“So you and Damiel joined the Legion at the same time,” I said.
Jiro looked up from the device he was tinkering with to flash me a grin. “Just come out and ask me what you really want to know, sweetheart. Don’t beat around the bush.”
I frowned. “You don’t talk to angels like other people do.”
“No, I don’t. I lived on an Earth before gods and angels. And demons, for that matter. Things were different back then. Humans were proud. We didn’t kiss anyone’s ass. I suppose those four years of menial labor at the Legion should have humbled me, but I’m a stubborn son of a bitch.”
“Four years of menial labor at the Legion?” I repeated. “You worked for the Legion before they allowed you to join, just like Damiel?”
“He and I arrived on their doorstep on the very same day. Others did, too, eager to join but still too young. None of them lasted more than a few weeks. Damiel and I stuck it out for four years. During that time, we were lower than the lowest initiates, lower than the bottom of the Legion. There wasn’t even a name for the non-positions we held.
“But we got through it, determined to become initiates. We trained together whenever we had a spare moment, during those very short breaks between loads of hard labor and lots of cleaning. Many initiates made a game out of tormenting us. For four years, we watched our tormenters rise in the Legion’s ranks while we stood still, stuck in time.”
“Until you turned twenty-two,” I said.
“That was a glorious day.”
“And you came of age on the very same day?”
“No, my twenty-second birthday was a week before his, but we both fell in the same initiation group. We took our first sip of Nectar together.”
“And you’ve been inseparable ever since?”
He laughed. “Something like that. Those years of suffering hardened our determination—and our willpower.”
“Above all else, a Legion soldier’s mind must be disciplined. Unflappable. Because, ultimately, a disciplined mind is what will make all the difference between life and death when you sip the gods’ Nectar,” I quoted him.
Jiro gave me a funny look. “I’ve heard a lot about your picture-perfect memory.”
“It didn’t start out that way,” I said. “But when you have an archangel for a father, a simple child’s game of Memory comes with very real consequences for failure.”
He grimaced. “Do I want to know what those consequences were?”
“Probably not.”
“But the experience made you stronger.”
“It did,” I agreed.
“You and Damiel have a lot in common. You’ve both been through more than most people can even comprehend.”
“Damiel is…”
“Crazy,” Jiro supplied.
“Complicated,” I amended. “He’s faced so much hardship in his life. And he’s lost so much. Those experiences have made him stubborn. They’ve made him believe he doesn’t need anyone. But he does. He really does.”
“He told you what happened to his family?”
“Yes.”
“And what happened with Leon?”
“Yes.”
Jiro let out a low whistle. “And yet you’ve known him hardly a week.”
“We’ve been through a lot together in that week.”
“So I’ve heard. Your first mission with Damiel left a definite impression on him. He was intrigued, completely fascinated by you. But more than that, he connected to you. He couldn’t stop talking about you. I’ve never seen him like this before.”
“Surely, you’re exaggerating.”
“Do you know what he told me?” Jiro continued. “He told me, ‘that woman will be my wife’. He was sure of it. One hundred percent determined. And Damiel never stops until he gets what he’s set his mind to.”
I felt a spark of emotion, of bizarre anticipation, in my gut. Even though those events had already come to pass, even though we were already married. We’d married on the Legion’s orders. It had nothing to do with Damiel’s feelings—or mine, for that matter. Honestly, I didn’t even know what my feelings were telling me.
“Are you sure you’re supposed to be telling me any of this?” I asked Jiro.
“Probably not,” he laughed. “But I happen to be on very good terms with the Master Interrogator, so I think I can avoid being declared a traitor.”
I laughed too. It was a quiet laugh, born from my own uncertainty.
“During your first mission, Damiel fell in love with you,” Jiro told me, his face serious now. “And there was no chance of talking him out of it, even knowing that two angels are never found compatible enough to be married to each other. But it seems that you two beat the odds. It’s almost like it was meant to be. Fate, you know.”
“I’m not sure I believe in fate.”
“There are so many wondrous things in this universe that can’t be explained by mere dumb luck.”
“Maybe they can’t be explained by dumb luck, but how about hard work?” I pointed out.
“Spoken just like General Silverstar’s daughter,” he chuckled.
Jiro’s mention of my father made me wonder once again if he truly was my father. All these years, he’d been manipulating me for his own purposes. And I didn’t really know anything about my mother, nothing besides the story my father had told the Legion, which could have been a lie.
Damiel stepped into the garage and glowered at Jiro. “Are you working or gossiping?” he demanded.
“Hold your horses, your holiness,” his friend replied. “The magic here is all out of whack because of the weird magic shit the towers are shooting up into the sky. It will take awhile for me to calibrate the magic in all these devices.”
“How long?”
“The rest of the night. They should all be ready by morning.”
“I want them ready an hour before first light.”
Jiro sighed. “Of course you do. Yes, sir.” He saluted, then returned his attention to the device he was calibrating.
Damiel hovered over his shoulder and watched.
“There’s nothing you can do, Damiel, to make it go faster, except to get out of my hair. Take your wife out on a date. I packed you something.” He nudged a box toward Damiel with his foot.
“Ammunition?”
“No, a picnic dinner, you psychopath,” replied Jiro, his face horrified. “Why the hell would you bring ammunition on a date?”
“In case monsters attacked. Or dark angels.”
“I’m sure you can handle monsters or dark angels without boxes full of bullets. You’re an angel, after all, and you have magic. Now go show your lady a good time.”
Damiel folded his arms over his chest. “We are in the middle of preparing for a battle operation.”
“And you have a magic dagger that can take you anywhere you want to go. Have it take you far away from me, so I can work in peace.”
“I should supervise. It would be inappropriate for me to leave.”
“Be gone.” He winked at me behind Damiel’s back. “If you want these devices done in time.”