After I heard of the ominous apparition that appeared at your wedding—and that you and Lightbringer were going on a mission—I put two and two together.”
“So you did flee in anticipation of our arrival.”
“I was already planning to come here,” countered Colonel Spellstorm. “Your imminent arrival simply cemented my fate. I knew there was no reason to wait at my office. The Master Interrogator is relentless in hunting his prey. How many innocent people have you convicted? How many bystanders have you tortured to get to your prey? I know you, Dragonsire. Hell, I helped you track down plenty of supposed traitors. Their blood is on my hands as well as yours.”
“We’re not speaking of others. This interrogation is about you alone, Spellstorm.”
Colonel Spellstorm looked at me. “Years ago, Dragonsire and I embarked on a mass hunt, tracking down and killing dozens of so-called traitors. But those traitors turned out to be innocent. By the time we realized the truth, it was already too late for them. They were all dead.” His gaze shifted to Damiel. “This has to end now—before paranoia destroys the Legion.”
“Just because those people were innocent, that doesn’t mean you are,” replied Damiel. “The evidence against you is—”
“Circumstantial at best and you know it,” Colonel Spellstorm cut in. “But mere suspicion is enough for you to convict, sentence, and kill me on the spot, if it suits you. Does it suit you today?”
Colonel Spellstorm glanced at me, a silent plea for me to intervene. He wanted me to believe his implication that Damiel’s paranoia, his fear that there were traitors everywhere just waiting to strike, had completely blinded him.
And hadn’t I been worrying about the same thing just a few minutes ago? Didn’t I fear that Damiel, consumed by his need to protect the Earth, was falling into darkness? I knew he would sacrifice himself to protect the Earth—and sacrifice a whole lot of innocents with him, if necessary.
Colonel Spellstorm addressed me directly now. “Your father General Silverstar knows me. You know me,” he reminded me. “And you know I am not a traitor.”
I didn’t really know him that well. But it was true that Colonel Spellstorm had once saved my father’s life. After a mission on the plains of monsters, he’d brought my father in, blood streaming from so many wounds all across his body. I’d been only a child then, but the memory of my father’s blood everywhere had stuck with me—as had the memory of the angel who had saved his life.
Everything inside of me—every moral fiber, every hint of magic, every instinct, every shred of humanity—was telling me that Colonel Spellstorm was innocent. An honorable man could not have fallen so hard. There was no reason. No motive. There were only a few suspicious actions that Damiel had collected. And those actions could have meant something else.
The fact that Colonel Spellstorm had run away wasn’t helping his case, but he had a point. If I’d known that the Master Interrogator was after me, that he was certain I was a traitor, I’d probably have run too.
“We don’t know anything,” I told Damiel. “So we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Condemning Colonel Spellstorm in haste, without knowing if he is truly guilty, will not save the Legion—or the Earth.”
“I’m not killing him,” Damiel said with measured patience. “I’m just going to ask him a few questions.”
“You mean, torture him.”
My mind flickered involuntarily back to the Legion soldiers in Florence that Damiel had tortured, just to get to Colonel Spellstorm.
“I’m going to interrogate him,” Damiel corrected me. “With magic.”
“Or for once, instead of breaking his will and shattering his mind, you could just try talking to him.”
Damiel looked at me like I’d just suggested we throw a party to welcome the demons back to Earth. “Spellstorm could be lying.”
“He’s an angel. I don’t think torture is any more effective against him than talking.”
“The way I do it is very effective, even against angels,” said Damiel.
I could hardly suppress my horror. “You asked me to come along on this mission. You obviously wanted me here for a reason, and I don’t think it’s for my charming smile. So let’s try things my way first.”
“Your way might get you killed.”
But Damiel stepped back anyway, making space for me to move closer to our prisoner.
“Trust me, Damiel,” I said as I passed him. “Trust that my way can work. Do not allow fear and paranoia to win over reason.” Then I turned to Colonel Spellstorm. “We know you’ve