by C. L. Coffey
I slipped my hand into my pocket, extracting my own black blade, urging it to its full size as I did. “I already have mine.”
“That was Lilah’s. This is yours,” Gabriel corrected me, never dropping his arm.
I pursed my lips, staring at the blade, before taking it in my left hand. The hilt had already warmed in the sun and felt strangely comfortable in my grasp. I held the two swords out in front of me, turning them over. Aside from the color, they seemed identical, although… “It’s heavier.”
“You’re right-handed. The weight of the weapon will feel unfamiliar with your non-dominant hand.”
I swung it, trying to get a better feel for it, but the blade slipped from my fingers and clattered to the ground. “I can sense this going well,” I muttered as I bent to pick it up. By the time I had righted myself, Gabriel had extracted two swords from the bag, both with white blades, and was spinning them both in identical lazy circles. “Show off,” I grumbled.
Gabriel grinned. “I’ve been using a sword since before humans invented them. Despite how modern media portrays it, it’s insanely difficult to master using two swords.”
My eyes narrowed in doubt, not at how long he had been using the sword, but at the thought of Gabriel chilling out and watching a movie. “And yet you expect me to be able to attack with two?”
“Hardly,” Gabriel laughed. “No, what I’m aiming for is for you to get comfortable using one as a weapon, and the other as a means of defense.”
“Wouldn’t I be better off with a shield?” I sighed.
“Why do you carry that sword around,” he used the blade of one of his swords, to tap the black blade of mine, “In your pocket?”
“It’s discreet,” I told him. “And because I don’t want the police stopping me for carrying a sword.” I asked Joshua, and technically it’s not illegal to carry a sword, believe it or not, but it was likely to draw unwanted attention.
“So where would you put a shield?” Gabriel asked.
I pulled a face. There were at least half a dozen pockets on these jeans, but there was no way a shield would hide in them. “Is this where you provide me with a magical shrinking shield?” I asked, feeling hopeful.
“I already have,” Gabriel announced. He held up one of his own swords and shrank it back down to the dagger form, then he held the sword up. The dagger was about a third of the size of the sword. Honestly, I had no idea how that was going to make a good shield.
“Okay,” I relented. I was done doubting myself. If Gabriel was going to teach me how to use a dagger as a shield, then I was going to do my damnedest to learn. “Which hand is best?”
“Left. You want your power in the attack”
I allowed the white blade to shrink to a dagger size, and bounced it in my hand. If nothing else, the small size felt easier to handle in my left hand. Then, after studying how Gabriel was standing, mimicked his position: the sword more in front of me, while the dagger was kept closer to my stomach. “Like this?”
Gabriel nodded. “The important thing to remember is that when you parry, when you defend, your attack must come at the same time, not as a subsequent action.”
“I don’t understand,” I frowned.
“Watch,” he instructed me. “I’m going to come at you with my sword. I want you to react how you would normally.” Although I was tensed ready for him to be moving at his super speedy angelic speed, Gabriel just stepped towards me, slowly swinging his sword, aiming for my side. Instinctively, I shifted my weight and raised my own sword to block it. The blades connected, but the movement was controlled. “You’ve already forgotten about your other weapon,” Gabriel pointed out as our swords remained locked in the air.
My eyes widened. “Oh!” I stepped forward, stabbing with my dagger.
This time, Gabriel’s actions were much faster. Using only his own sword, he twisted the blade and then in a seamless movement, sent my sword flying. In the same fluid movement, he turned on the spot, and then, with his elbow, knocked the dagger out of my hand. “When you make it two actions, you give your attacker the chance to react to the first movement before the second.” He waited for me to collect my weapons. “This time, come at me.”
I used the same level of control as he had, or I tried. My swing was much faster, but it didn’t matter. Somehow Gabriel managed to react quickly. As I swung, it was his dagger that shot up to block the sword. I was so focused on what he was doing there, that I didn’t even realize he had stabbed with his own sword until the tip was pricking my side.
“One action, not two,” Gabriel repeated, stepping back.
I frowned, concentrating as I stepped back into my original position. “Come at me again.”
Gabriel did as I requested, moving at his steady speed. As his sword came towards me, I swung my own up to meet it, but this time, I jabbed forward with the dagger. I was focusing so hard on getting Gabriel’s torso that I didn’t see his sword slide down the side of mine and hit the guard. The impact was enough for me to drop my sword. Gabriel’s sword landed on my shoulder, thankfully flat side down.
“Your dagger is supposed to be the shield, Angel,” Gabriel told me.
I rubbed at my shoulder and groaned. “I’m not used to using two weapons,” I complained.
“Which is why we’re going to stay here for as long as it takes for your instinct to be to raise your dagger,” Gabriel informed me. He stepped back, spinning his swords around with an ease which made me realize I couldn’t identify his dominant hand. The archangel was probably ambidextrous.
Still, I was not going to give up now.
We spent three hours there. The first was mainly a repetition of Gabriel swinging at me, and me trying to remember that I was to use the dagger to block. It took a while to override the instinct to use my sword, but I finally got it. Or at least, I did until Gabriel started to mix it up with his attacks.
