Angel's Blade (8 page)

“Ha, little do you know, Nathaniel.
Your wing color is the same as mine,” Zeke said, something strange in his voice.
He looked over to the darkened hearth in the next room. “Come with me.” He
tugged on Nathaniel’s arm. “Come and let’s see what God is trying to teach us
both.”

Chapter Five

Zeke pulled Nathaniel into the
workshop. As he walked, he shifted back to human. He didn’t care that they were
naked. He didn’t care that Nathaniel had no idea what he intended. All he knew
was that something inside him told him that now was the time to create a
weapon. Their weapons. He flicked on the induction heater and grabbed the two
slim blanks he’d prepared earlier that day. He’d taken the last sword he’d
tried to make, the one he’d brought to the castle, and deconstructed it,
forming the thin pieces of metal. He hadn’t expected to be forging a personal
weapon with it, but now he was glad he’d had the urge to make something. He
wouldn’t have had anything prepared, otherwise.

“An induction heater?” Nathaniel
asked, staring at the coils. “I’ve never seen one before.”

Zeke nodded as the buzz of the machine
filled the space. It would heat a point in the center of the coils using a high
frequency AC current. “Yes. Here, put this on.” He tossed a thick leather apron
at Nathaniel, then slid another over his head. “We don’t want to fry our junk.”

“Fry our junk?” Nathaniel snorted
as he tied the straps. “Damn, this is uncomfortable. Remind me to pull on some
pants the next time you drag me in here. What are you doing, anyway?”

Zeke put on his thick leather
gloves. “We’re making angelic daggers.” He closed his tongs around one of the
steel blanks, then slid the long end into the coil. It heated very quickly into
a deep cherry color.

“Zeke, I don’t know anything about
forging weapons,” Nathaniel said, watching closely.

“You don’t need to,” Zeke said,
watching the metal closely. He concentrated, focusing his energy the way his
father had taught him so long ago. The technique had been passed down in the
family, son to son, for generations, regardless of talent or power. Now, for
the first time in his life, he could sense the grain of the metal.
No, not
sense. I can
see
the structure
of it,
he realized, awed as he stared at the heating metal.

“What is that?” Nathaniel asked,
moving closer. “I can see the grains in the metal.” He put a hand to Zeke’s
shoulder and everything sharpened even further. He gasped. “Good lord.”

“Yes. This is the power that was
lost,” Zeke murmured, turning the tongs. “See what we have to do? Focus with
me. Breathe out, then in again, and think about what we’re making. Don’t let go
of me,” he instructed. He sensed Nathaniel’s confusion, but the energy flowing
between them was stronger than the fear. They were truly mated, even without a
flight. Without even the declaration.

“I feel weird,” Nathaniel muttered.

“It’s the metal talking to us,”
Zeke said as he pulled it out of the coil. He twisted, bringing it to his
smaller anvil. As he stared at it, he felt Nathaniel’s energy fill him.
Together, as if they were one person, they gathered it up and slid that energy
into the metal. There was a flash and an almost silent boom, like someone had
set off a subsonic blast.

Nathaniel’s hand tightened on Zeke’s
shoulder, but he didn’t let go. “What the hell was that?” he asked
breathlessly, leaning closer.

Zeke blinked, then brought the
metal closer. As it cooled, the silver rainbow of an angelic weapon shimmered
in the dull light of the shop. The blade was sleek and deadly, almost as long
as his forearm. The hilt was made from the metal, too, but grooved designs
swirled around the grip. They looked like legacy marks. “My God,” he said. He
opened the tongs and let the blade fall into his free hand. It was perfectly
balanced. Sharp. And something more. It felt… alive. He twisted and held it out
to Nathaniel. “This is yours.”

Nathaniel stared at him, then
slowly took the weapon. It flared briefly as he touched it. He gripped the hilt
and brought the blade up to eye level. “It feels like an extension of my arm.”

Zeke closed his eyes, overwhelmed.
This was what he’d been born to do. This was the purpose of the angels’ weapons
master. He’d tried his whole life to create this kind of dagger, and failed
every time. Until Nathaniel came to Castle Archangel.

