Angel's Flight (Legion of Angels Book 8)

by Ella Summers

  “Nero,” I gasped.

  My spine arched, my breasts hitting the hard wall of his chest, my pelvis rocking against his. I was no stranger to lust when it came to Nero, but I’d never before needed him so desperately. I felt like I was missing a part of myself, a part I’d only reclaim by joining with him, when my body merged with his, melting into each other.

  My hands were at his belt. Suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to imagine how quickly Nyx and Ronan had shifted gears. I couldn’t get Nero inside of me fast enough.

  “Put your hands up and stand away from each other!” a voice echoed off the building fronts.

  I looked past Nero, to the army that had us surrounded. I dropped my hands from Nero’s belt. His arms were folded around me protectively. His wings were folded around me too.

  “She’s mine.” His voice hissed, hard and possessive.

  “Step away from her, General,” Nyx said coldly, her gun aimed directly at his head. “You are both under arrest for conspiracy against the Legion.”

  28

  Choices

  It turned out that ‘conspiracy against the Legion’ were just some fancy words for our out-of-control libidos. We’d been caught red-handed getting frisky with each other before my magic peaked. I felt like a teenager caught making out in a parked car, except instead of the local sheriff tapping on my window, thirty highly-trained soldiers in the gods’ army had their guns aimed at our heads.

  All in all, it could have been much worse. Thankfully, Nyx didn’t say anything about my overhearing her conversation with Ronan—or the sex afterwards. I hoped she’d been so caught up in the heat of the moment that she hadn’t noticed me.

  Nero and I were in timeout. We spent the entire flight back to the Purgatory office in separate compartments at opposite ends of the airship. This engagement was starting to get annoying. I’d much rather be doing shots with my girlfriends at the bar of the Witch’s Watering Hole, while donning a pink feather tiara and a t-shirt that read ‘bride-to-be’.

  The moment we reached Purgatory, I was escorted to my room.

  I’d now been confined there for the past five hours. My windows were barred, and guards had been posted outside my door. I was a prisoner in my own office, in the territory I was supposed to command.

  Thankfully, there was now only one day left until the wedding. The thought was, at the same time, a relief and a source of paralyzing panic.

  I was looking forward to shedding my chaperones. Nero and I could finally be alone, just the two of us.

  But my panic was spiked by the whirlwind speed at which this was all happening. The point of this union was for me and Nero to have children.

  Children. I couldn’t bring children into this mad universe. Not with the gods and demons and their abominable Immortal War. Not with the Guardians trying to kill me because I didn’t fit into their plans. I had no doubt that they’d try to kill any child Nero and I had together too. I wasn’t sure I could protect a child. I hadn’t even been able to protect my kitten. They’d poisoned Angel. It was only by sheer luck that she had survived.

  The attack on Angel was an undeniable reminder that the Guardians could get to us, no matter how powerful we thought we were, no matter how safe we thought we were.

  As my mind raced with terrible possibilities, I pet Angel and tried to remain calm. But even stroking her soft fur didn’t calm me like it usually did.

  “Moping doesn’t suit you, daughter.”

  I jumped at the sound of Faris’s voice. He was suddenly there, standing in the middle of my living room. I really hated when he popped in like that. And so, apparently, did Angel. She jumped up and hissed at him, her back arched, her fur standing on end.

  Faris regarded her coolly. “What a disagreeable animal.”

  “Don’t you have better things to do?” I said grumpily. “I didn’t expect you’d leave home until your month of subjecting Zarion and Stash to hard training was over.”

  “They are asleep. Torturing someone who’s unconscious is considerably less enjoyable than torturing someone who is awake.”

  “You allowed them sleep? How magnanimous of you.”

  “A momentary relief from pain makes the next onset of agony that much worse.”

  Trust Faris to use a nap as a form of torture.

  “If you kill Stash, I’m coming for you,” I warned him.

  “Your friend is a demigod.” Faris sounded utterly unconcerned by both my threat and my friend’s life. “He will not be irrevocably damaged.”

  “Irrevocably damaged?” I repeated in annoyance. “Stash is a person, not a toaster oven.”

  “Gods are not people. Neither are angels or demigods.” He smiled at me. “Or more unusual deities, for that matter.”

  Unusual like me.

  “So I’m not a person now?” I demanded, my voice growing louder despite my best efforts. Faris really excelled at getting my heckles up.

  “Of course you’re not a person. Nor have you ever been.”

  “Conversations with you make my head hurt.”

  “I’ve heard the same said about you,” he replied.

  “Don’t.”

  His brows lifted. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t pretend that we have a connection. The only reason you want me to believe we do is so you can manipulate me into doing what you want.”

  “And what do you know about what I want, child?”

  “You want to use me as a weapon you point at anything that stands in your way. You want to conquer everything, to rule over all the universe, to have everyone on every world speak your name with reverence. You want them to worship you, for their faith and devotion to make you stronger, more powerful.” I shot him a wry look. “Have I covered all the bases?”

  His face was hard, his eyes humorless. “This would all be a lot easier on everyone if you just stopped fighting me and took your rightful place.”

  “What do you want, Faris?” I sighed. “Why have you come here?”

