Page 8 of Forging Darkness

“I think we should go tell Sable the good news,” I say, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “I’m sure she’d appreciate the check-in.”

Sable and Deacon are a pet project of mine. It’s hard to miss the change in Sable whenever Deacon is around. I caught her giggling at something he said last week.

Giggling.

She’s been known to blush a time or two in his presence as well. I have this irresistible urge to shove the two of them together whenever I can.

Deacon stops himself from grabbing his gym bag to shoot me a stern look.

Busted.

Clasping my hands in front of me, I do my best impression of Sterling’s “Who, me?” look. He’s the Jedi master of sliding out of sticky situations. I’m barely an apprentice.

Shaking his head, Deacon slings his gym bag over his shoulder and walks past, pausing at the door. “Remember, I’m out on a mission for the next several days, but I should be back before the break.”

Right. Mid-winter break is a week and a half away. The academy students will head home to spend the holidays with their families. Everyone except me. They don’t know what to do with me yet.

“See ya.” I wave.

Sable asked me to drop by, and I’ve been avoiding it all day. Since we learned my father might be a full-fledged seraph, I’ve been under Sable’s microscope more than usual. In the past it never ended well when an adult paid too much attention to me, and despite Sable’s good intentions, old habits die hard.

Shoving my gym shoes into my bag, I heft it on my shoulder and head in the direction of Sable’s office—slowly. When I reach her door, I knock once, and then like a coward, take off when there isn’t an immediate response.

I’m only three steps from her door when she calls out, “Come on in.”

Hanging my head, I turn back.

“Emberly. I’m so glad it’s you. Take a seat.” Sable stands when I enter, lowering herself when I settle in a seat across from her.

“So, how are you doing?” Her hands steeple on the desk in front of her. She has her headmistress hat on. I’m not getting out of this with a simple answer, but that’s still what I give her.

“Fine.” The answer isn’t false, but she’s hoping for specifics.

“I’m glad to hear that. Deacon says training is going well.”

I nod because there’s not much to say about that.

“And things are going well with your friends?”

Another nod.

“Classes going smoothly?”

Third nod.

She clears her throat, the only indication that my non-verbal answers annoy her. She didn’t get to be the headmistress of one of the nine angel-born academies without a seemingly unending pool of patience. There’s a reason she called me in here, and I just want to get to the point. Beating around the bush wastes both of our time.

“Well.” She shifts in her seat, and her gaze levels on the empty desk in front of her before volleying back to me. She straightens her posture, but not fast enough to hide the wave of apprehension that rolls over her.

Strange.

I squirm in my seat in response to the vibe Sable throws off, already anticipating hating whatever words move past her lips.

“As you know it’s part of my job—part of my duty, really—to inform the Council of Elders on the progress of all the students here at Seraph Academy.”

No surprise there. I’m aware that Sable reports to the Elders—the closest thing to a ruling body that Nephilim have. It makes me twitchy, but she isn’t divisive or sneaky about it, which I appreciate.

“And, as such, you know I have been required to deliver regular reports on your progress.

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