Damn. I’d never kicked a chick in the crotch before. I kinda felt bad, but then again it was Tiffany, so the feeling dissipated quickly. She rose to the surface for air while I gunned it through the fourth hoop, and surfaced to find the seal. He was five feet from me—I so had this!
I paddled like crazy, and when my fingers wrapped around the seal’s leg, I cried out in triumph. That triumph was short-lived, however. The moment I spun around to race to the shore with my sweet seal, Tiffany was waiting with a purple glowing spell in her hand.
My first instinct was to duck underwater and avoid getting hit by whatever the spell was, but I’d only made it halfway under when the purple light crashed over my head and my limbs went weak. Tiffany snatched the seal away and blew me a kiss.
“Sorry, Archie.”
Rage boiled just underneath the surface of my skin as I slowly paddled to stay above water. Like a drunken thousand-pound seal, I had no grace and no speed. Tiffany took off like a freaking Olympian swimmer while I struggled to even move forward with the spell attacking my body.
My body…. An idea struck me then. Noah had said we’d have to swim through the four hoops and get the seal, then get back to shore. He didn’t say swim back to shore. I suddenly wondered if Tiffany’s spell extended to my wings, which hadn’t been out at the time she’d spelled me.
Acting quickly, I unzipped the top portion of my wet suit to expose my back, yelping as cold water rushed in, making my breath hitch. Once the wet suit was at my waist, I snapped my wings out and flapped above the water.
Hell yes.
The crowd on the beach roared.
Tiffany was about twenty feet from the shoreline when she popped up, to get a breath of air, and heard the cheering. She probably thought it was for her. How cute.
When she dipped back under, her hand carrying the seal came up above the waterline, and I swooped down to get it. It was a bit tricky, pivoting my slow-ass body forward to grab it with my fast wings, but when my fingers wrapped around the seal’s tail, I yanked as hard as I could.
Tiffany broke the surface, screaming at me, but I didn’t stick around to see her wrath. I beelined for the shore, where everyone shouted and clapped there. Lincoln was grinning ear to ear, but not as much as Shea. As I landed on the sand and walked slowly across the finish line, I could already feel the spell on my limbs wearing off.
When Noah announced me as the winner, I spun around to see Tiffany, closely resembling a drowned rat, with an evil look in her eye.
If our feud had died out before, it was well and alive now.
The next three months passed rather monotonously. Shea and I trained with Noah and Lincoln to win Fight Night, and one weekend a month, we went out into the depressing war zone—though Lincoln seemed to always give me the boring safe things to do like deliver water to an army camp.
Shea and I had awoken to a rat in our room a few weeks ago, but since no one else in the school had a rat problem, we figured it was Tiffany. Now it was Monday and I was in battle class, trying to think of all the ways I could kill her and make it look like an accident.
Shea and I were practicing drills when Noah walked in. She grinned, stepping away from me to greet him, but when we saw his face, my stomach dropped.
Something was wrong.
The normally handsome, wink-happy Lothario was sweating, and he looked like a puppy had died. “I need Brielle and Shea to come with me,” Noah told our professor, who nodded curtly.
My best friend and I followed him out of class. When we reached the hallway, he checked to make sure we were alone, then spun around to face us.
“What is it?” Shea reached for him.
“Lincoln’s been taken.” Those words left his mouth in what seemed like slow motion.
Lincoln. Taken. My brain was refusing to process it. The room swayed a little as my heart hammered in my chest, pumping my body full of adrenaline. Shea reached out for me as I finally found my voice.
“Tell me everything. When? By who? What efforts are we taking to find him?” I was in warrior mode now, pushing all emotion to the side, and being practical. Lincoln had taught me as much. A weeping girlfriend wasn’t going to find him.
Noah grimaced. “We were out on patrol in Inferno and the Tainted Army came out of nowhere. Pulled up in a van and called Lincoln by name. The next thing I knew, they threw a smoke spell, and I heard tires screeching. Lincoln was gone. I went airborne to follow the van, but they have some advanced-level magic hiding him.”
I was going to be sick. Tainted Army. Those assholes from the Tainted Academy had known Lincoln by name, and it had bothered him. Now they were out there fighting for the demons? Enslaving humans for them? It made me sick.
I started to pace the short hall. “Raphael. Michael. What are they doing?”
“They put a rescue team together an hour ago, but our Light Mages can’t find him. Even Claymore is at a loss.”
Oh my God. I couldn’t do this. A stifled sob left my throat then as my tough girl façade cracked.
Shea put both hands on my shoulders. “We’ll find him. If the Dark Mages are hiding him, there must be some other way to track him.”
I’d forgotten Sera was with me until she vibrated on my hip.
‘I can’t find Lincoln, but I can find his sword. If he’s still got it with him, we’ll find him.’
Hope burst in my chest at her words. “Noah, did Lincoln have his sword on him when they took him?”
