by Trina M. Lee
I slipped into a pair of soft, roomy PJ pants with little hearts all over them. Not very rock n’ roll but comfy enough that it didn’t matter. I peeked around the doorway into the kitchen. As I’d expected, Cinder was in there fixing me one of his amazing hangover breakfasts. Well, he didn’t call them that, but I sure did.
I crept through the living room and adjoined kitchen to the bathroom. Hoping Cinder’s back would stay turned, I wanted to make it into the shower without a row of questioning. I was just swinging the bathroom door shut when he called after me.
“How was your night?”
I hesitated with the bathroom door cracked just a few inches. “It was good. We got through to the next round.”
“That’s great. And?”
“And? I’m jumping in the shower. Do you mind putting on a pot of coffee?”
I closed the door and turned gratefully toward the tub. Only after I’d taken a hot shower and brushed my teeth did I start to feel like myself again. I’d gone a little too hard on the celebratory drinks. My stomach rolled, and I promised myself that I’d never do it again. But I knew that was just one of those lies I told myself in a moment of regret.
In sweatpants and my Clash t-shirt, I gathered my wet hair into a ponytail and emerged from the bathroom feeling less like the walking dead than I had when I’d gone in. Cinder had a plate sitting on the kitchen table complete with a steaming cup of coffee. I eyed the cheese omelet, bacon, and toast, sighing with contentment.
“You’re the best, Cinder,” I said around a mouthful of eggs. We both knew that he only made such wake-up calls when he had something important to discuss. Since I wasn’t in a hurry to find out what that was, I used eating as a way to avoid conversation.
He slid into the seat across from me with only a coffee in hand. He watched me in silence as I shoveled food into my mouth. His expression was neutral. If he was thinking that I ate like a pig, it didn’t show on his face.
“So,” he said when I had all but licked the plate clean. “Tell me about your night.”
I took my time, sipping the precious life giving fluid that is coffee. Cinder was patient. In fact, I’d only seen him show frustration a few times in all the time I’d known him. He merely regarded me with a raised brow and an expectant quirk to his smile.
“Well, we got through, like I said. It was great.” I pondered him, wondering what it was he was trying to get me to spill. “Jett jumped into the crowd and punched a heckler. I don’t condone her casual violence, but this time it was justified.”
“I’m sure it was.” Cinder smiled and waved a hand for me to continue.
“Don’t pull that shit with me, Cinder,” I said, spooning some extra sugar into my mug. “What’s your deal?”
“My deal?” He feigned misunderstanding, which he often did when I used slang or inappropriate language with him.
I sighed, melodramatic and more exasperated than I really was. My spoon clinked too loudly against the mug, and I winced as my head throbbed. “There’s obviously something you’re waiting for me to say. So why don’t you just ask and save me the headache of guessing? I have zombie brain right now.”
Cinder grabbed my empty plate and took it to the dishwasher. His tendency to cook and clean for me had once made me feel very uncomfortable. And a little like a child. I’d come to learn over the years that he enjoyed the mundane human tasks. It was like watching a high-up authority figure for the first time joining the commoners in their day-to-day tasks and finding it joyful simply because he’d never had to do it before. I didn’t get it, but it was cool with me. I hated housework.
He was dressed like a college kid in baggy jeans and a U of A hoodie though he’d clearly never attended. His shaggy hair was hidden beneath a backwards cap. No white robe or halo, it wasn’t how I would have envisioned an angel. Maybe the robe and halo were reserved for special occasions.
Cinder’s human look was always changing. It wasn’t unlike him to drop in wearing a fedora one day and a turtleneck the next. I liked it best when he looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch ad. I never tired of teasing him.
“You know I don’t like to tail you, right? It’s just that sometimes I have to. It’s my job.” He paused, giving me a chance to anticipate where this was going. “Ember, you know I would never give you an order or in any way interfere with your free will.”
