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Zuzanna nodded, shrugging her shoulders a bit. “We are, I guess. My coven is all Resistance members, so I grew up bouncing from compound to compound. When he was brought in, I was one of the only people willing to talk to him.”
“Why? Was he just that traumatized?”
“That was part of it, but most of it was just people being judgemental. Azazel being a crook is something we’re all brought up on, and his son suddenly being in our ranks?”
Her look was pointed, and I nodded slowly. It hadn’t even occurred to me how that would have looked to people—the youngest Amrbose brother being rescued by Kiyomasa. I wouldn’t have put it past Azazel to have planted him, so I doubt anyone else had at the time, either.
“He worked hard for his place with us, but even then, some people tried to argue when Kiyomasa wanted to hand the position as Head to him,” she continued. “It’s why the Director position was even made. Some people are too stuck in their ways to report to Auren directly, so they go through Kiyomasa.”
It sounded ridiculous to me, given that the older man made such a fuss about how great Auren was and—from what Sariel had told me—considered him his own son. “That’s terrible,” I said.
Zuzanna smirked, shrugging once more. “It’s their loss, honestly. Auren dragged the Resistance into the modern age and helped us become self-sufficient. A lot of us would follow him anywhere.”
Including into the midst of a war between two factions who were eons older, apparently.
I couldn’t really judge, though, could I? I barely knew the man, yet I had agreed to work with him to try and give hybrids the same rights as everyone else.
Zuzanna split from me not long after that, citing some work she had to do and wanting to be cleaned up before then. I headed for my own shower, reminded that I had signed up for dish duty again with Marilyn and Reese; the three of us rarely got to see one another anymore, so working the same chore schedule was our best bet of getting to whisper any new gossip we’d come across.
Sariel wasn't in our room when I arrived. That was a little disappointing, but it made washing hurriedly easier, and I was on my way to the kitchen after.
Reese and Marilyn were already there, helping to clean up some of what was left behind after breakfast, so I rolled up my sleeves and joined them.
7
STRIKE ONE
SARIEL
Sariel!
Sleep was clinging to me when a thought pushed through the fog.
Sariel, where are you?
It took me a moment to put together that Aria was calling for me, her panic almost tangible in the air around me.
Her side of the bed was cold, meaning she’d woken up from our impromptu nap sooner than I had. It was the first time in days we’d been able to be close to one another without any of the lingering bitterness festering in my chest getting in the way, and I’d been cherishing it.
Aria even breathing in my vicinity, grounded me, and my angel was more than happy to soak up her attention like a sponge.
Sariel, please answer me.
She sounded frantic, and I finally gathered myself to respond.
I’m here.Relief flooded our bond as I sat up, rubbing my eyes with a frown.Where are you? What’s wrong?
The Upper Council is attacking!
That got my attention. My angel thrashed against the confines of my body, desperate to go to her and make sure she was safe.
I didn’t even need to ask where she was, yanking on the bond hurriedly and trying to work out where she was. I grabbed my discarded clothes and dressed despite my angel’s fury—I’d rather not be captured in my underwear, no matter how frantic he was to get to our mate.
Aria gave me a debrief as I sprinted outside, cursing myself that I’d let myself get so comfortable here.
“Sariel!” Marilyn caught my attention as I began following my bond toward the cafeteria. She’s disheveled herself, looking bewildered as flames danced just past her fingertips. “What the hell is going on?”
“Aria says the Council is attacking,” I answered, continuing on.
