Angels Defying (Angels Rising Book 3)

by Harriet Carlton

  “Well, Roxy, Ryan, only the two medic spots left. How do you feel about them?”

  “That’s what I came here to do,” said Roxy with a grin. Imorean narrowed his eyes as Ryan smiled at Roxy. There was a looping relaxation in Ryan’s smile that he didn’t like.

  “Sure, Gabriel,” said Ryan, looking away from Roxy. “I’m down.”

  “Good. Fantastic. That’s everyone.”

  “Hold on. What do I need to do?” asked Imorean.

  “You’ll be working with Michael. That’ll be enough of a task. Now, everyone else. Your job will be taught and developed during your ‘Leadership Evolution.’ Medics, you’ll be teamed up with one of Raphael’s staff, or, if he’s here, Raphael himself. Navigators, you’ll be working under Haroel. Yes, we’re recalling Haroel from Gracepointe. Believe me, he’s thrilled about being relocated to this place. Who am I missing… oh! Weather trackers, you’ll get the opportunity to study under Uriel, which I’m sure will be interesting. He’s an exceptional teacher when he’s on form. Now, you should probably all start getting ready. Your schedules go into effect tomorrow. I wish you luck. You have my email address if you need me.”

  “You’re leaving?” asked Colton.

  “I have to. Raphael and I must strengthen the boundaries over Upper Morvine. Gracepointe has been deemed unsafe and all your former classmates are being moved to the Upper Morvine campus. I have a lot of business to attend to there now. Good luck.”

  Imorean watched after Gabriel as the Archangel walked out of the lobby and vanished down one of the hallways toward the hospital wing. As one group, Ryan, Dustin and Baxter left the lobby, heading for the cafeteria. Imorean looked back down at his schedule. It seemed as if he would be getting one-on-one training after all.

  “You okay?” asked Colton, sitting on the chair next to Imorean.

  “Yeah. I—I don’t know what happened back in the gym. I’m sorry. To everyone.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Mandy, sitting down on the corner of the coffee table. She rested a hand on his knee. “I know we all kind of overreacted as well. We’re sorry, too, Imorean.”

  Colton leaned forward. “You’re part Archangel. You have more power than all of us. We just need to get used to that.”

  Imorean smiled. “Call it even?”

  “Sure.”

  “Now you just need to convince Ryan you’re not going to kill him,” said Toddy, nudging Imorean.

  “Yeah, easier said than done,” chuckled Imorean. “What do you think, Roxy? ... Roxy?”

  Roxy turned as though pulled from a trance. “What?”

  Imorean smiled slightly, feeling more as though he was grimacing. “Never mind. It’s not really that important.”

  Roxy flashed a small smile back at him, and turned back around. Imorean followed her line of sight and breathed in sharply. She was staring in the direction Ryan, Dustin and Baxter had gone.

  Imorean yawned and pulled his sweatshirt tighter around himself. The gym was cold at this time in the morning. His feet felt even colder than usual. It had been some time since he had worn his sneakers. For the first time since his transformation, he wanted his boots. They would be warmer. He checked his watch. Seven-fifty. Roxy, Toddy, Colton and Mandy were already assembled. They all looked tired. Mandy rubbed her eyes. Above ground, it was still dark. It still felt like the middle of the night. Imorean knew he should have been used to it, but he wasn’t. He looked up as the gym doors opened again. Ryan led the way in, followed by Baxter and Dustin.

  “Where do you want us?” asked Baxter. Imorean looked at him in surprise. It must have been one of the first times Baxter had spoken to him directly since they had all been united at Felsenmeer. Despite the fact that Baxter’s best friend was Ryan, Imorean still felt a wary sense of liking to him.

  “With your team. Ryan, with Dustin and Toddy. Baxter, you should go get Colton and both of you join up with Roxy and Mandy.”

