by Emery Skye
Thoughts of Amalie kept invading my mind, but right now, enduring the bitter cold or dreading my punishment was a better choice. I tried to clear my mind for training.
Hmm... Sparring with the Warrior who'd already embarrassed me. Couldn't wait for the fun.
I opened the door to the gym. I was surprised to see that the door was loose on its hinges. I missed it last night or maybe not. I didn't exactly remember.
I stretched first. Stretching always felt so good. I did a few leg and arm stretches. For some reason, I had a feeling that this was as good as it was going to get.
I sat on the floor in the Indian position. Someone snuck up behind me and yanked me to my feet.
I tried to hit whoever it was, but Nathan stopped my arm. Great. First lesson. First failure.
“Noviate Hasdiel,” he almost dislocated my shoulder. “Always be alert, stay relaxed, but be fluid, like water.”
Bruce Lee? Sure.
“Uh-hum,” I muttered in response and flexed my muscles. I did a little neck exercise and then rolled my shoulders. That’s when I smelled it; a sweet, hazelnut aroma. Nathan had coffee. Hazelnut coffee. Good coffee. “Where is it?” I snapped.
His eyebrows rounded like the exterior of a circle.
“Where’s what?” he feigned ignorance.
“The coffee, I know you have it.” I began searching him, lifting his arms. I totally forgot my place for a moment and rebounded the second I realized, I’d just lifted his arm up. The warmth of his skin still warmed my fingers.
“Ah. Of course. Coffee. You don’t get coffee, Noviate. You’re training,” he said earnestly. I thought I saw a hint of smugness. I gritted my teeth.
Then, I saw it. Using simple slight-of-hand, he produced a stainless steel to-go cup from thin air. Like a crazed addict, I jumped for the cup. He used my own momentum to throw me, neatly and far too easily, over his hip. I landed on my tailbone.
The pain had me blinking back tears and swallowing nausea.
I love training.... I love training... I chanted silently.
“Come on, share,” I said, watching Nathan antagonize me by sipping and slurping the coffee. I couldn't tell if he was doing it, or if it was me, but I saw and heard the enviable moment in slow motion.
He shook his head, smirking.
"No."
Tool.
I stood up but studied the toes of my sneakers, resisting the urge to pout and wondering if it would work on him.
“Run,” he said.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked flippantly.
“I said, run. Cardio. C.A.R.D.I.O. You need to be faster.”
“Excuse me? First, I know that running is cardio. Second, I know how to spell cardio. Third, I'm plenty fast.”
His jaw ticked. He sipped slowly. There was definitely no room for argument. I felt myself sag, defeated.
I smiled sarcastically and headed for the first of two track lanes painted around the perimeter of the gym.
“Where are you going?” He called after me.
“Running,’’ I mocked.
“Outside.”
“I'm not running outside. I hate, repeat hate the cold.”
He suddenly stood in front of me. The coffee no longer in his hand. His arms were crossed. His eyes were harder than steel and colder than ice.
"You will run. Outside." I wondered if he could intimidate the Powers with that tone.
“Please, tell me you're kidding.” I begged, not liking the whine I heard in my own ears.
He shook his beautiful head—a head I suddenly hated all over again and for new and better reasons.
I stomped outside, trudging through the snow. My pants froze, so my legs were cold, but dry. I was already rethinking, and regretting, the holey sweatpants. Next time I planned to go with long underwear, like three pairs.
He was in front of me again. His feet were wide apart, like a warrior at parade rest, but his arms still crossed. I could see his wings. The feathers matched his eyes and his hair in an alternating pattern that made me think of camo. He glowed from the inside, like he'd eaten a piece of the sun. Heat radiated from him.
"You will run as hard as you can, as fast as you can, for as long as you can. You will not stop, no matter how tired you are, until I give you permission. Begin."