“Yes,” I said slowly, dragging the one word out as if it were several syllables long. “You’re super fantabulous with cherries on top. What’s your point?”
He held the coffee pot up. “Refill?”
“Hit me.” I raised my mug to accept the offering.
I waited with growing impatience as he refilled my mug and then puttered around the kitchen, killing time. Finally, after I’d huffed loudly a few times, he returned to the table and sat down.
“Ember, I dropped by the show last night. You girls were outstanding, by the way. A lot of fun to watch. However, I noticed you were quite friendly with Rowen Cruz.”
I sat there staring at him, trying to decide if it was good news that he knew who Rowen was or bad. Most likely bad.
“What can I say? He’s a hottie.” I shrugged and drank my coffee.
This was the part where Cinder told me something I didn’t want to hear. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last I’m sure. It no longer bothered me that Cinder occasionally dropped in where I was. It had when I was certain he was out to cramp my style like the no-fun police seeking to write me up for enjoying myself. That was never the case though. Cinder had a job to do. Protecting me was part of it.
“It’s not advisable for you to become romantically involved with him, Ember. I’m sorry. I hate having to say that.”
“It’s not advisable?” I repeated. Nothing annoyed me more than being told I should or shouldn’t do something, not even Cinder’s insistent use of my real name. “I thought we agreed that my personal life is off limits.”
“We did.” He nodded. “It is. With this exception.”
I groaned. The eggs sat heavily in my stomach. Intuition told me he was about to say something I’d rather not hear.
“Why? What’s so special about Rowen that makes him off limits? Don’t tell me he’s some prodigal chosen one or something equally stupid.” When Cinder stared at me in thoughtful silence, I sighed. “Of course he is. Well, you might as well tell me.”
“I’m not supposed to tell you. Not until you make your decision.”
“Can I guess? Does that work?” When he didn’t answer right away, I rushed on. “Rowen isn’t human, is he? No, of course he’s not. That explains the weird feeling that I knew him from somewhere.”
Cinder fiddled with the fading Star Wars logo on his mug, scratching a nail over it. “Nobody is supposed to see him as anything other than human. He’s under protection right now.”
I sat back in my chair, replaying my meeting with Rowen. Nothing had clearly indicated that he was anything other than human. It was a bummer to discover otherwise. This city was crawling with the supernatural, like much of the world, but couldn’t I just dig a normal dude?
“He’s nephilim, isn’t he?” I guessed, certain that he must be if Cinder was in on it. “He must be a big fucking deal to have his identity hidden.”
“Ember, you shouldn’t swear like that. It’s filthy.”
“It is. I know. It’s a bad habit. Stop avoiding my question. If you can tell me not to get the warm and fuzzies for him, then I’m sure you can tell me why.” I chugged back the rest of the coffee. My body cried out for the caffeine rush though my stomach protested.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the details with you. Rowen doesn’t know who he is. Not yet. His talents are contained until it is his time to choose. He is highly sought after by the dark, which is why his identity must remain hidden.”
I stared at Cinder, waiting to feel some sense of disbelief. When it never surfaced, I surmised that I was jaded by this shit already. “Well his daddy must be somebody pretty da
mn special then. Don’t tell me he’s a Throne or something.”
A Throne was just one of the nine classes in the angel hierarchy. The hierarchy was divided into three levels with three classes in each. A Throne was of the first class, a level so high that its angels were often occupied with extremely vital tasks greater than most humans could fathom, according to Cinder anyway. It was unheard of for a level one angel to commit such a sin as bedding a mortal.
The demon hierarchy mirrored that of the angels. When an angel fell from grace, he remained in the same class, forsaking the honorable duty once bestowed upon him and taking up the nasty tasks of his new kin. Despite the various levels and classes of both angels and demons, there was no such thing as a weak or harmless one. They were all exceptionally created, all of them a force to be reckoned with.
Cinder himself was a Dominion, the highest of level two angels. He oversaw the activities of other angels and nephilim. He had great responsibility in seeking out undecided nephilim, like me, and guiding us into the fold, should we be willing.
