Chapter 25

Isurvived. My first day at Celestial Academy, that is. And somehow, my first night with Ms. Brimstone and Ms. Archangelspawn.

Now all I have to do is survive Mr. Death Jr. himself.

That’s what Lorcan said I have to do. And he wasn’t even joking.

I was premature calling him a nice guy.

Those Nephilim, being presumably immortal like their dads, have a seriously warped perspective of life and death. Especially when it comes to their significance to us mortals.

Even that nephilim, with his rare compassion-like sensibility that made him take pity on Sarah and me, didn’t see anything wrong in what he said. In his world of eternal conflicts between immortals, human lives being snuffed in the crossfire is a matter of fact. Nothing to worry about too much. Or at all.

Humans frail, humans die.

They’re probably concerned about our continuation as a species only for their sacred balance, or whatever. Individual lives are not even on their radar.

Based on that rationale, Lorcan probably meant “All you have to do is survive him” as a pep talk. Something along the lines of “You can do it, girl!”

So he knows Godric won’t kill me on purpose, as ordered by their family. But he thinks it a possibility I might not survive his “honing” anyway. Maybe Godric would then go to them and say oops.

Contrarily, that’s why I didn’t hide in bed until Godric dragged me out by the toe—or neck. If there’s even a possibility he can hone me into a weapon capable of killing even him, I’m there for it. The idea made me crawl from the toasty cocoon of my magical dorm bed, to suffer temperatures unknown this side of Pluto. And that’s less of an exaggeration than the possibility of me becoming such a weapon. Or a weapon at all.

But if Godric intends to somehow “transform” me, so I can maybe one day knock him on his legendary ass, that’s something I’d wake up this early for any day. Every day.

Not that I’m really awake now. My body is barely erect, and I feel as if I’m wading in some alternate reality. What Celestial Academy certainly is.

It’s more so among the serpentine trails of the spooky Oriphiel Woods, what the map insisted is a shortcut. I’d hate to see what it considers the long way around.

When I first consulted it for the best path to the Lycurgus Arena, it kept freezing, like those internet searches when the signal drops. Then it sent me down the wrong path twice before recalibrating, like a malfunctioning GPS. That made me wonder if angelic magic is on the glitch, especially after what happened to me in the dorm building yesterday afternoon.

I left Sarah in a class safe among a crowd, and rushed back there for that reconnaissance tour. But no matter what path I took, I got diverted to the corridor leading to our dorm room.

I thought the map was stuck, until I realized the building itself was casting illusions. It made me think I was going someplace new, when all the time I was circling back to that damned corridor. But I couldn’t linger to figure out how or why, had to rush back to Sarah.

Then this thing with the map happened, and I started wondering if it’s me this place isn’t responding to anymore? Or if it keeps herding me back where it thinks I should be? Or if it’s a generalized problem with magic?

Whatever it is, here I am, trudging through these woods, sneakered feet shuffling on that semi-paved path that echoes with sentience. Dawn is a distant glimmer in another time zone, and only that faint, sourceless light illuminates my way. But it’s so cold and humid, my breath is thick enough to almost blind me. And I’m only wearing those flimsy gym clothes Godawful specified. I’m so frozen and stiff I swear I hear my bones whine, and my joints creak.

All my external and internal noises are probably why I didn’t hear them at first. But now they suddenly blare in my head. The crunching sounds behind me.

Someone is following me!

The certainty swamps me, booming in my heart and head.

Being followed anywhere always meant trouble. But here? It could spell disaster.

What was Godawful thinking making me walk alone at this hour across this principality-sized supernatural territory? Which randomly turns into a ghost town even during the day?

But maybe it’s him behind me? I thought he’d be at the Lycurgus Arena, hoping I’d be a minute late so he’d drag me inside by the neck. But maybe he’s running late? If he is, he’s what? Trying to spook me? Or is he hanging back because he won’t suffer my company unless absolutely necessary?

Who am I kidding? That’s not Godric. I’d know this guy’s vibes in my sleep now. I would never mistake his presence.

And then that presence closing in on me feels—malevolent. Yeah, shocking, but this isn’t how Godric feels to me. His aura is intimidating, savage, but also intoxicating, spine-tingling. And I’m not even talking about its overwhelming sensual component.

But whoever it is behind me, they could have been following me long before I felt it. So if they haven’t caught up with me, maybe they don’t mean to? Maybe this is someone walking through the woods unrelated to me?

No. I’m being followed, no doubt about it. My sense of danger is too honed to question it now. The only time it failed me was with Godric. That guy scrambled my senses even then. I’m positive I will never be exposed to anything like him ever again.

A simple—and great—explanation is that it’s some guard I attracted trudging about like a zombie at this infernal hour. The malevolence I felt could be my jumpy imagination.

But since great things don’t happen to me, this someone is trailing me with ill intent.

It could be the demoness. She could have felt me sneaking out, and this errand could be providing her with the perfect opportunity to torture me some more, or even kill me with no witnesses around. It could also be that other roommate who came in after I went to sleep. She shook me awake to demand why I was always with Godric. That seemed like a cardinal sin in her book. Hell, it could even be Ms. Archangelspawn, deciding to put me in my place after I mouthed off to her.

But the crunching noise is much closer now, drenching me in fiercer waves of dread, and telling me more about my pursuer.

