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There’s more of the same discussion of Pure and Fallen, our differences and similarities, though this text is written in a much more positive light. As I flip through the pages, there’s mention of the different types of angels like the ones we talked about in class last week.
The hierarchy of angels is a tenuous thing, but the list below is one we’ve created through exhaustive research and analysis.
God
Seraphim
Archangels
Cherub
Pure and Fallen
If I needed any further evidence that Pure and Fallen angels are equals, this text is it. Why isn’t this used in our regular teachings? I make a mental note to talk to Professor Castiel about it, then keep reading.
While all celestial beings are considered immortal, we unfortunately have a few vulnerabilities. The Pure and Fallen, for example, won’t die from a wound made with a steel blade or other man-made weapon, but an angel blade will harm them beyond repair. If a Pure or Fallen loses their wings to one of those blades, they will not grow back. But an angel blade won’t harm the Seraphim, Cherub, or
I turn the page, desperate to read more, only to find the next few pages have been torn out. One small piece of the page remains with only one word on it.Smiting.What the hell is smiting, and why were the pages explaining our vulnerabilities ripped out?
The desire to scream in frustration rises, but I curb it, not wanting to interrupt any other students in the library. Instead, I pack up my books and head to the shelves.
As I put the last one back, I see a familiar head of dark hair from the corner of my eye. Zeke stands from his table and heads off down a row of books on the opposite side from me.
A spurt of confidence comes out of nowhere, urging me to talk to him and find out once and for all what the fuck is going on between us. Instead of walking over like a normal person, I creep on silent feet like a thief.
Books cover the table on an array of different subjects, from demon history to angelic rituals and weapons. In one book, there’s a roughly drawn sketch of a sword, with the wordssun bladebelow it.Is this what they teach us in second year?
Just as I’m about to step back and stop snooping, his slate pings with an alert from the Assassins’ Guild, letting Zeke know there’s been another attack and he’s due to meet his superior within the hour.
Fuck. Another one. Throughout my entire existence, we’ve never experienced this many attacks in such a short period of time. I haven’t quite figured out why yet, but each time we receive a news report about it, Theo’s demeanor shifts. I’ve considered just asking him, but figure he’ll open up to me when he’s ready.
“What are you doing?”
At the sound of his deep voice, every atom in my body turns to molten lava.
“I just wanted to talk, but you walked away when I arrived.” When I finally gather the courage to look up, I find the same icy expression from the day of the picnic. I flinch away, wounded by his glare.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I have to get back to this.” He places a new book on the table and sits in his chair like I don’t even exist.Ouch.
I watch as he flips through the book, tracing the words with his long, masculine fingers before scribbling something on his slate. Stepping back, I force myself to retreat before I blurt out an offer to help with his research. He doesn’t want me here. He said so himself.
That knowledge hurts more than I care to admit. I’ve been a fool, dreaming of the normal life I’d have here where no one knew my secret. As if students wouldn’t find out and treat me as they always did. Like shit. And what does it say about me that I fell into bed with the first angel who showed me any attention?
Wandering back to the shelves, I pick out another few books and head to my table. It’s exactly how I left it, with a bottle of water and my slate sitting in the middle. I should really be more careful with my things. After everything else these bullies have done to me so far, stealing my belongings isn’t far from the list of possibilities.
Shaking it off, I open up the book on wing history and let thoughts of Zeke and the school assholes fall from my mind. I read and read, searching feverishly for anything that might help, but come up blank.
It’s clear they wrote this book after the fall of God. Most of it is just compliments written about the Archangels and how much better they are than us lowlynormalangels because they have an extra set of wings.Big fucking whoop.
Defeated, I cradle my head in my arms as doubt spirals in my mind. There’s nothing for me to find here. I might have found some useful information in that book from earlier if someone hadn’t ripped out the pages.
I hear Mom and Dad in my mind, their reassuring optimism stinging slightly.Don’t give up now, Haylie-bear. You’re still finding little bits of information, and even the smallest detail can lead to great discoveries.
I focus on my breathing, just like they taught me, breathing deeply in and out to settle myself. The negative thoughts lift from my mind and I can breathe a little easier, but I don’t lift my head. With my eyes closed, I stay suspended in time, and before I know it, I drift off to sleep.
I startle awake to an empty library. Damn, I really am tired, aren’t I?At least the nightmares stayed away this time.
Wiping my mouth, I’m grateful not to find any drool, but I’m sure there’s a rather prominent arm imprint on my forehead.
