Hunted

He would if it meant making me forget my other problems. I wrinkled my nose.

“I stink, I know.” He pressed a kiss on my nose. “I’m hitting the showers, then heading to Xenith. Don’t mess with some poor guy’s head while I’m gone.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re having dinner with your Cardinal buddies, so hurry back. And tell Celeste I said hi.”

He stopped smiling. “Okay.”

I called Kylie as soon as he left. When she didn’t pick up her phone, I sent her a text message.

HQ was so quiet now that the Civilian Guardians were gone. Things changed as I crossed the Academy’s foyer and got closer to the pit. The clang of metal reached me. I shivered, remembering the archangel’s sword. I reached up and touched my neck. What happened to Guardians when they died?

I tried not to gape when I entered the pit. Master Haziel was sparring with Lucien, their swords colliding, lifting, and thrusting. I had never seen Lucien spar before, and he was pretty good for a SG.

They stopped when they saw me. Lucien walked to the wall to return the practice weapons. Master Haziel waved me over and headed to his observation booth.

“What happened?” he asked, pouring water in a glass.

“The others didn’t tell you?”

“I am asking you.”

I could tattle on Solaris, but it wouldn’t earn me any brownie points. “We didn’t exactly accomplish our mission, since Jethro is still missing. He’s probably in the secret hideout of the Summoners being tortured or something.” Master Haziel didn’t even bat an eyelid. “But I guess you already know that. Bran is home and will soon leave for Xenith.”

“He and I will talk as soon as he gets back. How did thing go between you and the other Cardinals?” he asked, watching me intently.

I gave him a toothy grin. “We got along splendidly. In fact, we’re having dinner tonight.”

“Same story as the others…interesting,” Master Haziel said. “Lucien’s version was even briefer.”

So no one had tattled. There was hope for them yet.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“What do you want to know? What Gavyn said or Archangel Raphael’s mission in life?”

“I have no time for that young demon’s schemes or a cold-hearted angel’s rants. I am more interested on whether or not he got inside your head. The other Cardinals said they made no attempt to invade their thoughts.”

Another proof that I was the target, not the others. “He tried, but I resisted him.”

“Archangels are very good at finding people’s weaknesses and using them. Lucien?” he called out.

Lucien looked up. “Yes, Grandfather?”

Grandfather?

“Go home. We are done here.”

“But—”

“Now,” Master Haziel added.

“He is your grandson?” I asked after Lucien left the pit.

“Great, great, great grandson.”

“And you are okay with him being here now? With the Tri-whatever and the archangels and all? Aren’t you scared he might get hurt?”

His leathery face scrunched. “The boy is eighteen, free to choose what he wants. At the present, he wants to be here. What is this Tri-whatever?”

“The Nephilimic court that sent Raphael and his archangels to get me. We’re not supposed to say their name or they’ll appear like that.” I snapped my fingers. “So how loud do I have to yell to summon the court? I have a bone or two to pick with it.”

Master Haziel went still. “Summoning the Tribunal has nothing to do with how loud you yell. It is about your convictions.”

Cryptic as usual. “Meaning?”

“You must need to meet with them.”

“Oh. Like right before Raphael chops off my head with his angelic sword?”

He chuckled. “I am happy you still have your sense of humor.”

“Yes, well, if Raphael wants me, he’ll have to catch me first. What else do you know about the Nephilimic court? Can it bring back a demon from Tartarus?”

He nodded. “It has been known to happen.”

“How come no one knows about this?”

“Because Guardians, like humans, tend to refuse to believe parts of history that make them uncomfortable.”

So Valafar could really be back. Feeling sick, I just wanted to go home. “Okay. Well, that’s my report. I’ll see you later.”

“Not so fast. Go home and change, then come right back.”

“Why?”

“To train, of course. You have nothing to do for several hours. All your friends are gone.” He angled his head, then added, “Your human friend is also out of town, so no teleporting to her house. Oh, you should not tell the rest of your team what happened today until the senior Cardinals talk to them this evening.”

Why the heck had I come to see him? I could have telepathed my report. I was tempted to use the book on the Goddess as an excuse, but the thought of reading more about her after learning about being her vessel didn’t appeal to me.

I was in and out of my home in under a minute, though I stopped long enough to check my phone. There was a text from Kylie. She’d be back tomorrow.

Master Haziel wasn’t alone when I arrived back at the pit. He and Lucien were selecting swords. It must be hard to be the great, great, great grandson of someone like Master Haziel. He’d probably started training Lucien when he was a baby. Like Grampa had with me.

“Choose a sword,” Master Haziel said.

With the arrival of the SGs, the swords were all mixed up and no longer grouped by era and civilization. Still, my favorites—the Robin Hood swords with their sloping guards engraved with stags and trumpeter angels— stood out among the sabers, katanas, and claymores.

I picked one and turned to find Lucien facing me with a katana. “Are you my sparring partner?”

“We both are.” Master Haziel approached with two claymores.

Sparring with more than one partner was something he encouraged, but he’d never participated before. He was ancient and emaciated. One hit and he’d surely crumple.

“You sure about this, Master Haziel? I don’t want to hurt you or anything,” I teased.

“You think I am too old to fight you?” He cackled, the sound rusty like an engine sputtering to life. I rotated my shoulders then raised my sword, swinging the tip between Lucien and the trainer, my gaze moving in the opposite direction, looking for a sign of imminent attack.

Master Haziel lunged, and I thrust my sword forward to deflect his, then sidestepped and turned in one smooth motion to block Lucien’s. Feint. Strike. Parry. Counterstrike. Lucien’s footwork and flow was great, but he was timid. I was used to sparring with Bran, who wasn’t afraid to push me. As for Master Haziel, his frail body was a camouflage. He wielded the two swords effortlessly. Like they were sticks.

I shuffled backward, blocking left and right, teleported and appeared behind them. They turned, but I was ready. A flurry of combination strikes….left…right…left…and I knocked the blade from Lucien’s hand with my mind. He returned with two more.

Strike…block…strike…I saw an opening, dropped and swept my leg under Lucien. Down he went. Sidestepping, I focused on Master Haziel while keeping an eye on Lucien, who didn’t connect with the floor. He teleported out of the way and came at me from behind, his shyness gone.

I guess he wasn’t Master Haziel’s grandson for nothing.