It’s not the vile demoness. Or the pissy roommate. Or even the self-important, substantial archangelspawn. It’s someone much bigger, heavier. So is it Godric after all?

No. I’m certain it’s not him. So who else could know I’d be here at this time? Someone he sent after me? Why? A test? Or something worse?

What if he decided to cut off my tutorship short before it begins? But since the archangels already know he wants to get rid of me, he’s sending someone else to do it, while having an alibi himself?

But if so, why tell Lorcan he intends to transform me and hone me and all that crap? More misdirection?

No. That doesn’t sound like him. Godric is many horrible things, but he wouldn’t let anyone do his dirty work for him. Especially when it comes to me. I just know that whatever fate awaits me, he wants to be the one to dole it out.

This leaves the last possibility. Since I’ve eliminated everyone who would target me specifically, this has to be random. I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time. Thanks to Godawful.

Unable to resist any longer, I look over my shoulder. There’s nothing in the winding path behind me. My pursuer is stalking me from the comfort of the dense tree cover. It’s a classic stalker location, after all. Again, thanks to Angelhole.

I’m striding now, as fast as I can without running, but the heavy footfalls crunching dead foliage wholesale are gaining on me. As they come closer, another certainty pummels me.

It’s not someone, but something.

As my heart attempts to beat its way out of my throat, I try to calm myself with one last hope. That it’s some creature that patrols the domain, coming to herd me back where I should be.

That hope fractures with my next heartbeat. The putrid evil emanating from that thing is all but suffocating me now. And from the increasing speed of its shuffling, it has decided to attack.

I never run from danger. The one time I ran, I landed in this mess. I’m a lousy runner, anyway. Cool-headed retreats, no matter how terrified I am, have kept me alive so far.

But there’s no retreat here. The dorm is two miles behind, and I can’t turn around anyway. There’s no escape either, as the Arena is two more miles ahead, at least. I’d lose steam long before I reached it.

Still, if I ran, I’d have the advantage of initial speed. That should keep a distance between us until I do. That thing sounds so heavy, it can’t possibly run…

A thud shakes the ground beneath me, then another and another.

It’s running.

I explode in a run, blindly, desperately. Terror, and the hefty packaged dinner they distributed last night lending my feet speed.

But I’m no match for the stampeding creature. It’s closing in on me, too fast. And I already feel my lungs tearing apart with the frigid air. My nerves feel like searing cables shooting up legs. Legs that are starting to cramp up, and would buckle soon, too soon. There’s no way I can outrun it.

Suddenly, I’m no longer terrified. I’m incensed.

I envisioned my death a million times. In a gladiator arena, between the claws of a hellhound, with thousands paying a premium to see me struggle to my last breath. In an arcane ritual, carved up by enchanted daggers, my organs a conduit for high mages’ unbreakable curses. And since I came here, I added elaborate scenarios to my morbid fantasies, of dying slowly, creatively at the hands of that beautiful monster.

But this, dying as an unintentional prey to some mindless beast out looking for dinner? This is too pointless a way to die.

How could you have expected a grand end to your insignificant life, moron?A snide voice sniggers inside me.

No, dammit. I’m not insignificant. Godric, that demigod with unlimited powers, said I may be the most dangerous thing to have ever existed. I’m so significant to him and the archangels, he’s been forced to become my personal tutor, for Hell’s sake.

Yet my significance is only a potential, and he did turn around and told me I’m Nothing. And if I die here, I will have lived and died as a Nothing. I will have done nothing, too, if I leave Sarah alone in this immortal monster land. That’s what’s most driving me out of my mind with fury.

But if this is it, there’s only one thing left to do. What I always do.

I refuse to cower. In life, or in death.

Bringing my limping run to an end, I stagger around to face my hunter.

I won’t die like some harebrained, forgettable victim from a B-rated horror movie. Not when I felt something within me capable of taking on even Godric.

Even if that was a hallucination, I do have the unique ability to capture and transform Angel Essence. I don’t know how this ability makes me dangerous, but maybe I can do more with it. Far more. I can’t become a meal for some beast and let it go to waste. I won’t.

My heartbeats are detonations and my skin is magma as I plant shaking feet to that almost-sentient earth beneath me, and fist my burning hands. I feel the air shimmer around me with the heat of my anger and aggression.

The thudding footfalls come nearer, nearer. But I still can’t tell where they’re coming from. That damn place with its illusions and misdirection.

“Bring it, bitch!” I scream. “I’m going to rip out your essence and shove it up your ass!”

Next moment, everything goes silent.

For endless moments, the only movement in that ominous forest are my violent shudders, the only sounds my wheezing breaths.

Where did my hunter go? Could I have scared it off? If I did, I should have heard its retreat. So could it be hiding, waiting for me to give it my back again? It can’t be afraid to face me, can it?

What the hell is going on here?

When nothing moves or makes a sound again, I’m forced to conclude whatever was after me somehow transported away.

That still doesn’t make sense. If it can do that, why all the stalking? Why not materialize on top of me, take me to the ground and gouge my neck? It wanted the hunt? If it did, why did it leave? It understood my threat, and believed it? And it’s gone to look for an easier meal? Or is the answer something more complicated and malicious?

Knowing my luck, it sure is. Maybe I have another enemy out there already, and it’s not only Godric and my roommates that I have to survive.

Welcome to Sinister Academy, Wen.