A shift in the air alerted Lore he wasn’t alone. A tall column of swirling silver appeared a distance away. Most seraphs didn’t take corporeal form, and Chamuel was no different.
“I sensed you were back,” his infinite voice drifted to Lore. “Is the job complete?”
“Not yet.”
“Mm-hmm.” In a shimmer, Chamuel became corporeal. A gentle breeze fluttered his long white robe. The lowest pair of his six wings swept the grass in a glimmer of white to silver, leaving behind a trail of iridescent dust as he joined Lore.
“What ails you, Loráed?”
Lore kept his thoughts clear. “Why is the information in the Watchers’ annals concealed?”
His endless blue stare briefly met Lore’s. “What is it that confuses you about the Watchers, Ditari?”
Using his Power title was one way to remind Lore of his rank and that Chamuel stood above all in the hierarchy. “Nothing confuses me. It’s simply not available.”
“We preserve our rules for a reason.” Chamuel dismissed Lore’s question with a flick of his fingers. “Information has and always will be accessible according to hierarchy.” He lifted his gaze to the sky as if he sought heavenly direction from the Father… Or maybe he wasn’t pleased that the Archeia had given Lore the key to the tome.
“Why did you not let the mortal fall?” Chamuel inquired, changing the subject. “It would have completed your mission. Isent Jehoel with the order.” With a wave of his hand, the clouds parted, revealing the empty courtyard of the abbey.
There was no sign of Nia, but Race stood on the mesa, on guard duty.
“While my usual targets are immortals and guilty, it’s an innocent you want terminated. Ahumanwho was unaware that she possessed a potent bloodline or that she could have the powers of Zarias.”
Chamuel’s expression didn’t change. “Your job is to complete the task, not question me, Loráed.”
“As the Power and Balance of our realm, my title allows me,” he said, equally quiet. “If she is psionic, then her powers can be bound, like the older female living with the Guardians.”
“Finish the job, Ditari,” Chamuel reiterated as he spread his wings. Power streamed over Lore like blades slicing through his skin. His teeth clenched as the decree settled within him.
Without a word, he shifted and reappeared back on the Apuseni Mountains in Romania, the order vibrating through him.
Kill the mortal.
“Not bad,” Race said from the bench under the forlorn tree, watching Nia practice as twilight approached. “Your form’s improving.”
She grunted, wielding a wooden weapon and working solo with the fight moves Race had shown her. After his scary display two nights ago, she’d been wary of training with him. Heck, she still was, but he seemed to have locked down the daunting side.
“Yeah,” she panted. “But this isn’t a real sword.”
He smirked. “It’s lighter and more manageable, and that’s what matters when you’re learning.”
Maybe.
But her mind wasn’t on the dry-witted, if somewhat scary Guardian, but on another, the one with wings like sunset, eyes resembling an algae-ridden pond iced over, and a darn pain in her backside. Even without him there, he still irked her.
He left two days ago, and there wasn’t any message, not even a peep from him.
She had to stop thinking about him. Heck, she doubted she’d even blipped on his radar as anything more than a nuisance.
She swiped her damp brow on her tee, grateful that the heat within had subsided a bit with her workout. So, was Race her protector now?
“Let’s try it one-on-one.” He rose, sweeping his silver, black-streaked hair into a knot and fastening it with an elastic he conjured. “I’ll even let you use a proper sword.”
“Yay, me,” Nia grumbled but darted to the two weapons he’d left against the abbey wall. Before she reached them, one vanished. Gah, stupid magical abilities! She grabbed the remaining sword and flew at him, blade arcing.
He easily blocked her swing, making her work for a strike. Ugh.
Her mind slipped off her lessons. She finally caved and asked, “Is he not coming back?”
