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Unknown:Church. Why?
Me:On a scale from 1 to dead, how much trouble would I be in if I redecorated your living room while you’re gone?
Unknown:Dead. *ghost emoji*
Me:Angels don’t become ghosts when we die.
Unknown:You are missing the point of the threat.
Me:It’s an empty threat. You don’t even know how to kill me.
Unknown:I’ll find a way.
Me:Thanks for the heads-up. Now are you even going to ask why I want to rearrange your apartment?
Unknown:Fine. What exactly is wrong with my living room the way it is?
Me:There’s too much furniture. Not enough room to train.
Unknown:Train for what?
Me:You’ll see.
Twelve
Sierra
Nathaniel bailed on church again.It appeared to be a safe zone where I didn’t require a bodyguard.
When I came back home sans Kylie, who had a shift at the café after service, I discovered he’d made good on his threat to rearrange my furniture. The table and all four chairs had been shoved into the kitchen, taking up every possible square inch of space there. The coffee table and television were conspicuously missing. As was the end table that was usually beside the armchair, which I noticed when I went to drop my keys on it. The only things left were the couch, armchair, and the blond angel who stood in the middle of the room with his wings on full display.
“Holy crap,” I gasped. “What the heck are you doing? And where is all my stuff?”
“I warned you.” He shrugged off my words.
“And I told you that I’d murder you.” My patience was fraying, and my voice was edging into deadly calm territory.
Nathaniel waggled his eyebrows at me. “Go ahead and try, baby girl. I moved all the furniture out of the way, so the casualty list should be on the low side.”
I glared at him, wishing I had the ability to burn him with my gaze alone. “Put my house back together. Now.”
“Make me,” he said in a low voice that sent shivers down my back.
“How?”
His wings flared out. “Fight me. You win, and I’ll put the room back together.”
“And if I lose?”
He grinned. “Then you stop complaining and start listening to me.”
“What are the rules?” I couldn’t quite believe I was entertaining this idea, but three weeks ago I also wouldn’t have believed I’d start carrying around an iron stake in case I ran into any demons who wanted to kill me. “How do we win?”
Nathaniel slipped his knives out of his boots. They looked different than I remembered. No flames flickered around them now. They looked oddly ordinary… if you could ignore their iridescent quality. “No actually cutting or stabbing anyone. To win, you have to get a clean shot at the heart or neck. Same rules apply for me. Ready?” His eyes danced with what was either humor or anticipation.
I stripped out of my sweater, removed my handgun and holster, and then palmed my iron stake. “Yeah.”
He moved faster than my eyes could track. One second he was across the room, and the next he was swinging one of those deadly knives toward my neck. I dropped to the floor, probably overdoing the duck, but I hadn’t spent the past X number of years training in this kind of fighting. So forgive me for not exactly being skilled.
