Okay, that didn’t seem like something you’d ask someone in trouble.
I rolled out my shoulder, which had healed weeks ago. “Great, sir. Thank you.”
He chuckled. “Oh, come on. It’s coming on two years now that we’ve been friends. You can call me Raph or Raphael. All the other students do.”
I sighed in relief. “So, I’m not in trouble?”
He frowned. “Of course not. Why would you…？ Oh, right.”
He seemed to just now realize he’d called me to his office in the middle of the day.
“I wanted you to come by because the Fallen Army is giving Lincoln a promotion, and it’s a surprise. I know he’d like you there when it’s announced. It’s this Saturday. He thinks he’s going to be giving a fellow comrade an award, but really I’ll be promoting him to captain.”
My heart nearly burst with pride. Lincoln was one of the most deserving people I knew. He took his job seriously, and was completely dedicated to the war beyond the city’s walls.
“Of course I’ll be there.” I smiled so wide, that I thought my face might crack.
Raphael beamed, and his wings glowed a honey color as his mood seemingly lifted.
“Perfect! You’ll need to be there at six sharp. I’ll have a table for you and his friends, Noah, Darren, and Blake. Lincoln’s been through a trying few years, and having you all there to cheer him on will mean the world to him.”
He had been through a trying few years, and the fact that Raphael had asked me to be at his table meant the world to me.
“It’ll be amazing,” I assured him and eyed the door. I needed to get to battle class.
“Before you go…” Raphael took in a deep breath and stood, crossing the room in elegant strides that would make a cheetah look clumsy. “Lincoln told me about the nightmares.”
Great. Lecture time.
The nightmares were absolutely horrible, and now when I drifted off, I was so full of fear that I’d jerk awake mere seconds later, heart pumping with adrenaline. Maybe Lincoln was right to tell Raphael.
“Sit down. I’ll give you a note to excuse you from class,” Raphael offered.
I sighed and dropped my bag, collapsing onto the couch.
“Why do you think you’re having the nightmares?” he quizzed, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of me, wings outstretched behind him. He was so casual, it felt like we were just two old friends having a little chat.
I didn’t keep many things from Raphael. Mostly, he knew about my dark magic whip and everything that had happened with Sera in Hell. He was easy to talk to, and never judgmental.
I fingered the pendant around my neck. It was a new one Mr. Claymore had made for me to replace the cracked one, but it didn’t work as well as the first one did. I hadn’t been able to produce anything even close to a Celestial orb.
“I think when I took the necklace off to get Sera… my dark magic took hold and… I dunno, I guess it’s in control now.” I needed to talk to someone about this, and Raphael was the best person to share my true feelings with.
“Wrong,” he admonished. “You are in control, always. You just need to work on a few things.”
I groaned. “Like what?”
Raphael gave me one of his loving looks, the one that usually preceded some hard-to-hear advice.
“That dark magic you house, dies out quickly in the presence of Celestial light, which you are consumed with.”
I chewed my bottom lip, my heart thumping wildly. It reminded me of what Michael had said, that I had the brightest light he’d ever seen in a human, but that the darkness was akin to a moth being attracted to a flame. “Then why is my dark magic still… alive and well?”
If it couldn’t be sustained in the presence of the Celestial light, then what the hell?
Raphael looked up at me sadly. “Because you constantly feed it with resentment and anger. So much resentment, it’s making you sick. It’s feeding the powers you inherited from the Dark Prince,” Raphael stated, staring at my chest like some alien was about to pop out.
I frowned. “Resentment at wh—”
“Me, for not healing your father. The world. Angel City. God. Everyone who let you down, and let your father die.”
Raphael’s words ripped open my chest, a physical pain pinched my heart, and I gasped. Tears started to trickle down my cheeks as every repressed emotion I’d held bubbled to the surface.
“Why didn’t you?” I shouted suddenly. “You’re the archangel of fucking Healing, and you didn’t even touch him!”