  “Roger that,” said Baxter, flashing a two-fingered salute. Imorean quirked a small smile. So far so good. He looked back up as the gym doors opened again. Michael had arrived. Imorean’s brows rose in surprise. Did Michael just not feel the cold? Unlike the students in their sweatshirts and sweatpants, Michael was only wearing shorts and a tee-shirt. Imorean caught sight of a whistle around Michael’s neck. Behind him were Haroel and Uriel. Imorean smiled at Haroel, glad to see his professor from Gracepointe again. The professor’s mousy hair seemed slightly grayer and his dark, tawny and white wings seemed to be drooping. His hazel eyes still held a permanently concerned look. Imorean looked over at Uriel. This was only the second time he’d seen the fourth Archangel in person. He had, however, seen Uriel quite often, though not under normal circumstances. The night Uriel had been captured by Vortigern’s forces, and for many nights after that, Imorean had seen him in dreams. His tan skin looked much paler than Imorean remembered it and the man’s dark brown eyes were troubled. He seemed edgy and anxious. Imorean didn’t blame him.

  “Nice to see you all bright and early,” said Michael. “I see most of you are wearing sweatshirts. Take them off.”

  Imorean’s good mood evaporated and his squad immediately clamored their complaints.

  “Michael!”

  “Come on!”

  “It’s freezing down here!”

  “Quiet!” shouted Michael, his voice echoing around the gym. “Imorean, I have done your job for you this time, but I will not do it again, do you understand? Ensure that your squad remains quiet and respectful when addressed by those higher up.”

  Imorean kept his sigh to himself. “Yes, sir.”

  “Your job is not just to be in a position of respect, it is also to be a disciplinarian. Do not claim only one part of your job and ignore the other. Understand?”

  Imorean’s cheeks burned. How was he supposed to know something he had not been told? All the same, he kept his voice even as he replied. “Understood.”

  “Good. Now, for this morning, we will be doing interval training. Split up, two groups of three, one group of two. You will work as groups on upper body exercises, abdominals and cardio. Respectively, you will be with me, Uriel and Haroel. Pick your groups and begin.”

  Imorean quickly teamed up with Toddy and Colton. Ryan, Baxter and Dustin formed another team, while Mandy and Roxy formed the third.

  “How sexist you all are,” chuckled Haroel as he walked into one corner of the gym.

  “You will travel between stations by running. Counterclockwise around the gym so no one runs into each other,” said Michael. “Ryan, your group with me first. Roxy, you and Mandy start at Haroel. Imorean, you and your group start with Uriel. On your mark. One. Two.”

  Michael’s whistle blew and Imorean raced on with Toddy and Colton toward Uriel.

  Imorean shook out his shoulders as he exited the gym. He was already sore. Doing sprints with Uriel had been easy. Sit-ups, planks and leg lifts with Haroel had been harder. Michael, though, had easily been the hardest worker. Tirelessly, he had performed the same exercises as the students. Pull-ups, push-ups and dips had only been part of the exercise.

  “Are you as sore as I am?” asked Colton, falling into step next to Imorean.

  “Yeah, I’d say so,” replied Imorean, shaking out a painful cramp in his arm.

  Toddy trotted up and slung an arm over Imorean’s shoulders. “Does Michael never get tired or what?”

  “Tod, you need a shower. You stink.”

  “You don’t exactly smell like a basket of roses yourself,” laughed Toddy.

  “So, what now?” asked Colton.

  Imorean pulled out his schedule. “I guess shower while we wait for breakfast. After that, class. According to this, we have geography and basic weather patterns with Uriel, then orienteering and demon studies with Haroel. Should be a wild time.”

  The two buildings surrounding Felsenmeer contained small classrooms. They were cold and cramped, the pale colors doing little to open up the spacing. Imorean pulled a notebook out of h
is bag and looked up as Uriel strutted into the classroom to join the students. Today, two of their classes were to be taught by Uriel, the other two by Haroel. The Archangel leaned on the large desk at the head of the classroom and locked eyes with Imorean. White wings twitched as Imorean flinched. There was something in Uriel’s dark eyes that made him feel very uneasy.

  “So, you’re the new Archangel my brothers were telling me about?” asked Uriel. Imorean ignored the disgusted look Ryan sent his way.

