Page 51 of Of Bone and Ash

“Why didn’t you tell me Ryland was here?” I ask, and Atlas sighs, sitting back up in his chair. “We’ve been busy. Shit happened. We both now know better.”

“Fair,” Atlas nods. “Though my excuse is I didn't want to deal with his tantrums. Plus, I wanted a moment alone with you to explain he was back at the school.”

“When did he come back?” I ask, curious. Atlas frowns as he thinks about it.

“He wasn't away for long. He came back with one of the Dragon Princes and is keeping an eye on him.”

“He’s babysitting a spoiled Prince?” I snicker at that thought, knowing Ryland has less patience than I do. Atlas grins and nods just as a loud pounding knock sounds at his door. Before Atlas can invite the person in, Boris tosses open the door, looking red faced and flustered as he glares at Atlas.

“Hawkins, I don’t have time for your—shit!” he growls when he sees me, his sneer shifting to a wince as he pivots on his heels facing the man who is entering the room behind him. I immediately recognize the man. Stern brown eyes with golden rings around the edges, long black hair pulled back into a bun on the top of his head, showcasing the faded, shaved sides of his head and a short-cropped beard that frames his jaw. A small gold hoop earring glimmers in the light, and I arch a brow in surprise when I notice the newest addition of tattoos that seem to roll over the golden exposed skin of his arms.

When did he get all those? My heart skips a beat as my stomach plummets to my feet at the sight of him. But before I have time to panic about being in the same room with him again Boris stretches his hand out, facepalming Ryland before he can fully cross into Atlas’ office, catching him off guard enough that Boris is able to shove him back into the tiny hallway and slam the door shut.

“What the hell, Boris?” I hear Ryland growl, his deep voice so familiar that I smile, chuckling at the big Dragon who shoots me a panicked look. “You said you needed me to help handle Atlas so you can get back to the chapel.”

“I’ve changed my mind! I can handle this on my own. Go help Andrei,” the older Dragon Shifter shouts, turning and pressing his back against the door as he stills, waiting for Ryland’s reply. I strain my ears, watching Boris sweat a little before I hear a deep inhale and growl from Ryland.

“Boris,” he warns as the Dragon shoots Atlas a death glare.

“It’s not been twenty-four hours, Ry. Get your ass off my doorstep,” Atlas calls out. Twenty-four hours? I eye my brother, who mouths, ‘I’ll tell you later’ at me. Ryland curses and I can hear something crack and break on the other side of the door before heavy footsteps move away, and Boris sags against it in relief.

“You need to tell me if she’s here! I wouldn’t have brought him if I knew,” Boris snaps, standing up straight and stalking over to the free chair in front of Atlas’ desk.

“Yes. Well, I didn’t tell you to bring Ryland,” Atlas grinds out. “I told you to bring a damned healer!”

“I did! The school's healer is cleaning up a mess from a Wolf Shifter and Succubus—uh, party. She quite literally threw me out of her medical wing when I told her I needed her to come with me. So I got the next best thing,” he mutters, swiping a hand down his face as he looks back at me and freezes, his gaze dipping to my neck where it stays. A low growl breaks loose from his chest, and Atlas huffs in annoyance. “Who the fuck did that!? All attacks or injuries to students are supposed to be reported!” Boris snarls, eyes sparking gold as his Dragon leaps forward.

That's one thing about Dragons. Well, actually, shifters in general. They’re all subject to their primal instincts. The stronger the shifter, the worse those instincts become. Dragons, in particular, are very protective, which makes it challenging to handle them when someone gets hurt. But it does make them ideal guards, hence why Silverwood has the Balaur Patrol.

“Healer, Boris. Where is the damned healer?!” Atlas grinds out, and I chuckle, gesturing for Boris to take his seat.

“How about you sit? Atlas has some questions for you,” I offer, soothing both angry men just as a light tap sounds on Atlas’ door.

“Aw, that should be him,” Boris says, looking less than excited as the door to Atlas’ classroom opens. I stiffen the moment I see the long golden hair of Amell Ambrose.

TWENTY-THREE

Amell

Istomp up the tower's stairs where Professor Hawkins’ classroom resides, more than a little peeved at the interruption to my day. I still haven’t gotten a hold of Cassiel, and I need to report not only the newest Demon attack on the school but the fact that I found my damned Tether.

After my absurd meeting with the bloody Phoenix running this damned school, I had to bring Rafael, the Angelic and Fae representative, back to my office and explain why I had attacked a student and a member of the Balaur Patrol. I told him what I had to but kept my personal information to myself. He is, after all, a simple Fae, and I won't lower myself to conversing or discussing my life with him. He can give his report to Cassiel or Diana, and I’ll talk with them.

After that, I went over to the small chapel the Balaur Patrol runs so I could do a process report on the newest victim in this never-ending circle of death the Demons have decided to bring down on the school. Usually, Angels don't step into Fae matters, but the Demon activity has almost doubled in the area, and the pendulums and Demonic rituals I've seen etched into the earth around the dead girls in the past three years are enough that I am concerned.

They are planning something. Something big that I'm worried we won't be prepared for unless I figure out what's going on. Each girl's body is found closer and closer to the school grounds. The magic they’re using to kill the girls is also destroying the forest and forcing them further from their marked territory. I'll be able to act the moment they step over those boundaries, but until then, it’s not my problem.

I’ve already offered more assistance to the Fae than I’m technically allowed. I’m here to observe, to ensure the Demons don’t shift the balance of life. That is all. If Angels mix themselves in every fight or war that the Fae or humans have, their lives would be altered entirely. They would no longer have their unique ways of living and would be bound to do as we instructed. Which is why we stay out of things unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Most Fae and humans don’t know of our existence. Our very species is now mixed into their religion and lore of old stories. We are the heroes to some, the villains to others in these stories. It’s also why I have a glamor on at all times. The only time I can relax is when I’m in meetings with the select few people who are aware of Angels’ existence and my role at the school.

“Healer, Boris. Where is the damned healer!?” I hear the new professor yell as I approach his closed door. He’s upset, and I can feel the strength of his magic from here.

“How about you sit? Atlas has some questions for you,” I hear the rough feminine voice say, making me groan and close my eyes as I rest my forehead against the cold wood of the door in front of me. Of fucking course, Serafina Covington is here. I swear her very existence mocks me and my control. I don't have time for this girl. The faster I get her off school grounds and out of my way, the better.

Reaching up, I lightly tap on the door before mentally bracing myself, reining in my emotions, and reminding myself that I have been an Archangel for decades. It will take more than a silly Fae girl to unman me.

“Aw, that should be him,” I hear Boris grumble, his deep voice rumbling through the air as I open the door, letting it swing inward. Holding my head high, I feel the moment Serafina’s gaze lands on me. The pull to go to her makes me grit my teeth as I glance at the two other men in the room, purposely avoiding her gaze.

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