The Chronicles of Fire and Ice (The Legend of the Archangel Book 1)

by L. L Hunter

  “Have a nice night,” he told her, and then he was gone. She turned to thank Dyston, but he was also gone. She looked over the sea of heads and spotted him retreating out the doors leading to the garden. Scarlett pushed her way through the gyrating bodies and ran after him.

  “Dyston!” she called. He was standing on the stone steps that led down to the pergola. It was covered in twisting greyish-brown vines, its blossoms long dead for the winter. He had his back to her, and he didn’t turn as she approached. He just continued watching the array of fairy lights twinkling throughout the garden.

  “Dyston?”

  “You look stunning tonight. Did he buy you the locket, as well?”

  “I found it with the dress. Look I know I shouldn’t have worn it, but I didn’t have anything else.”

  “It’s all right. Did you really want to dance with him?”

  “No, I wanted to dance with you. I was looking for you,” she whispered. That was when he looked at her.

  “I had a duty to fulfil.”

  “A duty? To who?”

  “To the Academy. Look I have to go.” He unfurled his wings.

  “Wait, can’t we just… I would like to dance.” She took him in, his pristine black suit with tails, his slicked-back dark hair, which was now starting to curl at the sides and over his forehead. He wore a black wire mask that held diamonds in either corner above his eyes. It made his chocolate irises stand out immensely. He was tall, dark, and mysterious.

  He clenched and unclenched his jaw then let out a sigh. “All right, one dance.” He took her hand and led her to the pergola. Someone had hung a red Chinese lantern from the roof. It set a seductive mood. He held her close, his hands positioned in the traditional ballroom pose. Scarlett grabbed them and set them on her hips, putting her own around his neck.

  “You’re pulling away from me,” she told him.

  “You wanted me to.”

  “No, I didn’t. I just felt we were moving a bit fast.”

  “You didn’t move too fast for my brother,” he muttered under his breath, but Scarlett caught it.

  “Look, that was a ploy, I had a plan. And I knew you were in denial over this,” she told him. He took his hands off her waist and put them on her face, his lips only millimetres from hers.

  “I just wish that I could go back in time to before I had met you, so we could start over,” he whispered, his words felt like a punch in the gut.

  “Maybe we can start over.”

  “Yeah.” he let her go and walked to the entry of the pergola. “Maybe.” Then he took to the sky and never looked back.

  Scarlett didn’t want to return to the ball. She felt soulless, like Dyston had ripped out her soul and had flown away with it. She wandered back up the steps towards the ballroom but didn’t go inside. Instead, she kept walking alongside the building until she came to a set of French doors. She heard a voice coming from inside. She pressed her ear up against the door and listened.

  “Has production started?” asked the voice, which sounded a lot like Lakyn. There was a pause where someone on the other end spoke, and then Lakyn spoke again.

  “But I need five thousand in a week.” Another pause. “Yes, just the tips. I have a way of getting the tears.”

  Scarlett’s heart leapt into her throat. He was manufacturing Tear Tips.

  “The Archangel? Yes, I have the girl. I can do it.”

  Scarlett couldn’t believe her ears. He was planning to harvest tears from her. She peered into the room. It was dark apart from a desk lamp that cast a halo of light over Lakyn who sat with his feet on a desk.

  “Tomorrow I will have her.” He hung up and looked in her direction. Scarlett threw herself against the wall, making herself as flat as possible. She felt his presence nearby and realised he must be at the glass. She inched back towards the ballroom doors hoping that she hadn’t been noticed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Weapon

  Scarlett had been having dreams the past few nights where she was in a pool and a dark figure kept swimming closer. She was now in desperate need of caffeine. She dressed in gym gear for her first class that morning, not bothering to shower. She made her way down to the dining hall, yawning all the way. Angels rarely slept or felt tired, but being Nephilim, the human blood that still lingered craved rest. She grabbed a bowl of warm, lumpy porridge, drizzled a decent amount of honey on it, grabbed a mug of good strong coffee, and walked to her seat.

