7. Ezekiel

7

I walk through the lobby of the Guild as if I’m not half an hour early and planning to snoop and steal. My pace is unhurried, normal.

Irene nods at me from the front desk. I return the gesture, just like I do on every shift. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I promised Hayliel I’d check the logs to see if anything’s come up about Castiel. I'm not expecting to find anything, but if checking will bring her comfort, then I’ll do it. Hell, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for her. Something one of those assholes talking shit in the cafeteria learned the hard way. If things continue the way they're going, I’ll be kicking a few more asses before the week is over.

It’s a terrifying revelation, feeling so strongly about someone, knowing you’d rock the entire world if it meant their happiness. I’ve tried my best to deny it, those feelings, but after witnessing Hayliel damn near die right before my eyes, things have changed.

I’ve changed.

Before I can make it to my locker to drop off my bag, Azrael calls my name. “Zeke. Come with me, please.”

Thoughts race through my mind, but I don’t let them get out of control. This could be any number of things. He hasn’t said a word to me about the attack or Hayliel’s miraculous survival, so maybe he’s finally speaking up about it. Or this could be him finally shedding some light into that dead body I sent him to collect.

There are a million things he should want to discuss. And about damn time, too.

I follow along without question, keeping my mask firmly planted. Or it is, until I realize where he’s taking us. The weapon and accessories locker. Does he know what I’m planning?

My expression doesn’t shift when we enter the room, and I’m about to ask him what’s going on when he breaks the silence.

“It’s good that you’re here early. Otherwise, I was going to have to leave without you.”

“Leave? Where?” Is he following a lead from the dead body and finally keeping me in the fucking loop?

He unhooks a multipurpose weapon from the rack and tosses it to me. “If luck is on our side, we may have found a demon hideout. Our goal is only to scope it out and call for reinforcements if needed.”

Disappointment sits heavy in my gut. It’s not that my blood doesn’t sing for the opportunity to watch those asshole creatures suffer after what they did to Hayliel, but I had hoped it was something else.

Why are we going on a scouting mission, though? The more I think about it, the more this entire thing just seems strange.

“Isn’t that a bit beneath you, Lieutenant?”

He glances at me over his shoulder, a deep laugh rumbling up from his chest before he turns back to the cabinet. “I am in charge of the interns, am I not? This will be a good experience for you.”

Something in the cabinet beside him catches my attention. Row after row of protection charms sit behind the glass doors. If Azrael wasn’t here, I’d grab what I need and add them to my pack, but it would seem I won’t be that lucky today.

A door closing startles me from my thoughts, and I watch as Azrael tucks a sunblade into the sheath at his side. It’s not the first time I’ve seen one, not by a long shot, but that doesn’t lessen the impact. The steel is perfectly sharpened, with sunfire glowing from the etched markings down the center.

If he’s bringing one with us today, he must suspect we’ll need it. Which seems odd for a scouting mission.

Before we leave, he grabs one more item. A pouch like the one Theo and I are sure must be a tool we can use on the demons.

“What’s with those, anyway?” I ask as he tucks it into one of the many pockets of his uniform. “I’ve seen other lieutenants with them, but don’t know what it’s for.”

His face hardens, something I rarely see from him. “And for good reason. We limit the use of these to rare circumstances and only where necessary.”

“But why?”

“Just trust me, Zeke. And leave them for the lieutenants.”

Confusion wraps around me like smoke. Did I hit a nerve? Azrael rarely avoids answering my questions. Even when he keeps me in the dark, it’s usually followed by some reason or another, so what’s causing this shift, and why is he keeping this from me? He’s been keeping quite a few things close to his chest lately.

I let it drop, even though it pains me to do so. But it’s not like I’m giving up. If Azrael won’t give me any information on what’s inside those little sacks, then there’s even more reason for us to find out for ourselves. We’ll just have to be extra careful.

Clouds fill the sky as we fly out, sticking toward the mountains. The air is thick with moisture, a sure sign of rain to come. Azrael hasn’t given me any information about where this supposed hideout is, but I don’t like that we’re heading toward the university. We sure as hell don’t need a horde keeping so close to school.

To take my mind off the constant worrying I seem to do now, I ask a question that I don’t expect an answer to. “Any leads on that dead angel from the Fallen district? Last I heard, you were examining some of his belongings.”

Azrael looks like he’d rather be having any other conversation, and when he sighs, I swear I can hear his displeasure. “This case is sensitive. I know that isn’t what you want to hear and that you feel I’ve kept you in the dark, but I promise it’s for good reason. All I can say is that I’m following a lead based on the items I found. It’s safer for you, and for the information I’m attempting to dig up, if no one knows.”

Blood pumps harder through my veins as my anger rises. “But you can trust me. Hell, you wouldn’t even have this information if it weren’t for me. Can’t you—”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Ezekiel. I can’t. Not yet. The moment it’s safe, you’ll be the first to know. I promise.”