“What about you?” Nathaniel asked.

Zeke wordlessly raised the other
blank and placed it in his tongs. “Are you ready?”

Nathaniel nodded, putting his hand
back on Zeke’s shoulder. The energy between them flared, running back and forth
like static jumping from one wire to another. Zeke took a deep breath and
heated the metal. When it was the right temperature, he placed it on the anvil.
Even before he prompted, Nathaniel was already focusing his will.

Zeke took that focus and added his
own, using the gift he’d been born with, but had never been able to access. The
gift Nathaniel had been born with too, the one that had lain dormant for years.
He took the energy and forged his own weapon, praying that he had the courage
and strength to do what was necessary. This time, when the blade flashed, he
felt it bond to his soul. Legacy marks like the geometric feather lines on his
arms slid into the hilt and the blade turned silver-shimmery. He lifted it up
and closed his eyes, feeling the way the weapon spoke to him. After a moment,
he turned to Nathaniel, heart hammering in his chest. It was time for him to
seize his courage and leap into the fire.

“I choose you, Nathaniel, twin
blade to my soul, warrior to warrior, master to master. You are my equal, my
heart, my sharp edge. I pledge myself to you, blade to hilt, as God wills, in
this life and into the heat at the end of creation.” He swallowed, hoping
Nathaniel understood that he couldn’t wait for them to get to know each other.
He didn’t want to wait. He’d been alone his entire life. He didn’t want to be
alone anymore.

Nathaniel stared at him, then took
a step back, face shadowed.

Zeke stopped breathing as his soul
went tight with dismay. “Nathaniel.”

“No, Zeke. No. This is crazy,” he
said, backing away into the bedroom. He took off the leather apron and flung it
on the bed, then dragged on his sweatpants. His movements were jerky and
panicked.

“Wait, Nathaniel. Please don’t go.”
Zeke followed him, holding out his hand. He let it fall when Nathaniel took
another step back. The blade they’d just made gleamed against his arm. He hadn’t
let it go, even to get dressed. Zeke understood. The blades were extensions of
their souls. Losing one would be like cutting off an arm.

“We just met,” Nathaniel said,
voice cracking. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his weapon. “I have
wings,
for God’s sake. I don’t understand any of this.” He held up the dagger, then
let his arm fall to the side, despair written into his posture. He turned
around.

Zeke willed himself to stand
strong. He would not beg. But… he could wait. He’d learned patience the hard
way. He would wait forever if he had to. He was used to it, after all. “Okay,
Nathaniel. It’s okay.”

“Zeke, Jesus. I’m sorry.” Nathaniel
sounded like he was crying. He reached the door.

“It’s okay. We have time,” Zeke
said, even though he knew that what he’d just said was a lie. Time was the one
thing they didn’t have. Demons had come back to the world. They roamed the
halls of the castle and the ridges of their mountains. Safety was a myth. Time
was their enemy. The angels needed their weapons masters. “It’s okay, Nathaniel”
he murmured, even as the door shut with his lover on the other side and already
gone.

****

Nathaniel stumbled down the hall,
left hand clenched into a fist, eyes burning. His right hand held the dagger he’d
made with Zeke. He was under no illusions about the blade. Zeke may have held
the tongs with the blank, but it had taken both of their energies to forge the
weapon into life. He swallowed and wiped at his eyes, trying to figure out when
he’d lost all control of the situation.

“When you let him fuck you, that’s
when, idiot,” he muttered to himself, nearly tripping. He’d made it to the
stairs. Each one felt like a mountain he had to climb, but finally he reached
the level where his room was, thank God. He was sore from their lovemaking, and
tired, and confused. The marks on his arms tingled and he knew he could shift
back into angel form anytime he wanted, which freaked him the hell out. He
never let guys fuck him on the first date. He never let himself get too
attached, either, because his screwed up genetics made it dangerous for him to
fall in love. What angel would want a partner who was crippled? What human
would want to deal with an angel who couldn’t shift? He sighed and rubbed his
tears away.

