Page 84 of Wings of Valor
His words might not give it away, but I know from the look in his eyes that he’s seen this play out. And even though I shouldn’t trust the Archangels after everything they’ve put me and my friends through, something tells me I can trust Remiel with this.
“Besides,” he continues, “we don’t need further delays, nor do we want that creature to follow us or sound the alarm before we’re ready. We’ll soon be out of time.”
At the cryptic note in his voice, I go against every single instinct urging me toward Theo and push onward.
Yet as we walk, I can’t help but wonder if every decision we’ve made so far today—separating from Raph, and now Theo—has been the wrong one.
33
In this battle, we all have a job to do.
Hayliel’s is to take out Auriel. Ours is to make sure she gets to her position intact. Going after this demon is technically still doing what I’m supposed to do—it just has the added bonus of filling another need inside of me, too.
I only give myself five seconds to feel guilty before I remind myself that Hayliel supports my need for vengeance. She understands why I can’t just walk away.
Because of all the training I’ve done recently—with Remiel and on my own—I’m ready. It feels like every trial in my life before now has led to this moment, but I don’t let myself linger on how momentous it is that I’m here. Instead, I focus on the steps in front of me.
The beast doesn’t get very far, and something tells me it’s not because of how quick my strides are. Does this demon remember me? I’ve changed a lot since then, maturing from a young boy into an adult.
I’ve trained against fierce warriors and even fought against the very creatures who haunt my nightmares. Nothing quite compares to this, though.
But as much as I might have changed, this asshole clearly hasn’t. He’s here, ready to slaughter more angels. I’d be a fool to believe Serah was his last kill.
When I’ve taken two more steps, the demon turns around. As soon as our eyes lock, my vision grows blurry around the edges. Suddenly it’s harder to breathe, like some heavy, foreign object sits on my chest.
No, no, no!
The last thing I need is another panic attack now when I’m this fucking close.
My foe doesn’t move to attack. He only watches as I struggle to keep my composure, like he knows something is off, but whether he understands is a mystery.
I breathe in slowly, hold it, then exhale. Next, I name five items in my surroundings, trying to ground myself to the moment, but my eyes never leave the creature in front of me.
He’s shirtless, just like he was that day so many years ago. The scar is still there on his face, but there are others, too. One on his jaw and three curved around his ribs that look like claw markings. What could have left that mark? A sunblade, perhaps? I doubt he got it from his own kind.
“Your power is familiar,” the demon coos. “Have we met before?”
Even though I didn’t expect him to, the fact that he doesn’t fully remember only pisses me off.
“I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I’m sure the angels you kill are all forgotten once you wipe the blood off your blade.”
“You are here, no? Surely I did not kill you.” He tilts his head to the side. “Ah. So I killed someone you loved. A friend? Family? Or a lover, perhaps?”
He’s goading me. Probably trying to make me angry so I’ll be ruled by emotion and do something stupid. It’s a smart tactic, one I wouldn’t have thought these meatheads would think of. Still, it’s unfortunate for him because I won’t fall for it. “Something like that. Today marks the day of reckoning for your crimes. Are you prepared to face them?”
“From you?” He grins. “Gladly.” The demon pulls an angel blade from his belt but doesn’t step toward me. He must want to see what I’ll do first.
I pull out my own weapon, this one a curved, double-edged blade. It glows brightly, powered by Hayliel’s sunfire. This isn’t the typical style our fighters would use against the demons, and I hope it gives me the upper hand.
Of course, he notices the difference immediately, but if he’s afraid, he doesn’t give any sign. “If you want to kill me, you actually have to stab me with something. The daggers in your eyes don’t count.”
I only shrug. I suspect he’s trying to taunt me, but all he’s doing is giving away how much my inaction bothers him. He knows how to fight. To maim and kill. But this pussy-footing around isn’t something he knows how to deal with, and I can use that to my advantage.
I look beyond him, pretending to check out the territory without ever really taking my sights off him. This only unnerves him more. He thinks I’m unbothered and doesn’t know how to react. If he only knew how much I’m itching on the inside. The need to kill him is burrowed deep in my psyche. But themurdering son of a bitch in front of me isn’t nearly pissed off enough.
So I wait.
I swear I can sense the moment he’s about to snap. Something in the air shifts, like an electric current that barrels toward me moments before he does. It’s probably the only reason I dodge his first strike so well, and that’s the last thought I have before every ounce of my focus is on the fight.
