Azrael spent the evenings assisting in the forge, content to listen to Amycus’s stories rather than sitting alone in his room where the weight of the Hunter mask suffocated him. While they worked on perfecting his armor alongside crafting pieces for Lord Rollant’s soldiers, Amycus reminisced of his time in Delmar as a blacksmith. Often, Azrael would catch Amycus staring at him, his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but whenever Azrael asked about it, Amycus shook his head, saying it was nothing.
Azrael began working on a pair of throwing knives for Kenz that would fit her hands. Her innate skill and precise aim made her formidable, but the practice blades weren’t balanced properly. With these, along with her crossbow, she would be lethal. Of course, based on the encounter at Kord’s he would probably end up with the blades lodged in his chest.
Azrael sighed. His thoughts gravitated toward Kenz more than he liked, and they were driving him crazy. He enjoyed her quick wit, even when it was at his expense. He had stopped by the siblings’ woodworking shop to talk to Kord and couldn’t keep his eyes off her, watching how she painted the scrollwork, thinking she’d make a great tattooist. Her ink-black hair and piercing eyes mesmerized him to where she was becoming a distraction. During a training session, her laugh had caught him so off guard that Kord almost sliced him in two.
“You’re here early,” Amycus said, causing Azrael to jump, cutting his hand with the newly sharpened blade.
He swore and grabbed a rag to staunch the bleeding.
“Sorry about that,” Amycus said, lowering himself onto a stool. “What are you working on?”
“Throwing knives.”
Amycus leaned closer to look at the details on the hilt. “Those are excellent. A little too small for you, though.”
Azrael frowned, placing both knives on the worktable. “They aren’t for me.”
“Ah, I see.”
Azrael took a deep breath, wrapping his hand tightly with a bandage. He needed to clear his head, and working in the forge wasn’t getting the job done. “I’m going to train for a few hours.”
“I’ve invited some Spectrals to a meeting this afternoon,” Amycus said. When Azrael raised his brows, he continued, “Kord and I are recruiting, and I wanted you to meet and possibly train them. If both parties are willing.”
“Did you tell them who I was?”
“Well, no.”
Azrael snorted. “This will be interesting.”
He walked to the courtyard, rolling his neck from side to side, and heard a satisfying crack. He focused on the mastery and form of each exercise, pushing the thoughts of Kenz out of his mind. As he trained, he wondered what Amycus had up his sleeve if he was actively recruiting. He also thought about Amycus’s idea of training other Spectrals, doubting the visitors would want to be in his presence let alone learn combat skills from him once they knew who he was. Until a month ago, Azrael was a Hunter and their enemy.
Kord entered the courtyard grinning and strolled over to the water barrel, a fine layer of sawdust coating his tunic. Azrael envied his calm happiness, wondering what it would feel like to have such peace that your everyday expression was a smile.
“Hey, Az. Looks like you got a good workout in,” Kord said, giving Azrael a look from head to toe. “Something on your mind?”
Azrael slid him a guarded look and raked his fingers through his hair despite the bloody bandage on his hand.
“What did you do?” Kord asked, grabbing Azrael’s hand before he could pull away.
“Got distracted in the forge.” The cut on his hand mended together, leaving only a red line.
“You know, one man’s distraction is another man’s haven,” Kord said, that grin still on his face. Azrael frowned, shaking his head. Some of Kord’s sayings left him baffled.
“I hear we’re going to have visitors,” Azrael said.
“Yep, they’re already here.”
“Anything I need to know?”
Kord tapped his chin. “There are two Element Spectrals—one Earth, one Fire—and another Shield.”
Azrael stiffened. “What color is the Fire?”
Kord’s smile faltered. “Green. He’s not the one you’re looking for. Anyway, two of them are friendly enough.”
“And the other one?”
“I’ll let you judge that for yourself.” Kord winked, turning as Kenz walked into the courtyard. “Hey, sis.”
Azrael choked on the water as Kenz’s smile transformed her face. She wore a black tunic with gray pants, her boots laced up to her knees. Her hair, hanging to the middle of her back, looked like crushed velvet.
Kord slapped Azrael on the back. “You okay? Wouldn’t want you to choke to death.”
“We could only be so lucky,” Kenz said, walking past Azrael toward Amycus’s cottage.
Azrael couldn’t help but laugh, having missed her sarcastic remarks. They had kept their distance over the past week, acting like the disastrous dinner at Kord’s never happened.
“She’ll soften up over time.”
Azrael smiled. “I certainly hope not.”
Amycus cleared his throat when they entered the cottage. “Good, we’re all here.”
Azrael scanned the newcomers, immediately locating the Fire Spectral by the ignitor contraptions on his wrists. The man looked Azrael up and down, his amber-colored eyes hardening. A woman with short white hair stood next to Kenz donning similar gauntlets, obviously designed by Amycus. That left the Earth Spectral—a tall, thin man with shaggy brown hair and a long nose.
Azrael leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, the clinking of the metal cuffs echoing in the strained silence.
Amycus stood behind his desk and smiled. “Flynt, Delmira, Slater, I’d like to introduce you to Jasce Farone.”
Azrael’s jaw tightened. “The name is Azrael.”
Delmira gasped, her gauntlets glowing a bright yellow. Flynt jumped out of his chair, sliding his wrists together creating a green flame, and Slater stood slowly, his hands fisted. Azrael was pretty sure he felt a slight tremble through the floor.
“Azrael, as in the Angel of Death?” Flynt asked, the flame dancing between his fingers. “The one the Watch Guard is looking for?”