  “Can’t a father just visit his daughter?”

  “No. Not you. You always have an ulterior motive, some scheme driving everything that you do.”

  “You will be marrying Nero Windstriker one day from now.”

  “If this is you fishing for an invitation—”

  “A god does not need to be invited anywhere.” His voice rumbled like thunder. “Any event is greatly improved by the honor of his presence.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “But this isn’t about me,” he said.

  “How shocking,” I muttered. “I thought everything was about you, that the universe revolved around you.”

  He continued, as though I hadn’t spoken at all, “This is about you ignoring my warnings regarding General Windstriker.”

  “Unlike you, Nero isn’t masterminding some grand plot to use me. He simply loves me.”

  “That is a naive attitude, one that does not befit a daughter of mine.”

  “No, it’s not at all naive,” I countered. “Because do you know what I did after you tried to push me and Nero apart? I talked to him. And I saw that I’d been right about him all along. Unlike you, he doesn’t want to use me.”

  “He took an interest in you from the start. His parents, Damiel Dragonsire and Cadence Lightbringer, are of Immortal blood. And, therefore, so is he. Doubly so, in fact.”

  Faris watched me for my reaction. He thought to surprise me, but thanks to Arina, I already knew.

  “You know,” he said, frowning.

  “The question is, how do you know?” I asked suspiciously.

  “I have a lot of telepaths in my Orchestra.”

  “Orchestra?”

  “Talented individuals who sing to me, who tell me the things others like to keep hidden,” he explained.

  Faris was known to collect telepaths and other special individuals. He could never find out about Gin and Tessa and their out-of-this-world rare magic, or he would try to collect my little sisters too.

  “And m
y Orchestra has sung some troubling songs about Nero Windstriker,” Faris told me.

  I just shrugged. “He is the son of two angels with Immortal blood. I am the daughter of a god and a demon. It’s a match made in heaven. Or hell, if you prefer,” I added slyly.

  “His parents were plotting something,” Faris said. “He is plotting something.”

  “And what is that?” I laughed.

  “His ancestors have been selectively breeding an army to challenge the gods. And Nero went after you to bring your special blood into that mix.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Just because that’s the kind of ploy you would think up, that doesn’t mean other people are that demented.”

  “Once again, Leda, angels are not people,” he reminded me.

  I growled in frustration. “Nero and his family didn’t plot anything. It was the Guardians. They manipulated events and people. They wanted Nero, the person with the strongest concentration of Immortal blood since the Immortals walked these worlds, to be born. We just don’t know why.”

  “How do you know this?” Faris said seriously. He actually looked like he believed me.

  Oops. Arina had been worried I’d get her into trouble, that my investigation would expose her and her kids. No, I wasn’t going to do that to her or her cute twins. So I lied through my teeth.

  “Athan helped us modify the Spymaster’s Opera Glasses to expose the memories of Nero’s ancestors. The memories that shaped his existence are a part of his blood, of his natural magic,” I told Faris.

  “That is supposed to be a lost art,” he said. “Trust it to the Everlasting to preserve the ancient practice. And his guilt compelled him to help you.”

  Faris seemed to buy my story. The best way to pull off a lie was to wrap it in a blanket of truth.

  “The Guardians made the monster control collars,” I added.

  “That’s all the ammunition I need to bring this to the gods’ council.”

  “Bring what to the gods’ council?” I asked him. “What are you going to do, Faris?”

  But he was already gone. He’d vanished into thin air. I really hated when the gods did that.

  His speedy departure left me worried. What was Faris going to do? What information was he bringing to the gods’ council? Whatever it was, I had a sinking feeling it would stick me smack dab in the middle of the conflict between gods and gods. And between gods and demons. And now the Guardians were a part of this too.

  I went to my door and opened it. The two soldiers stationed in the hallway shot me identical suspicious glares. That was the first thing I noticed. The second thing I noticed was that they weren’t Legion soldiers. They were gods. From the markings on their uniforms, these godly soldiers belonged to Ronan.

  “I need to see Dr. Harding,” I told the soldiers.

  They looked me up and down, obviously checking for weapons. Or maybe they were just checking me out. Nyx and Ronan had cast layers upon layers of wards on me, but my magic was growing stronger and more turbulent with every passing moment. The soldiers were standing so close to me that my emotions must have been bleeding off on them.

  I snapped my fingers at the soldiers to get their attention. “Wake up, boys. I need to see Dr. Harding so she can perform a magic check. I feel a bit weird.”

  I must have said the magic words because the two soldiers motioned for me to leave my room. The Legion closely monitored female angels with the Fever to time things right. If they didn’t bring me to Nerissa now, they could risk ruining everything.

  As I passed in front of the soldiers, they closed in on either side of me. They brought me to Nerissa’s office, which was housed in a converted spa. It looked more like a relaxation room than a doctor’s office. Not that I was complaining. I found the subtle aroma of mint in the air particularly refreshing.

  “You can go now,” I told the soldiers when they walked into the room with me.

  They held their ground, silent and stoic. How very godly of them.

  “There’s no one but Dr. Harding here.” I smirked at them. “And I promise not to get frisky with her.”

