The Demon of Angels (Bk. 2) | ✓

Ⅱ

CRACKS OF LIGHTNING clapped in time with the roaring thunder, echoing along with the skies above our heads. I gritted my teeth, clenching my hands into tight fists as orbs of swirling blues and purples encased themselves around them. Michael soared to the sky, my eyes training themselves on the Archangel as his expression remained blank, revealing nothing.

Growling, I bolted to the nearest tree, rapidly climbing and launching myself into the air. Throwing my arms forward, I shot my power forth aimed directly at the Archangel's chest. My body began its rapid descent toward the hard ground, but my gaze remained on Michael. Just before my shot of power collided with his chest, he swerved to the left, avoiding it completely.

A frown marred my expression as I descended, ignoring Michael's smug face. Lowering my hands to my waist, I shot rays below to slow my body from plummeting. Michael landed a yard away when my feet touched down, tucking his wings into his back. We've been training all morning, and I haven't been able to land a single prickle of power on his grinning Archangel ass.

"Yeah, yeah." I waved him off. "I know I suck."

Michael frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "You don't suck, Celeste. You're a very strong, powerful, and capable Hybrid."

I snorted, walking past him to head back to the house. "Then what's wrong with me?" I asked obnoxiously, swinging my arms out at my sides as I turned around, walking backward. "Why is it every time I'm faced with danger, I'm always the one that needs saving." The last of my words left my mouth in a snarl, heavily barricaded emotions I've kept under lock and key threatening to resurface.

Michael turned, raising an eyebrow. "During training, you're unfocused. In real life," Michael shrugged. "You're caught off guard every time, unable to keep your feet underneath you, but it's too late by then." I opened my mouth to counter him, but the Archangel waved a dismissive hand, silencing me. "But from what I've seen most, it's nothing to do with your lack of power, strength, or ability to wield either– it's your lack of focus that your enemies use against you."

Michael's wise words struck a chord within me, but I refused to let the emotion show. Instead, I gave a playful eye roll, swinging back around. "I'm plenty focused."

Denial.

Michael's footfalls echoed my own as we trekked back through the forest. "Not enough," he emphasized. "On top of that, you're hardly sleeping, barely eating, and your grades are slipping."

Growling, I stopped walking and whipped around. "What do you suggest I do, pretend that the last month never happened? That I don't have three Hellhounds taking nightly walks in my backyard?" Michael's eyes softened, but that was the last thing I wanted to see. Snorting, I turned back around and continued walking. "Easier said than done," I ground out, my jaw set.

"When was the last time you talked to them?" Michael called out.

Once more, I stopped moving with a frown on my face. "You know when," I called back, refusing to look over my shoulder. It was Friday night, the evening before Prom, and the dance I had promised to attend with Zeke. I saw the boys every day, and it felt like a hand wrapped around my heart and squeezing each time I saw them. 

Zeke was back to his cold exterior, avoiding eye contact but whenever my back was turned, I felt the heat of his eyes on me wherever I stood. Evan made eye contact with me frequently, so much so that I started avoiding his gaze. His bright blue eyes held a darker pit within them as if he were drowning in something within himself. Noah seemed the worst off; he was quiet, not quite his normal loud and obnoxiously loud self, more reserved. The bags were dark and heavy under his chocolate brown eyes. The spark I often found within their depths had dulled, and now I saw nothing.