  “Mm. Coffee. Yes, please,” said Kat, after Jacob had handed her a mug. She looked worse for wear, her hair untamed, and she had no make-up on.

  “Turbulent night in the bedroom?” asked Thomas, clearly amused. Kat just shot him a glare and continued to inhale the coffee her hands were wrapped around. Scarlett then noticed that Jacob was sitting at their table, one arm around Kat, the other holding his own cup of coffee. Scarlett gazed over at his usual spot at the Fourth Year table, hoping to find Dyston, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s Dyston?” Scarlett asked Jacob.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I was hoping you would.”

  “I haven’t seen him since last night.”

  “He wasn’t in his room this morning. Either that, or he didn’t feel like answering the door.”

  That was strange, Scarlett thought, even with his usual reputation for being elusive. She replayed Lakyn’s words over and over in her head—the reason for not getting to sleep last night—and now they were eating her from the inside out. Knowledge was a very powerful weapon, especially if it could put everyone you loved in danger. She could no longer keep it to herself. She had to tell someone.

  “I have to tell you guys something,” she finally said. Everyone’s eyes lifted to her.

  “I overheard Lakyn talking to someone on the phone last night during the dance.”

  “Where?” asked Thomas.

  “What was he saying?” Emer asked whose hair was pristine this morning.

  “I heard him say that he wanted five thousand Tear Tips made and shipped out by the end of the week.”

  “Tear Tips? Are you sure?” Jacob asked, perking up at the mention of it.

  “Yes, certain. We have about six days.”

  “Now I understand why we had to have classes on a Saturday,” whined Emer.

  “Maybe all the professors know, and they’re training us for the upcoming war,” said Delilah. She rarely said a word, but when she did, it was pure intellectual genius.

  “It’s possible,” said Jacob.

  “Can you tell Dyston?” Scarlett asked.

  “I think he knows. I saw something about the Michaelites with his books, during Chronicle 101 on Friday,” said Jacob

  “The Michaelites? What would he want with the Michaelites?” asked Kat.

  “They’re human,” added Thomas, almost saying the word like it was poison in his mouth.

  “Yes, they are human. In fact, they are the only remaining humans on this earth,” Jacob told them.

  “How’d they stay that way? I thought all humans were wiped out after The Fall,” said Scarlett

  “They live in a protected sanctuary and have somehow invented a ward to prevent angels from entering,” Jacob explained.

  “Why would they want to do that?” asks Kat.

  “I don’t know. To keep human blood pure I guess.”

  “You said they were wiped out, the humans, what do you mean?” asked Emer.

  Jacob answered for her. “They weren’t wiped out, as in obliterated as you say. After the fall, angels bred with humans, and over time, as the angel bloodlines grew stronger, the human ones grew weaker, until they were almost non-existent. Except for the Michaelites, that is.”

  The cathedral bells tolled signalling the start of classes for the day.

  “If you want to learn more about the Michaelites, take Chronicle 101 next semester,” he told them as he stood. Kat joined him. “See you in combat,” he added with a smile and left. Scarlett wasn’t sure if he meant their
first class, or the raging war that she knew was coming.

  It felt good to let her frustrations out. Each hit of the punching bag was knocking away her worries like chisel to stone, but they still chewed at her brain, especially Jacob’s words. What he had said about Dyston wanting to know more about the Michaelites who kept themselves hidden for a reason—scared of angels or scared of being bred out, she didn’t know. Whatever Dyston wanted probably wasn’t good.

  “Pretend that punching bag is your enemy,” yelled Jacob, who had taken over teaching duties since Lakyn was also M.I.A.

  Both Blackbell brothers missing. Was it a coincidence? Scarlett thought not. She didn’t believe in coincidences, only fate. She had to find out what Dyston wanted to know about the Michaelites, but she also had to stop Lakyn from manufacturing thousands of deadly angelic weapons. She wished she could split herself in two and do both, but she couldn’t. She had to choose one. And she knew which one she had to choose.

