Page 49 of Angel's Enemy Omega

“It’s not for me.”

“Everyone has someone they’ve lost,” Irvin replies, but he takes it back, his gaze understanding.

The truth is, Arsene’s never had anyone to lose. A primus father? Thanks to the Council’s edicts, he would never have known his sire. His vergis father? He didn’t bother to make himself known when Arsene was a pup, nor find him as an adult. Friends? He’s had brothers on the battlefield, but never friends. Can the humans understand that loneliness from within their closely woven society?

He knows one person who can.

He finds Nur at the back of the camp, away from the fire. “You aren’t taking part.”

Nur gives him a dark look. “Angel, what good are human rituals to me? Who would I burn a little figure for, out of the hundreds of souls I’ve swallowed?”

“Then keep watch with me on the road. This beacon is bound to draw demons.”

Nur perks up. “Sounds delicious.”

“Don’t I keep you well fed?” he grumbles, but he’s too relieved for it to be a real gripe.

“Give me your sword,” Nur says when they pause at Arsene’s tent. “You can use the knife. I want a real weapon for once.”

“It’s too big,” he protests.

Nur scoffs. “Not for me.”

Arsene sighs and ducks inside. He hasn’t brought out his sword since cleaning scorpion guts off it. With practiced movements he snaps the pieces together and tightens the keys. It needs sharpening and polish. It’s notched and worn, and he’ll have to get it serviced in New Yden before?—

He shakes his head. Before what? With the war over, there will be no more deployments.

“Don’t let the point drag,” he tells Nur. “That’s the most important thing. Keep the blade ready so you can react quickly.”

Nur throws him a dark look. “It can’t be that difficult.”

But when Arsene hands the sword over he grunts in surprise. His forearms strain and his brow furrows into a determined scowl. Arsene watches with skepticism as Nur transfers the sword to one hand, holding it so the point is barely two feet above the ground.

“Like I said?—”

“I can manage,” Nur says stubbornly.

He chews the inside of his cheek. Nur might make a real attempt to cut him in two if he insists he be careful. “Fine. Let’s go.”

It’s colder at the edge of camp, but the bonfire still scatters light across the sand. He and Nur head into the dark to sweep the perimeter. Nur walks silently beside him, gaze fixed on the dark sky.

“What do you see?”

“The stars,” Nur says. “There are no stars in Hell—only near Mount Hythe can you see them coming through the barrierbetween realms. Away from the mountain, the nights are utterly black.”

“Do you miss it?” Arsene wonders.

“Strangely, sometimes I do.”

“Would you ever go back to Hell?”

It gives him an ache to imagine Nur returning to that place of darkness, as if he’d turn into a shadow again. Or maybe it’s imagining Nur apart from him that hurts. Is he an idiot for hating the idea?

Nur’s lips twist in a grimace. “Back to my grave, angel? Never. I miss it like a dog misses a bad master—it’s familiar, that’s all.”

He shouldn’t be glad Nur has no ties, but selfishly, he is. Relief surges through him and the longing that’s built in him spills from his lips in the form of words. “Then you could come with me to New Yden.”

Nur turns to him, surprise splashed across his face. “As what, your pet?”

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