I fly a little faster, though it’s futile because I have no fucking idea where we’re going, but I just need a moment alone to process this rage. With my eyes closed, I picture Hayliel’s warm smile, and the anger subsides, though only slightly. What would she do if she were in my shoes? I don’t even have to think about it before I know. She’d be annoyed, but she’d find a silver lining somewhere and focus all of her energy on that.

I’ve always trusted Azrael. So if he says he’s following a lead and that it’s a sensitive case, that should be enough. It must be or else I’ll go mad. Besides, if part of the reason he’s keeping information from me is for my own safety, can I really be upset? My father would do the same thing, and I wouldn’t think twice about it.

That’s got to be it. He’s keeping his cards close to his chest, not just about that dead angel but also, I’m guessing, about the attack on us near the Fallen district. His overprotective nature is annoying, to say the least, yet I can’t fault him for that.

It might be silly for him to worry about me when I can take care of myself, but it’s certainly not spiteful.

When I’ve calmed down, I slow my pace and join Azrael in flight once more. He says nothing about my little outburst, and the tension between us fades.

Moments later, he stops, hovering in the sky as he points to an outcropping of rock below us. “There. Do you sense anything?”

The place is oddly familiar, though I’m not sure why. I close my eyes and focus on my other senses. A soft breeze rustles my feathers. Thunder booms from somewhere in the distance. Azrael’s metal-tipped wings tinkle gently. But otherwise we’re alone.

I open my eyes and scan the rock again. “If there ever was a horde here, they’re gone now.”

He nods. “Precisely my thoughts as well. Let’s get closer, but keep your guard up.”

The moment my feet touch the rocky mountainside, I see them. Four statues, or at least what used to be four statues. Now they’re shattered.

“Demons did this?” I ask, incredulously. We stand on the offering grounds, a place where angels come to deliver their goods for the Archangels’ Feast. The place Hayliel recently visited with her parents. Was it like this when she came? No. Surely she’d have mentioned it if it were. Others would have as well. That must mean this is new.

Azrael crouches beside what was once Remiel’s statue. “That is my assumption, yes.”

“This is too close to the Archangels,” I say, more to myself than him. “Demons grow more and more reckless, but why? What is it that gives them such confidence?”

“My guess? Based on recent events, it’s most likely our proven inability to stop them.” He turns his attention to the ruined statues and the ground around them, and I try to put my questions to the back of my mind so I can join in with his investigation.

Back at the guild, I struggle to write up a report on our findings.

While we didn’t find any active demons, it was clear they’d been there. Angels don’t bleed black, and the few drops of black blood we found near the statues were proof enough. Part of me wishes we would have run into them, if only to enact my revenge. I want to see them pay for what they did to Hayliel. But even I know my emotions would only have clouded my judgment.

As I note the location in my report, I wonder if they’ll notify the Archangels of just how close demons are venturing into Silver City. Do they already know how aggressive they’ve become? Do they even care?

I sigh. Running a hand down my face, I do my best to push aside the questions and doubt. My window for grabbing those amulets is almost gone. The sooner I finish this damn report, the sooner I can snatch them and get out of here.

Ten minutes later, I’ve documented every detail and sent the report directly to Azrael’s slate for approval. I make busy tidying up my already spotless desk, wasting another eight minutes in case he has any comments or suggested changes. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t bother waiting around for him to approve it, but the extra precaution will help ease my mind. I don’t need anything getting in my way.

I’m about to give up when his reply comes in, thanking me for the detail and telling me to enjoy the rest of my day.

If he suspects anything from me, he certainly doesn’t show it.

The weapon and accessories locker is empty when I arrive. Luck must really be on my side today.

On silent feet, I head directly for the cabinet with the protection amulets. There they sit, lined up neatly just like they were before, but instead of grabbing them right away, I close my eyes and listen.

Someone is walking around, but they’re far away, and I can barely make out a voice, but it’s not close enough for me to worry. I should be in the clear.

The handle of the cabinet is cold, and it soothes my hot and sweaty palms. This needs to go down without a hitch. I don’t know what will happen to me if I’m caught, but my internship here is too valuable for me and my friends.

Friends. A bark of laughter threatens to escape, but I hold it back. If someone told me a year ago that I’d become actual friends with Pure angels, I’d have called them a liar. But now, even knowing Raphael and Theo’s wing color, I don’t think of them as Pures. They’re just angels. Friends. Ish. Friends-ish.

The happiness drains from my face when the cabinet door won’t open. I try again, pulling harder, but it doesn’t budge. What the fuck?

There’s a black rectangular scanner. Shit. These are locked. I must have missed it earlier when Azrael used his card. My own card hangs heavy against my hip, begging me to scan it and see if it will get me what I need. I pull it up and—

“If you’re hoping to take something from there, you’re going to need a lieutenant’s key card.”

