Page 4 of Destined for Shadows
“You won’t need to go to the facility.” Lucas clasped his hands together, resting them on the table. “There is only one nerou I want you to help, and Remiel has approved him coming to you for training instead.”
Remiel was the archangel who oversaw the Alaska training compound. He didn’t make many physical appearances, but he was almost always watching from a distance to ensure the program went as he dictated. There were several other facilities around the world with different archangels and nephilim running them. It was all designed so that the nerou could acclimate themselves to the regions where they would be assigned after their adjustment period was over.
“It sounds like too much trouble to me.” Bartol grabbed his empty dishes and carried them over to the sink.
“You would be well compensated for your time.”
He stiffened. “I’m not looking for charity.”
“I assure you that this is not charity,” Lucas replied.
Bartol began rinsing the dishes. He’d gone without a proper home for so long that he was obsessed with keeping the cabin clean and couldn’t leave anything dirty. It likely had to do with living in his own filth—rarely able to bathe—while he was in Purgatory. Nothing about his stay there had been comfortable, and he wanted to distance himself from that lifestyle as much as possible.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Who is it you wish me to train?”
“Tormod—Yerik’s son.”
Bartol cursed. “The one who is part demon?”
“Yes. I admit he is a handful, but he needs more individual attention than we can give.” Lucas sighed and gave Bartol a plaintive look. “Yerik does what he can, but he’s only allowed to visit his son once a month, and that’s not enough.”
Tormod’s father had committed numerous crimes to upset the archangels, the first of which was simply being born. Yerik was a daimoun—a product of an angel and demon union. He’d been separated from his parents when he was young and forced to go into hiding after that.
It took a few thousand years, but eventually an archangel tracked him down. They fought, and Yerik won, killing his opponent and proving he was even more powerful than anyone could have imagined. Not that the daimoun took down the angel because he was a bad guy, but because it was the only way he could survive. Then he fell in love with a sensor about fifty years ago and had a child with her—Tormod. While the daimoun was away from home, the archangels came for the baby and took it to Purgatory. Yerik made a vow to his mate that he would get their son back before she died. The sensor, like most of her kind, was mortal. If she wanted to see her child again, they had a limited number of years to recover their son.
It had taken a massive coming out party with supernaturals across the world revealing themselves to humans to provide a major distraction. Once it was well underway and the angels were scrambling to handle the chaos breaking out on Earth, Yerik, Lucas, Melena, and Lucas’ brother Micah—who also had a daughter there—broke into Purgatory and freed the nerou. All of them were half sensor and half nephilim except Tormod. He was both of those plus a quarter demon, which made him quite the troublemaker. It didn’t help that he was the youngest of the entire group as well.
“Surely someone else would be better qualified than me,” Bartol said, drying his hands and turning to face Lucas. “I do not see how I can be of much assistance with that boy.”
Lucas gave him a plaintive look. “Tormod is developing a talent for fire, and he is able to flash.”
Flashing was usually something only nephilim and angels could do, which was somewhat like teleporting from one place to another. From what Bartol understood, none of the nerou had developed the ability, but Tormod had more potent blood running through his veins than the others.
“Tell me.” Bartol crossed his arms. “What was the last prank he pulled?”
Lucas worked his jaw. “He burned a phallic shape onto our training field. It was surprisingly…detailed.”
“So he’s also an artist with a penchant for destroying property.” Bartol ran his hand through his loose hair. “It does not sound like he will be easy to handle.”
Because the nerou were very long-lived, though not immortal, they tended to mature at a much slower rate than humans. Tormod might be fifty years old, but he behaved more like a seventeen or eighteen-year-old with his hormones running high and the requisite need to rebel. While Bartol agreed the boy needed special attention, he did not think he’d have the patience for such a job.
“It would be better if you found someone else.”
Lucas stared at him. “We both know the funds you have are limited from what I was able to save for you. Remiel has agreed to not only pay you a monthly salary for training Tormod, but also a sizable bonus if you get him under control. We only ask that you spend at least a few hours a day with him doing whatever it takes to help him learn discipline. You can even have the weekends off if you wish.”
Bartol paced the kitchen, considering it. He’d once owned valuable properties and had a small fortune saved, but when he was sent to Purgatory his investments were left for his solicitor to handle. The man had done a poor job, made worse by the Great Depression in the 1930s. Once Lucas had found out about the problem, he’d saved what he could, but most of Bartol’s funds and possessions had been lost by then. And by the time Bartol got out of Purgatory, he barely had enough left to purchase his cabin and support himself for the next couple of years—if he was careful. Lucas was well aware of that fact.
“I’ll think about it,” he said, stopping his pacing. “But you must guarantee I will not run intohim.”
Lucas nodded. “I see no reason why Kerbasi needs to be involved, or why you would even need to go to the training compound, but I will tell you he isn’t as bad as you remember. Melena has performed a miracle in that regard.”
Lucas’ wife had spent over fifteen months helping tohumanizethe guardian before the archangels assigned him to work with the nerou. And though everyone swore Melena had changed Kerbasi for the better, he was still evil in Bartol’s eyes. He could not and would not go anywhere near the guardian, not even for revenge.
“I will let you know of my decision soon,” Bartol said.
“Fair enough.” Lucas stood. “But do not take too long.”