By early afternoon, I was ready to crawl into bed and sleep. Keeping the jeans on had been a good call, as we had evolved from blocking one attack, to a series of attacks. It was easy to see that Gabriel was retaining the control and holding back, but he was still a tough mentor. Honestly, if we had Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and Cupid in New Orleans, the number of Fallen would drop to zero in no time.
Hell, if I was one of the Fallen and I knew Michael alone was in New Orleans I would have moved out. So why were there so many here now? Maybe they didn’t know before, but they had to know now, and sure, Michael was… Michael was gone, but they had to think that more angels would appear? The only reasonable explanation I could come up with was that they were either extremely arrogant, confident in their own abilities, or there was someone (or something) they considered to be scarier than Michael. Given that I had gone up against several of them now, and barely lived to tell the tale, it was likely a combination of all three.
The realization hit me, and my focus disappeared. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, beside the metal train tracks. I sat bolt upright, swearing loudly, as I looked around me.
“You lost your concentration,” Gabriel declared, offering his hand to help me up.
I took it, groaning as I stood upright. “Yes,” I admitted.
“I know we’ve been at this for much longer than an actual fight is likely to take, but if you’re evenly matched, the battle will go on until one of you makes a mistake. Don’t let that angel be you,” he warned me. “You need to learn to push everything to the back of your mind and focus on the battle.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be evenly matched with many of the Fallen,” I muttered, glumly.
“Not yet,” Gabriel shrugged. He swung his swords around in his hands, the blades easily cutting the air.
“You have got to teach me how to do that,” I marveled as I watched him do it.
“I think it’s the last thing that you need to worry about right now,” he chuckled.
I caught my lip between my teeth. He was right. Instead, I resumed my position. “Shall we?�
�
While Gabriel arched an eyebrow at me, he did give me a smile, shaking his head. “I think that’s enough for today. You’ve done well.”
“I haven’t done well enough,” I pointed out.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he disagreed. He quickly stowed the two swords he had been using into the duffle bag, but when I offered him the white blade back, he shook his head. “That’s yours.”
I frowned. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to get this one until I was an archangel?”
“Things change. You should get used to carrying the two around with you.”
I pursed my lips. That was easier said than done: where was I going to keep it? The obvious place would have been my other thigh, but that was where the quiver lived when I wore it and I didn’t want the two to get in the way of each other. I’d have to think about this. For now, I returned the black blade to its sheath through my pocket, and held onto the white blade. When I was ready, Gabriel returned us to the convent.
“How is the cleaning coming along?” he asked me.
“I think we’ve done as much as we can do,” I shrugged. “We need to move onto redecorating, to be honest.”
“Same time tomorrow?” he offered.
I nodded. “Sounds good,” I agreed. He nodded a goodbye and then vanished, leaving me alone in the main entrance.
With both of the swords still in my possession, I trudged upstairs to my bedroom. The faint smell of smoke still lingered in the air, even though the window had been left open. I stripped, dumping the clothes in a heap by the door, ready to take down to the laundry, and lay the weapons on the bed. I needed a shower before I faced anything else. I frowned, turning on the water, as I realized I still needed to talk to Cupid about a few things. Maybe I could convince him to come shopping with me and kill a few birds with one stone?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Time Out
Cupid was in the office. Cupid had scruffy brown hair and I had assumed that he wore it how it fell naturally. Now, as I stood in the doorway, watching him as he frowned at something on the laptop Paddy had provided him with, I realized that it was the kind of hairstyle where you had to put in some effort to make it look artistically messy. He looked tired. Not from lack of sleep, although I was sure he wasn’t getting much of that. He was slumped over his desk, his head propped up with his arm.
“When was the last time you left this place?” I asked.
Lost in whatever he was doing, my words startled him and he sat back, blinking rapidly. “I was outside with you, yesterday afternoon.”
“I mean, when was the last time you left the convent, and I’m not including our little excursion to the St. Louis Cathedral,” I asked again. I walked into the room and perched on the corner of my desk which sat beside Cupid’s. “When was the last time you had a break?”
Cupid closed his eyes, rubbing at them with the heel of his palms. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “There’s just so much to learn.”
“And there are only two of us.”
“But look at what the two of us managed to accomplish,” Cupid said, grimly. He turned the laptop around and showed me what he had been studying: news websites.
The ever-present guilt churned in my stomach. As I wrapped my arms around myself, I caught Cupid’s eye, and I realized he felt the same way I did. “I’m willing to bet a bag of beignets that you feel as crappy as you look.”
Cupid’s eyes darkened. “What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything. You look like crap,” I told him, bluntly.
“Thanks,” he growled, looking anything but thankful.
“When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”
“I don’t need either,” Cupid responded, his words becoming clipped as he clearly got more irritated with my line of questioning.
I wasn’t going to stop now. “You look like crap,” I told him again. “You look like crap because you feel guilty and our normal source of energy won’t help you with that.”
Cupid’s mouth flapped open and closed, then he slumped back. “And so it shouldn’t,” he mumbled.
