Page 7 of Dark Angel

“I am just doing as they asked before they died, Kora.”

The mere mention of their parents makes her chest tighten with pain. As if someone has a vice around her ribs that’s crushing her organs. Eyes study his, emerald like the stone with flecks of gold and sable.

“Do you still think about them, Clarence?” Kora asks.

“All the time.” He admits to her.

A faint smile grows on her lips. “I can still remember their voices, like I just saw them yesterday.”

Clarence grins sadly as well, remembering his own memories of their parents. He stands over Kora. He has to be at least a head taller than her, broadly built, towering over her smaller toned frame. Clarence does remind Kora of their father, Stefan, with the same sable hair and sharp face.

Kora looks more like their mother, Tessa. Short, with a lean, muscled body and long auburn hair that brightens during the warmer months. Green-brown eyes and a heart-shaped face.

After a moment, Clarence blurts out quickly, “I have something to give you.”

Without another thought, Clarence disappears through the opening into the hallway and returns momentarily with a hessian bag in his hand. “Honestly, I forgot about it, but I stumbled upon it in the attic a few days ago after training.”

Handing over the bag, Kora can feel it’s quite heavy and sleek, tied perfectly into a bow at the opening. Untying it, Kora reaches in and pulls out a blade wrapped in a black leather sheath. Sliding it out, her eyes widen at the golden blade inscribed with ancient angelic symbols. “Wow.” She breathes out slowly.

She’s never seen this weapon before. The soft golden metal slides through her fingertips like silk, humming gently under her touch as if it’s electrically charged. The hilt is firm and moulded to fit her grip. “Why are you giving this to me, Clarence?” questioning her older brother, who’s looking at her with a proud face.

“It belonged to our mother; she told me to give to you before she died when you were old enough to use it.”

Kora can feel some of her mother’s energy still stored within the blade, prickling her nerves comfortingly underneath her touch. “How could she leave me something so divine?” she asks him, not taking her eyes off the beautifully made weapon.

Kora places it back down on the table, beside the box of preservatives Will sent. A soft golden glow remains in the blade, as if her touch awoke its powers once again. Her eyes dampen a little.

Clarence’s hand touches her shoulder as he reminds her, “She wanted you to have it. You should be proud to hold this, Kora.”

Kora nods, not trusting herself to respond without bursting into tears.

“I should leave soon for training if I am going to guard again tonight. I trust you will not be leaving this place after I’m gone?” He half questions her as he grabs one of the chocolate bars from the table and begins munching.

She gives him a look he’s all too familiar with. “I can take care of myself Clarence, I am not a child anymore.”

He gives a small snort. “To the Ascendancyandto me, you still are.”

“I can handle myself.” She picks up the blade and swipes it through the air cleanly. “Especially with this.”

Clarence just watches her with a brow cocked up on his forehead. “Well, it’s nice to know that if you need to fight the air, you’ll win.”

Kora rolls her eyes as he gives a chuckle.

4

Darkness is Lurking

Cool autumn air sweeps through the city streets, picking up dust and leaves with each gust. The sun hangs low in the sky, throwing splashes of pale orange, light purple and dusky pink across like oil paint blended together on a canvas. Puffs of warm breath escape shivering bodies, dissolving into the crisp air within seconds as people roam in brightly coloured dresses and coats. Boots splash through puddles while they make their way into warm taverns or homes for the evening.

Matthew stands outside the entrance to the Sage, hands buried deep inside the pockets of his long purple waist coat. Black trousers hugging his legs tightly as he leans against the cold brick wall of the building behind him. He’s only been waiting a few minutes, but in the cold, it feels like hours have ticked by.

Peering up and down the street, watching many Mortals and Marked ones wander by Matthew’s eyes finally fall onto Lewis. He’s strolling in Matthew’s direction. Hands in his pockets. Hair looking dishevelled. A grim look covering his studious face.

Matthew peels himself away from the supportive wall and exhales loudly. “Why such a miserable face?” he asks in his low, smooth voice.

Lewis just shakes his head slightly and pushes the black-rimmed glasses further up his straight nose. “Let’s go inside. I am dying for a drink.” Lewis’ voice sounding tired and worn.

Matthew raises one of his thick brows at him. He’s no stranger to the scent of liquor, so much so, he can tell if it’s a mixture of brandy or whisky, bourbon or scotch.

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