“How is that going to work?” I ask. “Steel always calls at inconvenient hours. I’ll most likely be in my room—and sleeping—when or if he calls again.”
“Isn’t it obvious,” Nova pipes in with an amused gleam in her eye. “Sterling is going to have to sleep in your room.”
There’s a strangled sound, and I tilt my head to see Ash choking on air. She holds a finger up while she regains control of her breathing. “That—” Cough. “Presents a bit of a problem.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t snore,” Sterling announces. “I’ll even wear clothes at night if that’ll make you feel better.”
There’s nothing to do but shake my head.
“You’re not allowed to spend the night in our room.”
“It’s not like I’m going to announce it. And besides, it’s only going to be until Steel calls again. How many nights could that really be?”
Chapter Three
It’s a miracle.
A single trickle of sweat treks down the side of Deacon’s face. Hugging his brow, it slips to his chin before dropping to the ground.
“Victory!” I punch the air and wiggle my legs in an imitation of a bad end-zone dance.
“What is happening right now?”
Deacon’s face looks . . . well . . . pretty much like it always does: devoid of emotion. The slight arch to his left eyebrow is the only indication of confusion.
Since Steel’s departure, Deacon has taken his place as my sparring partner. I always limp away from our sessions a hot sweaty mess, while Deacon remains fresh as a daisy. I’d resent him for that if I didn’t like him so much.
“Dude, you are perspiring.” I point to his forehead with both index fingers, still shimmying my shoulders. Sleep deprivation makes me a tad slap happy, so I can’t seem to stop wiggling. Sterling totally lied about not being a snorer. “I did that. I finally made you work up a sweat.”
A slight shine glosses his hairline. Lifting his forearm, he swipes it across his temple.
“This isn’t sweating. I prefer to think of it as a healthy glow.” His words are dry enough to mask sarcasm as sincerity, but I know better.
“Admit it,” I demand. “I’m getting better.”
“I never denied it. Of course you’re improving. I am, after all, your teacher. I wouldn’t waste my time otherwise.”
“Did you just call me a waste of your time?”
“No, Emberly. I said that if you weren’t improving, that would be a waste of my time.”
I knew perfectly well what he meant, but I get a kick out of listening to him calmly explain himself.
“I think we should go tell Sable the good news,” I say, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “I’m sure she’d appreciate the check-in.”
Sable and Deacon are a pet project of mine. It’s hard to miss the change in Sable whenever Deacon is around. I caught her giggling at something he said last week.
Giggling.
She’s been known to blush a time or two in his presence as well. I have this irresistible urge to shove the two of them together whenever I can.
Deacon stops himself from grabbing his gym bag to shoot me a stern look.
Busted.
Clasping my hands in front of me, I do my best impression of Sterling’s “Who, me?” look. He’s the Jedi master of sliding out of sticky situations. I’m barely an apprentice.
Shaking his head, Deacon slings his gym bag over his shoulder and walks past, pausing at the door. “Remember, I’m out on a mission for the next several days, but I should be back before the break.”
Right. Mid-winter break is a week and a half away. The academy students will head home to spend the holidays with their families. Everyone except me. They don’t know what to do with me yet.
“See ya.” I wave.
Sable asked me to drop by, and I’ve been avoiding it all day. Since we learned my father might be a full-fledged seraph, I’ve been under Sable’s microscope more than usual. In the past it never ended well when an adult paid too much attention to me, and despite Sable’s good intentions, old habits die hard.
Shoving my gym shoes into my bag, I heft it on my shoulder and head in the direction of Sable’s office—slowly. When I reach her door, I knock once, and then like a coward, take off when there isn’t an immediate response.
I’m only three steps from her door when she calls out, “Come on in.”
Hanging my head, I turn back.
“Emberly. I’m so glad it’s you. Take a seat.” Sable stands when I enter, lowering herself when I settle in a seat across from her.
“So, how are you doing?” Her hands steeple on the desk in front of her. She has her headmistress hat on. I’m not getting out of this with a simple answer, but that’s still what I give her.
“Fine.” The answer isn’t false, but she’s hoping for specifics.
“I’m glad to hear that. Deacon says training is going well.”
I nod because there’s not much to say about that.
“And things are going well with your friends?”
Another nod.
“Classes going smoothly?”
Third nod.
She clears her throat, the only indication that my non-verbal answers annoy her. She didn’t get to be the headmistress of one of the nine angel-born academies without a seemingly unending pool of patience. There’s a reason she called me in here, and I just want to get to the point. Beating around the bush wastes both of our time.
“Well.” She shifts in her seat, and her gaze levels on the empty desk in front of her before volleying back to me. She straightens her posture, but not fast enough to hide the wave of apprehension that rolls over her.
Strange.
I squirm in my seat in response to the vibe Sable throws off, already anticipating hating whatever words move past her lips.
“As you know it’s part of my job—part of my duty, really—to inform the Council of Elders on the progress of all the students here at Seraph Academy.”
No surprise there. I’m aware that Sable reports to the Elders—the closest thing to a ruling body that Nephilim have. It makes me twitchy, but she isn’t divisive or sneaky about it, which I appreciate.
“And, as such, you know I have been required to deliver regular reports on your progress.
Saying you are of great interest to us isn’t an understatement. Finding a Nephilim that isn’t already a part of our community is extremely rare, but with the differences you present . . . Well, all to say, we’d like to find out as much about you as possible.”
I nod, wishing she’d just get to the point.
Up until now, the Council has only requested that I continue training, which I’m also thankful for, but I worry that it’s only a matter of time before they require something of me I don’t want to give. That’s why I have contingency plans in place in case things go south. Not even Ash knows about the bugout bag I stashed under my bed, or that I learned where the keys to the academy vehicles are kept in case I need to nick one.
“A Nephilim of seraph descent isn’t just unusual, it’s unheard of.”
“My parentage hasn’t been proven yet,” I point out.