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8

The Great Scheme

By some miracle, I did make it through Colonel Fireswift’s test in time for dinner, but that said nothing for how well I’d performed on it. My only consolation was that the evil angel had to spend the next several hours grading the boring thing.

“He’s a sadist, I tell you,” I complained to Nero over a private dinner in my apartment. “You should have seen the test. It was full of completely convoluted situations that would never ever happen in real life. They were totally unrealistic. And for each of these convoluted, unrealistic scenarios, I had to sort out who was dominant and what was the right protocol. Ahhh!” I pulled on my hair. “I’d rather have spent the day with that damn metal door you had us punch over and over again back when I was an initiate.”

“I’ll bet.” Nero’s bright green eyes twinkled. Apparently, he’d had a better day out with Harker than I’d had stuck in a stuffy closed room with Colonel Fireswift. “But you’re not supposed to be maiming yourself by punching metal doors. Or overexerting yourself in general.”

“There is no greater exertion than holding myself back from jumping across the desk and strangling Colonel Fireswift while he’s prattling on about obscure protocols that haven’t been used in two centuries.”

“To be fair, some of those protocols have never been used,” Nero replied.

“Then why learn them?” I demanded, exasperated.

He shrugged. “Because they could conceivably be used.”

“You’re not helping,” I pouted.

“I’m sorry, Leda.” He took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “This is just one battle you’ll have to face without me.”

“If you loved me, you’d order me to punch Colonel Fireswift in the face,” I told him solemnly.

He chuckled. “If you incapacitate Fireswift, Nyx will only send you another instructor.”

“I know,” I sighed. “And from the profiles of the Legion’s past and present angels, there are, shockingly, a fair number of angels who are even worse than Colonel Fireswift.”

The thought depressed me, so I shoveled more food onto my plate. I knew I was eating to make myself feel better, that I was trying to lose myself in the euphoria of delicious food, but I didn’t care. Comfort eating was healthier than running out and punching Colonel Fireswift because he’d annoyed me.

Nero watched me eat. “Your appetite sure has increased.”

Right, and there was that too. Being pregnant meant no tasty food within reach was safe from me.

“I know,” I said. “And I thought I was hungry when I had the Fever. I never knew what hunger was until now.”

Nero glanced sidelong at my belly.

“You can rub it for luck if you want,” I teased him.

Nero extended his hand and set it on my flat belly. He looked so happy it almost brought tears to my eyes. That was the other thing about pregnancy: the crazy, unstable hormones.

“Have you felt any movement?” he asked me.

“Not yet. I think she’s still too small. Right now, she’s just busying herself being a blackhole for energy.” I looked around and found some cake on the table. I took that too.

“Maybe you should try some vegetables,” Nero suggested.

I frowned at the bowl of peas he’d offered me. “Nah, healthy stuff makes me queasy. What I need is cake. Lots and lots of cake.” So I took more cake.

“Leda?”

“Mmm?” I asked between mouthfuls of red velvet cake.

“Have you been taking your vitamins?”

I swallowed, then said, “They make me queasy too.”

“Perhaps, we should get you some of those gummy bear vitamins,” said Nero. “The ones targeted to kids who refuse to take their vitamins.”