  “I am.” Imorean swallowed. His mouth had gone suddenly dry.

  Uriel grinned and Imorean noticed how long the Archangel’s teeth looked. “You seem pretty average to me. In my classroom, you’ll be treated the same way as all the other students.”

  Imorean shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting special treatment–”

  “And he thinks he can interrupt me in my own classroom! You’ve got some nerve, boy.”

  Imorean gaped at him. No teacher had ever taking such a strong dislike to him before.

  “Shocked to silence?” asked Uriel. “Good. Stay that way. I plan on treating you the same as all the others, regardless of any gifts, history or abilities.”

  Imorean’s very nerve quailed. His heart seemed to grow smaller in his chest. He had heard that combination of words during the winter. Vortigern himself had said them to him. Coincidence, coincidence, coincidence. It had to be coincidence. The tiny, cold smile on Uriel’s face screamed otherwise, though.

  “Now, the geography of Earth itself is vital to our movements,” said Uriel, turning to the blackboard at the front of the classroom. Once that darkened gaze lifted, Imorean quietly excused himself to the restroom. He felt sick.

  Chapter 12

  Their first teambuilding class had been hosted by Haroel and had been a lesson in silent exercises. Lining up by age without using words and communicating an idea without making a sound. Imorean had liked it. It had been entertaining enough, but it was the leadership training he had been the most interested in. He was to meet Michael in the gym at five o’clock. He took a deep breath, and pushed open the heavy gym door for the second time that day.

  “Ah, Imorean,” said the Archangel, looking up. He stood tall and still imposing in the center of the empty gym. Imorean frowned at him for a moment. Most people would be relaxing by this time in the evening, but Michael was dressed in combat gear. Not a thread out of place. Imorean paused. He wasn’t entirely sure if Michael ever did relax.

  “I don’t know why you like this place so much,” said Imorean. “It’s too cold down here.”

  “Cold keeps one alert,” replied Michael.

  “Yeah, maybe you.”

  “I did not ask for disrespect, Imorean.”

  “So, what are we doing?” Imorean rubbed his arms and stamped his feet, the chilly air biting through his clothes.

  “Developing you as an Archangel. You are different from the others. You operate on a different level than they do.”

  “Let me guess. It’s going to be harder to be an Archangel than being a regular angel?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Come on. Does my life ever get any easier?”

  The side of Michael’s mouth twitched slightly. “There is a higher level of power ascribed to an Archangel. You had a taste of that when you went up against Ryan the other day.”

  “You know about that?”

  “Have you truly forgotten that our minds are linked?”

  “Been trying to.”

  “Well, stop trying to forget it. It may come in useful one day. As I was saying, you have already found in yourself a fragment of an Archangel’s power. Uncovered a corner, if you will. From now on, I will teach you how to tap into that power, but I will also teach you control. Both parts are essential to our sense of equilibrium in this world.”

  “Well then, let’s get going. You know I want to learn this stuff.”

  “I know. We are going to try something that involves both fighting and tapping into your powers as an Archangel.”

  Imorean watched as two wooden swords appeared in Michael’s hands, materializing from thin air.

  “We’re going to hit each other with wooden swords? I’m not seven years old.”

  “This is a training exercise and it is one your other classmates will eventually have as well. The five main senses of an Archangel: sight, hearing, smell, touch and taste are heightened beyond those of a normal angel’s and far more sensitive than an average human’s. We, however, have another thing that normal angels do not. We have extra senses. One of these is our sense of space. The other is the knowledge of movements of those around us. For example, when you flew with your wings for the first time in the simulator at Gracepointe, you realized that the space was really too small for you, thus sparking a fear reaction.”

  “Yeah, you yelled at me for that.”

  Michael plunged onward. “As for the knowledge of movements. It is almost a precognitive sense. We can often feel what an opponent or ally is going to do moments before they do it. Naturally, we sometimes make mistakes and you will make more than I do, but the sense is in you by nature nonetheless.”

  “Okay… so…?”

