“The offspring of an angel has really high magical potential. That child is more likely to survive the Nectar of the gods to join the Legion. More likely to make their way up the ranks to become an angel too.”
“And the child of two angels would surely be even more powerful.”
“And gorgeous,” added another soldier, one with a saucy smile. He was looking at Damiel and me like he wanted to drag both of us into his bed.
I masked my blush with my shifting magic. I didn’t like people gossiping about my love life—including what Damiel and I had or had not done together.
How can these soldiers be so callous? I said to Damiel. Their angel is gone. They are being interrogated under suspicion of treason. And yet they are gossiping like a bunch of teenagers.
Life goes on. And Damiel went on eating. The Legion goes on. These soldiers can’t just stop and gasp in horror every time something bad happens, every time they’re in peril. They’d never get anything done.
He was eating with a ravenous appetite, whereas I could hardly swallow my tea.
I am surprised General Silverstar didn’t teach you all of this, said Damiel. Surely, he conditioned you to keep going, no matter what.
He did, and I do go on. But that doesn’t mean I like it. I guess he didn’t do a very good job conditioning me to be hard and desensitized. He’s always said that I have too much of my mother in me.
Who was your mother? Damiel asked me.
Isn’t it in my file?
No.
The admission looked like it bothered him. He definitely did not like to be uninformed, to not be in on every secret.
Your file states your mother was a witch who died shortly after you were born. Your parents were never married. Your father took you in as a matter of honor, because you were his blood.
That was my father in a nutshell: honor and duty.
Your file does not list your mother by name, Damiel continued. It says only ‘name unknown’.
Well, then, my file knows no more than I do.
I couldn’t help but feel disappointed that my file didn’t contain the answers that I lacked. I didn’t have access to my own file. Very few Legion soldiers had access to it, in fact, and none of them were talking. Except Damiel. I’d hoped the Master Interrogator could shed some light on my past.
My father rarely speaks of my mother, I told him. I know nothing more than you do.
I can investigate.
What’s the point? She’s dead.
But you are not. And this is important to you, he said.
It was so sweet. So touching. And so unlike the Damiel I’d seen interrogating soldiers just a few minutes ago.
I can find anyone, dead or alive, he told me. I will find you answers, no matter what it takes.
The gleam in his eyes was unsettling, like he would cut down anyone and anything in his path.
See, that was the problem with Damiel. He was both sweet and cruel, often at the same time. But was he a sword buried in fluffy layers of cotton candy? Or was he a warm pastry hidden away inside a spiked mace? A kitten inside a dragon, or a dragon inside a kitten? Or a fierce, loyal, sweet, deadly, flying, fire-breathing kitten?
I just didn’t know.
Did you learn anything more about Colonel Spellstorm’s recent behavior? I asked Damiel.
No one knows where he is. He just disappeared this morning, without telling anyone where he was going.
He knew we were coming, I guessed.
Probably. He must have gotten wind that I was after him. And he knew I would naturally continue the hunt immediately following the wedding.
Naturally. Your reputation is well-known.
And well-earned. His brows drew together. Are you teasing me?
No, I said.
Then immediately realized I wasn’t being entirely honest—with him or with myself. I was teasing him. No, not just teasing. I was flirting with the Master Interrogator, the so-called Angel of Death. There was something really wrong with me.
A smile curled his lips, dark and tempting. His tongue flicked out and slowly traced the inside of his lower lip.
Was he flirting back? No, this wasn’t flirting. It was full-on seduction. He’d seen my bet of ten chips and raised me one thousand. He stared into my eyes, daring me to look away.
I didn’t look away. I didn’t dare. Looking away would have meant admitting defeat. It would be holding up my hands in unconditional surrender, putting myself at his mercy. Angels didn’t surrender. We didn’t give up or give in. And we never placed ourselves at another angel’s mercy.
But looking into his eyes was getting harder with every passing moment. Not because of the way he was looking at me. No, it was because of what I saw lurking past the seduction that burned in his eyes. I saw him—his soul, the man within. The soul and mind and heart I’d touched when the immortal daggers’ magic had linked us. That man had been willing to sacrifice everything for me.
Seeing that person in his eyes, that made it harder to resist him than all the smoldering looks he could summon. Yes, he was attractive, but I could forget about his sizzling-good looks and dynamic magic. I could even ignore the silky way his words slid off his tongue or the feel of his magic as it brushed against me. But the person he was, what he had done for me, melted my resolve like a hot sun over a frost-kissed field.
Damiel winked at me, then handed me a tablet. He was throwing me a lifesaver, giving me an out, a way to look away from him without losing face.
I grabbed it with glee and glanced down at the map on the screen. “The Adriatic Sea?”
“Three Legion soldiers stationed in Florence went on a mission to chase down a rogue werewolf at the Adriatic Sea. They returned this afternoon. They all believe they saw an angel out there, flying over the sea.”
“Did they see his face?”
“No, they were too far away, but the angel they saw had the same wing color as Colonel Spellstorm: bright red.”
An angel with bright red wings was certainly hard to miss.
“That’s not a lot to go on,” I said.
“No other angel at the Legion has that wing color,” said Damiel. “But just to be sure, I’ve accounted for all other angels’ whereabouts at that time. Except for Colonel Spellstorm’s.”
“And what about dark angels? The red-winged angel could be one of them.”
“It’s Colonel Spellstorm,” Damiel insisted. “I know it is.”
I looked up from the map and met his eyes. “A gut feeling?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we’ll soon find out if you’re right,” I said, rising from my chair.
Damiel rose too. “Come now, Princess,” he said, his brows arching. As he took the tablet from me, his hand brushed against mine. “When have I ever been wrong?”
5
The Sea of Monsters
Damiel and I looked down on the Adriatic Sea from our rocky precipice. The water was so turquoise and beautiful. There wasn’t even a whispered hint of the monsters that lurked deep beneath the surface. The lands here were beautiful, warm, and sunny—just like a postcard picture. But the truth behind the pretty postcard was more akin to a horror movie.
“The Sea of Monsters,” said Damiel.
The areas where monsters still roamed freely and unchecked on Earth were called the lands of monsters. But this ‘land’ was actually a sea.