Noah’s forehead crinkled but he nodded. “Yeah, he had it.”
‘I can trace another person’s infinity weapon so long as I’ve met that weapon.’
I didn’t understand it, but Sera had certainly ‘met’ Lincoln’s weapon hundreds of times.
“Sera can trace his infinity weapon,” I told them and started running to the parking lot.
“Awesome. I’ll tell Michael!” Noah shouted after me, then whipped out his phone.
We made quick work of getting to the parking lot where Darren was at the wheel of his SUV, Blake sitting shotgun. I quickly told them the news, and Noah, Shea, and I squeezed into the back. Then we were off.
The entire drive, I repeated one thing incessantly: Lincoln’s okay, Lincoln’s okay. He had to be okay. I couldn’t even conceive of a world where Lincoln was lost or dead. I felt physically ill, my hands shaking from adrenaline.
When we arrived at the base camp within the war zone, we exited the car quickly, making our way to Michael and the twenty-man battalion that stood with him.
“Brielle!” Michael sounded cheery.
Mr. Claymore and Raphael were both with him.
“Is it true? Sera can track Lincoln?” Raphael asked me, pride gleaming in his eyes.
I nodded.
‘I just need a bit of archangel blood. Preferably Michael,’ Sera told me.
My eyes bugged.
‘What! You never told me that!’
‘Well how else am I going to find his weapon? I need some powerful blood to work my magic,’ she said matter-of-factly, like that made total sense.
Blood magic. My weapon did blood magic.
‘I’m just supposed to ask one of them for their blood?’ I screamed at her, my face pinching in anger.
Michael frowned. “Is something wrong?”
I laughed nervously, and now Raphael was looking at me like I was crazy.
‘It has to be one of the archangels who have blessed Lincoln with power, so either will do, really,’ Sera said, as if that was helping.
My hand nervously ran through my hair. “Well, I guess Sera needs archangel blood for her magic finder spell… so…”
Oh God, kill me know.
Michael stepped forward, bringing with him the air of power, and held out his arm. “No problem. I trust you, Brielle.”
Those blazing blue eyes looked right through me, straight into my soul, and I nearly covered my chest in an attempt to hide. I felt so exposed, so… raw.
Archangel Michael trusted me. Angel blood fetched a fair price on the black market, and he trusted me.
‘Come on, Lincoln’s being tortured for all we know!’ Sera shouted, making me jump a little.
Breaking out of my Michael mesmerization, I pulled Sera out.
‘Just a little taste is all I need,’ she instructed.
Gross.
Michael held his arm out, and I reluctantly sliced a little cut on the upper part of his left forearm. He didn’t even flinch, but I did.
I just freaking cut Archangel Michael. I was totally going to hell.
‘Oh yum. He tastes even better then he smells.’
Oh. My. God. My face fell.
‘You’re completely nuts,’ I told my blade.
She didn’t seem to care. ‘Get in the car. I’ve got a beacon on your man.’
Relief washed over me. “She’s got him!”
I ran to the car, Noah hopping in the driver seat while I sat shotgun. The rest of our crew pilled in the back, with Michael and his warriors following us in one of the Fallen Army-issued fifteen passenger vans. They were blacked out, and had such severe tinting you couldn’t even see inside of them.
Hopefully we would be low-key.
‘Go right,’ Sera urged suddenly.
“Right!” I shouted, and Noah slammed on the brakes, cutting the wheel to make the turn.
I muttered an apology to him and told Sera to give me more notice next time.
‘I can’t. Go left,’ she shouted.
“Left here!” I pointed to the road we were about to pass.
The tires squealed as we made the turn, and Noah gave me a glare.
“She can’t help it! Drive slower,” I shouted at him.
“Yeah,” Shea backed me up.
Noah sighed, easing on the brakes and slowing to a crawl. We made our way slowly into the city of Inferno, almost to the outer edge where there were high gates and tons of demon guards.
“What’s that?” I whispered, staring at the gates.
“We call it the city of Limbo. It’s a demon stronghold,” Noah explained.
Oh God. If Lincoln was in there, I would cry.
‘Left and stop. He’s here. The big brick building up ahead,’ Sera told me.
I relayed her words to Noah, and we turned left and parked. Up ahead, there was indeed a large red brick industrial building. It felt like the gauntlet all over again.
‘How can you see when you don’t have eyes?’ I asked Sera.
‘I’m an angel blade. I don’t need eyes to see,’ she retorted.
Show-off.
Not one of us dared leave the car for fear of tipping them off and them killing or moving Lincoln.
“I have a plan,” Michael said over the radio. “Our Light Mage says this building is heavily guarded, and I don’t want to spook them. Brielle, do you feel ready to do a mission?”
To save my boyfriend from Tainted Army assholes? Hell yes!
“Yes sir,” I told him. Raphael could be ‘Raph,’ but Michael was always ‘sir.’
“Let’s fly, then.” And the line went dead.