Page 5 of Wings of Strife
As we fly, we keep close to the cliffside, doing our best to remain unseen until we’re back in the safety of our campus houses. But I can’t focus on any of that when my mind is racing like this. Something nags at me, a comment I overheard at the barn that made it sound like the angel blades were coming fromdemons. Do they only procure them, or are they somehow mass-producing them? If that’s the case, maybe it’s not that I survived and more that the weapons were faulty. I guess it’s a good thing Zeke didn’t give that blade over to the guild after all.
This is all too fucking much.
I can sense their eyes on me. Raphael, Theo, and Zeke. I try to ignore it, but that only leaves me with two options. Go out of my mind trying to piece everything together, or focus on how I feel. Both options suck.
My entire body aches in ways I’ve never experienced before, from my fingertips to my toes. And despite the cool morning air whipping across my face, I’m so goddamn hot.
It’s probably just a fever from the adrenaline. Sure, angelic fevers aren’t really a thing, but neither is surviving an angel blade—or three—so the realm of possibilities seems to be up for discussion.
We fly over the shimmering falls, and I catch sight of the dark Fallen house in the distance.
Home sweet home.Almost there.
My only focus is on keeping my wings beating and my breath steady, but the harder I try, the heavier my limbs become. I’m so damn tired. It’s a battle just to keep my eyes open, let alone stay in the fucking sky.
“Good gracious. You lot are a mess,” Professor Castiel says, startling me. His powerful white wings flap with ease as he assesses us. A few tendrils have escaped the ribbon that usually holds his hair back, but otherwise, he looks pristine. “All of you, come with me.”
Dread settles in the pit of my stomach as I share a look with the others and pivot to follow him toward the main hall. Fuck. He’s going to bring us to Principal Cael and report our leave. As if our night—or morning now, I suppose—couldn’t get any damn worse.
Raphael has his slate out, furiously typing. To Dina, perhaps? I search my mind for our bond, wanting to ask him about it, but it’s not there. Or rather, it is, but the edges are frayed and the reception sucks. What the hell?
Instead of taking us to the front door, Professor Castiel leads us to a window on the side of the building. He unlocks it with a flick of his fingers before opening it and motioning us inside. Raph is the last to enter, tucking away his slate with a concerned look on his face.
This is Castiel’s classroom, which is blissfully empty at the moment. But if he’s not reporting us to the principal, then why are we here? All I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. I don’t have the capacity for whatever mental gymnastics he may put us through.
“Would someone like to tell me where you’ve been and why you all look like you’ve just survived another attack?” He pauses, taking a second to look at each of us, but no one answers.
It isn’t that I have reasons not to trust him. From day one he’s been more than fair and supportive, especially to me, but does that mean he’s trustworthy? Masks are easy to wear and hard to detect. I try again to reach my friends through the bond, but it’s pointless.
Our silence is loud, becoming more uncomfortable the longer Castiel watches us, and I’m about to break it, if only to leave and go to sleep, when Dina barges through the door.
“There you are!” she says, sounding far too jovial for this early in the morning. “I see you survived the rather wild paint night we had. Though if you were going to leave and have a four-way, I wish you’d have told me.”
What. The. Fuck?
My jaw falls open in horror, eyes darting toward Castiel because, really? This is the best excuse she could come up with?
“Uh, yeah. I guess we got a little carried away,” I reply, sounding entirely unconvincing, even to my own ears.
Castiel looks around our group, one eyebrow raised. “A paint night. That’s how you’re going to play this off?”
He doesn’t buy our shit for a second, and I’m not surprised. We’re covered in enough angel and demon blood that we’d have had to be the canvas. I’m just grateful he ignored the four-way comment.
Dina laughs nervously, her mouth opening and closing like she’s not sure what to say. None of us are after that.
Something tugs at my mental bonds, telling me my friends are trying to reach me, but as hard as I try, I can’t find a solid connection. Pain wraps around my head like a vise, only disappearing when I stop trying to reach them. From the concerned look on their faces, it’s obvious they’re having a conversation that I’m not part of.
“I’ll vouch for Castiel,” Zeke says. “We can trust him. And frankly, given what we all survived tonight, we don’t really have a choice.”
The rest of our group nods, but Castiel holds up his hand. “Wait. Say nothing more. Dina, can you lock the door please, and Theo, could you please do the same with the window?”
While Dina and Theo do as they’re told, Castiel heads behind his desk and pulls a candle from the locked bottom drawer. Kind of a weird time to light a candle, but okay. Maybe ambiance is important to him or something?
Once it’s lit, he places it on a desk in the middle of the classroom and motions for us to cluster around it. “This is a silencing flame. As long as it’s lit, no one outside this room will hear us.”
Damn. That’s a thing? And he just keeps it in his bottom drawer? Who the hell is this guy?
He pulls a first aid kit from another drawer of his desk, along with an unopened bottle of water. “Now, clean the blood from your skin and tell me what it is you survived.”
