“I had considered the possibility. I was about to send another team to rescue him.”
“But not arrest him?” Disdain dripped from Damiel’s words. “Of course you don’t immediately, without any evidence whatsoever, suspect Silverstar of treason. Because that would just be jumping the gun to assume a loyal angel had gone rogue. And it would be sadistic to have his loved ones hunt him down and kill him.”
“Do you have something to say?” Nyx asked him coolly.
“Many things,” he replied. But he didn’t elaborate.
“You and Cadence deceived me into believing you were dead, and then you deserted the Legion. I might have been too quick to believe the accusations against you, but you were also in the wrong. Two wrongs don’t make a right, General.”
“Two wrongs might not make a right,” he countered. “But two wrongs make for one hell of a party.”
I had to remind myself not to laugh. I’d really missed Damiel’s humor.
“Drop the lies and tell me what’s going on,” said Nyx. “We are all on the same side. We need to trust one another if we’re going to survive the shit storm to come.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Lies and fear are what split the Legion apart. It has to stop.”
So I told her about the Guardians and the immortal daggers. I told her about the demons’ hunt for those daggers and how my father had tracked a dark angel to the Interchange.
When I was finished talking, Nyx said, “There’s something I want to show you both.”
She pressed a button on her desk, and a screen descended from the ceiling. Another button press, and a video began playing on that screen. Eight Legion soldiers were positioned throughout a one-room cottage.
The building looked like it predated the monsters. Like it was from a time when it had been safe for normal people to live in isolated houses deep in the woods.
Dirt and dust coated the floor; cobwebs hung from the corners. There wasn’t much left of the pink-and-green sofa and armchair, so the eight soldiers were standing. No, nine soldiers, counting the one wearing the helmet-mounted camera. It definitely wasn’t mounted on a tripod. The gentle camera-shake of its bearer’s breathing gave it away.
“The Dark Force has us surrounded.”
The camera panned toward the off-screen speaker. It was my father. That brought the total up to ten Legion soldiers in this dilapidated cottage.
“What is this?” I asked Nyx.
“We’ve started equipping our teams with cameras while they’re on a mission,” she said. “The footage is sent to me live.”
Damiel laughed. “That paranoid about potential traitors, are you?”
“It is for training purposes. To show our new initiates what it’s like in the field,” she replied coolly. “This particular footage was recorded four days ago, while General Silverstar and his team were in pursuit of a dark angel.”
Which meant we were watching my father shortly before he’d disappeared. Gunfire boomed outside the cottage. One of the windows shattered.
“That sounds like more than a lone dark angel,” Damiel commented.
“She had support.”
“Support in the form of…” Damiel watched the video for a few seconds. “…about thirty Dark Force soldiers.”
Who, from the looks of it, were thoroughly shredding the cottage’s walls.
“Why are we watching this?” I asked Nyx.
“That will soon become clear.”
The cottage’s front door shook. Wood shards splintered off. It wasn’t going to last much longer. The Legion soldiers must have realized that too because two of them took up positions on either side of the door and began reenforcing the magic wards on it.
But the house wasn’t defensible. All the wards in the world wouldn’t extend its life by much. Not when the Dark Force was bombarding it with that much magic.
The door exploded. The Legion soldiers didn’t get the wards back up fast enough. Dark Force soldiers streamed through the opening. My father rushed forward to confront them. He barreled through them with the force of a steam train, pushing them out into the dark, moonless night. My father didn’t stop there. He kept moving. He charged into the nearest cluster of enemy soldiers.
The soldier with the camera didn’t see anything more. He was too busy casting a web of thorny vines over a shattered window. An eerie blue glow drew his attention. He whipped around. A soldier filled the camera frame. He held a glowing dagger in his hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” demanded the cameraman soldier.
“General Silverstar dropped his dagger.”
“You leave that alone. It’s an immortal weapon. They’re for gods and angels, not for us.”
“And not for the Dark