  “No?” Nerissa rose from her seat, doing her best to look disappointed. “Well, then why did I bother getting up from my chair?” She winked at me. “What can I do for you, Leda?”

  “My magic feels weird. I was hoping you could test it?”

  “Let’s have a look.” Nerissa shooed the soldiers away. “Stop hovering.”

  My bodyguards exchanged loaded looks, then took positions just outside the room. They must have decided I wouldn’t get into trouble here. Besides the door they guarded, there was no other door in or out of here. The windows were stained glass. They weren’t even openable. If I tried to smash through them and make a run for it, the whole building would hear it.

  Nerissa brought me to the back of the room and sat me down on a massage table across from her desk. I didn’t know how she’d managed to get that colossal piece of furniture into her office, but I had no doubt that magic had been involved.

  “So your magic is feeling weird,” Nerissa said.

  I looked away from the water flowing down the serenity fountain behind the massage table, leaning forward to get a peek at the soldiers outside the door. “Actually, no, not really,” I whispered to Nerissa. “At least, my magic isn’t any weirder than it’s been since I got the Fever.”

  “Then why are you here?” Nerissa asked me.

  “I’m feeling concerned about what the Fever means.”

  “Yes, the prospect of days of sex can be quite daunting,” Nerissa said with an amused smirk. “Especially with an archangel of Nero Windstriker’s caliber. But I’m sure you’ll endure it for the sake of the Legion.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and pouted out my lips. “Very funny.”

  She grinned.

  “But it’s not the sex I’m worried about.”

  Nerissa stuck me with a syringe.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just checking your magic and hormone levels,” she told me.

  “But I said I was fine. I only told my chaperones I was feeling weird because I needed an excuse to see you.”

  “Maybe so, but I need to check you out anyway as you draw closer to your Peak.” She put the blood sample she’d taken from me under her magic microscope. “Keep talking. I’m listening.”

  “It’s the ‘for the sake of the Legion’ part that bothers me,” I said. “The Legion sees the Fever as an opportunity to breed angels, to create future soldiers, future angels.”

  She adjusted a few knobs on her machine. “Yes, that is the goal.”

  “The Guardians already tried to kill me this week. A few months ago, a demon kidnapped and tortured me. I’m constantly caught up in some kind of world-shattering danger or up to my neck in monsters. It’s not a safe world—or even universe—to bring a child into. So what if I’m not ready to make future angels?”

  Talking to Faris had brought these dangers even closer to home. It had reminded me of the lengths he would go to in order to wield me, the living weapon that he’d created. Meeting Arina and her children had shown me how vulnerable being a parent would make me. Gods, demons, and Guardians would not hesitate to use my children to control me.

  Watching Nero with Arina’s children, seeing how good he was with them, had produced a very different and unexpected feeling: longing. I wanted that. Children. A family with Nero.

  But not now. Not like this. Not when I’d only be bringing our children into a hazardous world. Before I had kids, I had to make the world a place where they’d be safe.

  Nerissa looked up from her magic microscope. “Doesn’t this issue fall more into Ivy’s domain?”

  Ivy was a Legion therapist. She helped talk people through their problems.

  “Ivy can try to ease my concerns, but that doesn’t change the danger of my reality, how my life and the lives of everyone around me are always at risk,” I said. “This morning, I spoke to a woman who didn’t dar
e get involved in saving the world because her involvement would put her kids in danger.”

  “I suppose that’s what being a parent means: to sacrifice for your children, to keep them happy and safe,” said Nerissa.

  “I have already sworn to protect the people of Earth. What if it comes down to protecting my child, or protecting all the people of Earth? How can I make a choice like that?”

  Nerissa shook her head slowly. “I don’t have an answer to that.”

  “Neither do I,” I told her. “Which is why I can’t bring a child into this world. At least not yet. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

  “Her?”

  “I like to think of the child as a she.”

  “The child you have not conceived.” One side of Nerissa’s mouth drew up into a crooked half-smirk. “And don’t wish to.”

  “Not yet. Not until things are safe for her.”

  “But will they ever be safe?”

  “I don’t know. I am immortal, though, so I hope I do live to see that day, a day when I don’t have to fear bringing a child into this world or any other.” I frowned. “I’m not sure if I’m making any sense.”

  She took my hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I understand.”

  “So you’ll help me?”

  “In any way I can, Leda.”

  “Thank you.” I gave her hands a return squeeze. “I was wondering if there was anything you could give me, a potion or injection or whatever.”

  “Birth control for angels?”

  When she said it like that, it did sound weird. Angels were notoriously infertile. They never wasted a fertile cycle because they only came around every few decades at most.

  I sighed. “Birth control for angels probably hasn’t even been invented, has it?”

  She leaned in to whisper softly in my ear. “Actually, there is a potion. It will prevent you from getting pregnant, but it won’t get rid of the Fever. You’ll keep the peaking magic and raging hormones. The fun part.”

  I gave her a pleading look.

  “It will mean my death if anyone found out,” she said in a hissed whisper.

  I felt a sharp twinge in my heart. Nerissa was my friend. I didn’t want her to die.