Chapter 14

“What do you mean I’m ‘Nothing?’”

In response to my croaked exclamation, Godric shoves his noise-cancelling earbuds in his ears before hauling himself out of the car.

Talk about passive aggressive.

Lucky for him, I’m in no condition to pester him.

It’s like I was sliced into endless layers by that damned Divining. I now know, on a cell-deep level, how those who don’t pass it perish. If not for whatever came between me and those opposing forces, I would have.

But I feel I’m still…unraveled. That I’m never going to be the way I used to be.

That Divining changed me.

How, or why, I’ll only get answers if my escorts volunteer any. Godric is closed for interrogation. Some surprise there. The divine jerk. Lorcan is unusually silent. More—serious.

A serious Lorcan is a very worrying sight.

What’s going on here?

This has to be about what happened at the Divining. Something went wrong back there. I just know it. Massively wrong.

Not that you’d know it from that Tribunal’s reaction. They acted like a committee of bureaucrats deadened to the performance of a clerical duty, and I was another same-old case.

So what did Godric and Lorcan figure out that they didn’t?

I suddenly realize we’re entering the central building of the Court from another door that doesn’t have a million steps leading to it. And that Godric didn’t put his leash around my neck. He doesn’t seem in a hurry to deliver me back to the archangels. Which is weird. I thought he couldn’t wait to shake me off his hands, like some prickly pear he picked from the sewers.

This can only mean he’s not eager to tell them about whatever went wrong back there.

Because he doesn’t know what happened and hates to admit it? Or because it’s that bad?

But since I have the freedom of my own pace, I fall into step with Lorcan. “Care to tell me what happened?”

“I…” He stops, shakes his head. “Godric will fill you in, if he sees fit.” He stops again, then sighs. “Don’t hold your breath, though. You’ll only suffocate.”

“Intel above your pay grade?” When he only gazes ahead, I whine, “C’mon, Lorcan. This is about me. I have a right to know.”

Again, no answer.

Before I can persist, Lorcan exhales. “Consider it done, hmm?” I blink up at him. “My promise? Your friend?”

Sarah. I actually forgot about her since that Divining tore me apart and put me back together. But he remembered.

“You will let me see her?” I choke.

“If I can extricate you from Godric’s grasp, and whatever our family have in store for you. If I can’t, I’ll go to her alone.”

“Oh, Lorcan, thank you!”

“Anything for you, my dearest Godricsbane.”

I would have laughed if I had the energy. “That’s my name now?”

His eyes literallytwinkle as he wiggles both eyebrows at Godric’s legendary back. “It’s the highest praise in my books, and unprecedented with it. The very concept of a Godricsbane was unknown, until you.”

“Yeah, lucky me. So, about what happened…”

Lorcan speaks over me. “If they decide to conscript you still, you can do with some bullet points about the Academy, hmm?” I stare at him, the abrupt subject change throwing me off. He continues, “It’s located to the southeast of the Court across the Palladium River, and is bordered by some of the nastiest landmarks in the region—so pray you never find yourself in any. The reason behind this choice of location is much debated, as the Academy was supposed to be an extension of the Court millennia ago. It ended up being separate in all ways. It even has its own Rune Gates and Palladium Wards.”

“Isn’t palladium some rare element?” I ask numbly.

He gives an impressed nod. “Good to see you paid attention in chemistry class. It also means safeguard or source of protection. The Gates generate the Wards that encompass the Court and the Academy. You didn’t see any since you were in snore-land each time we passed through the Court’s. But they’re massive versions of the frame of the Proelium Primum—the First Battle frieze leading to the archangels’ meeting chamber. The magic imbuing their runes is allegedly the most powerful in existence. No one without angel blood and an Iter Tutus can cross them or the Wards.”

I smirk. “And I assume you and Godawful have matching tutus?”

His lips split wide again. I was right when I thought seriousness wasn’t an option for them. Not for long. “It basically means safe passage.” He chuckles at the image I conjured of him and Godric. “But our Tutus are anything but matching. His has way more frills.”

“Yeah, figures,” I huff. “So this place isn’t in some other realm?” At his head-shake, I frown. “Then how can you hide it, what with satellite mapping and all? Does the Palladium Wardsact like some sort of Glamor, too?”

“Glamor is what the other races call it. We call it Operculum, or cover.”

“Uh, no thanks. I’ll keep calling it Glamor.”

He shrugs easily. “But, yes, the Wards have many elements. The Operculum…” He winks as he stresses the word. “…ensures no being, technology or magic can detect the Court and Academy. If someone somehow circumvents that, no matter how powerful they are, the Exitium element, which means destruction, would reduce them to ashes.”

“Hey, what’s with all the Latin lingo? You copying the demons?”

His lips quirk. “It’s actually one of the popular angelic dialects. Angels came first, after all.”

I roll my eyes at myself. “Duh. I should have thought of that. Okay, what about those who want to exit? They also need tutus?” As he nods, I groan. “So those who enter that Academy, can’t leave?”

He flashes me those pearly whites. “If you were thinking you can escape, don’t. The Wards treats any unauthorized attempts to cross it, in and out, with the same—finality.”

“But I crossed it, when I have no tutus, and I’m human.”

“That remains to be seen. But you’re escorted by us. Even Angelbloods need escorts or their own Iter Tutus to gain entry.”

“By invitation only, huh? How elitist. And how paranoid. Why all these precautions?”

