Chapter 3: Lana

A s certain as I was that I wouldn't sleep at all, the insanity of last night left me feeling exhausted and heavy. I fell asleep as soon as I lay on the bed in the room Daniel brought me to, and dreamt of the fiery pits of doom.

The room I'm in is Spartan, with only a sturdy bed and dresser – no windows. My bladder leads me to the small bathroom, which has a toilet and a bathtub, though neither are the modern appliances I'm used to. There is plumbing, though. I'm taken aback for a moment until I consider the fact that Ancient Rome had plumbing. I'm not going to even try to riddle out the answer as to where the water comes from.

Once I finish using the toilet, I splash water on my face, then brush my teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste that was provided. In fact, the plain wooden shelves hold an assortment of modern hygiene products, which look completely out of place in the bare-bones bathroom.

I walk back into the bedroom and open the dresser. Dark gray leathers hang inside, like something an archer or assassin would wear in a fantasy movie, complete with knee-high boots. On the shelf above lie socks, plain cotton underwear, pants, and shirts. Everything looks like it's in my size. Like they knew what my size was before stocking the dresser.

Having nothing left to explore here, I tentatively step out of my quarters and see the door across the hallway was left ajar. Through it is a kitchen, and it's as plain as everything else I've seen so far. A square table with four chairs is set in the middle. Counters and cupboards line one wall, and a stone hearth is built into the wall across from it. A cauldron hangs inside, like something out of a video game tavern. Cue the bawdy music. No, really, the silence is oppressive.

I wonder where they get food from. Nothing can grow in the gray sand that covered the floor of the atrium, and which I suspect covers the rest of this ante-realm to Hell. Not to mention the things like the razors and bottles of shampoo and conditioner I saw in my bathroom. There must be an easy way to reach home.

Just as I'm done taking in my surroundings, Daniel walks through the door, wearing a gentle smile. I feel like I instantly got a bead on this man… male? What do I call the Fallen? Do they have a gender? It would feel rude to ask.

"Good morning, Lana," he says, appraising me as if he can see whether I got any sleep or not.

"Morning," I return the greeting, then stand there wondering what I'm meant to do next.

"I prepared some oatmeal for breakfast, sit anywhere you would like." He saves me from indecisiveness and I sit at the table he gestured toward. Daniel serves me porridge from the cauldron in a ceramic bowl and provides a matching ceramic spoon. He then sits down across from me with no food placed before him.

"Don't you need to eat?" I question, and test the warmth of my food. Don't need a burned tongue on top of everything, now do I?

"I could eat," he replies, his smile growing slightly, some twinkle in his calm blue eyes. "I can also choose not to and avoid the needs of the physical body that follow."

"Hah. Must be nice," I mutter and swallow a spoonful. The food is plain but feels comforting. "Where does this food come from? And everything else?" I ask.

"We take regular trips to the mortal realm for provisions. Maalik goes most often."

His answer confirms my suspicions and I ask, hopefully, "Will we be able to visit home?"

He observes me for a moment before replying. "Perhaps some of you. In time."

The hope I feel is almost painful; I want to see Mike again, to explain why I won't be there at the movie theater for our regularly scheduled date. Though he probably already sent me twenty memes that went unread, seeing as my phone is somewhere on the floor of that alley. He may have even already called the police. Would they call my parents? Duh, Lana, of course they would. We're not the closest of families, but I still don't want them to think I'm dead. I sigh at the unrelenting wrenching pain in my stomach and grasp for something else to think about.

"Where is everyone else?" This small kitchen slash dining room can't be where they expect us all to eat.

"There is a larger dining area. This is the kitchen Maalik and I use." Daniel thoughtfully taps a finger on his lips. "Being apart from the Nephilim and Cambion in the sense that you are both, we were not quite sure which wing of the fortress to put you in. So we chose a room close to us."

I shake my head as a shiver runs down the back of my neck. "I see. And how did Maalik know my ancestry?"

"He met your grandfather at an archdemon's court before he left Hell to be with his angel in the human world. From what I know, his brethren tracked him down and slaughtered both of them," he continues, his voice still kind, but now also sounding sad. He sighs and then adds, "Offspring that are equal parts angelic and demonic are rare. What is rarer yet is when they are not conceived with… force."

I know I'm just gaping at him. This is all too much. My brain feels like it's short-circuiting. I decide I don't want to talk about me or why I'm here anymore. Dropping the subject, I nibble on my food until curiosity wins over my cautiousness. "Why are you here, Daniel? You're a fallen angel, right? But you don't seem… evil."

Thankfully, my question doesn't offend him and his voice is still warm when he replies. "Breaking Heavenly rules has consequences."

The rules, but not sinning? I straighten as his name finally registers and tickles a memory bank somewhere in my brain. I think I know who he is, but I don't want to be rude. "Your name is Daniel. Were you one of the Watchers?"

