My mind spins until I’m dizzy. Is there anyone within the Guild that I can trust? I always thought I could rely on some of them, like Lieutenant Azrael and my dad, but now I’m not so sure.
The same irritating thought races through my mind.You can trust Hayliel.But that also means trusting her friends, and that’s not something I have any intention of doing.
I shake off the depressing thoughts and focus on the task at hand. I need to give a statement of events, and I need to find someone to take my ire out on for leaving us high and fucking dry.
There’s a flurry of angels coming and going from the main doors, which is odd for this time of night. Not that we ever close our doors or have the day off, but tonight it seems like over half the Guild members have shown up.
With this many members on patrol, how in the fuck did no one answer my call? How is it that, with all of these fucking angels,no one came to our aid? With a deep breath, I shove down the rage threatening to bubble over. I can get pissed off later. Now, I have a job to do.
I land a few feet away from the doors, startling the guard there. That’s not a good sign. If his superior found out that his reflexes were so shot, I don’t think he’d be in for a good time. Not that I’ll say anything, but it has me even more confused. Why do they have exhausted sentries on duty at all?
Another recruit holds the door for me, shooting me a small smile as we enter a room filled with chaos. Three receptionists sit behind desks against the wall, looking more worn out than I’ve ever seen them. Their slates ring incessantly, the shrill sound grating on my nerves.
What the fuck is going on?
Irene, a Guild receptionist with buzzed brown hair and a scowl that scares off most angels, spots me, and I give her a curt nod before heading up the flight of stairs to the left. Luckily, I don’t need to bother any of them to get where I’m going. I just need to log some information and hopefully find Azrael so he can give me some fucking answers.
“Zeke.”
My dad is exiting the door I just passed by. He looks surprised to see me, which I suppose makes sense. He knows I don’t often work this late.
Dad looks me over with a neutral expression, and even though his face never changes, I can tell he’s worried when he says, “Why is your uniform torn? Are you alright?”
A little burst of anger bubbles over before I can stop it. “I’m fine, though I would have appreciated some backup. Why the hell didn’t you answer when I called?”
“I’m sorry, son. It’s been absolute mayhem here since late morning. It would seem every angel in the city has seen a demon today.”
If that many angels have seen demons, and I know for a fact that there were at least twenty at the university, just how many demons are there? Before I can ask for more details, Dad’s slate pings and he throws me an apologetic look before answering.
“This is Lieutenant Kirach,” he says, before a long pause. I can’t hear what the person on the other side says, but whatever it is, Dad doesn’t look so happy. “Are you sure? I investigated that area myself only last week.” More silence. I step closer, hoping to hear anything from the angel on the other end of the call. “No, I agree. Better to be safe than sorry. I’m on my way.”
Dad ends the call, looking far more weary than usual. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” He places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, I promise.”
I don’t bother replying. He means well, and I can’t fault him for that, yet sometimes I wish he had a normal job and could actually be there when I needed him. But I’ve spent my whole life wishing Mom was still alive, and that never got me shit. Wishes are for fools and little kids. None of it ever made a difference.
Continuing down the hall, I head toward the on-duty Lieutenant’s office, but instead of finding Azrael behind the desk, it’s Lieutenant Atlas. I’ve seen him a few times, but we’ve never worked together. Azrael typically handles the interns because of his knack for developing young minds or some shit.
“Intern Ezekiel. What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering his questions, I pop off with one of my own. “Why wasn’t my call for help answered?”
He raises an eyebrow, steepling his fingers together on top of his desk. “It’s been a very busy day. There have been quite a lot of calls and unfortunately, not all of them can be answered.”
It takes all my strength not to roll my eyes. Shit. This would have been so much easier with Azrael. I take a calming breath, hoping the words come out less aggressive than I feel. “Yes, I heard. But I also called the number to that slate right there, andit doesn’t seem to be ringing at all. So I’ll ask again. Why wasn’t my call for help answered?”
Well, that was a fail, but sometimes being polite only gets you walked on. I need answers, and for whatever reason, Lieutenant Atlas only wants to beat around the damn bush.
His eye twitches, which is the first sign that maybe I went a bit too far. “Mind your tone. I don’t care that you’re an Oren. You will respect your superiors. As for your call, one little intern wasn’t a major concern today and so it was ignored.”
I bite back the slew of insults I want to let out because I don’t need to get even more on this asshole’s bad side. “It wasn’t justone little internin trouble. Demons swarmed Silver City University, and the campus was far from prepared or protected.”
This wipes the annoyed look off his face. “Were there any casualties?”
“I don’t believe we sustained any deaths, but there were quite a few injured. More than our school healers can handle, I think.”
He sighs, and a little color returns to his face. “I’ll send a few extra from the Guild, and someone will be there shortly to perform a thorough investigation. If there’s nothing more, I’ll call this in.”
I can’t help the small bit of smug satisfaction that zips through me as I walk out. If Azrael had been here, I wouldn’t have had to jump through hoops and prove my importance. He knows I don’t bring up shit for no reason, and he can trust that when I bring up a problem, it’s a fucking problem. At least now the wounded students will have better care and maybe, with someone examining the scene, they’ll find something concrete to help us in whatever’s coming.
