We made it back to town without being eaten by monsters. Considering the day that I’d just had, I was counting that as a victory. Valiant was feeling notably less victorious.
“I’ll go out there alone. No one else will be in danger,” he said to Nero when we were all back in the Legion office inside the temple.
“This matter is closed.”
“I disagree.”
“Disagree all you want. It won’t change anything,” Nero said icily.
“Valiant, do show some restraint,” Grace said gently. “Colonel Windstriker is an angel.”
“He is being unreasonable.”
The other Pilgrims looked appropriately shocked by his mild complaint. I’d never seen a Pilgrim argue with Nero. They were always too busy revering angels to disagree with them.
“The man in the hood was probably just a common thief,” one of the Pilgrims said. “The Lost Relics have been missing for centuries. A thief like that wouldn’t even know they exist.”
“Lost Relics?” I asked. “I think I’ve read about them. Is that what we’re after?”
Valiant frowned at his colleague. “Nice going.”
“From what I remember, the Lost Relics were made by gods,” Captain Somerset said.
“Yes, made by gods for angels,” said Nero. “It is said that these are the most powerful weapons the Earth has ever seen.”
“What do they do?” I asked.
“They can kill an angel in a single strike.”
7
Dark Delights
Killing an angel wasn’t an easy feat. So many doses of gods’ Nectar, so much magic, so many tests—altogether it made angels nearly unkillable. It was scary to think there was a weapon that could kill an angel in a single strike. It was even scarier to know that weapon was out there now, just waiting to be found.
It all made sense now, why the gods had granted the Pilgrims’ special assistance from the Legion, including that of an angel like Nero. But the gods had still left Nero in charge of this mission, and he was right. There might be a weapon beneath the Lost City with the power to kill angels, but there definitely were monsters out there right now on the Black Plains with more than enough power to kill anyone crazy enough to be caught outside at night.
The magic tides of the world were changing. We’d just been through more monster attacks during the day than I’d ever experienced, even at night. Going out there right now was suicide and I said it.
Nero nodded in approval, but Valiant frowned at me like I’d just fallen a few notches in his esteem.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” I told him. “I’ve lived out here at the edge of the Black Plains my whole life, and I’ve never seen so many monsters. This is bad. Really bad.”
Nero looked worried. Well, at least as worried as he could look. There was a tiny crinkle between his eyes, but the rest of his face was as hard as marble, as unfeeling as stone. Perhaps it was that hard, unfeeling expression that told me he was worried, that he wanted to go back out there and secure the Lost Relics as much as Valiant did.
“We will depart at first light,” Nero told us. “I’m ordering you all to eat and then go to bed. I expect tomorrow will be at least as eventful as today, and I need you all fed and rested so you’ll be at full power.”
My stomach rumbled, and I wondered what Calli was making for dinner. I hoped she’d cooked enough to feed an army because I was famished.
“Leda,” Nero said.
Everyone else had left while I’d been standing there, fantasizing about dinner. Nero closed the door. Uh-oh.
“Is this about the fire swords? I know I didn’t exactly ask permission to use them. Are Captain Somerset and Lieutenant Lawrence upset?”
“Lieutenant Lawrence detailed her grievances to me on the drive back to town.”
Figured. She was probably happy to have an excuse to talk to him—and to complain about me.
“Captain Somerset was amused.”
“Amused?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“She did express her concern that if your technique did not improve, next time you might set your hair on fire.”
“She was laughing when she said that, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “But this isn’t about the fire swords.”
“The flare guns?”
“Those guns are not standard issue for soldiers of the Legion.”
“I know. I borrowed it from my mom. We used to bring them with us when we traveled across the Black Plains, so I thought it might be useful to carry one. The flares are made by witches, a brew of concentrated magic designed to—”
“I know what they’re used for.”
I smirked at him. “Do you? Even though they’re not standard Legion issue?”
“Careful.” He folded his arms across his chest.
I mimicked the gesture, but I had the feeling it looked less badass on me. “Always.”
He arched a single eyebrow, daring me to tease him further. For once, I behaved myself.
“Next time you wish to bring along an unsanctioned weapon, discuss it with me first. Flare guns are a fire hazard.”
I nearly laughed in his face. “Almost every weapon in the Legion’s armory is a fire hazard, including each and every soldier level four or higher.”
He watched me with mild amusement.
“You’re teasing me.”