by Ella Summers
Before we’d possessed wings, we’d had to just jump down large drops—and trust to our residence, boosted by our acquired magic, that we wouldn’t break our legs.
I gazed into the dark hole. I couldn’t even see the bottom. “Someone has cast a shifting spell on this hole, shrouding it in darkness.”
“If we break the spell, it might set off an alarm.”
“Yeah, if it were my hideout, I’d tie an alarm into the spell.”
Damiel nodded. “As would I.”
“Ok, then. The best way forward is down.” I stepped up to the edge of the opening. “I hope the cavern is down there.”
“It’s there,” Damiel said with perfect confidence.
I balanced my toes on the edge of the hole. I’d done a lot of crazy things in my life, even before I’d joined the Legion and gained the magic to reliably survive my own madness. So I’d had to depend on more than magic for a long time already. When you were crazy, you had to be smart too.
On the other hand, I apparently had at least a little Immortal blood in me, so hadn’t I possessed magic all along?
That was a question for another time.
I jumped into the hole. After a long drop, my feet hit hard rock. I cast a spell on my sword, igniting flames across the blade.
A moment later, Damiel landed beside me. Then he busied himself weaving spells over the opening in the ceiling.
I’ve warded the exit, he spoke in my mind.
You hid your wards well, I replied.
I couldn’t even see his spells, nor could I feel the distinctive ripple of magic in the air that wards often caused.
The interwoven field of psychic spells will bounce back anyone who tries to leave this cavern, he said.
“It’s a long way up again,” I spoke, aloud now. “We’re going to have to jump back up.”
“Worried?”
“No, I can do it. And if this takes too long, if this cavern fills with water again, we can anyway just swim up to the top of the hole.”
“You always see the silver lining in any situation.”
“Here’s another silver lining for you: we can both breathe underwater. Back before I could breathe underwater, my father used to trap me in flooded caverns to train my body, develop my problem-solving skills, and improve my performance under pressure.”
“And they call me cruel and sadistic,” said Damiel. “General Silverstar has a special talent for those qualities.”
We passed into another cave chamber. This place was bigger than it looked from the top.
We looked for signs of Colonel Spellstorm. Or of anyone at all. We’d made it through three chambers when we heard the sizzle of someone smacking into Damiel’s magic barrier—and the subsequent thump of a body hitting the ground.
“It sounds like someone got caught in your web,” I said.
We ran back to the first chamber. There, lying on the ground right below the overhead exit to the cavern, we found a colossal man, dressed in the Legion’s earth-toned wilderness uniform.
“And now we have Colonel Spellstorm,” Damiel declared darkly.
6
Colonel Spellstorm
With his piercing blue eyes, long-flowing black hair, and enormous height, Colonel Spellstorm looked more like a model in costume—the kind you found on an angel calendar—than he looked like a military commander in the gods’ army. But he was an angel, through and through. He had a reputation for battlefield success. His area of expertise was driving back monsters. He’d led several successful campaigns to reclaim small parts of the Earth from the monsters. He was known to be competent, efficient, and highly intelligent. And according to my father, Colonel Spellstorm fully lived up to his reputation.
Damiel and I secured the dazed angel with silver handcuffs. They were no ordinary handcuffs. They were Magitech handcuffs that blocked magic, and they were powerful enough to subdue even an angel. I knew this because I’d been the one to invent them during my extended assignment in a Magitech lab.
Colonel Spellstorm blinked a few times and looked at us, already recovered from the shock of hitting Damiel’s magic ward.
“My captors,” he said drily. “Colonel Damiel Dragonsire.” His gaze slid over to me. “And Lt. Colonel Cadence Lightbringer. The Legion’s very own angel husband-and-wife dynamic duo.”
“Restrain his body,” Damiel told me.
