Page 82 of Wings of Torment
I think of the last time they acted weird. At the school, they toyed with us more than they tried to hurt us. Then they all converged on one being and, because of how things played out, we don’t actually know what their intentions were.
My gaze travels past Raphael, roaming over the crowd of Guild members until I see her. My firefly.
She’s on her knees, gazing down at something protruding from her shoulder. Is that …
I stand on wobbly legs, rushing toward her and damn near face-planting in my need to get to her. If only these damn limbs of mine wouldn’t shake.
Just as she’s about to fall backward, I catch her.
“Hey. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” I say, and feel Raphael’s presence beside me.
Her breathing is ragged, choppy, and when her eyes flash to mine, they’re far too glassy. Then, without a word, her head lolls to the side and panic threatens to consume me.
No, no, no, no, no.Wake up, firefly.I push the words through our bond, but it’s like I’m shouting into a void. Like she’s not even there.
“We need a healer!” Raphael calls out, dropping to his knees and pressing his palm into the wound on her side, trying to stop the bleeding. Just how many fucking times was she stabbed?
“I’m going to pull this out,” I say when Ezekiel comes over, hauling a Guild member with a healer badge on her uniform.
She shakes her head. “Leave it. It’s the only thing stopping the flow of blood. Let me heal her other wounds first.”
I fucking hate leaving it there, but I do as I’m told. What the fuck do I know about saving anyone? By the Archangels, I was going to remove the damn thing and that probably would have caused her more pain.
The healer takes Raphael’s spot and places her hands over the wound on Hayliel’s side, concentration etched into her features. We aren’t taught healing in first year, so I know shit about how to help her.
Not that it matters, anyway, when I can’t seem to take my eyes off the blade in her shoulder. It’s not one of ours, I know that for certain. The odd runic markings on the hilt aren’t familiar, and the gem embedded in the pommel makes me shudder.
The healer won’t be able to help.Zeke’s voice sounds like agony personified, and I realize he’s just standing there.
Anger flows through me as I look up at him.If all you’re going to do is be a negative Neil, then why don’t you fuck off?
Raphael places a bloodied hand on my back, giving me some of his strength.Why won’t she be able to help?
But before Zeke can reply, the Guild healer grunts. “Why isn’t it working?” She looks away from the wound to us and then the blade I almost took out, and her face pales.
The blade, it’s …
“I’m sorry,” the healer says, unable to meet our eyes. “With this type of wound, there’s nothing more I can do.”
“What do you mean there’s nothing more you can do? For the love of the Archangels, we’re damn near indestructible.” I can’t keep the fury from my tone, but even as the words pass my lips, the pieces slot together in my mind.
I look from the healer to Raphael, and finally to Zeke. Without me even having to ask the question, he nods, turning my entire world upside down.
There’s only one thing that can kill us, and I’m staring right at it.
That’s no regular weapon sticking out of Hayliel’s shoulder. It’s an angel blade.
Noise fills my mind as reality sinks in, shattering my heart into a billion tiny pieces.
Hayliel is dying, and there’s nothing any of us can do to stop it.
Find out what happens next in book 3, Wings of Strife.