  Scarlett trained until her muscles burned and then she hit the showers, letting the warm water cascade over her body as she contemplated walking into Lakyn’s factory and demanding him to stop. It would be easier said than done. After a few minutes, she turned off the water and grabbed her towel. As she dried, her vision began to blur. She thought it was water so she wiped her face with the towel, but it wouldn’t go away. Then she received a vision. She leaned against the wall and let it take over.

  Dyston tagged closely behind a priest as they walked up the aisle towards the front of the church.

  “Thank you for dropping the ward so that I could talk to you,” he said.

  “It’s all right. As long as you mean us no harm, you are welcome here,” said the priest, lighting a candle.

  “I don’t. I just wanted to ask you something.”

  “Say what you have to say and leave us. We are busy people,” the priest told him.

  “My brother is planning something, something dark. I wanted to ask if we could seek sanctuary within your wards if ever we needed it.”

  “We don’t owe you anything, Nephilim,” said the elderly priest.

  “I know, but I am asking if you could help us. You could stop a war.”

  “There is forever a war brewing amongst your kind. We want no part in it.”

  “All we ask is for a safe place to hide when the time comes, and in return, we will protect you.”

  “What makes you different from those in the past who have tried to destroy us?”

  “We are the good guys,” Dyston told him, and the elderly Michaelite priest hesitated, but eventually put his hand out for Dyston to take. The two shook hands—angel and man.

  The haze lifted and Scarlett could see again. A smile made its way to her lips. Dyston was trying to save them, and she knew she had to do the same.

  Scarlett stepped off the tram at the Docklands and ran the rest of the way. She knew exactly where the factory was, but what she didn’t know was a way to stop the production. She was glad she had brought along Dyston’s dagger. She pulled it out now as she ran down the side of the factory to the side door. She crept through the unlocked door and into the dark. She knew this place very well, because her grandfather had worked here when she was an infant, and she had seen it on the news. It was a famous cigarette company, after all. She wondered if the news journalists would soon be reporting about something more sinister coming out of this building.

  Once inside, Scarlett kept close to the wall and listened for signs of life. She heard shouts somewhere ahead of her, but she couldn’t see a thing. She closed her eyes and called flame to her fingertips, creating an instant flashlight. She saw a metal staircase and decided to climb it so she could get a clearer view of the layout of the factory. She climbed the two flights of stairs to the top floor and looked around. There were offices to her left and a platform that looked over the factory floor to her right. Scarlett crouched down and duck-walked over to the platform railing so she could listen.

  “What’s the count?” said one. He sounded familiar.

  “Three thousand five hundred,” said another less familiar voice.

  “Mr. Blackbell wants five thousand by Friday. Better getting cracking,” said Voice One. Scarlett remembered where she had heard him before. He was one of the angels who had kidnapped her, Abel. Then she heard more voices, this time closer.

  “How do we immerse the Tear Tips once we get the Archangel tears?” asked a young Nephilim. Scarlett peered through the railing. He looked to be about seventeen or eighteen.

  “The tips are dipped into a vat containing the tears. Now, we won’t have much, so try not to waste any, okay?” said an angel whose back was facing her. He turned a little and Scarlett recognised him immediately—Lakyn.

  “How do you harvest the tears from the Archangel?” asked the boy.

  “That information is not for you to know. Your job is just to coat the tips. Okay?” Lakyn told him, patting his shoulder, before heading towards the stairs. He was coming up, she realised. She needed to do something, and fast. So she ran towards the closest office. She pinned herself to the wall and waited. She heard his footsteps against the metal grate and thought he had gone past. She peeled herself off the wall and peered out and was met with ice blue eyes and a smirk.

  “Perfect,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her, she froze and went along with it, hoping to get somewhere, but all she felt was a sharp prick in her neck.

  “Lakyn, what…” she began, but then the world fell away from her.

