Angel Fever (Immortal Legacy #3) - Ella Summers Page 0,31

you’re trying to bully into submission. You start locking up angels, Holyfire, and the rest of us will push back.”

Colonel Holyfire frowned, chewing that over. “This isn’t over.” He glared at me, his eyes burning with disdain. “I promise you I will get to the bottom of your treachery.”

Then he stormed out of the room.

Once Colonel Holyfire had left, my father turned to me. “Holyfire has already called the entire New York office to arms, commanding them to hunt down Dragonsire. He’s branded him a traitor to the Legion.”

“And turned Damiel’s own soldiers against him,” I said in disgust.

“Come with me, Cadence.” He began walking away.

I followed him, matching his brisk pace. We climbed many stairs, until we reached the roof. My father’s airship waited there.

We maintained our silence as we stepped aboard the ship. We walked down halls with smooth, polished wood floors and wood panel walls. Paintings hung on these walls, the art featuring angels and gods and their fight against the darkness. The angels and gods were depicted as beautiful, perfect, righteous beings. The demons and dark angels were shown to be evil, ugly, and cruel. It was a perfect representation of holiness and supremacy, the kind of artwork you’d expect to find in an archangel’s office—or, in this case, an archangel’s airship.

My phone buzzed. I looked at the screen. There was a message from Major Grant. I read it, frowning. I wasn’t sure what to do with this information.

“Penny for your thoughts?” my father said.

It was such a quaint expression, far too whimsical for my father, the great archangel Rhydian Silverstar. But he knew I collected old Earth expressions. My father wasn’t an openly affectionate man. This must have been his way of showing he cared, of engaging in the kind of talk I did. Of connecting to me, of showing me that I was not alone.

“You always taught me that an angel was priceless, and an angel’s thoughts equally so,” I teased him. “With that said, I don’t believe a penny would be sufficient payment to convince me to part with my thoughts.”

His face was serious, almost worried. “Cadence, you’re going to be fine.”

“Of course I am,” I said shakily. I took a deep breath, steadying myself lest I break into tears in front of my father. “I went to the Legion’s prison to question Eva Doren, but Colonel Holyfire hijacked my interrogation.”

“Holyfire is not a subtle man. He is unsophisticated, power-hungry, and takes pleasure in the suffering of others.”

Everything my father abhorred.

“Well, this unsophisticated angel somehow concocted a sophisticated scheme whereby he got Eva Doren to ‘confess’ that she and the not-truly-dead Idris Starfire both work for Damiel, who serves the demons.”

My father scoffed at that. “Preposterous. Dragonsire’s blatant pride and vanity precludes his ever serving a demon master. He’s far too zealous in his pursuit of traitors. And Holyfire is grasping for any excuse to steal Dragonsire’s job.”

So my father did believe Damiel was innocent.

“After we left the interrogation chamber, Colonel Holyfire stuck me with the prison paperwork while he took the airship to New York. Shortly after his departure, the prison came under attack from an enemy airship. They breached the prison’s vault. I had Major Grant, the officer in charge of Damnation, call Colonel Holyfire back to defend us, but Holyfire considered himself too important for such pedestrian matters.”

“The prison’s vault contains the Legion’s secret potion formulas and Magitech schematics. Any breach of it represents a major threat to the Legion itself. And Holyfire didn’t turn around to assist you?” His eyebrows drew together. “I could brand him a traitor for such blatant idiocy.”

“Colonel Holyfire is wrapping himself up tightly in his new Master Interrogator cloak.”

“He should take care that someone doesn’t come along and strangle him with that cloak,” my father said darkly.

The threat was loud and clear. Too bad Colonel Holyfire wasn’t here to hear it. Though I had no doubt my father would relay that threat to him later—with all the subtlety and fanfare befitting of an angel.

“Tell me about these mercenaries.”

“Their leader is Tiana Hurst,” I said.

“The Wicked Witch. She leads The Witch’s Bitches.” He didn’t even flinch when he spoke the colorful title.

Like Major Grant, my father was polished and aristocratic. But unlike Major Grant, he was an angel. One of the Legion’s first. And as one of the first angels, as one of Nyx’s early soldiers in the Legion of Angels, he’d had a lot of experience getting his hands dirty—and learning to ignore all