90
"You're cheating, Dani!" Seraphina pouts, her usually sweet voice tinged with exasperation.
I laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were playing by heavenly Little League rules. Should I ask the umpire for a ruling?"
We've been training since the ass-crack of dawn, on and off all day in Lucian's gym, our own little celestial dojo. It's our last session for the evening, before we call it a night.
Seraphina's been giving me the lowdown on the different angelic bloodlines. Apparently, I'm some sort of celestial mutt—part Warrior (thanks, Dad), with my fire, and part Time-Wielders. According to Seraphina, Time-Wielders can bend time, see the future, and control aging.
It's like being a superhero with multiple personality disorder.
On the other hand, Seraphina is from the Guardian line, which means she has mad skills in light manipulation, healing, and combat.
She also mentioned other freaky angel bloodlines, like astral projection and fear induction, because nothing screams "divine" like an out-of-body experience and the power to make people piss themselves.
"Dani, this is combat training, not time manipulation practice," Seraphina huffs, her halo practically steaming.
I snicker. "What, afraid you can't keep up with my mad skills? Don't worry, I'll put on some training wheels for you next time."
"Oh please," Seraphina scoffs, "I've been kicking butt since before your great-great-grandparents were in diapers."
"Yeah, yeah, you're practically a celestial fossil." Seraphina gives me a look that says she will kick my ass for calling her old.
Seraphina's glow-up? She's gone from heavenly wallflower to sassy queen bee in record time. After a few weeks of binge-watching trashy reality shows and hanging with us bad influences, she's a whole new angel.
And don't even get me started on the Lucian effect. That man is like the kinky Yoda to her horny Luke Skywalker. He's teaching her things that would make a nun blush. I'm pretty sure I saw her giving him a run for his money in the innuendo department the other day.
But the best part? Seeing her make herself at home here, like she's always been part of our little misfit family. She's claimed her spot on the couch, her favorite mug in the kitchen, and a special place in all our hearts. Watching her blossom and come into her own has been a highlight of this whole supernatural shitshow.
"Okay, okay," I concede, holding up my hands in mock surrender. "I'll try to keep the temporal trickery to a minimum. But if I accidentally pause mid-kick and face-plant, you'd better not laugh."
Seraphina's smile softens, her annoyance melting away. "Oh, Dani, you know I'd never laugh at you... for longer than five minutes, anyway."
"Gee, thanks," I snort, rolling my eyes. "You're a true friend, Sera." I grin, my light magic firing up in my hands. "Now, shall we continue this dance, or do you need a time-out, Granny?"
I'm in the middle of perfecting my angelic roundhouse kick when my phone starts belting out "Highway to Hell"—Damon's ringtone, naturally. I jog over to my stuff and pick up my phone while I towel off my sweat.
My little brother is supposed to grace us with his presence today, and I'm bouncing between excitement and nervousness like a ping-pong ball. Ten bucks says he's calling because he got lost and needs GPS coordinates to find his nose.
"I'm gonna take a shower," Seraphina calls out. "We'll resume our'fair'fight tomorrow, you temporal terror."
"Aw, don't be bitter, sweetie," I holler as the door shuts behind her. "Just remember, if you can't stand the heat, stay out of the angel's kitchen!"
I press the green button on my phone, fully prepared for brotherly chaos. "Hey, little demon," I drawl. "Let me guess, you took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and ended up in Narnia?"
Honestly, with Damon, I wouldn't even be surprised if he somehow stumbled into a magical wardrobe.
"Well, hello there, little firefly. Miss me?" The voice that slithers through the phone is like ice water down my spine, dark with malice and evil promises.
Azrael.
My fingers go numb, the phone nearly slipping from my suddenly clammy grip. My heart hammers against my ribcage like it's trying to escape, and I can taste copper on my tongue. The gym around me fades away, replaced by a suffocating darkness threatening to swallow me whole.
"Tsk, tsk, Dani dearest," he purrs, each syllable a venomous caress. "It seems we find ourselves in quite the predicament. I have a shiny new toy, and you... well, you have something I've been positively dying to get my hands on. How about we make a deal, hmm? A little quid pro quo between old friends?"
My breath comes in short, sharp gasps. The room spins, and I brace myself against the wall to avoid collapsing. Bile rises in my throat as images of what Azrael will do to Damon—flash through my mind like a horrific slideshow.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, stealing the air from my lungs. The last piece of the soul stone—that's what Azrael's after. It's the only thing that makes sense.