Everything was different now. He
could shift. Zeke was not only interested, but ready to declare bond-vow. The
problem was, Zeke was straight. Or almost straight. He was bound to reconsider
once he had time to think over what they’d done. That’s what always happened
when a gay man was dumb enough to think he could seduce a straight guy over to
the dark side. And right now, Nathaniel didn’t want to think about Zeke
rejecting him. He’d had to leave, to protect himself from the inevitable
fallout. He just wanted to go to sleep. Maybe in the morning things would make
sense again. He headed toward the door of the suite.

“What are you doing wandering
around the halls?” someone asked, just as Nathaniel was about to touch the knob.

Nathaniel twisted around, putting
his back to the wall. “Maion? Is that you?” He hid the knife behind his back
instinctively, not ready to share it with anyone. “What are you doing up? It’s
the middle of the night.”

His best friend came closer,
holding up a glass of water. “I was thirsty.” He cocked his head and looked
Nathaniel over. “I could ask the same about you, but I probably know exactly
where you were.”

Nathaniel frowned, grateful that
the dim lighting hid his newly visible legacy marks. He wasn’t ready to tell
anyone about his wings yet, not even his best buddy.
Most especially not
Maion,
he thought. Something had been bothering him about his friend for a
while now. Maion wasn’t himself these days. His quick temper and unpredictable
moods had been very unsettling for the past several months. “Where do you think
I was?” he asked mildly, hoping to head off a confrontation.

“Why, fucking the hot weapons
master, of course,” Maion said mockingly.

Nathaniel flushed, first
embarrassed, then angry. “If I was, it’s none of your business.”

Maion laughed. “Sure it is. You’re
my best friend, aren’t you?” He moved closer, putting his hands on either side
of Nathaniel’s head. “He’s not even gay, you know. No matter what you do, it’s
not going to end well for you.”

Nathaniel pressed his arms against
the door, hard enough to bruise. “You don’t know anything about Zeke,” he
finally said, not sure where Maion was going with this. He didn’t like him
being so close. It was only chance that Maion hadn’t noticed his new marks.

“I can smell him on you.” Maion
leaned in, his breath against Nathaniel’s cheek. “Why do you always fuck
everyone but me, Nathaniel?”

Nathaniel froze. “What?” He pushed
away from the door, knocking Maion’s arm away. “What are you talking about? We’re
friends.” He slid into the shadows along the side of the hallway.

Maion snorted. “I’ve been pining
after you for years and you never noticed.” His voice went hard. “And you’re
not even a true angel. You should be grateful for my affection, but instead
we’re just
friends
.” He spat the word
out. “Aren’t I good enough to fuck?”

What?
Nathaniel thought, staring at his
friend, completely thrown by Maion’s words. He couldn’t accept this. Maion had
never said anything, never done anything to even hint at this. He frowned as a
familiar scent tickled his nose.

“Are you drunk?” He grabbed the
glass from Maion’s hand and brought it to his face. Not water. Shit. Angels
rarely drank. Alcohol fucked up their shifting abilities and wrecked their
perception. There was nothing more dangerous than a half-shifted angel, stuck
between forms, miserable and violent. “You’re drinking vodka? What’s the matter
with you? Are you crazy?”

His friend growled and knocked the
glass down. It shattered into three pieces on the stone floor. “Fuck you. And
fuck this stupid delegation,” he said, pivoting and striding away.

Nathaniel stared. He had no idea
what he should do. Should he go after him? Should he go back to Zeke? “Fuck,”
he muttered rubbing his face. The door opened behind him and he whirled around
defensively.

“Nathaniel? Are you okay?” his
father asked, poking his head out.

Nathaniel let out the breath he’d
been holding. “Dad. Thank God.”

Orifiel glanced down at the floor,
eyeing the shards of glass and wet stone. He stepped out and shut the door
behind him. “You haven’t been drinking,” he said, no doubt at all in his tone.
He crouched down and began to clean up the glass. In a few quick movements, he’d
put the smaller fragments into the surviving base of the glass and stood up.