* * *
I'd been running forever. My feet were numb. My fingers were blistered. Deror had been gone for so long I was sure he'd forgotten about me. He was probably still drinking that divine coffee. Hell, he probably just finished his fourth pot! The thought of coffee made me want to salivate. But I couldn't. I'd made the mistake of breathing through a wet mouth, and it froze. I wanted the coffee, not for the caffeine, but because my every internal organ screamed for warmth.
I crossed the start/finish line again; I'd stopped counting at lap twenty. I felt like I'd hit that mark at least an hour ago.
"Halfway point." I heard him say.
I stumbled, but kept my feet. Barely. I looked around but didn’t spot him.
"I don't know how far I've run!" I said under my breath. The thought had more words to it, but I couldn't say them. I could, but if I did, I might have to run forever. My throat was hoarse, and my lips chapped and stung.
"I do. Keep going. Push yourself,” he answered.
I kept on, going slower than before, but still going as hard and as fast as I could. Considering. My legs were numb, but my feet were full of white-hot needles now.
At the starting point again. My arms flailed uselessly at my sides.
“Anna, come back to the gym.” He stood by the open door. I couldn't see his wings.
Now he calls me by my first name. How sweet. Probably hoping to appeal to my softer side since I really wanted to kill him.
I started to slow down.
“No one said you could stop.”
“Yes, Colonel Carnage.”
“What did you say?” he yelled as I passed him.
“Nothing, Colonel Carnage.”
For a second, I thought I heard him laugh, but it must have been the wind. Deror didn’t strike me as the laughing type.
I ran more laps, but in a warm gym. My heart still beat violently in my chest and my once freezing skin was now on fire.
When Deror finally had me walk it out, I could almost feel my legs, but I wanted to cut off my feet.
“Please, come here.”
Like politeness would make this any better. I glared as I closed the distance between us. He motioned for me to stop. I did. The legite began to walk around me slowly, almost leisurely. I felt like a mouse trapped by a snake.
Be aware, his voice echoed in my mind.
Before I knew why, I slid to the right and did a ninety degree turn in time to see Nathan’s foot punch out the area were my back had just been.
It took me a second to realize I'd done something right. For once. The slight upward tip of his lips gave it away. I relished in the success for a second.
It was a second too long. He shoved me. I flew backward. There wasn’t an in-between with him. He was totally bipolar. One second smiling, the next shoving. Can you say, frustrating?
Once on my butt, I decided to stay there.
“What are you doing?” He was confused and annoyed.
“I appreciate the ass-kicking and all, but really, it’s... time to go.”
“Get up,” he growled.
He didn’t offer a hand up or any assistance whatsoever. I stared at him. I finally noticed the sweat on his face. There wasn’t much, but it was enough. I wondered if he had been working out while I was running. Sweet baby Jesus! He looked good sweaty. I got up, hesitantly.
I started to pull my hoodie off over my head and Nathan kicked me in the butt. I landed on my knees with a loud grunt.
“What was that for?” I shouted at him, still pulling my hoodie over my head.
“Get up,” he growled at me.
“Time out! Time out!”
“Time out? What is that?”
He
raised an eyebrow at me and took his normal stance: feet wide, arms crossed, biceps bulging. I imagined those massive arms wrapped around me.
“It means, primordial Legionnaire, that I want to rest and put my hoodie on the bench.”
He looked down at the ground and half turned away.
Finally, I thought, he is getting it. Hallelujah! I turned toward the bench. But, wait, did he really get it? Was he just waiting to torture me? I backed to the bench instead. He flashed me that brief, elusive, rewarding smile.
It made my heart skip a beat.
Then he ruined it. Deror executed a sidekick so fast that I almost missed. I managed to block it perfectly. There wasn't time to enjoy my success. He threw a jab that I also blocked. He paused, ready, but assessing me. I stayed in the defensive stance. After a moment, he turned his back to me.
“You are dismissed for now. You will meet me here immediately after your last class of the day. Your lesson is complete for this morning.” His voice sounded more husky than usual.
“And tomorrow is Saturday,” I said in a sing-song voice.
“What exactly does that mean,” he smirked.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I was definitely whining now.