Cinder shook his head but remained quiet. He looked worried, like he was afraid he’d shared too much. It’s not like I was going to tell anyone.
Something occurred to me then. “Does Arrow know? It can’t be a coincidence that they’re friends.”
Cinder’s dark-blond brows rose, causing his scar to wrinkle. “No, I’m sure it isn’t. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you what I know, Ember.”
“Spike,” I growled, grumpy and annoyed. “It’s Spike.”
“Ember is a lovely name. Your father gave you that name.”
“Yeah? And where is he now? Oh, right. He’s locked up in a holding cell in hell.” I would never have uttered such a phrase in front of my mother. I kept the bitterness I felt about my parentage and the circumstances surrounding it to myself, until it spilled out at moments like this.
Cinder drifted back into the kitchen where he tidied the counter and pretty much invented reasons not to speak. My brain hurt too badly to think this over. I glanced around the living room, and my gaze landed on the empty terrarium in the corner.
“Where’s Seth?” I asked, scouring the floor for any sign of the tiny tortoise.
“I saw him heading for the couch. He’s probably underneath.”
A search beneath the fake leather couch revealed my little, shelled friend. I pulled him out, making kissy faces at him until Cinder laughed. Then I set Seth back down and let him slowly shuffle off toward a throw pillow on the floor near the TV.
I’d made a passing comment to my mother in a pet store about how cute I thought he was. A week later, she brought him over, citing him as a gift. My mother had spent much of my life spoiling me. Not because she thought I deserved it but because she felt guilty. I wasn’t normal enough for her, so she fought tooth and nail to make my life as normal as possible.
Our relationship had become strained since my father’s heritage had really manifested itself at eighteen. Being around me when I accidentally started a fire was too much for her. The accidents had stopped when I grew into my abilities, but I moved out anyway. Now we spoke on the phone more than we saw one another. It was easier that way for both of us.
I didn’t hold any grudges against my mother. She’d done her best with what she had to work with. And now, so must I.
“So what’s it going to take for me to get some answers out of you?” I went to stand near the kitchen, blocking Cinder’s path when he tried to reach around me to the pantry.
“Not until you make your choice,” he said with a shake of his head. “Since it’s bothering you so much, I will tell you one thing.”
He paused, and I wasn’t sure if it was to be dramatic or if he was merely second guessing his decision. I waved a hand for him to spit it out.
Then I reached past him to the cupboard where the painkillers were. My head was absolutely banging. I poured two pills into my hand and filled a glass with water from the cooler. Thinking Godspeed, little pills, I swallowed them down and fixed Cinder with a stern stare.
“You could inadvertently draw others to him,” Cinder said finally. “Especially while the dark is working so hard to recruit you. They aren’t supposed to know who he is. That is just one reason why you shouldn’t become romantic with him.”
“And what’s the other one?” I dared to prod, my curiosity piqued.
Cinder stared at the checker pattern on the linoleum floor. He seemed to be wrestling with how much he could tell me without breaking his oath of secrecy. He finally stated, “If you join the light, helping with Rowen’s protection was to be your first major assignment.”
I was surprised. As sharp as my intuition was these days, I hadn’t anticipated that one. I stared at Cinder, mouth agape, at a loss for words.
“Oh,” I managed. “I see.”
Chapter Five
I stared in stupid silence at Cinder while he politely gave me a few minutes to process what I’d heard. Many times I’d let my imagination run wild, concocting all sorts of wild tasks I might be entrusted with if I were to choose a side. Espionage, intel, assassination, all outrageous things straight out of the movies. I hadn’t anticipated that guarding someone from my everyday life would be part of it.
“You’re not bullshitting me, are you?” I said when the shock wore off.
Cinder frowned at my obscenity and shook his blond head. “Of course not. I would never do that. Not about something so serious.”
