“Fighting.”

“You were supposed to defeat your opponent using your staff, not gymnastics ropes.”

I shrugged. “Some people would call that resourceful.”

“This is not how we do things here.”

“Well, maybe it’s about time someone changed that.”

Nero shook his head slowly. “I knew you were trouble. This is not Ultimate Street Fighter 2020, Pandora.”

“You could have fooled me. What the hell was up with that blast door? Or the dog? That’s street fighting at its dirtiest.”

He watched me, his eyes cold. “This is the Legion of Angels,” he continued, as though I hadn’t said anything of consequence. “In the Legion of Angels, we use proper weapons in combat, not ropes and debris off the street. When we pick this up again tomorrow, you will use your assigned weapon—and only your assigned weapon—to fight your opponent. And you will continue to do that until you master the art of civilized combat.”

That was rich coming from him. Nothing about this training was civilized. But I couldn’t say that, so I made a joke instead.

“My assigned weapon? And here I was hoping for one of those cool flaming swords,” I teased.

“The fire sword is an angel’s weapon. A dignified weapon. It is difficult to wield.”

“Well, I have to learn to use it sometime. Or should I wait to learn it until I’m an angel so I can inadvertently burn off my own wings. That’s just not dignified.”

His brows lifted. “What makes you think you will ever become an angel?”

“I figured it couldn’t be that hard.” I smiled pleasantly at him. “You did it.”

“Careful,” he warned, his voice low and dark.

“I always am.”

That elicited a snort. “You may enjoy playing with fire, Leda Pierce, but I’m not letting you anywhere near a fire sword until you learn to tame your wild fighting. And that wild mouth of yours.”

“Maybe I can’t be tamed,” I countered. I just couldn’t help myself. There was something seriously wrong with me.

“I’ve broken wilder souls than yours,” he said, his words a fierce promise he obviously had every intention to keep.

I had a sinking suspicion that ‘breaking’ involved thousands of laps around the track and pushups. Lots and lots of pushups. And maybe putting me in a room full of those hellish dogs.

“Now get moving, initiate.” He motioned toward the door. “Back to the gym.”

The Legion brats smirked at me as we rejoined the others in the gym. They were clearly happy about the telling-off I’d received. Jace was back on the ground and tapping his staff against his hand, his eyes tracking my progress across the room. Yeah, he was just waiting to jump me in the halls when no one was looking. I’d have to start carrying around that special blend of pepper spray Bella had mixed up for me. It might not have been a Legion-approved weapon, but I definitely approved of anything that would prevent me from being beaten to a bloody pulp.

“Your first month is over,” Harker declared to the crowd as Nero joined him. “Congratulations on not dying.”

Some of the initiates laughed.

“Tonight, the Legion is hosting a party at Club Firefall,” he continued. “It starts in one hour. And you are all invited.”

Someone dared to expel a celebratory cry.

“There will be members of the Legion of Angels present,” Nero said. “Show respect. Don’t mouth off. They are not as forgiving as I.”

A few people laughed. Nero was as forgiving as a cactus. And those cold, unforgiving eyes were trained on me, as though he thought I was going to stroll up to the Legion soldiers in Firefall and start egging them on. I winked at him, which only made his eyes smolder more. As my staring contest with Colonel Hard Ass continued, I slowly began to realize the other initiates were filtering out of the gym.

“Come on, girl,” Ivy said, wrapping her arm around me. “Let’s get cleaned up, grab some food, and then party!”

I glanced at her. The promise of a party had really brightened her mood. When I looked back at Nero, the angel was gone, as though he’d disappeared into thin air.

10

Firefall

Demeter, the Legion canteen, was packed. Like everything at the Legion, where we ate was organized into a strict hierarchical structure. We initiates sat at the two loud tables beside the tray drop-off point. Past our tables sat the sea of soldiers who’d actually made it into the Legion, ordered by rank all the way to the single head table at the other end of the room. That’s where Nero, Harker, and anyone else level six or above sat. There were only eight of them currently here in New York, and Nero was the only angel of the group. The gods didn’t grant wings to just anyone. I tried not to dwell on the impossibility of the task ahead of me. A task was only impossible if you’d decided it was.

Ivy and I grabbed our trays and headed for the food counters, but Jace and his band of brats barred our way.

“Hey, ladies,” he drawled. “You look awfully tired. How about we help you carry your trays?”

I glanced up at the mirrored ceiling to make sure no one had scribbled ‘idiot’ on my forehead. Nope. Not this time. A few of the Legion brats had done it last week after one of them knocked me out during combat training.

“We’re fine,” I told them, holding onto my tray.

I’d use it to defend myself if I had to, no matter how much Nero might lecture me about ‘inappropriate weapons’ later. Even now, I could feel the angel’s stare burning across the expanse, boring into me.