Azrael smiled, baring his teeth. “The very one, and unless you plan to burn down the place, you should put that out.”
“Not helpful,” Kord murmured out of the corner of his mouth.
“Amycus, what is the meaning of this?” Slater asked.
“Everyone, relax, please,” Amycus said, moving to the center of the room. “Flynt, Slater, please sit down. I’m asking you to trust me.” With a final glare at Azrael, they sat, Flynt fiddling with the hilt of his dagger.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Kenz said, smirking at Amycus.
“Shut it, will you?” Kord said. Kenz’s mouth dropped open and Azrael pressed his lips together, stifling a laugh even though he agreed with her. Amycus should have told these three who they were meeting before coming face-to-face with him.
Kenz snapped her mouth shut. The tension in the room was like a taut bowstring, the arrow notched and ready to fly.
Amycus said, “I have learned that the steward has ordered the Watch Guard to cross into Paxton.” A collection of gasps filled the silence.
Azrael remained motionless, recalling the map in Drexus’s study. The Guard didn’t have the numbers to conquer Paxton. Or did they? Who knew what else Drexus was hiding?
Questions poured in from the Spectrals.
“When?”
“Why?”
“What are we going to do?”
Azrael chuckled.
“Something funny?” Slater asked, his brown eyes hard.
“Yes, I find the level of panic funny.”
“Again, not helpful,” Kord said.
Azrael slid his eyes toward Kord and then back to Amycus. “How did you come across this information?”
“I have my sources,” Amycus said, avoiding Azrael’s stare. “We need to gather our forces and be ready when the time comes. We can’t let the Watch Guard capture, or worse, slaughter us. We need to train and take the fight to them.” Amycus dropped a fist into his other hand, his cheeks red.
Flynt stared at Azrael and then looked at Amycus. “What does he have to do with any of this?”
“I’ve asked him to train you.”
“You want the Angel of Death to train us?” Slater asked, his brows disappearing under his shaggy brown hair.
Azrael looked at Amycus with an I told you so kind of look.
“Isn’t the Watch Guard looking for him?” Delmira glanced at Azrael. “That’s the rumor, at least.”
Amycus sighed. “Yes, they are, but that’s not the only reason they’re crossing the desert. Drexus is experimenting with magic. I won’t go into the details, but we aren’t safe.”
“What kind of training?” Flynt asked, a sliver of flames twirling through his fingers. Of the three, Flynt was the only one who kept a level head.
“Combat.”
“Why do we need him?” Slater asked. “You could teach us how to fight.”
Azrael uncrossed his arms, frowning at Amycus, who shifted his attention to his desk.
“Drexus has developed a new weapon.” Amycus passed around the laced arrowheads. Slater gasped, dropping the arrow onto the rug, and Flynt swore when his fire sputtered out. Delmira took one, her lips pursed, and held it like it was something foul. “You need other skills besides your magic, and Azrael can teach you. I assure you, his training works. Kord and Kenz have already benefited from their time learning from him.”
The three visitors looked at the siblings; Kord smiled while Kenz gave a reluctant nod.
“How do we know he won’t betray us?” Flynt asked, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Slater nodded. The only sound came from Amycus tapping his finger on the desk.
“I trust him,” Amycus said.
Kord placed his hand on Azrael’s shoulder. “So do I.”
Azrael stepped away from Kord, not wanting to think about how easily they trusted him. Flynt was right; he could betray them. Drexus would kill to know Amycus’s location and get his hands on a Healer like Kord.
Focus on the problem, he told himself.
“What’s the timeline?” Azrael asked. If Drexus and the Guard crossed the desert, Azrael would need to master his magic to defeat them.
“I’d guess less than a year,” Amycus said. “As you know, the Guard also needs to recruit members. I want to scout the other garrisons to see how close they are to having enough soldiers.”
“Impossible.” Azrael scanned the room. Amycus raised his brows while Flynt and Slater glared. “First, it would take years to get them into even decent fighting shape to go up against the Hunters. Second, we don’t have the numbers.”
“And third?” Amycus said.
Azrael stepped forward, feeling the vein pulse in his neck. “What’s in it for me? I’m not a part of your crusade. I’m here to master my vaulting, and once these cuffs are off, I’m gone.”
“You’re a Vaulter?” Delmira said.
Azrael slowly turned, and she took a step back, knocking into the wall.
“Out of everything he said, that’s what you got out of it? That he’s a Vaulter?” Slater asked, shaking his head.
“It’s just that I’ve never met one before,” she said, her voice wavering. “I thought they’d all been killed.”
“Azrael, think about it,” Amycus said. “Our goals are similar. You need us as much as we need you.”
“What makes you think I need any of you?”
Kenz huffed. “You really are an arrogant brute, you know that?”
Kord sighed and rubbed his face. Delmira covered her mouth, stepping away from Kenz, and Flynt chuckled as Slater’s eyes darted between Azrael and Kenz. Amycus got to his feet, his body rigid.
Azrael stalked over to Kenz, his anger bubbling to the surface. Any calm gained from his earlier training vanished. He sensed Kord and Amycus moving closer, heard a click of metal, and knew Flynt had ignited his fire. The frustrations of the way she plagued his thoughts, how she reacted to him, her utter disdain, made him want to lash out in rage. Kenz swallowed as he whispered in her ear. “Do you feel that?” He relished the panic that swam in her wide eyes, the stiffness of her shoulders, her shallow breathing. “That’s fear. I could kill you with my bare hands. Remember that the next time you insult me.”
He turned his back on her and walked out the front door.