by C. L. Coffey
“What have you done to your arm, Leigh-Ann?” she asked, staring at the fading red mark.
Leigh-Ann’s hand clamped down over the mark, making her hiss. “It’s nothing.”
Pinnosa dropped to a crouch, holding out her hand. For the first time, her expression softened. “Let me see.”
Sparing me a glance first, Leigh-Ann offered out her arm. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I must have caught myself.”
“Sleepwalking, speaking in foreign languages, spontaneous injuries and . . .” Pinnosa looked over at me, her shrewd eyes fixing on my throat. “Attacking a fellow student. You’re clearly still having visions. She’s a prophet.”
Considering Pinnosa hadn’t believed me when I’d said so last time, I was pleasantly surprised she had changed her mind now. “You think so?”
Pinnosa’s gaze switched between the two of us a few times before she finally nodded. “It seems that way. But demons don’t exist.”
“Your translation was wrong,” I told her.
Ignoring my comment, Pinnosa turned to Leigh-Ann, taking her hand firmly in hers. “Let’s get you off the floor,” she said, gently.
As Pinnosa pulled Leigh-Ann to her feet, I helped usher her over to the closest pew. “You're still trembling.”
Pinnosa took her jacket off, draping it over Leigh-Ann's shoulders. “You're are correct in that I did give you a wrong translation before. I've not spoken Latin for centuries, and I've become rusty. It wasn't until later that the correct translation came to me, and by that time, we were dealing with the attack on the school.”
“It's okay,” Leigh-Ann said, pulling the jacket tightly around her. “But what do the other words mean?”
“About the Watchers?” I asked.
Leigh-Ann looked at me, frowning. “No, the other part. Something about Exterminans?”
“You didn't say anything like that.”
“The man was saying it? Maybe only I heard it?” She looked up at Pinnosa.
The dean moved over to the bench in front of us, sitting down and turning back. “Latin is a curious language. Without context it could mean a number of things.”
“You have context. Demons and Watchers.” I pointed out.
Pinnosa looked away, her attention on the pulpit. “Then we have another impossibility.”
“You all keep saying things are impossible, but there's a prophet in this room, and a nephilim who is also a potential.”
“And don't forget the Watchers.” Leigh-Ann added.
Pinnosa turned back, her lips set in a thin line. “Exterminans could be referring to the Destroyer. One of the Princes of Darkness: Abaddon.”
“One of the what now?” I arched an eyebrow. “That sounds like a bad rock group.”
As her fingers went to her neck, playing with the chain around it, Pinnosa nodded. “I thought Abaddon had been killed some years back. For now, let me discuss this with Gabriel. I don't want either of you two to worry about this.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Dora,” Pinnosa said, firmly. “Abaddon was one of Lucifer's lieutenants. You are a college student with no training. Your success last semester was luck. Until Gabriel and I have discussed the next course of action, you will do nothing.” The dean stood. “Leigh-Ann, I think we should get you to the infirmary.”
“I'm fine.” Leigh-Ann protested.
“You were wandering around the campus in the middle of the night and have fading burn marks on your arm. I have a duty to care for my students, and when one is injured, that involves going to the infirmary.” She looked down at me. “And you have precisely ten minutes to get back to your room before I place you in detention for being out after hours.”
I managed to get halfway back to the dorm before I started muttering under my breath. Mainly at the fact that I couldn't go to the infirmary with Leigh-Ann.
But also that Pinnosa thought I’d go after Abaddon. We had no evidence that was what Leigh-Ann had said. This was the first time she’d ever mentioned it anyway.
Why did she automatically assume I was going to go after some guy I’d never even heard of?
I was still stewing these thoughts over as I lay in my bed an hour later, unable to sleep. At least it was Saturday, and I didn’t have class. Not that it helped me with falling back to sleep.
With a grunt of frustration, I threw back the covers and got back down from the bed. There was still an hour before the cafeteria would be open for breakfast, and the end of the nightly curfew.
Gabriel.
That was why I felt unsettled.
Even though Pinnosa was going to have the conversation with Gabriel, just staying here left me with a strange feeling, like I was hiding things from him.
I quickly dressed and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I knew Gabriel was an early riser. He was unlikely to be in the gym at this hour on a weekend, but he did have a small residence on the far side of the campus.
By the time I got there, the sun was peaking over the tops of the mountains, and the few strips of sunlight were making the grass steam.
As far as I knew, all of the professors had small apartments on the campus. They were like chalets. Cute. Lottie had spent a lunchtime complaining that these were the kinds of things the students should have had for accommodation instead of shared dorm rooms.
After some of the dives I’d lived in, the dorm was a palace to me. Plus I wasn’t paying for my accommodation, so I didn’t really have the right to complain. But if the opportunity ever came around to live in one of these, I’d take it in a heartbeat.
Drawing close to Gabriel’s cabin, I could see the lights on inside. At least I didn’t have to worry about waking him up. Although, if he had been asleep, I would have sat on his porch and waited.
It was only when I stepped up onto the porch that I could see inside his chalet.
Gabriel wasn’t alone.
And it wasn’t Pinnosa who was visiting him.
Pretty, red head, with big glasses. The counselor.
