I was saved by the bell. Or, more accurately, saved by the Bella.
“Leda,” she said, giving me a very ladylike wave. It was the wave of a queen.
As always, my sister’s hair and makeup were flawless. Her blue silk summer dress was perfectly ironed. Her silver sandals were spotless. Considering the dusty state of the streets, that was a feat only explainable by magic. But despite her put-together appearance, she was obviously completely unraveled. She had a rattled, nervous look in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, embracing her.
I hadn’t seen Bella since our lunch date in the city a few weeks ago, but she’d seemed fine then.
“I need to speak to you. Alone,” she added.
“I know what happened,” Nero said.
Surprise flashed across her face—surprise and betrayal. “Harker told you?”
“No, your thoughts did,” he replied. “They are screaming it out. You are fortunate there are no other telepaths in town right now.”
Bella paled.
“What’s going on, Bella? Did you and Harker…” A smirk curling my lips, I allowed the unspoken implication to hang in the air between us.
“Oh, gods, Leda, no! Nothing like that.”
The color returned to her face with a vengeance. That was one impressive blush. So she must have really liked Harker. Interesting. I made a mental note to tease her more about that later.
“Bella!” Gin called out with glee, running through the crowd. She gave our sister a big hug.
Calli and Tessa weren’t far behind.
“Why is Bella blushing?” Tessa asked.
Which, of course, only made Bella blush more.
Nero looked at her, then at me. “Come with me.” He started walking.
Bella, Calli, and I walked behind him. Gin and Tessa moved into line behind us.
“Do you think he means all of us?” Gin whispered to Tessa as we followed Nero past the festival grounds.
“Gods, I hope so.”
“Tessa, stop staring at my boyfriend’s ass,” I warned her.
“What makes you think I’m staring at his ass? You can’t even see me,” she said, her voice defiant.
“I know you. And I have eyes in the back of my head.”
“That’s not one of the gods’ gifts.”
“What can I say? I’m special.”
“You sure are special.”
I glanced back at her “Watch it, missy. If you’re not nice, I’ll curse you with pimples.”
“Mom! Leda’s threatening me with mortal harm!” Tessa cried out.
“Since when are pimples considered mortal harm?” I asked Calli.
“When you’re eighteen, everything is a matter of life and death,” she replied wisely.
We’d reached the Legion office in Purgatory. A towering, sparkling skyscraper housed our New York City office, but out here we had only a single room tucked inside the Pilgrims’ temple of worship.
The Pilgrims were our counterpart. The Legion of Angels was the hand of the gods’ justice. The Pilgrims were the other part of the equation: the voice of the gods, of their teachings, their gospel. Their job was to spread the stories of the gods, of their great deeds and immortal triumphs.
Two Pilgrims stood outside the entrance, dressed in plain brown cotton robes. The moment they saw Nero, they both immediately swept into a low bow.
“General Windstriker, we’re honored by your visit,” said the Pilgrim on the left. “What can we do for you?”
“We require use of our room.” Nero didn’t slow down. He kept walking, right past them.
The Pilgrim who had spoken hurried to match pace beside him. The other stayed at his post.
“We are completely at your service of course.”
Though they served a divine purpose, the Pilgrims were not considered equal to the angels. The angels were as close to gods as you got on Earth. As we walked down the hall, Pilgrims were bowing left and right, over and over again, at Nero. They didn’t pay me or my family any mind—except for the chatty Pilgrim.
“Do you require use of the bigger jail cells downstairs, General?” he asked Nero, his gaze flickering briefly to me.
He seemed to remember me—and my ‘subversive’ nature—from my days living here, egging on the Pilgrims in the streets when they tried to sell me their religion. It was the clothes. Right now I was dressed like a civilian. When I was in uniform, the Pioneers didn’t see past the Legion paraphernalia. They didn’t see me. They saw only a soldier in the Legion of Angels.
Nero gave me a look that was cool and emotionless, but I’d learned to read the feelings beyond the chilled facade. He was laughing inside.
“Not just yet, but I will let you know if I need you to bring out the chains. Or the gag,” he told the Pilgrim, his face still completely blank.
He was getting me back for the cotton candy snapshot. I was sure of it.
Nero went over to a silent Pilgrim standing in the hall and handed him the fluffy pink bundle. The Pilgrim looked just as perplexed as Nero had when I’d given it to him.
The chatty Pilgrim bowed and left, stars in his eyes, so happy that an angel would ask anything of him. He was acting as though Nero had just done him the biggest favor in the world. I rolled my eyes.
Nero closed the door. As he turned around to face us, he caught the tail end of my eye-roll. He didn’t comment, and he didn’t have to. I knew that look. It was the look that said eye-rolling was not becoming of a soldier in the gods’ army.
But now was not the time to debate propriety. I had to know what was bothering Bella—and whether there was anything I could do to help her. Now that the door was closed, at least we had some privacy.
I turned to her and asked, “What’s going on? Why all the secrecy?”
Bella took in a deep breath, and then it all spilled out at once. “I found out where I come from. I am the daughter of the former first dark angel and granddaughter of Valerian, the Dark Lord of Witchcraft, one of the ruling demons of hell.”
4
Silver Platter
Bella’s revelation surprised me so much that it was a moment before I could speak. “The granddaughter of the Dark Lord of Witchcraft? That certainly explains your magic. I’ve never met a more natural witch.”
When the gods had come to Earth, they’d not only given us the gift of monsters. They’d also given us magic. The seven ruling gods created the seven groups of supernaturals: shifters, elementals, telekinetics, vampires, sirens, witches, and fairies. Each god had a specialty, a magical strength that they bestowed upon humanity. For example, the God of Nature made elementals, and the God of Faith made vampires.
Each supernatural group prayed to their patron gods and gave them offerings in thanks for their magic, but the gods never responded. It was not a conversation; it was a monologue, a poem of praise to the deities of heaven. The gods existed on a whole other level, high above humanity. There weren’t even many Legion soldiers who’d met a god.
The demons were the flip side. On worlds where they reigned, the seven ruling demons had created their own seven groups of supernaturals, the dark magic equivalents to the shifters, elementals, telekinetics, vampires, sirens, witches, and fairies.
And then there were the super soldiers, the gods’ and demons’ armies: the Legion of Angels and its equivalent, the Dark Force of Hell. A Legion or Dark Force soldier drank directly from the source of magic, the food of gods or demons.
As the granddaughter of a demon, Bella was also close to the source. That meant her magic was much more potent than that of a normal dark witch.
“How did you find out about this?” I asked Bella.
“There was an incident of dark magic at the university,” she said. “The Legion suspected there was a demon-worshipper there. Harker came to investigate, and he asked for my help in identifying the culprit. I didn’t know the investigation would lead back to me, that the source of my magic is the demon blood inside of me. When we discovered it, Harker covered it up.”
Good for him.