“I’m not saying we don’t deserve that guilt, because what we did hurt this city, even if we didn’t directly hurt any humans in the process,” I sighed, rubbing at the back of my neck. A small part of me was jealous. I knew that we would be able to make things better in New Orleans, and that consequently, Cupid’s guilt would ease.
Cupid came around to the front of his desk, perching on the corner closest to me. He leaned over and grabbed my knees, the action bringing him in close to me. He fixed me a serious stare with his bright green eyes. “When did you get so wise? It wasn’t that long ago I had to tell you who Mary, Joseph and Jesus were.”
I rolled my eyes at him. True, my angelic knowledge was shockingly non-existent for an angel, but I had known who those three were. He did have a point though. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was wise, but I was learning a few things. “This afternoon, we’re clearing our schedule.”
Cupid eyed me with suspicion. “What do you have in mind?”
“Shopping,” I beamed.
A smile flashed across Cupid’s face, but as soon as it had appeared, it faded. “There are more important things that need to be done,” he said, removing his hands and sitting back.
I was prepared for this. “Very well,” I shrugged. “But that means I will have to go by myself, and honestly, I have no idea what a girl is supposed to wear to a Winter Ball. I have this really cute pink prom dress in the back of my closet that would-”
“Stop!” Cupid cut me off, looking mortified. “I know exactly what you’re doing and it’s working. We’re going shopping.”
“Ha!” I exclaimed, punching the air. “You go get changed, and I’ll go grab some keys.”
“Keys?” Cupid repeated, pulling a face. “We’re not going local. There’s a divine Escada gown that would look good on you.”
My excitement dipped. “Cupid, if the dress costs more than the convent’s weekly food bill, you need to aim a little lower. We’re going to the Designer Outlet Mall. I’m going to wear this dress once,” I told him slowly.
“What?” Cupid spluttered, aghast at the idea.
“Not up to the challenge?” I asked, coyly.
* * *
A short time later, we were in one of the stores in the mall and Cupid was wandering around racks of dresses, his face a picture of disappointment.
“What about this one?” I suggested, plucking a lime-green Spandex thing with enough cut outs for me to question whether or not it was actually a dress or an elaborate bikini. I held it up against me.
“With your red hair and white skin, you’ll look like a dismembered Italian flag,” Cupid told me with a dry tone. He picked at the skirt of a dress as though trying to touch it with as little of his skin as possible and pulled a face. “Please can we go to Paris?” he whined. “Or New York? Or even one of the boutiques in the city?”
“Stop being a snob,” I laughed, retuning the green dress to the rack and flicking through the rest of its contents.
“Can we at least leave the clearance section?” he begged. “There’s a reason why these are all reduced.”
He had a point. I nodded and allowed him to frog-march me to the other side of the store. In less than ten minutes, I was buried under an armful of dresses and Cupid was looking much happier – from what I could see from beneath all the skirts. “I think it’s time to hit the fitting room,” I informed him.
I didn’t wait for a response, but instead headed away from him and to the corner where the fitting room was located. The guy at the door looked amused. “There’s an area inside for your boyfriend to wait,” he informed me.
I looked over my shoulder and found Cupid looking a little surprised, but he followed me in. “We’d make a terrible couple,” he declared when I was tucked into the cubicle.
I pulled my clothes off and slipped into the first dress. It was pretty – white, backless, floor-l
ength, and with a high neckline – but not very comfortable. “Are you kidding?” I asked, opening the door and stepping out. “You’d get a whole lot of closet space with me.”
“Nope,” Cupid declared, barely looking at the dress as he dismissed me.
I ducked back into the cubicle and pulled the next one on. Black and flowing, but with a lengthy slit reaching up to the thigh. I liked it. I didn’t like the fact I couldn’t get away with strapping my dagger to my thigh under it. Regardless, I stepped out. “I also don’t spend much time in the bathroom.”
Cupid pulled a face. “I’d go so far as to say you don’t spend enough time in the bathroom,” he muttered. “Next.” As I changed into the next dress, I couldn’t help but give myself a self-conscious sniff. Was he implying I smelled?
As soon as the third dress was on, I knew I didn’t need to look any further. It was floor length, and in keeping with the Black and White theme of the ball, mostly black. The skirt was full and satin, with a thin mesh over the top. The detail came in the bodice. It had silver diamante waves crashing and splashing all around. It was gorgeous, and with it on I felt like a princess.
The cubicle didn’t have a mirror, so I stepped out and headed straight for the one Cupid was waiting in front of. His mouth fell open as he saw me. “I think I might have to reconsider you as girlfriend material,” he told me.
I shook my head in amusement and stepped past him, coming to an abrupt halt as I saw my reflection. I was still at the point where I didn’t mind my unnatural hair color, but I had doubted whether or not I could find a formal dress that would suit me, and not look too out of place with my hair. There was something about this combination that worked, and even if I sounded ridiculously egotistical saying it, “Hot damn!” I exclaimed. I looked pretty. I gave a twirl, watching how the material fell with grace around me. I had spent so long wearing practical or smart clothing that I almost didn’t recognize myself in a dress.
