Iwidened my stance and palmed a dagger. My mom mirrored me, our footsteps crunching in the snow as we circled each other. The full moon, tinted purple from my dream-walking power, shone a spotlight on our front yard.
She brushed my hand, sending a concentrated dose of love to influence me, but it stopped short, hitting the flaming barrier surrounding my mind.
When I didn’t immediately tackle her in a hug, she raised a brow. “Your shield is impressive.”
I shrugged. “Lucifer taught me well. It also helps I saw Sam not long ago.” His extra energy served as a jump start to my power, making everything easier.
My mom lowered her hands. “Sam? Hell’s head healer?”
“Yeah.” I went for the cheap shot and slashed down with my knife toward her shoulder.
She dodged, narrowing her eyes. But I wasn’t sure if it was from my attack or my response.
“Why did you need to see Sam?”
“To replen—” I stopped myself. My mom wouldn’t like knowing she was siphoning most of my energy.
Except, I’d lasted all day before the drain hit me at the end of training with the guys. Whatever my father was doing definitely helped.
She swiped my legs from under me, and I slammed into the snow-packed ground. She used the opportunity to straddle me, holding her knife to my throat. “To what?”
I let her stay there, smirking. “Sucks not being in the know, doesn’t it, Mom?”
“Lucille Chiara, tell me what I want to know.”
“Not until you answer some of my questions,” I said, flipping her over with a maneuver she showed me and leveling a knife to her neck. “Are you a dream-walker?”
Her brows lowered. “No.”
“Then where did my powers come from?”
“Sweetie, powers can manifest based on the Weaver’s design.”
“Even for me?”
She nodded. “I’d assume so.”
But she didn’tknow. “What about your research? What did you find?”
Her hesitation made me suspicious. Mom only hesitated when she was trying to avoid the truth or soften the blow.
“Only a few lines about a rare type of angel.”
“What did they say?”
“Lucy—”
“What did they say, Mom?”
She stood and sheathed her dagger. “Dream-walkers were a rare type of dark angel that could invade dreams and memories and alter the known and unknown. But there was nothing more detailed than that.”
I sat up. “I thought there were only seven types of angels. Are you saying I’m a dark angel?” Whatever the hell that meant.
“No. You are a born angel with similar powers to a dark angel, it seems.” But something in her tone made me pause.
“What aren’t you saying?” The soft rustle of tree branches filled the quiet as I waited for her answer. She chewed on her lip, and I scoffed. “Stop thinking about a way to sugarcoat it and just tell me.”
“Their book said they were taken care offor their sinful natures.”
