8. The Dorms
THE DORMS
Seraphina
The bunks are three beds tall, and the springs squeak three times louder than those on the hostel bed my mother and I slept in most nights back in the human village.
Since she died, I’ve always thought I missed the gentle in and out of someone breathing near me at night, the sound like a soft lullaby to my ears. The turret was so quiet, too quiet.
How wrong I had been.
Now, I can hear the uneven snores of twenty strangers, nineteen of whom I don’t trust to not murder me the moment I close my eyes, despite the Overlords warning of no throat slitting while sleeping.
Even Diana, in the middle bunk above mine, is asleep now, though I felt every toss and turn before her body had given up and she passed out with the rest of them.
I’ve always thought that being lonely is having no people around you. Now here I lie, in a room full to bursting with occupied beds, and I’ve never felt more isolated.
The cambion of Ferrum Company had gone to the bathhouse after we were dismissed from The Meet. Now they wear their Ferrum issued nightwear while they sleep, regaining strength, making sure they are ready for whatever morning brings.
I’m not even close to finding sleep, and I didn’t go to the bathhouse either. I’ve never slept in a room with the opposite sex before, let alone stripped-down bare with thirteen of them in what I imagine is a sweaty, steam filled chamber.
But modesty and fear of naked demon men is not the reason I stayed in the dorm. The angels know I don’t need a weapon to relieve any of them of their manhood if they try anything.
No, it was the idea of them seeing me. Any of them.
Male, female, I don’t care which. Though my body is mostly fine, in great shape even, the mess of scar tissue on my back…
it’s a weakness. If they know the skies can’t save me from an attack, if they find out I’ve been a victim to their kind before…
the thought makes me break out in a cold sweat.
It had seemed like a perfect opportunity to take out the journal and write to my father, anyway. I wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed since I told him my latest mark had been taken care of, but I probably have another day or two at most before he starts to wonder where I’ve got to.
I’d waited near the fire, pretending to warm my hands like it wasn’t a furnace in this place.
Then Diana had joined me, and I realized she too was lingering behind.
So much to my frustration, the journal had to stay hidden.
I might trust her more than the cambion, but I’d be an idiot to trust her with that.
“Want to bunk with me?” I’d asked. Being the only two nephilim in the dorm, it seemed like a good idea to stay close. We could take shifts, one sleeps, the other watches the door and bunks.
She’d agreed, and so while the demons bathed, Diana and I had picked the bunk opposite the fireplace, closest to the door, with another tower of beds one side, and a solid wall the other.
We’d been alone, and I had so many questions for her, but I also needed to breathe. Compose myself while I had the chance and remind myself why I’d taken Lorelei’s place here.
That unlike Diana, I had chosen this. I was not a prisoner.
“Regretting taking Lorelei’s place yet?” Diana had asked while stretching out her beautiful, gray feathered wings, as though she could read my thoughts.
I shook my head, trying not to stare at the inflamed, painful-looking areas where the chains had been. “No. How are you holding up? It sounds like you’ve been thrown out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
She nodded. “I’m not sure it matters how I’m holding up; I’ll be dead by the end of the week.”
I’d wanted to refute her statement, to promise her she would be okay, that like Lorelei, I could save her too. But that voice in my head warned me not to make promises I might not be able to keep. I still had no idea how many more Diana’s were here that needed saving just as much, perhaps more.
“You sound like her,” I said instead. “Like you welcome the peace of death.”
“You'd understand if you really spent the last three years in the academy, rather than pretending.”
Her comment had stung for some reason. It still does now. But by then, too soon, the demons had started to return, and the private conversation was over.
The bunks had filled.
Khali and Az were bunking with a male covered in dark runes and almost as many piercings as Khali. He’d been nice enough despite appearances and introduced himself as Reiva Draven from Avaricia. The Scelus land known for its Noble family and residents’ greed and rapacity.