  “I would like to see how adept you are at tapping into your own extra senses. It will help me find a baseline of where I am to start with your training.”

  “By hitting me with a wooden sword?”

  “No.” Michael offered Imorean one of the small swords by the handle. “You are going to hit me with a wooden sword. Use your senses to see if you can figure out what I am going to do to defend myself. View me as an opponent. Watch me. Predict me. Understand me.”

  Imorean took the imitation weapon. He scowled. It was light as a toothpick in his hands. Too light. He didn’t like it. Whap! The flat of Michael’s wooden sword landed hard on his upper arm.

  “You said you weren’t going to hit me!”

  “Lesson number one, Imorean. Never trust your enemy. Now focus. Pay attention.”

  Imorean shook his head and locked eyes on Michael. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of another one of the Archangel’s reprimands.

  “I did not know you were left-handed,” said Michael, sweeping his sword slowly through the air from the right. Imorean immediately pulled up his own to block the attack.

  “You’ve known me for how long?”

  There was a dull clack as wood snapped against wood. “Several months.”

  “And in all that time you’ve never seen me hold a pen?” asked Imorean, shoving Michael’s sword away.

  “Apparently not. How was class?”

  “What?”

  “Be able to think on several different tracks at the same time,” said Michael, raising his sword.

  “Went fine,” replied Imorean, raising his sword up to block Michael’s imminent attack. The dull point of the Archangel’s sword jabbed straight into his stomach instead.

  “Jeez. These things actually hurt,” muttered Imorean, rubbing his stomach.

  “A real sword will hurt far more.” Michael rested his weapon’s point on the floor. “Active thinking is different to passive thinking. As you just found out, the addressing of your left-handedness was less distracting than the open-ended question of how your day went. There are many things that go into a swordfight. Being prepared to think actively is one of them. Again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remember two things. One, think actively. Two, try to read me.”

  Imorean took a frustrated breath and raised his sword, brown eyes fixed on Michael. He frowned in concentration as he and the Archangel shuffled sideways around each other.

  “Always watch four places. My feet, my hands, my wings and my eyes. The eyes will betray a movement long before anything else.”

  “Okay,” nodded Imorean, setting his mouth in concentration.

  There was a tiny shift to the left in Michael’s eyes and body weight. A blur of green as he leaped to one side. Imorean moved with him, earning a small smile from the Archangel.


  “Very nice. Now, lock eyes with me. Keep everything in your peripherals, but I want you to watch my eyes. Stare a hole in my head.”

  Imorean nodded and glared into Michael’s eyes. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  With a small smile on his face, Michael advanced. Imorean backed away just as fast as the commander moved, his feet moving of their own accord. Michael’s sword was lowered for an attack from beneath. Imorean blocked it just before Michael could move. Again, there was a tiny smile offered as praise. Imorean spun and raised his sword to block a second attack from overhead. The gym started to fade away and Imorean focused only on Michael. A stray thought cut through his mind.

  ‘As though this is real.’

  Imorean hesitated for a second and his focus slipped. Crack! Michael’s wooden sword caught him on the side of the head and Imorean saw stars. He stumbled for a few feet and shook his head, trying to clear his vision. He stood upright and his blood rushed to his head. The last thing he saw before the world went black was Michael’s concerned face.

  With a gasp, Imorean shook himself. For a moment, he was disoriented. The gym. Michael. The floor. Everything made sense after a few seconds and Imorean rolled onto his side.

  “Are you all right?” asked Michael, immediately appearing at his side. “I did not mean to hit you that hard.”

  “You can pack a punch, that’s for sure,” said Imorean, lying still for a moment, catching his breath. He rubbed his temples, clearing the lingering dizziness.

  “I apologize,” said Michael, offering a hand to help him up. Slowly, Imorean sat up, picking up his sword as he did so. He gathered himself, grabbing hold of Michael’s wrist as hard as he could. He caught sight of surprise in the Archangel’s eyes as he launched to his feet. Michael stumbled half a pace and Imorean grinned in pride. He brought up his own wooden sword and pressed the dull tip against Michael’s chest.