Colonel Spellstorm was already cuffed, but that only prevented him from accessing his magic. So I drew on my elemental earth magic, growing the rocks on the wall. Like rocky vines, they slithered across the angel’s body, looping over his chest, arms, and legs. Stone bands snapped around his ankles and wrists.
Once Colonel Spellstorm was bound to the wall, Damiel began his interrogation.
“Colonel Spellstorm, you are accused of treason,” he said.
“You went to my office. Interrogated my soldiers.” Colonel Spellstorm’s gaze flickered to me, then snapped back to Damiel. “You hurt them.”
“They will recover,” Damiel said, without a hint of emotion.
“A body heals, but a soul is not so easily mended. You broke their minds with your magic. You enslaved their will. You violated the sanctum of their soul. That’s not something so easy to bounce back from.”
Damiel was clearly unmoved. “Poetic words will not save you.”
“No, nothing will save me. Not once Damiel Dragonsire has me caught in the crosshairs of his investigation. At that point, the truth no longer matters.” He glanced at me again. “My innocence no longer matters.”
Damiel.
He is trying to play on your sympathies, he replied, then said aloud to Colonel Spellstorm, “Why did you run away if you are innocent?”
“I did not run away. I was out of the office when you arrived.”
“Why were you out here? And why didn’t you tell anyone where you were?”
“What does it matter? You’ve already decided that I’m guilty, so nothing I say is relevant. Don’t forget that I have worked with you, Dragonsire. We both know this interrogation is merely a formality. You already ‘know’ I’m guilty, and the Master Interrogator is never wrong.”
“Just because we have worked together, don’t presume that you understand me.” Damiel’s tone was as icy as a winter breeze. “How did you know we were at your office?”
“It was hard to miss. You are hardly subtle, Dragonsire. As always, you made a grand, spectacular entrance worthy of the Fury of the Legion.”
“Did one of your soldiers contact you to warn you that we were there?” Damiel asked him.
“No. I’ve known you were suspicious of me for a while. After I heard of the ominous apparition that appeared at your wedding—and that you and Lightbringer were going on a mission—I put two and two together.”
“So you did flee in anticipation of our arrival.”
“I was already planning to come here,” countered Colonel Spellstorm. “Your imminent arrival simply cemented my fate. I knew there was no reason to wait at my office. The Master Interrogator is relentless in hunting his prey. How many innocent people have you convicted? How many bystanders have you tortured to get to your prey? I know you, Dragonsire. Hell, I helped you track down plenty of supposed traitors. Their blood is on my hands as well as yours.”
“We’re not speaking of others. This interrogation is about you alone, Spellstorm.”
Colonel Spellstorm looked at me. “Years ago, Dragonsire and I embarked on a mass hunt, tracking down and killing dozens of so-called traitors. But those traitors turned out to be innocent. By the time we realized the truth, it was already too late for them. They were all dead.” His gaze shifted to Damiel. “This has to end now—before paranoia destroys the Legion.”
“Just because those people were innocent, that doesn’t mean you are,” replied Damiel. “The evidence against you is—”
“Circumstantial at best and you know it,” Colonel Spellstorm cut in. “But mere suspicion is enough for you to convict, sentence, and k
ill me on the spot, if it suits you. Does it suit you today?”
Colonel Spellstorm glanced at me, a silent plea for me to intervene. He wanted me to believe his implication that Damiel’s paranoia, his fear that there were traitors everywhere just waiting to strike, had completely blinded him.
And hadn’t I been worrying about the same thing just a few minutes ago? Didn’t I fear that Damiel, consumed by his need to protect the Earth, was falling into darkness? I knew he would sacrifice himself to protect the Earth—and sacrifice a whole lot of innocents with him, if necessary.
Colonel Spellstorm addressed me directly now. “Your father General Silverstar knows me. You know me,” he reminded me. “And you know I am not a traitor.”
I didn’t really know him that well. But it was true that Colonel Spellstorm had once saved my father’s life. After a mission on the plains of monsters, he’d brought my father in, blood streaming from so many wounds all across his body. I’d been only a child then, but the memory of my father’s blood everywhere had stuck with me—as had the memory of the angel who had saved his life.