He chuckles. “Think about it as the ultimate in home security. None of the Supernaturals particularly like us, after all.”

“Yeah, shocker. Since when do you deal in euphemisms, Lorc? They hate your feathery guts.”

His grin only widens. “Indeed. Envy is the most powerful emotion.”

“You think everyone hates you because they envy you?”

A goading eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

He got me there. I do envy the hell out of angels, with their perfection and powers.

I grumble about it before something else hits me. “But—hey, when you say we, you mean the Nephilim, too? I thought no one knew you existed!”

He pouts in dismissal. “We are the undercover faction, the special forces. But the demons have always known about us.”

“If they do, how come they never exposed your existence?”

“Oh, they do. Where do you think all these tales about us came from? But since no one believes anything they say, and we never make winged public appearances, we remain rumors and myths. But we regularly deal with individuals from the other races, mainly to kick their arses. Those don’t share that fact, since power, or the perception of it, is everything in this world. Still, most do know about us.”

And I thought I knew everything there is to know, living where I do…did.

I shake my head dazedly. “If they do, the Fae would want to destroy you for sure, if only because you surpass them in power and beauty. The Shifters, Vampires and other races because you’d probably seem like the ultimate threat to them. They must hate you way more than they do the angels. Man, if they ever stop their endless infighting to unite for a cause, you Nephilim would be their number one target.”

“It’s so hard being on top.” He sighs theatrically, before he grins again. “But that’s why they will never put aside their interspecies conflicts.”

My inflamed eyes round with incredulity. “You mean you cause that?”

He waves that away. “We never ‘cause’ anything. Their blood feuds have always existed. We just don’t stop them. Or we do only to the point where the balance is kept. Hell, that’s the part of our job that I despise; keeping them from exterminating each other. Contrarily, that only makes them hate us all the more. So you understand why we don’t let them know where we train the next generation of global enforcers.”

I gape at him. “You can say hell?”

He throws his head back and guffaws. “That’s what you gleaned from all this? But oh, yes, I can say whatever the hell I like. I am a quarter human, after all.”

“Only a quarter, huh?”

He nods. “According to my lineage, my mother was half angel.”

Was. Does this mean she’s dead?

Do the Nephilim grow old and die because of their human ingredient? But if Lorcan is as young as he looks, surely his mother couldn’t have been old? So did she get sick, or was she killed?

I must find out any vulnerabilities the Nephilim have. I’d love to know if it’s possible to kill Godric. Hell, I’d settle for seeing him bleed. I’d even take fantasizing about it.

Before I can probe, Lorcan goes on, “But the Wards would really become a necessity if we had to keep the humans away.”

I goggle at him. “You can’t seriously worry about humans! What can they do?”

Lorcan goggles back at me. “You either don’t know your species at all, or didn’t think this question through. There’s no end to their nuisance and damage if you give them knowledge or allow them liberties. If they ever had access to this place, their response would range from constantly accosting us for their Insta feeds, to always trying to blow us up.”

“There are humans who would do that?”

I never heard of humans fighting the angelic occupation. No one even calls it that but fanatic stragglers on the internet. Governments, along with everyone else, treat angels as humanity’s benefactors. At least, compared to the other races.

Or that’s what I know. Turns out my knowledge is very deficient.

He shrugs again. “As I said, humans are capable of very creative atrocities. Better to keep them away to start with.”

“But they don’t know the Nephilim exist, right?”

“So far. But you saw humans today who know about us. While they’ve been brought up to keep the secret, the truth will out sooner or later, and I dread the day. Can you imagine what would happen if humans knew they could procreate with angels? The best scenario is that angels and this place would be besieged by those begging for Nephilim babies. And that’s when the Wards will be most needed. Out of all the races, I worry about humans the most.”

Knowing my race’s capacity for fanaticism and destruction, I can only agree.

After a moment of digesting this, I ask, “And the demons? You didn’t mention those.”

“I thought it goes without saying they are the primary reason for the Wards.”

“Aren’t you guys splitting the world among you in hate-filled peace and all that? Or are the Accords really in jeopardy, especially after last night?”

He suddenly sobers. “If you mean Zinimar’s death, that will certainly have widespread repercussions.” That was what Sarah said. She even had that exact expression when she did. Before I can push for more insights, he smiles again. “Not that we ever needed catastrophic developments to ward against them. They’re demons. Need I say more?”

Knowing their viciousness and vindictiveness, I have to agree, too.

I still smirk up at him. “You’re no angels yourselves, buddy. Not the way we used to think.”

He huffs a pitying chuckle. “In your major religions, angels are the ruthless creatures who unquestioningly do their god’s will. And in case you humans don’t carry it out to the letter—they bring you pestilence, famine and war. They relentlessly pelt you with destruction and death. How you managed to romanticize us and make us into these kind beings of pure goodness is beyond me.”

He has a point there. A major one. How did we ever turn this monstrously righteous army into all that romantic crap?

But I have a better question. “You keep saying we. So you consider yourself an angel?”

He frowns as if really pondering my question. “Partially, obviously. Mostly. But even one drop of human blood changes everything. We Nephilim are different—from everyone else. And then, just like any other race, we’re not all the same.”

“Tell me about it.” I shoot daggers at Godric magnificent receding form.

Just as if he felt my antipathy riddling his back, his leash forms around my neck, and I’m again forced to run after him.

It’s enough to inject me with the will to go on, whatever it takes. If for nothing else, I have to survive, so I can one day have him stumbling in my wake.