The smirk widened to a full-blown grin with pearly white teeth. He wasn’t kidding. I was training tomorrow.
* * *
The bell reverberated between my ears. The light stung my eyes. The chit-chat rattled my brain. I couldn't concentrate in class. I stared at Alyosha all day, wishing looks could kill. I hoped he could feel my hatred. Because of him, I wasn’t allowed to socialize with my baby sister. He avoided my gaze for the most part. However, when I did catch him, he would look at me guiltily.
“Anna, what do you think?” Dr. Cloves asked jerking me away from my murderous thoughts.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I replied and leaned forward in my seat.
Throughout the day, my teachers seemed frustrated by my inattention. Some scolded me; others shook their heads despairingly. I went from class to class mechanically.
By lunch, I had no idea who I would eat with. I saw Amalie sitting at a table with a few other girls. She was just fine. Of course. She was a social butterfly at heart. Other people I saw were Taylor, Maion, and Hans. I imagined some interesting scenes that included Hans getting hurt in various ways. One was a pretty close remake of a video Dr. Azrael showed in class of a stallion getting castrated. It involved a little instrument with a broad surface and a sharp edge. I believe it was called an emasculator that crushed the blood supply in the spermatic cord and then severed vessels and tissue alike.
I chose not to provoke myself by being around Hans and give him the chance to say something that would get him hurt. I left the cafeteria without eating.
I wandered aimlessly through the halls. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew I couldn’t go back. I would have gone to my room, but Legites blocking the dorm entrances killed that idea. I decided to go see Sox. My friend always made me feel better.
“Anna.”
I turned around to see Legite Lucas Cassian leaning against a wall, peeling an apple with a very shiny, very sharp knife. Strange. I didn’t notice him before. What an uncomfortably stealthy guy.
“Yes?” I drew the word out, not even attempting polite small-talk. He almost crushed my hand and, in my opinion, gave Legites everywhere a bad name.
“I just saw your little sister walking away about three minutes ago with that boy.” He sandwiched a slice of apple with his thumb and the knife before bringing it up to his lips and putting it in his mouth. He made it look dirty.
I didn’t know why he had been watching Amalie or why he told me about it. It was probably nothing. The jolt of paranoia came back. Something didn’t sit right with Lucas Cassian.
“Where?”
He moved toward me, swiftly. Something about the way he moved made my temples throb. He moved like a Warrior, but a little too relaxed. Seriously I’m paranoid. I thought I might I need a shrink. He stopped just beyond arms reach and looked me up and down. I could feel his eyes sliding over me. Almost as if he was touching me. I felt violated.
“Well?” I asked gruffly, trying to mask my vulnerability.
“They went toward the Wnelelcruolel.”
Geez, was that a word? I could barely pronounce it, but I knew where he meant.
“Thanks,” I backed away. Once I was around the corner and out of Lucas’s line of sight, I ran to the Wnelelcruolel, suddenly grateful for the run that had almost killed me.
* * *
Dr. Cloves, traditionalist that she was, demanded we know the original Celestial tongue. Wnelelcruolel meant “blessed greenhouse.”
Amalie knew the Wnelelcruolel was off limits to students. We all did. The penalty for violating that space was Crucifixion. This kind of stupid had to be some kind of sickness, or oppression, or possession, even. No, it was Alyosha. Had to be. Even if he wasn't himself, his Crucifixion, I wouldn't mind.
Once behind Gabriel's Citadel, there were seven thousand steps, like the temples in China. Except, unlike in the movies, these were very real, very steep, and if I skipped a step, I was stuck there until somebody else stepped on it. Angel voo-doo.
I was sure Amalie wouldn't climb these steps unless forced, which made me certain Alyosha was the real villain.
The more I thought about him, the more I hoped I'd be the one to nail him up. Maybe they'd let me drive an extra nail through his throat.
Bloodlust made me nimble and sure-footed. Having run up the mountain, I only had to walk down six hundred ninety-nine steps to the entrance of the Wnelelcruolel. I paused to admire the view.
