two parallel lines that are clearly prepared to escort us straight to their castle.
Huh. It worked.
“This way, demons,” the female says, the word looking like it tastes foul on her tongue.
She turns and starts marching forward first, not at all worried as she gives us her back. If she’s trying to send us an unspoken message, I’ve received it loud and clear. We’re not a threat to her, because she’s probably completely badass, and there are so many angels around that we would be stupid and suicidal to try and pull anything.
My eyes slide to Tazreel. “Don’t get us killed,” I hiss under my breath.
Of course, he just arches an imperious brow before stalking after the dark-skinned angel. I exchange a look with the guys and start following in Taz’s trail.
The guys must have agreed on some pre-approved formation when it comes to hostile walking environments, because they all move fluidly until they’re carefully placed around me. Iceman takes the front, Echo and Crux are on either side of me, and Jerif watches my back by taking the rear. He’s also probably watching said rear, because I can feel prickles of heat on my ass.
I walk, tucking my purple hair behind my ears as we head down the gently sloping hill. Springy grass meets our boots as we go, and the angels on either side of us wall us in, marching in sync, giving us just enough space to walk. I watch them from the corner of my eyes, taking in their appearance.
They all look somewhat similar. They’re wearing the same gleaming silver armor, and their wings are varying shades of white, platinum blond, cream, and some of them freckled with all three. Their skin is all different colors, and I can’t tell about their eyes. But they’re all tall and muscled, both male and female.
It’s clear how disciplined they are by their movements. They aren’t rigid or on edge, even though they’re escorting demons, one of which is Pride himself. I can just tell that not a single one of them would panic and get blade-happy with the swords strapped to their hips. These angels are seasoned fighters who wouldn’t dare break rank.
Tazreel called them Legion, and the name sounds important enough to let me know that they’re probably a big fucking deal. We’d be stupid to underestimate them. Which is exactly what worries me. Tazreel definitely underestimates them. I can tell by the way his arms swing and he looks around like he doesn’t have a care in the world and everyone is beneath him.
Why couldn’t I have gotten stuck with Acedia as a father? It would’ve been less stressful to deal with someone who just wanted to nap all the time and gave no fucks about anything.
When we get to the bottom of the hill, the angels lead us to the long white buildings. There are uniform doorways about every seven feet or so, perfectly spaced out. Several of the packed dirt rings have angels in them sparring against one another. Even the giant obstacle course has angels on it, training and honing their physical prowess.
When our group is noticed, more and more angels stop what they’re doing, until all of them have turned to watch us. It’s daunting and intimidating, and silence spreads throughout the entire camp, which is somehow louder than the war cry I see in too many watching eyes.
My heart pounds behind my bones, and I grip the scythe in my hand, only to notice that it’s gone bladeless again. That’s probably for the best, though. The last thing we need is to give these angels any reason to pounce on us.
My nerves ratchet up higher and higher with every step. Our circumstances seem to get gloomier as we go. The tense silence is thundering in my pulse. No...wait. I look up at the sky and see that the looming clouds I noticed from the hill seem to be getting closer. The gloominess is their sinister stretch as they try to block Purgatory’s sun, and the thundering I thought was my heartbeat is actual thunder.
My steps falter, and anxious sweat quickly gathers on my brow and palms.
“It’s alright,” Echo murmurs, his pitch-black eyes flicking over to look at me.
On my other side, Crux purposely lets his swinging hand skim against mine in the briefest of touches, trying to comfort me without alerting the angels of our relationship.
I shoot both he and Echo a grateful, private look, knowing that we’re under major scrutiny. Behind