Damiel’s logic was sound, perfected by years of interrogating people. I only hoped the First Angel agreed with his conclusions.
“And so they just waited for you to use the dagger to get to Nightingale before they took a magic mirror there?” A crinkle formed between her eyes. “Why not use the mirror as soon as they found out where the dagger was? That way, they might have beaten you to it.”
Nope, she wasn’t buying the voice of reason. Suspicion was winning out.
“Something doesn’t add up, Colonel,” Nyx said. “And I think you are starting to realize that. You know the Dark Force better than anyone. The only time they sacrifice an advantage is when they’re making a bigger play.”
“And you believe we are part of this play,” he replied, cool and composed.
“Not you, Colonel. But she is.” Nyx pointed at me. “We spoke to the locals on Nightingale. They have a legend about the daggers, and the star of that story is the so-called Immortal Heir.” She watched me. Something about the look in her eyes was unsettling, like she was deconstructing me from the inside out. “I think you knew about this legend, Lightbringer, and decided you’d play god. The demons infused you with magic—unnatural, unholy magic. Magic that allowed you to claim these immortal artifacts, to trick the magical forces protecting them.”
Where the hell had that come from? The First Angel was flaunting paranoia like it was this season’s hot new color.
“This is demonic trickery,” Nyx continued. “The same lies—the same corruption—that has cost the Legion so many angels. Well, we’ve learned a few things since those dark days, and it will not happen again. This ends here and now.”
“These are nothing but wild speculations,” I protested. “I have done nothing against the Legion.”
I’d always believed Nyx to be more reasonable than this, but like Damiel, she’d really felt the angels’ defection on a deep, personal level. She wasn’t acting rationally. She was paranoid and trying to do anything and everything to prevent another betrayal.
“These are not merely wild speculations,” said Nyx.
She waved her hand, and a door opened. Two soldiers led in a shackled Dark Force soldier. They came to a stop in front of Nyx.
Magic flared around the First Angel. Her eyes zeroed in on the Dark Force soldier. “What happened after the dark angel Darkstorm stole the Diamond Tear from the Dark Force? Did the demons send someone to retrieve it?”
“Yes,” replied the Dark Force soldier, his voice monotone.
I knew that empty look in his eyes. Nyx was using her siren magic on him, crushing his will. He had no choice but to speak the truth.
“Who did they send to retrieve the Diamond Tear?” Nyx asked him. “Eva Doren?”
“No.” Caught in the vise of Nyx’s magic, his body was eerily still; only his lips moved. “We knew she was not truly one of ours. Another agent was sent.”
“Who?”
“I do not know. We weren’t told, in case we were captured by the Legion and interrogated.”
Nyx rose from the throne and took a step toward him. “What was this agent’s mission?”
He cringed—as much as a nearly motionless man could. “The agent’s mission was to recover two daggers: the Diamond Tear from the Sienna Sea on Earth and the Sapphire Tear from the world Nightingale.”
“Do you know anything about the agent sent after the Diamond Tear?”
“Only that it is a Legion soldier. An angel.”
That word echoed in the chamber, like a single piano note lingering long after the key was struck.
Nyx waved her hand, and her soldiers led the prisoner out of the throne room.
“An angel,” she repeated once the door had closed after them. “Not only one of our own soldiers, but an angel. From the top tier of the Legion.” She turned, her eyes panning across the audience—and then that stony gaze settled on me. “You.”
“This is preposterous,” I protested. “I did not betray the Legion, I am no agent of the Dark Force, and I’ve never been anything but a perfect soldier.”
“The perfect soldier, you say.” Her magic hair was swirling faster now, moving like an irritated cat’s tail. “Then how do you explain what happened in the Black Forest?”
“I rescued an angel!”
“Did you?” Her midnight-black cape was rippling now too. “Did you really? Captain Walker saw multiple dark spells hit you, and they did nothing at all to you.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off before I’d even begun.
“Those spells didn’t hurt you because of the magic the Dark Force infused into you: dark, corrupt magic. This twisted and unnatural magic has given you the power to absorb unfriendly spells—and to trick the ward protecting the immortal daggers so that you could claim those weapons and all the power that comes with them.”
“The demons never infused me with anything,” I told her.
But Nyx wasn’t listening. She had already made up her mind about me. My unexplained magic meant I was guilty by default. I was being condemned for being different, just as my father had warned me would happen.
Nyx stopped in front of me, leaning in so close that I could see nothing but her—and her cold fury. “What are the demons planning to do with the daggers?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t work for them.”
I knew she wasn’t really listening to me, but I refused to stop professing my innocence. Maybe someone here still had a clear head and realized there was no real evidence against me. But as I looked upon the angry faces of the audience that was screaming for blood—my blood—I began to lose hope.
“She is not a traitor,” a single voice pierced their screams.
All at once, everyone stopped talking. Their eyes turned to Damiel. He’d spoken those words.
“Colonel, you know better than anyone how deceptive evil can be. How well-hidden. How charming,” Nyx said to him. “But you saw Lt. Colonel Lightbringer take the dagger. And you heard our Dark Force prisoner tell us the demons sent an agent to recover the Sapphire Tear from Nightingale. All the evidence is speaking against her. Every pretty little lie wound around her is unravelling.”
The crowd cheered, and it was then that I finally admitted the truth I’d been trying so hard to ignore: this was a witch hunt, plain and simple. The Legion’s soldiers still hurt from the original defectors’ betrayal, and they needed someone to blame. I was that someone.
I wondered how many ’traitors’ convicted in the years following the mass defection were actually guilty. We at the Legion of Angels liked to think of ourselves as holy, as chosen and special, but when it came right down to it, we were little better than the primal beasts that roamed the plains of monsters.
“She isn’t the Dark Force’s agent!” Damiel roared, his voice cutting through the cries to execute me.
The crowd quieted.
“She didn’t take the Sapphire Tear from the pedestal at the temple,” he continued, rising from his chair. “I did. I wielded the dagger.”
22
Sacrifice