Punch grinned. “Now that would be interesting.”
“But unlikely,” said Octavian.
“Don’t ruin my fun,” Punch snapped back.
Octavian stiffened. “I am not ruining anything. I didn’t choose this assignment.” He looked around. “Who chose it anyway?”
“Faris,” Devlin said. “So you’d all best watch what you say.”
“Why would Faris put us on stupid babysitting duty again?” Punch demanded.
“We’re supposed to be watching what we say against our awesome and amazing mission,” Arabelle reminded him.
“Faris isn’t dumb,” replied Punch. “He knows babysitting galas is boring as shit. That’s why a team doesn’t get stuck with it more than once a month.”
Arabelle winked at him. “Maybe our gracious Lord Faris, King of the Gods, didn’t like the way you killed the desert dragon yesterday, so he saw fit to punish us.”
Punch frowned. “What’s wrong with the way I killed it?”
“You shoved a stick of explosives up its nose and then ran away like your ass was on fire.”
“Of course I ran away like my ass was on fire. If I hadn’t, then when that beast blew, my ass really would have been on fire. And my hair. And my feathers. My wings have finally healed up from our mishap with that forest of carnivorous weeds on Moonstorm, and I’d like to keep them in one piece.”
“Then you should be pleased with our next mission,” Octavian told him. “No danger of setting yourself on fire at the Lords’ Gala.”
“I might just set myself on fire out of sheer boredom,” replied Punch. “Standing there, watching those lords scheming… I can already feel my muscles atrophying. Why would Faris do this to us?”
“For her training.” Patch glanced at me. “We’ve brought her along to fight beasts and demons and anything else she might need to kill on the road to hell. But she hasn’t done peacekeeping duty yet, and Faris told us he wants her to have a complete education.”
Punch glowered at me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, angel, but I wish you weren’t here.”
I shrugged my shoulders and grinned back at him. “Admit it. Things weren’t half as much fun before I showed up.”
Punch rubbed his chin in reflective silence. The bomb-up-the-nose-tactic had been my crazy idea, and he was surely remembering that right now.
“Regardless of the reasons for it, this is our assignment, and we will perform with all due excellence expected of soldiers in Heaven’s Army,” Devlin said.
Octavian looked at me. “Who’s on angel chaperone duty this time?”
A smirk twisted Arabelle’s mouth. “Are you volunteering?”
He snorted. “No way. I’ve never met such a magnet for chaos. I’d have more luck keeping Punch out of trouble than keeping her out of trouble. And Punch’s daddy won’t smite me if he dies under my watch. Hers will.”
Only because Faris needed me, though. The King of the Gods wasn’t the sentimental type, and he didn’t see me as his daughter so much as his weapon.
“I’ll watch her.”
My comrades all turned to look at the soldier who’d just stepped into the locker room, and so did I. I knew that voice.
“Glad to see you again, sweetness,” Stash said to me with a wolfish grin.
I’d met Stash shortly after joining the Legion of Angels. I’d only been a lowly level-two soldier back then, and he’d been a werewolf outcast earning a living doing all kinds of odd jobs, anything from tending bar to arm-wrestling for dollars.
Things had changed a lot since then.
It turned out that, unbeknownst to him, Stash was actually a demigod, and his father was none other than Zarion, God of Faith, Lord of the Pilgrims, a member of the gods’ ruling council. That discovery had changed Stash’s life. Instead of serving drinks for pocket change, he now served as a soldier in Heaven’s Army.
My life had taken a few twists and turns too. I was an angel now. And it turned out my mother was the demon Grace and my father the god Faris. Faris was Zarion’s brother. I guess that made me and Stash family.
I opened my arms, Stash opened his, and we crashed together in one big hug.
“Glad to see you too,” I told him. Truth be told, he was more like family to me than either of my parents.
I pulled back to get a better look at him. Stash was tall, muscular, and possessed the kind of rugged handsomeness that attracted countless admirers of the opposite sex. His chin-length hair was as messy as ever, and he still sported a two-day beard. Though he looked much like he had the first time I’d met him, something about Stash had changed. It wasn’t just that he’d traded in his t-shirt and jeans for a soldier’s uniform. Something deeper had transformed, something inside of him. I could see it in his eyes. Though a playful spark still lit them up, that spark was harder now, more serious. He’d clearly been through a lot.
“Nice of you to finally join us, Stash,” said Octavian. “We thought we’d be short a man on this truly essential mission.”
“Babysitting lords,” someone said under their breath. It sounded like Punch.
“Glad to be here.” Stash’s grin lit up his eyes. “I hope you all watch my back better than you did Theon’s.”
“Theon’s injuries were minor. And, unfortunately, unforeseen. He got himself caught in some…” Arabelle glanced at me. “…exploding dragon crossfire.”
“Hey, why are you looking at me? Punch’s role in blowing up the dragon was every bit as big as mine,” I protested.
“It was your idea. And you positioned one of the two bombs.”
“You might have a point,” I admitted.
“Leda, are you blowing up monsters again?” Stash made a valiant effort not to laugh.
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “You know how it is. Shit happens. We were supposed to take care of the dragon, so I took care of the dragon. Problem solved, mission accomplished, and everyone is happy.”
“Everyone except for Theon,” Octavian pointed out.
“What happened to him?” Stash asked.
“He broke his ankle when he jumped into a hole,” I told him.
“A hole he jumped into to avoid the shockwave of exploding dragon you set off,” Octavian added.
“You’re exaggerating. There was no shockwave. It was only a minor tremor,” I said. “And Theon is a god. He’ll live.”
“Yeah, he is a god. And gods are resilient.” Stash frowned. “So how’d he break his ankle by just jumping into a hole?”
I shrugged. “It was a really deep hole.”
“More like a really deep cavern,” said Arabelle. “It really was impossible to overlook. Theon must have been pretty distracted by Leda’s shockwave.”
“Tremor,” I corrected her.
“I do believe Theon has outsmarted us,” Patch observed quietly.
“How do you figure that?” Punch asked him.
“When I saw him last, he was sitting comfortably in a hospital bed, watching soap operas and sipping on Nectar. Whereas we are headed to the Lords’ Gala.”
“You’re saying Theon fell into that hole and got himself injured on purpose?” Octavian asked him.