  “Scarlett, hold on,” he told her. She sighed

  “Dyston, I knew you’d find me,” she muttered groggily. She opened her eyes and put her hand on his face.

  “I promise I’ll get you out.”

  “Out? What do you mean? I’m here with you, I’m safe.”

  “You’re only safe in this dream. Out there, you’re not.”

  “Dream? This can’t be a dream, you’re real,” she said as she pulled him close. They were on a bed in a blurry room, and they were the only ones whose features were clear.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “It’s okay, I forgive you.” And then he kissed her deeply. And his kiss sucked away the rest of the world, so they were the only ones left in existence. Her hands found his buttons and slowly undid them. He didn’t stop her, so she kept going. She felt his hands on her arms. They slid up and over her shoulders and down her bare back, she realised she was wearing nothing but a backless hospital gown. She felt his fingers on the ties and they loosened. She tugged his shirt off and her fingers found his hair. She tangled them in his dark locks, and then slid them down over his lean back. He moaned with pleasure and pulled her closer to him, so that they were now in a sitting position. Scarlett wrapped her legs around his waist and the gown fell off her shoulders. He took her in, every glorious inch of her.

  “I love you,” he told her.

  “I love you, too,” she gasped and kissed him again. If this were a dream, it was the best one yet, and she never wanted to wake up. She reached for his jeans button and unzipped his fly. He grinned and let her fall back on the bed. He kissed her again and allowed her to slip his jeans down with her toes. Scarlett forgot her indiscretion with Lakyn and replaced the memory with this one. This would be her first time. She pulled his hips closer. Just as they were about to connect, he sat up.

  “Dys, what’s wrong?”

  “He’s coming.” And then the dream cleared like fog, and she found herself strapped to a metal table in the centre of a white room.

  “Welcome back” said Lakyn. “You must have been having a good dream,” he smirked.

  Scarlett’s cheeks flushed. “It’s none of your business.” She tried to move her hands, but they were covered in tubes and cords, and small mechanical beeps were coming from a machine somewhere. She gazed around. They were in a clinical room. She looked at the tubes coming out of her wrists. They were the dark red colour of her blood.

  “What is this? Why are you taking my blo
od?”

  “Shh, relax, Scarlett. This is for a good cause,” said a woman in scrubs. Scarlett could only see her pale yellow eyes.

  “Unless you are taking it to help save someone, you have no permission to take my blood!”

  “We need your blood to help all the other angels,” Lakyn told her. Scarlett could tell he was trying to be serious, but she could see straight through his facade.

  “Liar. Dyston knows, so you better let me go,” Scarlett stated.

  Lakyn laughed. “My brother cannot enter the Realm anymore.”

  Scarlett froze. Realm. They were in the angel equivalent to Purgatory. There was no escaping this time. And she didn’t have the strength to make another Angel protection ward. And Dyston couldn’t save her. She was stuck here. She was certain that this room and these faces would be the last thing she would ever see.

  “All right, Scarlett, now I need you to cry.”

  Cry? They were taking her tears, as well? She wasn’t going to let them. She squeezed her eyelids shut.

  “She’s going to resist,” said the woman with the yellow eyes.

  “Here, I’ll try,” said Lakyn. He leaned close. Scarlett could tell because she felt his breath on her face and smelt the pungent odour of cigarettes that always accompanied him.

  “Scarlett, is there anything you want me to tell Dyston for you, because you won’t be going back to him.” Scarlett opened her eyes and stared at him.

  “Come on, you must have something you want to say to him. Don’t you love him?”

  Her eyes began to sting. No! She had to hold them back. She just had to. She wouldn’t be the one to ruin the world. Just one drop of her salty tears could kill many souls.

  “This is going to kill him. Oh, how I’m really going to enjoy seeing him suffer. He’s so weak, my brother,” chuckled Lakyn. “Or maybe I’ll bring him in here and make him watch me torture you. Then I’ll pluck out each of his feathers one by one.”