I couldn’t remember her name. I’d not been paying attention to Pinnosa at the time, nor had I been summoned to see her.
My body froze, hand midway to the door to knock.
It was before six. What was she doing there at this hour?
Or had she arrived last night?
Wait . . . was this why Gabriel had told me we were a bad idea?
Was telling me he was interested in someone else too hard for him? I’d thought of lots of other scenarios other than that one.
Lowering my hand, I backed away. I would ask him about it later.
Not now.
Knocking on the door and demanding to know what was going on was . . . crazy. I was hurt, but I wasn’t crazy.
My chest ached as I walked back up to the main building. “Really, Kennedy?” I asked myself. “You’re going to allow yourself to get upset about this?”
Now I needed my best friend, but I knew there was no way in hell I was going to get past the school nurse to see her. And no one else would be awake this early on a weekend. Not that I was close enough with anyone else.
I didn’t want to go back to my room and sitting in the library to do some studying wasn’t going to work, either. My mind would end up creating a dozen different scenarios of a conversation that never happened—or would happen.
My feet seemed to automatically take me to the gym.
If Gabriel was busy with the counselor, I didn’t have to worry about him coming in and disturbing me. And working out seemed like the best way to keep my mind occupied.
Thankfully, the clothes I’d changed into were the ones Gabriel had bought me over Easter, which meant they were comfortable enough to work out in. I tossed the jacket to the side, glad that my body couldn’t really feel the chill in the air of the gym, and started running laps around the basketball court.
It was only when I’d made my twentieth circuit that I spotted the CD player in the corner of the room. There was a good chance it had been there
for years, but in all the times I’d been in there, Gabriel had never turned it on. I’d never even noticed it before.
I jogged over to it, plugging it in. There was no CD player in the drawer, but it did have a radio function. I fiddled with the tuning before settling on a rock station. Music had never played an important part in my life, but there had been one diner where the owner always had a rock station on.
There was familiarity to the drums and electric guitar that I appreciated.
I turned the music up loud, the beat filling the gymnasium. Turning, I scanned the gym. The edges had been kept clear to allow students to run laps, and the middle was full of mats. Half we used to do the exercises Gabriel had chosen, and the other half were used by the students focusing on learning to fight.
But my attention was on the far end of the room. There was part of the gym that was more like an add-on to the gym, and in it, hanging from the lower ceiling, were punching bags.
It wasn’t that I was angry, as much as frustrated. Whenever I’d seen a film or television show, the character always seemed to feel better after a few rounds with a punching bag.
I marched up to the bag. It was bigger than I imagined them to be, but a little shove told me it was just as heavy.
Although I’d never punched a punching bag, I wasn’t unfamiliar with throwing punches. I’d sparred with Gabriel before, training using mitts. This was similar, except the target wasn’t moving.
Curling my hands up into fists, and moving to the balls of my feet, I let the punching bag have it. The bag rocked back and forth with each blow.
For the first time in a long time, my mind cleared. I’d been expecting to imagine something—someone—on the other end of my fist, but there was nothing. I wasn’t even thinking of anything. Between the loud rock music and the steady rhythm of my blows that only seemed to differ depending on the beat of the song, there was nothing.
Even though my heart was beating fast at my exertions, I felt calm.
It was . . . refreshing.
And then the bag burst.
Sand spilled out like an hourglass, scattering across the floor as the bag swung back and forth.
“Crap.” I turned, wondering where the cleaning cupboard was, and found Gabriel watching me, his eyes wide. “Gabriel?”
“That’s . . . new.” He walked over, his hands grabbing the bag to still it.
“I’m sorry. I should have realized this was designed for humans.”
Gabriel bent his body, examining the hole. “No, it’s designed for angels,” he said, straightening. “Over the decades, I’ve discovered that an ordinary human punching bag isn’t tough enough to withstand my blows. When Ursula told me her plans, I had a company make me new ones to my specification and replaced them with the old ones.”
“New ones?”
“These have four leather coats over them. You’ve just punched through four layers of leather.”
I stared down at the sand pooling into a triangular pile. “I’m sorry.”
Reaching up, Gabriel unhooked the bag and carried it over to the side. He laid it down and inspected the hole on the top before staring at the sand now covering the floor. “I guess I need another layer or two added to these.”
“Why are you here?”
Gabriel tilted his head. “Why are you here? We stopped our Saturday morning sessions.”
My cheeks flushed before I could stop myself. Why was I getting embarrassed? “I was up, and I needed to work off some pent-up energy.”
“Want to work it off with me?”
“What?” My mind went there, and as a result, my question came out as a squeak.
“Sparring.” Gabriel’s stare intensified. “Why? What did you think I meant?”
“Let’s spar,” I said, walking off to the middle of the gym before Gabriel could point out I hadn’t answered his question.
When I stopped in the middle of the mat and turned around, Gabriel wasn’t behind me, but at the side of the gym. It wasn’t until he joined me that I realized he’d picked up a pair of gloves for me.
They were fingerless, but the backs had a little padding.