Everything inside of me—every moral fiber, every hint of magic, every instinct, every shred of humanity—was telling me that Colonel Spellstorm was innocent. An honorable man could not have fallen so hard. There was no reason. No motive. There were only a few suspicious actions that Damiel had collected. And those actions could have meant something else.
The fact that Colonel Spellstorm had run away wasn’t helping his case, but he had a point. If I’d known that the Master Interrogator was after me, that he was certain I was a traitor, I’d probably have run too.
“We don’t know anything,” I told Damiel. “So we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Condemning Colonel Spellstorm in haste, without knowing if he is truly guilty, will not save the Legion—or the Earth.”
“I’m not killing him,” Damiel said with measured patience. “I’m just going to ask him a few questions.”
“You mean, torture him.”
My mind flickered involuntarily back to the Legion soldiers in Florence that Damiel had tortured, just to get to Colonel Spellstorm.
“I’m going to interrogate him,” Damiel corrected me. “With magic.”
“Or for once, instead of breaking his will and shattering his mind, you could just try talking to him.”
Damiel looked at me like I’d just suggested we throw a party to welcome the demons back to Earth. “Spellstorm could be lying.”
“He’s an angel. I don’t think torture is any more effective against him than talking.”
“The way I do it is very effective, even against angels,” said Damiel.
I could hardly suppress my horror. “You asked me to come along on this mission. You obviously wanted me here for a reason, and I don’t think it’s for my charming smile. So let’s try things my way first.”
“Your way might get you killed.”
But Damiel stepped back anyway, making space for me to move closer to our prisoner.
“Trust me, Damiel,” I said as I passed him. “Trust that my way can work. Do not allow fear and paranoia to win over reason.” Then I turned to Colonel Spellstorm. “We know you’ve been coming here often. What are you up to?”
“I’ve been investigating a series of strange occurrences,” he answered. “There have been signs that something evil is amiss, and that it will happen here on the Adriatic Sea.”
“You embarked on an unsanctioned, off-the-record mission,” Damiel told him.
“There are traitors everywhere,” replied Colonel Spellstorm. “You of all people know that.”
Damiel grunted.
“If there truly are traitors about, agents of the demons—if they are keeping an eye on me—I don’t want to alert them,” Colonel Spellstorm said.
“So your suspicious behavior was actually you tracking down suspicious behavior?” I asked.
“Yes. While many innocents have been convicted in the drive to expose those who are working against us, the threat of traitors in our ranks is very real. I couldn’t risk trusting anyone.”
Even as he accused Damiel of paranoia, Colonel Spellstorm was demonstrating the very same behavior. It seemed he had a hard time applying the same standards to himself. He was as paranoid as Damiel.
Then again, he did have a point. Many times, the Legion had been struck by traitors from within our ranks.
“My clandestine investigation led me here,” Colonel Spellstorm continued. “I’ve discovered the demons are planning to break the curse keeping them from this world. And they will do it very soon.”
“Where will they do this?” I asked.
“There is an old, abandoned city nearby, built over one hundred small islands.”
“The City of Islands,” I said.
He nodded. “The old city fell the day the monsters went wild on Earth, but the sea monsters here have accelerated its descent into ruin. The City of Islands has been at least partially flooded since the monsters disrupted the waters in these parts. At high tide, it lies completely below the sea. At low tide, however, the city can be navigated. It’s wet and some parts are still flooded, but there are paths to walk through the city.”
“The tide will soon reach its lowest point,” I said.
“And the City of Islands will emerge from the ocean,” said Colonel Spellstorm. “I was just now making my final preparations to go there and stop the demons. I discovered that their agents would make their move at lowest tide today.”
“Who are these agents?” I asked him.