Daniel is still smiling in a very Mona Lisa way, so I oh-so-cleverly deduce I'm right. I've read about the Watchers. They were sent to observe humankind, but many couldn't resist and interacted with them. Some even fell in love – or lust.

I must have zoned out dissecting this poor guy's situation – while studiously ignoring my own – because Daniel softly clears his throat. "If you are done eating, I would gladly show you around. There were a few escape attempts last night, so we are not quite ready to begin your assessments. In fact…" Daniel tilts his head in curiosity. "You adjusted remarkably fast."

I arch a brow. "Is there a way to escape?"

Daniel takes my empty bowl to the sink and answers without turning. "No."

"There you go." I push away from the table and stand up. "Though I would call this numb, and not well-adjusted."

???

It takes a couple of days before everyone is calm enough – or resigned enough – for us to gather together again. We're outside of the fortress walls in the training field Daniel showed me the other day. I spent most of the time waiting for this assessment talking with him. He told me a lot about Heaven and the fallen angels living in Purgatory; about their neutrality in the Heavenly conflict. But he avoided talking about Hell or what my life is going to be like – probably to avoid the possibility of me going into hysterics like some of the others.

The faces I saw in that atrium are once again a sea of communal apprehension in the gray dust. And, yes, as I thought, all I see is sand and dunes in the distance. The sky is still breathtakingly beautiful though, if creepy.

"We're going to test your fighting skills now, your attunement with the ether." Maalik grins – he seems to like doing that, probably realizing how intimidating it looks to us. The motherfucker. "And your natural dominance, let's say, the hierarchy among you. After all, you will work best in small teams. We don't want any infighting," he warns.

I think I know where he lands in their hierarchy of dominance and I roll my eyes. Maalik snaps his gaze to me and gives me a feral smile, like he knows what I was thinking and wants me to know that, yes, he has the biggest dick. I huff a smile. He's creepy as fuck, but I have a feeling I would have enjoyed his wicked sense of humor – if I wasn't still reeling from being kidnapped by him.

Several hours later we're sweaty and groaning as Maalik, Daniel, and the rest of the realm's living residents stand to the side discussing who to place together for training. Their group includes the two Fallen I remember speaking in the atrium – Corson and Ramel, I now know.

None of them seemed surprised when we couldn't even move a dust mote with our willpower. If they hadn't shown us how it's meant to look, I would have thought they were playing a joke on us. But Maalik summoned a ball of flames which he promptly threw at Corson, the latter flipping him off lazily after easily dodging the projectile .

At least I got a nod from Maalik after demonstrating my knowledge and skill with martial arts. I'm very glad that I've been training since before I hit double digits in age. I kept up with my taekwondo lessons in adulthood – I'm a physical person, so reading couldn't be the only form of escapism in my arsenal. Maybe it'll help me stay alive as I face this threat they brought us here for. It sure as fuck didn't help me enough when Maalik grabbed me.

The younger guy from the other night, Kevin, also has some fighting skills. After talking to him between whatever exercises the Fallen wanted us to do, I saw why he would have had to learn to defend himself – he was living on the streets when the Fallen picked him up.

There are too many of us here, and I couldn't pay attention to everyone's appraisal, but it seems to me like we're not fit to fight off an army of rats, let alone demons or whatever.

The Fallen finally finish their debate and come closer. "Step into a line in front of us as we call you," Maalik says.

Ramel snaps out the name of the angry woman who also spoke up when we were brought here. I shudder and pray to whoever can hear me down here not to be placed under his tender care. He seems to be picking out the brawlers, the ones that stand out with their muscles and the grim and angry looks on their faces.

I can't get a bead on Corson's choices. They're average-looking, but I don't see much identifiable emotion reflected on their faces. Perhaps some antisocial tendencies are the criteria then.

When it's Maalik who calls my name and then Kevin's, I don't know whether to feel relieved or worried.

As the rest of the Fallen – some with slit eyes, like Maalik, and some that could pass as gorgeous humans, like Daniel – finish their roll call, Kevin and I are joined by Jessica, Ethan, Liam, and Simone. Such normal names in such an abnormal place. Ethan and Simone are Cambion, like Kevin, while Jessica and Liam are Nephilim. From what I saw, Maalik chose to teach a group that showed at least some technical skill in fighting .

The absolutely enormous sword he has sheathed down his back makes me think blades are going to be a part of our curriculum. I'm a history teacher; I can walk down aisles at the museum and tell you what each blade is called and the historical period they hail from. Have I ever held them in my hands? No. This will be interesting.

Strangely enough, for the first time since I landed here ass over teakettle, I feel a sense of excitement. I try not to think of what learning to fight will lead to. Probably best to come to terms with things in increments.