by Erin Cain
Grace leaned forward, her fingers brushing the sleeve of his shirt. He looked over, startled for a second. Then Grace got purchase on his sleeve and pulled him close, the air currents lifting beneath her wings. She wrapped her arms around him, his body solid and strong in her arms.
He smelled of musk and cologne and, somehow, it was completely different from Vance. The heat of his skin, the strong, solid build of his body. His hair brushed against her face. Time seemed to stop for a moment, suspended, as she snatched him right out of the air.
And then, as suddenly as the fall happened, it was over, the wind catching her wings, lifting them both upwards, soaring for a moment, weightless and free.
Then they hit the ground. The landing was rough, and Grace stumbled as her feet hit the ground, Dylan’s weight making their decent faster than she’d expected – harder, too. But they were safe.
As she landed, she let go of Dylan, who caught himself in a roll. Grace collapsed onto the grass, gasping for breath as she sank back. Their bags sat on the other end of the field.
Breathing heavily, Grace took stock of the aches and pains moving through her body. Nothing serious.
She glanced up and Dylan was staring at her like he’d never seen her before. He was pale, all the blood having drained from his face during the fall. He was staring at Grace with a mixture of uncertainty, admiration, and anger.
Grace swallowed. The moment between them slowed to nothing, time seeming to stop for just a second.
Then she spoke.
“Dylan, are you okay?” she said, her voice nothing more than a whisper.
And just like that, the spell was broken. Dylan pushed himself up quickly, dusting off his jeans.
“Of course I am. You didn’t have to grab me like that!” His words were sharp and defensive and, for a moment, Grace couldn’t understand why he was angry.
“What?” she answered, jumping up too. “What do you mean? You were falling! Sorry I didn’t grab you gently!”
Dylan’s face colored, the blood rushing back and he shook his head. “You didn’t have to save me. I didn’t need saving. Not by you of all people!” The fury was rising in his voice.
Standing there, looking at Dylan, Grace could see his fury for what it really was. Embarrassment. He was embarrassed that he’d fallen in the first place. He was embarrassed that he’d let things slip like that, that he had lost control of himself and his wings, and that it had almost cost him dearly.
Worst of all, he’d been saved by someone that he thought less of, someone that he looked down on, someone that he hated. And now he had to confront that. As a result, he was furious at Grace.
Startled and settled all at once, by her realization, Grace stared him down. “You were going to hit the ground,” she answered slowly, her voice measured. “What did you want me to do? Let you fall?”
Her words were calm, and they only seemed to fuel Dylan further. “I just said that I didn’t need your help in the first place!” His voice was rising in volume. “Why would I need a Nephilim help?”
He sneered, but the word no longer felt like a slur, even when coming from Dylan.
If she was a Nephilim, she had proved herself to be a strong one. Even Dina had alluded to that, right?
“So, I’m a Nephilim,” she said, still staring straight at Dylan. “That didn’t stop me manifesting my wings.”
Dylan swallowed and she could see the tension rising in him. Grace felt odd, calm and angry all at the same time. She felt outside of this argument, and at the same time, she wanted to yell at Dylan for being so closed-minded, for being so ungrateful, especially when she had just saved his life.
She deserved at least a thank you but she knew that she wasn’t going to get it, not with Dylan, not with his stubbornness and pride.
“Yeah, well, that was just luck. You couldn’t do it in class,” he answered quickly.
“Neither could you, Dylan,” she countered, feeling sharp anger surge through her, breaking the detached feeling. “Clearly that has nothing to do with me being a Nephilim, unless you have something to tell me about your heritage?”
She wished she could stay as calm as Vance, when Dylan confronted him, but she didn’t have the practice or the patience. The anger rose up inside her regardless and part of her hated that Dylan was still able to get a rise out of her.
“How dare you?” he snapped. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Grace shrugged. “Sure, but Vance knows your laws and customs, and he doesn’t seem to hate me all that much. I think this is a problem with you, not the other angels,” she answered, taking a deep breath. “You’re just angry that a Nephilim saved you.”
She straightened up even as he took a step forward. “You think I’m less than you. But I saved you,” she said clearly. “And what does that say about you, Dylan?”
He looked like he could hit her, but kept his hands to himself, glaring daggers at her instead, the tension rippling through him. She had no doubt that if she was a guy, they would have come to blows already. At least he had some restraint.
“I’m angry that a Nephilim doesn’t know her place. And can’t leave well enough alone! I didn’t need your help!” he said, his voice cracking for a second.
“Yeah, sure you didn’t! Just like you didn’t need my help at the first trial!” Grace couldn’t hold it back anymore. “What could you have done against the fallen one, exactly? You couldn’t even get through the barrier to help Vance.”
Hurt flashed across Dylan’s face, but she didn’t feel guilty. She hadn’t asked for this fight, she hadn’t asked for Dylan’s anger. She hadn’t done anything to deserve it, so she felt justified speaking the truth, even if it hurt him.
“I helped Vance. I proved myself to him, and to everyone else.” She took a deep breath. “Let go of your archaic prejudice for two minutes and you’ll see that I’m not that bad. I can be an asset, if you just work with me, instead of against me. Vance sees it, why can’t you?!”
Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted Dylan’s acceptance until she’d said it out loud.
Emotion flashed across Dylan’s face, uncertainty and hurt, before he shook his head, anger coming up again, a mask as effective as Vance’s cool façade.
“Whatever,” he muttered.
Before Grace could say anything else, he spun on his heels and stormed off across the field. Grace watched him grab his bag, staring at his back as he left.
She didn’t know where he was going. The tension in his shoulders had been replaced with a slump. He seemed more exhausted, more defeated, than when he’d arrived at class.
He wasn’t coping.
And for a second, just a split second, Grace wondered if maybe she had gone a little bit too far.
Chapter 4
“You’re not focused,” Vance’s words cut through the fog of her mind. A second later and she was flat on her back, a wooden sword at her throat and no idea how it had happened.
Vance was looking down at her with an expression of concern. “Any reason you’re so unfocused, Grace?” His tone was chiding and worried all at the same time. Part concerned boyfriend, part frustrated teacher.
He lowered the sword and offered her his hand. Grace grabbed it and pulled herself back to her feet, stretching out the kinks in her aching back.
“Thanks for pulling punches on your girlfriend, Vance,” she chided back. Internally, she felt a thrill at saying it out loud like this, felt a thrill at how official everything was between them now. It took her back to their first kiss, right here in the gym.
“I’ll never pull my punches on you, Grace.” Vance regarded her with a serious expression. “If you’re not ready for a fight, you’ll get hurt and I can’t have that happen.”
Grace felt a flutter inside her at his intense eyes, the way he looked at her, the way he cared. It seemed counter-intuitive at first, but he obviously cared about her on more than just a superficial level and it
thrilled Grace to think about it.
“So, what’s bothering you?” he asked, raising his sword again.
Grace leaped forward, clashing blades with a sharp thud. He deflected and she jumped out of the way.
“Flight training… didn’t go so well,” she said, twisting to avoid another blow and moving in with a low strike. Vance dodged easily, deflecting with an elegance that Grace could only hope to achieve.
“Did you have trouble manifesting?” he asked as they ran through some basic parries.
“No… Well, yes, at first. But I managed,” Grace said. Vance managed to disarm her and she walked over to pick up her sword. She sighed and looked at Vance seriously. “It was Dylan.”
“Dylan?” She could see the tension spring up inside him, clear in the tightness of his jaw. “Did he say something to you?”
“Yes. Well, eventually.” Grace sighed, and Vance gently took her by the arm, guiding her to the edge of the gym where the water bottles were. He handed her one, grabbing his own.
Grace sat down and Vance joined her.
“He was having trouble manifesting,” she said.
Vance looked surprised. “Dylan? But flying is his strongest skill.” He hummed in thought. “He was an early manifester.”
“Yeah, well… he seemed… stressed. Unfocused, maybe? I don’t know. Anyway, I stayed after class to try and manifest my wings, and Dylan did too.” Grace sighed and shook her head.
“He managed to manifest and flew way too high,” she said.
Vance winced, clearly knowing where her story was going.
“He fell, and I just… reacted,” Grace said. “Grabbed him right out of the air.”
She sighed, rubbing the back of her head and pushing the hair out of her eyes, where it had come loose during training.
“He didn’t take too kindly to being saved by me,” she murmured, her voice dipping.
Vance gritted his teeth. “He’s okay?” he asked tersely.
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Grace said.
“Good. Then I can go put him in his place.” Vance made to stand up and Grace grabbed him by the arm.
He sat back down.
“Vance, come on. He didn’t say anything he hasn’t said already,” she said. “Things got heated, but I said some things back. It was a two-way street.”
Vance looked a little surprised, a small smile on his face. “You talked back to him?”
“Of course I did. It’s stupid that he’s hanging onto this idea of me as useless…” Grace trailed off, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She still wasn’t used to asserting any sort of confidence and it felt strange, like she was bragging.
“It’s okay to say you’re not useless, Grace. It’s not bragging,” Vance said, as if he had been reading her thoughts. “In fact, you can say a lot more than that. It’s just honesty.”
She thought about Vance’s blunt confidence and her heart glowed. He clearly followed that idea himself, even when he was feeling low. He was quite objective and she wished that she had the confidence that he had.
“I think Dylan’s feeling… insecure… maybe?” she said hesitantly.
There was no use in staying angry with him. She didn’t think it would help in the long-run. Sure, she had every right to stand up for herself in the heat of the moment, but now that she was talking with Vance, it paid to be rational about it all.
Vance shrugged. “We all have our insecurities. Dylan is the son of an archangel. There’s a lot of pressure on him, as with all of us.” He looked at Grace quietly. “But he needs to learn to manage it better. He has no right to take it out on you, Grace.”
“I know.” She sighed, leaning against Vance’s shoulder.
He slung his arm around her and she sighed again, taking another sip of her water.
“I’ll talk to him,” Vance said, after a moment of quiet had passed between them.
“You will?” Grace glanced at him. “But, uh… don’t be too hard on him, okay?” she said, feeling a flash of anxiety in her stomach. She took a deep breath.
