart twisted, afraid to mind-speak, fearing a wall was back up.
Dean Poverly rose from his seat, his lips in a hard line before he said, “One of our own has been welcomed back into the arms of the Lord.”
The air was thick with sadness, heads bowed in response to Poverly’s unfortunate news. Images of Asher’s body flashed in my mind, his blood staining every corner until my nails dug into my palms.
Dean Poverly let the weight of his words seep in and said, “But another has been stolen.”
Observing the looks of my fellow Scarlets and Saints, I took notice of Zoey’s absence, remembering that he was her guardian.
“The whereabouts of Miss Heather Price are unknown at this time. I have called in an aide from other Orders who will assist us in finding her,” informed Pover
Voices began to fill the room, their senses on high alert from the attack.
“We have an even greater threat, and I cannot fathom why it has returned,” voiced Poverly.
He captured the room’s attention again, but no one dared to breathe above a whisper this time.
“An Ulrodak demon has been spotted in our city.”
Everyone began to panic, voices raised in pure terror, and some started to cry in fear. Father Benedict never explained what an Ulrodak demon was, and it never came up in our previous history lesson. But just by the crowd’s reaction to its name, I could only guess the severity of the threat.
“Is it true?” asked Thatcher. Her eyes bulged out of her head in disbelief, waiting for Poverly to confirm. The rest of us sat at the edge of our seats, the atmosphere thick with anxiety.
“I’m afraid—”
“We don’t know for sure,” interrupted Father Benedict.
Poverly glared at him, his lips curling back in a snarl, and said, “What other evidence do we need?”
“The body doesn’t match how an Ulrodak kills,” Father said simply.
“TO HELL WITH THE WAY IT KILLS!” he shouted, slamming his fists on the table. Dean Poverly then rose from his seat to get into Father Benedict’s face and continued his tirade. “One of my men is dead because of our lack of caring. That’s on me. On all of us. We should have been better trained. Instead, we fussed over a goddamn prophecy!”
“How much more could we have prepared them?” challenged Father.
We all sat in complete silence, watching the argument unfold. The other Aces remained neutral, refusing to intervene.
“It wasn’t enough! I am ordering longer hours of training and more patrols throughout the city.”
“So, Captain Harrison finally got to you.”
“He’s right, they need to be put out in the field more, actually fighting.”
“THEY’RE JUST KIDS,” roared Father.
Thatcher then stood along with Toke and Adler, stepping in between the alpha males, creating enough space to ease some of the tension. Not a single Scarlet or Saint dared to help, afraid of the consequences.
“Enough, please. Discussing patrols is one thing, but these kids are not immortal,” Thatcher said. Her concern for our safety despite her lack of kindness surprised me.
“The Lord granted them powers to heal and fight. It is their duty,” snapped Poverly.
It took every ounce of my strength not to walk right up to Dean Poverly and tell him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine. Were we just disposable chess pieces in this game of war?
“We need to reassess our own before we walk in blindly,” Toke conveyed.
A loud bang from upstairs made us all jump, followed by someone falling down the stairs.
“Father Benedict!” called Kal, who had jumped from his seat to go to the base of the stairs.
I’d never seen Father run so fast, his robes whipping behind him. “Abraham!”
The man’s face was grazed, blood dripping from his mouth onto the marble floor. Abraham’s eyes began to flutter open; at least one did. The other was so bruised it kept shut.
“Ben,” he croaked.
Kal took the nearest chair and helped him sit.
“Someone get Nurse Amelia,” someone shouted, but I was too busy staring at the broken man, watching him breathe was a struggle.
Nurse Amelia came rushing inside with a medical bag, which she began to unzip on the floor in front of Abraham.
“We sent a Saint and Scarlet to come to find you but found your house was empty,” said Father Benedict.
“You did what?” shouted Dean Poverly.
“Why didn’t you just call him instead of almost killing two trainees?” Thatcher snapped.
Abraham coughed, the sound of his chest rattling with effort. “We always send a Scarlet and a Saint; it’s always been done like that.”
Father Benedict, watching Nurse Amelia attend to Abraham’s wounds, started to dab his forehead with a small white cloth. “They told me you left everything behind.”
Abraham squinted at him. “There wasn’t time, not after the vision I had of—” He broke into another coughing fit, blood coating his palm, which prompted Nurse Amelia to take a small vial from her bag and encourage him to drink.
His voice was rough with fear and pain when he said, “Its presence was pure evil. The darkness that followed swallowed me whole.”
“Ulrodak,” breathed Father Benedict.
“I hid my wife and children, concealing us as long as I could before I made the trip to you. Little did I know it was following me. This one is different, Ben. Nothing like the books taught us.” He winced as the nurse dabbed his face with a soaked cotton ball, cleaning the cut across his cheek.
My conversation with Father Benedict before we came to the dining hall filtered back into my mind.
“Father?” I had said. He’d just finished calling the morgue to retrieve Asher’s body.
His eyes darkened, taking a seat on one of the empty beds. “An Ulrodak demon is lethal. Its power does not match the others.”
“Why? Why is this happening?” I cried. All I could think about was the carnage it had left behind, and I wondered if it hadn’t stopped at just Asher. What kind of chaos would we find?
“I don’t know. I thought the prophecy would give us that answer, but it’s just a dead end. This might be the end as we know it.”
The wind escaped from my lungs at the possible inevitability of our future. “What is an Ulrodak demon?”
Father’s eyes gazed upon mine; a look of pure terror sending unwanted chills down my arms. “A fallen angel of death.”
“ A fallen angel of —.”
Abraham’s attention flickered over to me, cutting me off. “Yes.” The brush of a hand grazed my arm, and I pulled my attention away to find Josh standing inches from me. My heart fluttered at the sight of his closeness, surprised he’d wandered over to my side.
The other Aces stepped forward, Dean Poverly leading the group. “So, what do you suppose we do?” His question was directed only to Abraham.
The nurse had just wrapped a bandage around his hand when he finally looked into the eyes of the Dean. “We need the Accane Blade.”
Poverly’s face twisted with anxiety. “That weapon hasn’t been seen in decades.”
“Without it, we can’t stop what is to come.”
“Yes, the Ulrodak demon, we know,” Adler repeated.
“No, something far worse than its presence,” breathed Abraham.
“And that is?” asked Thatcher behind Poverly’s shoulder.
“The end of the world.”