“So is this a thing then? Assignments are directly related to our regular life? That seems like a good way to really fuck things up.” I frowned, and the small act of knitting my eyebrows caused my head to hurt. Or perhaps it was the thinking. Yeah, that. The thinking really hurt.
“Quite the contrary, actually. Giving nephilim assignments that relate to their lives ensures a higher chance of success. It makes sense, really. You have to do what you can wherever you’re at in life. Given that you are so fully immersed in the local music scene, as is Rowen, you’re naturally our first pick to keep an eye on him.”
“Ok.” I held up a hand to stop him from continuing. “I’ve heard enough. My head can’t possibly take another word about Rowen or assignments or anything else. It’s a hangover day. I just want to crawl back into bed.”
“What about training?” Cinder questioned, getting that pinched look that usually meant he was about to scold me. “You skipped out on our last session. You promised not to do that again.”
I leaned heavily against the counter, trying to conjure up a valid excuse since hangover obviously wasn’t going to cut it. Cinder stared at me, expecting an argument.
I’d grown to enjoy and appreciate our training sessions. Cinder said that learning to fight and to hone my skills was essential whether I joined a side or not. Even if I tried to live a human life, the creatures of the dark would hunt me down. I needed to know how to defend myself.
“I have a show at The Wicked Kiss tonight, and I really need to grab a nap first…” I began, trailing off as his stare became a glower. “Forget it. Just let me get changed. But you better take it easy on me today.”
I retrieved Seth, who was attempting to climb over an especially large stuffed elephant that I’d won at last year’s summer carnival, and set him back inside the safety of his terrarium. After ensuring he had clean water and some fresh lettuce, I grumbled my way into the bedroom to change into yoga pants and a tank top.
We did most of our training at the gym a few blocks away. They offered room rentals for those in need of a private exercise area.
By the time I dragged my gear to the Nova and then into the facility, I was ready to drop. Cinder, however, seemed especially pleased. He watched me drag the heavy bag of swords, throwing stars, and other various weaponry inside with a wry smile.
“Not feeling so good about the drunken shenanigans now, are you?” He smirked though it lacked true malice.
I pulled a water bottle from my bag and drank half in a few swallows. Dehydration was going to kick m
y ass. Stifling the urge to complain, I opened the bag and pulled out the two wooden practice swords.
“Can we use these?” I asked. “If we use real metal, you’re probably going to cut my head off. I’m not feeling too energetic today.”
Cinder picked up one of the blunt wooden swords. “You know, it is possible to have a good time without drinking yourself blind.”
“Is it? Maybe I’ll give that a try sometime.” I cracked a smile, knowing he didn’t find it funny. “Really, Cinder, why do you put up with me? How can I possibly be of use? I’m a flawed woman.” I said it as if I were joking, but an element of truth colored my statement. I failed to understand how I could assist the light. I was very much equipped to live a life of darkness—not that I wanted to join them, of course. I was just so damn far from perfect.
“The greatest people in God’s kingdom were flawed. There are no perfect people, Ember. The greater the flaws, the greater the potential for goodness.” He tossed the other wooden sword to me, faster and harder than I’d anticipated. “Now, are you ready to begin?”
The sword slapped my fingertips before clattering to the floor. “Ouch. Son of a bitch.”
Needless to say, it wasn’t my best training day. Cinder didn’t take it easy on me either. He came at me hard and fast, forcing me to block repeatedly, giving me no opportunity for an offensive move. If it had been real combat, I would have been dead several times over.
When he succeeded in knocking the sword from my hand and delivered the fake killing blow, I saw anger in his violet eyes. “I hope you’re taking note of how the poisons you joyfully consumed last night have weakened you. It’s not a simple matter to be brushed off. If you get yourself killed, it’s going to reflect very badly on me.”
We’d been through this before. For the most part Cinder was a lot of fun, a good friend and a funny guy. But that Cinder ended where the hard-ass Cinder began. And that side of him was not nearly as pleasant to be around.
