Page 129 of Stealing Embers
But these ripples pack an angry punch.
The blast hits me first. Heat sears my body, but I smile when I recognize what’s happening.
When the blast dissipates, I stand tall in my fully morphed armor—handy weapons attached to the cuffs on my arms and legs.
I start toward Silver, who is standing wide-eyed with her hand pressed against her oozing shoulder wound. Grabbing the dagger off my leg, I aim for her eye, figuring embedding the metal in her skull is enough to put her down.
Unfortunately, she snaps out of her shock and dives out of the way before the blade finds purchase.
Suddenly, Nephilim phase into the spectrum world all around us. The orb’s effects have been neutralized.
Silver takes a skittish look around, most likely coming to the same conclusion as me, and bolts. I give chase, but smash into an angel-born who appears in front of me. We both go down, and by the time I regain my footing, Silver is nowhere in sight.
“Yo, Emberly!” Greyson waves his hands in front of my face. “Are you okay?”
Looking down, the now gold orb is lying in the snow. Radiant light still pulsates off it in waves.
“Emberly.” Greyson snaps his fingers in front of my face. “I said are you okay?”
I refocus on him. The fighting around us is dying down as the remaining Forsaken scatter and run for cover from the sun’s rays.
“Yeah, I think so. It’s good to see you, Grey.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sable’s office isn’t large enough to fit all of us, so the cafeteria doors have been shut to give privacy to this impromptu meeting. It’s funny how I don’t mind being underground at the academy anymore. That itchy, claustrophobic feeling is completely gone and I’m just glad to be back. Happy to finally be somewhere safe . . . even if my body hasn’t gotten the memo yet. It still buzzes from the last several hours of action.
“How did you find us?”
Steel asks the question from the table next to mine. We’re spread out among several round tables. Steel isn’t waiting patiently in a seat, like the rest of us. Instead he’s settled on the tabletop with his feet planted on the chair below and his arms resting on his knees.
His posture may look casual, but I can tell he’s ready to strike.
He’s fierce with his grime-and-gore-streaked face. The scratches he got during the brawl with the Forsaken in the tunnels have faded to white lines. His partially shredded shirt is spatter-painted in red and black blood. His jeans are ripped at the knees, one of which is bleeding and trickles red droplets on to the plastic chair under his feet.
And we both still need a shower. Badly.
It’s not fair he looks hot all grungy and blood-soaked and I just look . . . homeless.
I covertly touch my hair. Gah! It’s rancid. I’m going to have to take at least three showers to get the newly formed dreads out.
The only clean thing on my body is a borrowed sweater. When I phased back into the mortal world my wings hadn’t transitioned with me. I had to hold what was left of my shirt over my front. Ash fetched a new one from our dorm room for me the moment we returned. I pulled it on over the charred remains of my last sweater.
R.I.P. pink angora sweater. You were cute, and kept my boobs hidden from the Forsaken and most of Seraph Academy. Thank you for your service.
“I want to know why you didn’t find them sooner. I have five children at this school, and I was just this close to losing three of them because of gross incompetence.”
The Durand patriarch is seated next to his wife. They are the first set of parents I’ve met at Seraph Academy. It’s jarring to see not only how closely they resemble their children in appearance, but also in age.
Laurent Durand’s hair is several shades lighter than Steel’s—it most closely resembles the middle twins’. He sits in the plastic cafeteria chair like he’s seated at the head of the table in a board room. His back is erect, his shoulders pushed back, and the look he is sending Sable would make most grown men weep.
“I can understand why you’re upset, Laurent, but this situation was highly unlikely. We are still trying to sift through all the details. We will get to the bottom of this, but the important thing to focus on at the moment is that everyone was recovered without any serious injury.”
His lips thin and eyes narrow, a clear sign of his displeasure.
After clearing his throat, Deacon takes a half-step closer to Sable. He silently shows his support of her with his arms crossed over his broad chest, feet planted shoulder-width apart.
I wait for the pissing match to start between Deacon and Laurent. They both keep their mouths shut as they glare at each other.