Page 18 of Dark Angel

“Will, this tea is delicious. You both need to try some.”

They both take a cup of freshly brewed white tea. The golden liquid steaming inside the ceramic mugs their mother chose out.

Clarence smiles at the sweet taste. He’s not normally one to enjoy tea, but his sister always knows how to make it taste pleasant. “It’s excellent.”

“So, how was everything in London while I was away?” Will asks between sips. His frown is now replaced with something happier for Kora’s sake.

“Well, Lewis has been working on something for the last few weeks for the Ascendancy with Percy. Something about an elixir that heightens our sense of Infernal activity even more.” Kora begins to fill him in. “Also, Matthew will be turning twenty-one soon, so he will most likely make us go to the Sage for an evening to celebrate. Daisy made these delicious-”

Clarence clears his throat loudly. “Kora, you should show Will the blade I gave you.” He suggests to his sister, cutting off her rambling, doubting Will is even interested in what her friends have been up to over the past few weeks.

“Oh, yes!” Kora gets up quickly and hurries out of the room.

She returns shortly with the gilded blade held tightly in her grip. Shine gleaming off the sharpened edge, reflecting the morning light.

“This is the blade. Clarence said it belonged to our mother before she left it for me.” Kora explains as she brings it closer for Will to inspect.

Will studies it closely, a flicker of recognition lining his expression. The tiny etchings of ancient angelic symbols swirling around the metal blade.

Clarence can feel its energy from where he’s sitting in the armchair, it’s that powerful.

“Tessa’s blade…” Will drawls under his breath.

Reaching out his hand to hold the weapon, they all hear the unusual sizzling sound. Clarence’s eyes widen as Will pulls his fingers back quickly, holding them with his other hand as he winces in pain. “Ow. Well, I guess it’s chosen its owner already.” He chuckles a painful laugh before blowing on the patches of red skin on his palm.

Kora gives a nervous giggle before placing the blade down on the table beside the teacups. “I am so sorry, Will. I had no idea it could do that. I has not burned me. I wonder why you did?”

“It’s fine. Some weapons only allow their chosen owners to touch them. It keeps them safe against other creatures. But this blade, I would keep it close to you, Kora, if I were you.”

Clarence stares at Will. Green eyes narrowing slightly as he watches their uncle laughing, his smile not reaching his eyes. Clarence swallows away the thought that something else might be at play here.

“I shall run it under some cold water.” Will announces, standing from the lounge.

Kora follows after him with cheeks pinking from embarrassment. “I’ll help you.”

“So, you said that you found that in your attic?” Will questions her as they exit the parlour together.

Clarence continues to sit on the armchair, his eyes focused on the golden blade sitting still beside the pot of tea. Angelic energy still coursing through it, illuminating the edge like sunlight.

Reaching over curiously, he runs the tips of his fingers along the sharp edge of the smooth blade. The familiar sensation runs through him. It’s the same energy he feels every time he holds an angelic weapon, the power tingling his senses, igniting his angelic blood. It’s powerful, more powerful than his own blade.

Pulling his hand away, he observes his fingertips.

No marks. Nothing.

Clarence’s chin lifts as he follows their voices nearing the kitchen, his sceptical mind wondering howWillwas burnt from the blade and not either of them.

7

The Ascendancy

“You know you are still a beginner with training. I do not want you fighting someone five years older than you.” Jordan reminds his younger sister as they walk up the spiral marble staircase of the London Ascendancy.

The building itself possesses a reserved and beautiful stature. Deep green ivy vines wrap around white pillars and spider up walls with tiny wilting white petals. It’s larger than the surrounding buildings, four stories tall, with an unusual domed glass roof and large windows gaping out onto the street. The Seraphim emblem proudly embossed on the doors-a golden halo with a blade piercing through the centre.

Inside, pieces of gold, white marble, and fine silk lavishly decorate the place. Chandeliers of glass and candles hang low from ceilings, throwing gleaming shatters of light in every direction. Golden Victorian wallpaper with leaves and cherubs covers the walls and heavy, dark-stained furniture fills each of the rooms. It’s luxurious and far nicer than the Oxford Ascendancy, which looks to be one hundred years outdated in comparison.

“Yes, I am aware of that.” Valarie drawls in response.

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