Once all of the other beds were taken, a stout male with one snapped horn, beady, too close together eyes, and a mop of long black hair that was shaved underneath, told us he was taking the top bed of our bunk.
We hadn’t argued, I’d already done the math and realized there were seven stacks of beds and twenty-one of us assigned to Ferrum Company.
I’d been more annoyed at myself for missing my moment to interrogate Diana properly about the Repentance Academy, than about having a child of the devil sleeping two bunks above me.
They were everywhere anyway.
I’m still kicking myself for not asking Diana more, for not bombarding her with a thousand questions the moment the last cadet left for the bathhouse.
But surely I’ve still got enough information and doubt about the rehabilitation center to raise my concerns with the man who can do something about it?
I stare at the fire burning low, wondering when I might get my next chance of some privacy. What if I die tomorrow? How long will the nephilim continue to be sold to this island before one of the High Seraph’s finds out from someone else?
I sigh, watching the flames dance against the iron grate until I can’t bear it a moment longer.
I have to tell him.
Not only that, but I also still need to bathe, to get the filthy academy shirt off my skin.
I need to get away from the heavy breathing of demons and their hulking shadows, many of which are too long for their beds and set my nerves on edge every time a foot or limb falls and hangs off the edge.
I sit up silently, careful not to hit my head. I feel around for the pack at the bottom of the bed with my journal tucked inside.
Then I climb out of bed making as little noise as possible, and head for the bathhouse.
Vulcaris is a labyrinth, but someone has carved letters into the stone above most of its doors, making it much easier to navigate the maze without having to blindly learn what lies beyond each one. Above the door to the dorms reads:
FERRUM
Vis per Ignem
Strength through fire.
I’m not exactly fluent in the old language, but the loose translation makes sense, given what burns beneath our allocated Overlord’s veins.
Did he choose it? Or do his superiors have similar… gifts?
Speaking of gifts, I can’t deny that the craftsmanship here is incredible. How long ago had someone taken a hammer and chisel to these ancient walls? How long have they been raising an army inside them?
I wonder if this has been the purpose of the place since it was built, or if it’s served other purposes over the years. The stone looks ancient; it could be centuries old.
More puzzling than anything, how has this place not been discovered and burned to the ground already?
It’s hard to believe anyone can raise an entire army without people finding out.
It only takes one person. Has nobody managed to escape to tell?
Many would want to know, not just in Virtus, but Scelus too.
I’m more than happy to be the one to tell them.
The stone carver had an easier job with the bathhouse, it seems. Just one word hangs above the door.
I check the corridor both ways. Diana will no doubt be as desperate for a wash as I am, so I wouldn’t be surprised to find she’d followed. Thankfully, she hasn’t, so I slip inside.
The steam is as thick as I imagined it would be, but the air smells like incense, vanilla, and sandalwood. Orblights hover around the ceiling, a sign of the power and magic residing under Vulcaris’ roof.
Except… I frown up at the one above my head.
Does demon blood feed magic in the same way angel blood does? I don’t think so. Makina said more nephilim were here… could they be unknowingly powering them?
I gasp.
Is that the real reason for wanting to strike a deal with the academy? They need my kind to feed magic to the island. If they have a mage to wield the spells, there could be much more than a few orblights being powered.
Perhaps I can find something during R I want to let myself feel every sin that she’s made boil inside me.
Of the seven deadly ones, wrath is winning.
You can’t kill her. You can’t kill her. You can’t kill her.
It rages and I let it, struggling to remember why I always stamp it out.
The orblights flicker, the scars on my back burn, and then the book floats up to the surface.
My one line of communication with my father.
My way out.
Diana and the rest of the nephilim’s escape too.
How long will it take to dry, and will the magic still work?
As Lilliana walks away, I don’t miss the sidelong glance over her shoulder to where the journal now drips, soaked through, clutched tightly in my hand.
Her eyes narrow with quiet calculation, and my stomach turns cold.
The fire dies. Completely extinguished.
Because I know, without a doubt, she isn’t done with it.