I whirl around to find Lieutenant Atlas’s daughter leaning against the wall, watching. The girl who’s already seen far more than I’d have liked. How the hell did she get in here without me knowing, and why the fuck is she poking her nose where it doesn’t belong?

Ignoring her words, I change the subject and hope it’s enough to derail her. “I haven’t seen your father today, so no, I don’t know where he is.”

“That’s a pity. He could have helped you get into those cabinets.” She steps closer, looking entirely out of place in a loose-fitting black pantsuit with her wine-colored hair slicked back.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not—”

“Tell me what you need and maybe I can help.”

Ugh. This angel is really starting to get on my nerves. What the hell is she even doing here, snooping around when she’s not even a guild member? It’s not like she can get into the cabinets herself.

“Or,” she adds before I can respond, “you can keep silent and leave here empty-handed. The choice is yours, Ezekiel.”

The lump in my throat grows, but I swallow past it, anyway. I forgot she knew my name. What are the chances this same damn angel keeps finding me doing shit I shouldn’t be doing? Though I suppose she never ratted me out after our last run-in, so maybe I can at least trust her to keep her mouth shut. Besides, it’s not like I can get into the cabinets myself. Whatever I tell her is all just words.

I take a deep breath, unsure that I’m making the right decision. “I need six amulets and one of those pouches.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” She waltzes past me to the cabinet with the mysterious pouches. From her pocket she pulls out a keycard, swiping it against the scanner and grabbing one of the bags.

She tosses it to me without a second thought, and I rush to catch it. The way Azrael talked about this shit, I don’t trust what’s inside not to explode if it hits the ground.

When I’m certain I’ve got the thing secured, I ask, “Whose card is that?”

“Oh, this?” she waves it around, stalking toward the cabinets with the amulets. “It’s my dear old dad’s.”

I freeze. She’s using Lieutenant Atlas’s card? Dread settles in my gut at the same time that fear ignites in my veins. Does he know she has it? Will this lead back to him somehow? What the fuck had he been thinking to trust her, a non-guild member, in the first place? But even as the thoughts cross my mind, I know what I’d been thinking. There are angels counting on me to acquire these items, angels I care about. This whole friends thing is really messing with my head.

She turns, ignoring the look of horror on my face, and passes me the amulets. I’m putting them into my bag when I notice there aren’t six here, there’s seven. “You grabbed one too many.”

“No, I didn’t.” She takes the extra amulet from my grasp. “This one is for me. I gave you a pass last time I caught you creeping about where you shouldn’t be, but I hate being kept in the dark. This time I want in. Whatever you’re doing must be dangerous, or else you wouldn’t need this shit. And I just so happen to thrive in dangerous situations.”

“Fuck no,” I try, but she just keeps talking.

“When can I meet the lucky recipients of those amulets?”

I don’t answer, unsure what to say. How the fuck do I even end up in these awful situations? I could push back, but that has risks, and what we’re doing is far too important to fuck up. Telling her has its own risks, but she’s already kept one of my secrets. What’s one more? I just have to hope the others see it the same way.

She sighs loudly, clearly done with my indecisive ass. “Look, I might not want to threaten you, but I will. Let me—”

I throw my hands up in the air in defeat. “Archangels’ balls! Fine. If it’ll shut you up. We’re meeting on campus at SCU this weekend. I’ll let you know the details once they’re finalized.”

It almost feels like a betrayal. My friends and I have spent the better part of a week finding a secure place for us to meet, and we finally found one. We’re doing everything we can to ward and protect the secret location, and I’m about to put everything on the line to avoid an even greater risk. How has my life come to this?

I throw the bag, filled with stolen items, on my back and turn to leave before she realizes we haven’t exchanged numbers, but I don’t get very far.

She clucks her tongue. “A for effort, Ezekiel. Give me your slate.”

It was worth a shot.

Reluctantly I pass it to her, though she doesn’t seem to notice. She taps away before passing it back to me. Not only has she added her contact info under the name Mira, but she’s also messaged herself from my slate. Great.

She looks at her own slate, smiling when she sees the message from me. “Well, that settles things. You can trust me, dude, but if you try to keep me out of this, I’ll show up on campus and start running my mouth to anyone who will listen.”

The sad part is, I believe her. Who the fuck is this chick and why is she so obsessed with joining in on a plan she knows fuck all about?

Instead of asking her that, I head toward the door and say, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“See you this weekend, Ezekiel,” she calls after me, but I don’t respond.

The sky is beautiful when I make it outside the building and take off in flight. The sunset lights up the world in a kaleidoscope of red and orange that usually threatens to steal my breath. But I find no joy in the view tonight.

All I can think about is how the fuck I’m going to explain what I’ve just done to the others.