Page 116 of Forging Darkness

“What’s up?” I ask after I’ve dropped into one of the padded leather seats. Steel takes the one beside me and Deacon and Sable find their own seats on the opposite side of an oblong table.

“We have Malachi on the line. We want to hear as much of your story as you can recount while it’s still fresh.” Sable leans forward, propping her elbows on the table in front of her. Her hands fold under her chin. “I know you two are probably exhausted and need a good solid rest, and I’d like you to do just that when we’re done here. But it will be tremendously helpful if you can tell us as much as possible right now. With enough information, the Council might be able to mount an attack on this Whitehold before we even touch down at the base.”

I wasn’t looking forward to this, but I’m ready . . . kinda . . . sorta.

“Who’s Malachi?” I ask.

“The cherub Elder.”

“He leads the Council,” Steel adds with a curled lip. “In an unofficial capacity, of course. Officially, all the Elders have equal power.”

“Steel,” Deacon warns.

“Common knowledge, man. I’m not saying anything that everyone already doesn’t know.”

Sable clears her throat. “Remember we talked about all the different Elders?”

“In my defense, I didn’t think I’d actually be meeting them, so . . .” I trail off when Sable’s mouth tightens and eyes narrow at the reminder of our deception. “Um, how about you give me a quick refresher? Please?”

“The other members and their lines are,” she takes a breath and then spits them all out at once. “Draven of the thrones, Zara of the dominions, Sorcha of the virtues, Lyra of the powers, Arien of the rulers, and Riven of the archangels.”

Yeah, I’m not going to remember that, but I paste on a smile anyway. “Thanks.”

“We’re just meeting with Malachi right now. He’ll fill in the rest of the Council until we can talk to them in person.”

“How are we—”

Deacon grabs a remote on the ledge behind him and hits a button, revealing a screen in the wall. Immediately, it flickers to life. The image of a man from the chest up fills the display. He’s looking down, seemingly writing something while he waits for us.

“Never mind,” I mumble.

His head lifts. Gray eyes instantly connect with mine. It’s creepy. And what throws me for another loop is he’s old. Not in a decrepit “Grandpa’s-gonna-die-any-day-now” way. More of an attractive “don’t-you-know-I’m-Brad-Pitt-and-I-only-get-better-looking-with-age” kind of way.

It’s just . . . shocking. I’ve never seen a Nephilim look older than mid-thirties. This man looks like he could be in his early fifties. Although guessing his actual age would be impossible.

“This must be the elusive Emberly.”

His eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles. His full head of black hair is only peppered with gray near his temples.

“I wish this could have waited until we were face to face, but from the reports I’ve received, time is somewhat of the essence.”

I gulp. Despite his smile, the authoritative vibe this guy throws off is strong. Even via teleconference. I imagine being in his presence is going to be that much more intimidating.

“Yes . . . sir?”

He chuckles. “None of that. Call me Kai. And please, start from the very beginning.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

It takes a solid two hours with minimal interruptions to recall everything from the last week. I don’t spare a smidgen of detail. Steel jumps in here and there when they ask about his experiences. Now it’s all out on the table. They know about Thorne and his claims that I’m descended from a seraph. About the orb and the hellhounds called barghest. I describe as much as I can remember about Whitehold and its infrastructure. I tell them about the humans and Seraphim. They even know about my dreamscaping. And finally, Steel and I tag-team the part about how he merged with a Fallen and became a Forsaken until I blasted him with enough pure angel-fire to burn the Fallen out of him.

I pay extra attention to Malachi’s reaction throughout, trying to see through the cracks in his façade. I have a pretty good nose for detecting frauds—if I don’t count Thorne, that is—so when I’m finished I’ve determined there’s either a lot the Council didn’t know about or he’s a very good liar. Both options are disturbing in different ways.

The room is silent. Malachi’s hands are steepled in front of his mouth while he considers everything. Sable’s eyes are wide and even Deacon looks a bit shaken.

Taking a deep breath, Malachi sits back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest before speaking.

“So in a nutshell, there’s a seraph Fallen we didn’t know about who has a super-powered kid, but she probably died when she tried to merge with you. Steel spent an hour as a Forsaken, there’s a secret enemy compound we didn’t know about, and there are magic stones that can manipulate the known rules that govern this world and the other?”

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