“If you’re going to punch a bag that hard, or whenever you’re training, for that matter, you should wear gloves. I can see how red your knuckles are from here,” he pointed at my hands as I pulled the gloves on. “You might heal quickly, but there’s no sense in injuring yourself unnecessarily.”
As I used the Velcro to fasten the gloves in place, Gabriel stepped onto the mat, moving into a boxer stance with his fists up to protect his nose. He jabbed the air a few times. “It’s been a while since we’ve done this. Do you remember what I taught you?”
I mimicked his position, bringing my fists up.
Our fighting style was more of an ‘anything goes’ than any one in particular. And from the previous times we’d done this, I knew no matter how hard I felt I worked, Gabriel would be holding back. Centuries of fighting had put him at such an elite level, there was no way I stood a chance at beating him.
Moving back on forth on my toes to find my rhythm, unintentionally moving to the beat of the music once more, I jabbed at Gabriel’s side. In an instant, he had blocked it, deflecting my blow rather than counter attacking.
Regardless of whether I used my arms or legs, Gabriel would see the move almost before I made it.
“You seem unfocused,” Gabriel said as he deflected another blow. “Distracted.”
And there was me thinking my session at the punching bag had cleared my mind.
“It’s . . .” I stopped before I said ‘nothing.’ What was the point in lying?
He didn’t need to know about me seeing him and the counselor, but there was a reason I had gone to see him in the first place.
“I found Leigh-Ann in the church again. She was having another vision.”
Although surprise settled on Gabriel’s face, but he didn’t miss a single step or fail to once again deflect my blow. “Another?”
Switching my weight from side to side, I leaned back, attempting to catch him off guard with a hook kick.
Gabriel batted my foot out of the way.
I followed through with the movement, twirling and landing gracefully. “Same guy, same fire, but this time she said she heard him speak. Pinnosa said—”
“Dean Pinnosa.”
“There’s only one, isn’t there?”
Gabriel paused, exhaling deeply. “She is the dean of this college, and you need to treat her with respect.” His eyes narrowed, but it seemed to be at my words rather than the punch I attempted to land on his shoulder. “She was there?”
I nodded. “She came in time to see the burn on Leigh-Ann’s arm.”
Suddenly going still, Gabriel cocked his head as though he hadn’t heard me properly. “There was a fire?”
“In her vision—her prophecy. Leigh-Ann said while she was trying to help, she got burned, and when she woke up, there was a burn mark on her arm. Thankfully, it seems to be healing.” With Gabriel still staring at me like I was telling him I had seen a flying dragon, I slammed my foot forward as I brought my fist towards his stomach.
With the fastest reflexes, Gabriel’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. He spun on the spot, bringing me crashing towards him. My back collided with his chest, making me gasp.
Instead of letting me go, he kept his arms tightly around me. “She really is a prophet,” he muttered into my ear.
There was nothing vaguely flirty with that realization, but a shiver still ran down my spine. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been saying that for a while,” I said, surprised that my voice was no louder than a whisper.
“You did, and I’m sorry. Prophets are so rare that it made more sense for her to be something else, but if her visions are manifesting on her, there’s no other explanation.” Gabriel let go of my wrist, but his arms remained around me.
“But now what do we do? What does it mean if she is a prophet?”
I made a mistake.
&nbs
p; I turned around.
Suddenly, I was staring into Gabriel’s dark green eyes, and I wasn’t entirely certain I was still breathing anymore.
Then again, I wasn’t sure Gabriel was either.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said, softly.
Was he talking about Leigh-Ann or was he talking about our current situation?
My mind went blank of everything as I slowly started to lean in.
Gabriel didn’t move, but his hands did splay out over my lower back, heat searing through the thin fabric of the tank top I was wearing.
The music suddenly cut out, and the gymnasium descended into silence.
Chapter Twelve
Gabriel and I turned our heads, saw Dean Pinnosa standing next to the CD player, and then leaped away from each other.
“Am I interrupting something?” Dean Pinnosa asked, her tone too sweet for my liking. She was in a new suit, this one, royal blue.
“Ursula.” Gabriel took a couple of paces towards her. “What brings you to the gym so early on the weekend. Is everything okay?”
Pinnosa twisted her lips like she was sucking on a piece of candy, and then walked over to join us, her heels clacking on the wooden floor until they met the impact mats. “I came to tell you that Leigh-Ann had a vision, but I guess that’s what Dora was doing here.”
“I did tell him about the vision.” I wasn’t sure why I felt so defensive. Nothing had happened, and even if it had, what did it have to do with Pinnosa?
“If Leigh-Ann is still seeing this college being attacked, we might need to revisit the security situation.” Gabriel rubbed at his jaw. “The Fallen don’t have the ability to appear on campus like angels, which means there must be a weakness along the perimeter.”
Pinnosa arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “You didn’t tell him about Abaddon?”
“Abaddon?” Gabriel’s attention switched from the dean to me. “No, she didn’t.”
In all fairness, I had gotten a little distracted.
“Leigh-Ann said she heard the man saying something. Pin—Dean Pinnosa said that it translated to Abaddon.”
“I apologize for only coming to you now, but I knew you were busy earlier.” She slid me a sideways look as she said that. “But I also wanted to reach out to my contacts.”