“I won’t be,” Vance said quietly. “But I’m not promising that he’ll listen.”
Grace nodded, resting her head on Vance’s shoulder. “Okay. Well, he’ll definitely listen to you more than he’d listen to me.”
Vance smiled and looked at her knowingly. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Grace. You have a way of changing people’s minds.”
Grace blushed and pushed herself out of his arms, setting her water bottle down. “Okay, okay. Let’s get back to training, okay?” She busied herself with grabbing her sword, so Vance wouldn’t see her blushing.
Vance laughed and set down his own water bottle. “You read my mind, Grace.”
~
“Alright, pack your weapons away!” Ignatius’ voice rang out across the room, echoing in the gym with his usual forceful authority. He was standing in front of the class and Grace turned mid-practice to look at him.
Then she glanced at Vance, who was immediately sheathing his sword, refusing to drop it in the middle of the gym. Grace set hers down gently, and turned with the rest of the class to listen.
Her body ached and felt heavy and hot after practice, the sweat still beading on her skin. Beside her, Vance ran a hand through his hair, straightening it back into place. He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve and was back to looking like he hadn’t trained at all.
Grace knew that she was sweaty and red, and generally gross after the workout, and she envied Vance. He wasn’t just fit; he was bred for this and it showed.
“Okay, before you go, I need to cover the second trial,” Ignatius said.
The mood in the room shifted quickly, becoming serious and tense in a matter of seconds. Grace felt her own tension tighten through her body, and she started paying close attention to Ignatius.
“As you know, the next trial happens soon, and it’s important that you’re prepared. It’s fallen to me to explain the second trial, since it’s particularly relevant to me.” He stopped, letting that sink in before he continued.
“The next trial will look at your ability to slay a demon.”
The gym went completely silent for a second, then the noise level sky-rocketed, whispered voices and protests pulsing through the room in time with everyone’s panic.
Grace went pale. A demon? They had to slay a demon?
She had so many questions that she just didn’t know where to start. It was one thing to fight another angel, another student, in a non-lethal battle. But fighting a demon would definitely not be a non-lethal battle. It would be to the death. It would involve killing, and it could involve a lot of danger.
Grace felt a flash of panic and she could see it mirrored in the faces around her. She glanced at Vance and he took her hand, his face stony.
“Quiet. Obviously, you’ll get the proper preparation, and we’re sticking to first level demons.” He let that sink in for a moment. “So, obviously, training is important. So is studying. Familiarize yourself with demons: strengths, weaknesses, techniques, the first level of hell. You should be able to take out a first-level demon. If not, you have no place here.”
His words were harsh, but Grace felt the weight of his statement acutely. He wasn’t saying this to be cruel. He was saying it because it was a fact. It was the way things worked and he wanted then to be prepared for the reality of their life here.
“That’s all. If you have any questions, come and talk to me up the front. Remember, you still have time to prepare and the other lecturers will teach you accordingly.”
The volume in the gym was suddenly turned up, everyone talking at once, plenty of students hurrying to the front of the class in a big rush. Grace hovered back, still holding Vance’s hand. She turned to him.
“Aren’t you worried?” He was still stony-faced and didn’t look like he was feeling anything at all.
He turned to Grace, obviously noticing her worried expression, because his face softened. “Hey, it’s okay. They wou
ldn’t send the students to their death, okay?”
Grace felt a wave of relief flood over her.
“First level demons are easy. Also, they are easy to outrun, if you’re really struggling.”
Grace sighed, feeling a second wave of relief flood her. “Okay, that makes sense.”
Vance nodded, squeezing her hand. “Also, I’ve heard that they typically send students in pairs, at least, so you won’t be alone, in the event that someone manages to go wrong.”
“Okay. Yeah. That’s good.” Grace let out a shaky breath. “Demon slaying. Things just got real, really quick!”
Vance laughed quietly, glancing over at the flood of students. “It’s a good technique. At this stage, most students don’t know a lot about hell. The unknown is scary. It helps to weed out students who aren’t ready, and tests the courage of those who are. It’s a good trial.”
“But you seem to know about hell?”
“Yes. My father prepared me,” Vance said. “He has prepared me for a lot of things. Not in light of any trials, but simple necessity. He talks of little else.” Vance stopped and shook his head. “One of the perks, I suppose.”
Grace heard the heaviness in his voice, and she felt a pang of sympathy for Vance. She didn’t know much about her father, but maybe that was better than having all the weight, all this pressure, put on her.
She wondered, briefly, if her father would expect great things of her too.
“Let’s get out of here,” Vance said.
Grace grabbed her bag, Vance following suit. They made their way out of the gym and into the sunlight, Vance forgoing the after-class training he had insisted on the day before.
“No training?” she asked.
“No, it sounds like you’ve had enough of a workout today. Besides, some study wouldn't go astray. No point in training without knowing what you’re training for.”
He walked with his usual, easy grace, looking calm after the announcement, and Grace envied him, envied his knowledge and preparation, his confidence. Well, at least he was coaching her through this – she was certainly grateful for that!