At this height, which was higher than where snowfall originated, I saw greens blues, purples, and yellows. There was no snow up here in the sky, and everything felt warmer because of the closer proximity to the sun. Not only that, but I had learned there was a Divine dispensation prohibiting winter.
Even though I had never seen it, I was sure this was the Heavenly blueprint for Eden on earth. These flowers were sentient and spirited. I could hear them whisper words of encouragement to one another and to me. At first, I was freaked out by whispering flowers—they were weird—but it got normal really fast.
A large tree, with the trunk the size of two normal trees and its branches hanging overhead, created a canopy as they swooped downward and the leaves fanned out all around me. Slowly, a branch with a dozen or so blooms bent toward me. A fat heavy drop of water splashed my chin, and I opened my mouth. The water moved as if it were alive, actively seeking the most needful places of my parched throat. The water here wasn't just clean and pure. It was perfect. Holy. I felt invigorated. Restored. Renewed. Almost Resurrected.
One step at a time, I walked down to the crystal edifice. The crystal sheets were held together with vines.
Giant leaves acted as the doors. Leaves that, if threatened, would easily wrap around the threat, suffocating him, her, or it until death. I trembled fearfully as I imagined dying that way.
I appreciated the plants here. They commanded, and received, respect. It was always sad, leaving the dispensation and seeing humans desecrate God's creation—creation that yielded to, provided for, and suffered humans.
I passed a large, unfamiliar, yellow flower and heard faint giggles close by. Giggles I recognized. Amalie’s giggles. I took a deep breath.
Please, give me strength to not kill her. Please give me strength to not kill her.
I continued walking, trying to emulate Deror’s stealth, toward the giggles.
A vine acted as a rope connecting the hinges to the thick stem of a leaf so that there was a little opening into Dr. Cloves’ office. That poor leaf, I thought. My next thought was: How the hell did they get into Dr. Cloves office? I briefly thought about leaving my sister to her own fate.
If Lucas saw them come here then someone else could have too. That someone could be reporting all of us right now. My probation officer would love that.
“I'm sorry. I’ll be quick,” I told the leaf and bowed my head while rushing into the forbidden office.
I would never forget this.
Directly in front of me, Amalie sat in an antique chair. Alyosha sat on the floor in front of her. She was staring down at the floor in front of him.
Alyosha sat smack-dab in the middle of a pool of files. Files that had been stolen from Dr. Cloves. My blood boiled at the scene.
“What are you doing?” My voice sounded so cold it scared me, but it petrified Amalie. She whipped the chair around so fast that it hit two jars of herbs off of Cloves’ nightmare of a desk. The jars crashed to the floor and shattered. Alyosha tried to jump up, but I moved faster: compliments of Deror's one-on-one training. My hand was around his neck, and for just a second, I imagined squeezing until his head popped off. But that would be bad. Very bad. Wouldn’t it? Yes.
Alyosha froze. I had surprised him. I was pissed, and if he fought, he would lose. As I looked into his eyes, I heard nothing but our combined breathing and heartbeats.
I suddenly saw something interesting: his fear. He was a little boy locked in a cave, screaming for help. I stopped trying to throttle him. Had I just seen his fear, or had I felt his fear as if it were my own. What the hell was that? It felt like the same thing that happened with the Patron last night.
Amalie pounced on me.
“Stop!” she screamed. "Stop!"
I came back to the equally horrific scene in Dr. Cloves’ office. Amalie shook head vehemently, insanely. Her hair whipped around. I let go of Alyosha who fell to the floor gasping for breath.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“What am I doing here?” she repeated. “Are you serious?”
"Sorry, we got lost. It's not what it looks like." Anything. Nope, Amalie asked the dumbest question possible. “I mean, you’re not supposed to be around me.”
That made me look at her—really look at her. She was a mess. She had dark circles of exhaustion around her eyes.
“You're not supposed to be breaking into Dr. Cloves’ office and reading files,” I snapped.
“We weren’t.”