“I don’t know. All I managed to decipher from the communications I obtained was they are traitors to the Legion.” His gaze slid over to Damiel. “They played you, Dragonsire. They sent you after me to keep you busy while they put the pieces into place for the demons’ return. Because if we are fighting one another, none of us can stop them.”
7
The Real Enemy
“There’s no time for this interrogation,” I told Damiel. “We need to go now. We need to stop the demons’ plan before it’s too late. If the demons manage to find a way to return to Earth, there will be another war between them and the gods. And this time, it might just tear our world apart.”
Damiel turned his stony gaze on Colonel Spellstorm. “Tell us where in the City of Islands we will find the traitors to the Legion.”
“The traitors will be opening the way for the demons inside the ruins of an old church,” replied Colonel Spellstorm. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
Damiel frowned like that wasn’t his preferred flavor of irony.
“Lowest tide is almost here. We need to get to that church now,” Colonel Spellstorm said.
His expression hard, his feelings unreadable, Damiel looked at me. “The Diamond Tear.”
“I can’t bring us to that church if I don’t know where in the city it is,” I told him.
“Tell her where the church is,” Damiel ordered Colonel Spellstorm.
“I will show you the way there.”
“I told you to explain to her where it is.”
“And I’m telling you that I am coming, Dragonsire. If you want to get to that church in time, you’ll need to bring me with you.”
“This isn’t a game.” Damiel’s words cut like a whip.
“No, it isn’t.” Colonel Spellstorm met the Master Interrogator’s eyes without a shred of fear. It was clear that he wasn’t backing down, no matter what. “That’s why you’ll need my help to fight the traitors.”
“I do not need you at my back in a fight,” Damiel retorted. “So you can stab me in the back.”
“When did you get to be such a cynical son of a bitch?”
“I always was. And so are you.”
“Times are changing, Dragonsire. Not everyone is a traitor. Not everyone is going to stab you in the back. By believing so, you are only playing into the demons’ hands. You’re killing the soldiers who will stand against them, who will fight them. The demons are sending us all in circles, making
us fight one another instead of the real enemy.”
“We shall see.”
Damiel nodded at me, and I released the spell binding Colonel Spellstorm to the wall.
Damiel grabbed Colonel Spellstorm by his metal handcuffs. “I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you,” he warned him.
“I would expect nothing less of you, Dragonsire.”
“Spellstorm will identify the church ruins from the air.” Damiel spoke like being forced to play by another angel’s rules hurt. “Then we’ll go there.”
He looked up at the hole in the ceiling, our way out. Water dripped from the opening, streaming down the walls. It really looked like the stone walls were weeping.
Finally, we are doing what we should have done from the beginning: trust Colonel Spellstorm and let him help us, I said to Damiel.
Damiel glanced at Colonel Spellstorm, then told me, You are far too trusting.
I winked at him behind Colonel Spellstorm’s back. Even angels have mortal weaknesses.
He didn’t laugh, nor was there any mention of strawberry tarts. He would never do anything like that when another angel was nearby, especially not an angel who was, as far as Damiel was concerned, still a suspected traitor to the Legion of Angels, the gods, and the very Earth we stood on.
So, no, there was no delightfully irrelevant conversation or expression of any kind from the Master Interrogator. Damiel had to show he was cold. But I could hear the faint echo of his laughter inside my head. He really did have a sense of humor. He just always tried so hard to hide it, to be someone he wasn’t. Someone cold and closed off, afraid to trust anyone. Being betrayed by his friends, those early Legion defectors, had really cut him deep. He wore the hard scars of that betrayal like a suit of armor.
Damiel waved his hand toward me, indicating that I should go first.
So I jumped up through the hole, returning to the island’s surface. My boots set down on slippery rock, coated with a squishy seaweed carpet. I waved my hands around, catching myself before I slipped and fell back down the hole. Angels didn’t slip and fall. My father had taught me that. In fact, he would have chided me for nearly falling.
