Page 17 of Leda’s Log (Legion of Angels #13)
A DESTRUCTION OF CATS
T he Plains of Purgatory were lovely this time of year.
A lush, velvety carpet of flowers blanketed the ground in soft pastels.
Pink and green and yellow and red—nature had reclaimed the monsters’ former stomping grounds.
And it was a kinder, gentler nature than the feral plague that had held our world hostage for so long.
It smelled a lot better too. I inhaled deeply, drinking in the soft, sweet scent of early summer. It smelled like life and victory and family.
“This really is the perfect spot for a picnic,” I said to Nero.
“Yes, it is.” He leaned back on his elbows, his manner so easy, so relaxed. “Good thing I thought of it.”
His expression was so adorably smug that I just had to laugh. Sierra was laughing too, but she wasn’t looking at her father. She was totally enthralled by the litter of kittens prancing and pouncing across our enormous picnic blanket.
“Chicken?” Sierra grabbed a chicken wing out of the big bucket and tossed it at the kittens, giggling in delight when they started wrestling one another to claim the prize.
Angel and Shadow were cuddled up at my feet, watching their babies with a profound sense of accomplishment. Oh, and by the way, each of those ‘babies’ was as large as a lion cub.
“They’ll make pretty formidable warriors, don’t you think?” I said, giving Nero’s hip a playful bump with my own.
“Indeed.” He watched the kittens closely. “In time. And with the proper training.”
“You actually think you can train a cat to do anything?” I chuckled.
“Why not?” He brushed a wayward strand of hair out of my face. “After training you, Pandora, even cats should be easy.”
I smirked at him. “Oh, is that so?”
He shrugged.
“Hey, I was an excellent student.”
“Yes.” He leaned in. “Excellent,” he whispered against my lips.
After that, we wrestled a little bit ourselves. The cats didn’t seem to mind. Neither did Sierra. In fact, she started cheering Nero on.
“Go, Daddy!” she squealed in delight. “Win!”
“Thanks for the support,” I told her as I struggled to escape Nero’s iron grip. Man, he really had me pinned.
“Daddy fights better,” Sierra said with a shrug, totally unapologetic.
“Only because he won’t let me cheat,” I said, looking Nero straight in the eye.
As he gazed down upon me, his expression wasn’t just unapologetic. It was triumphant. I cast the bucket of water bottles a longing look.
“Don’t even think about it,” Nero warned me.
“Think about what?” I said with an innocent smile and a demure flutter of my eyelashes.
“Throwing those water bottles at me.”
“I totally wasn’t thinking about throwing them at you.”
“Sure you weren’t.” He leaned down to kiss me.
“Mmm, yes,” I purred. “I like this much better than getting my butt busted.”
“No!” Sierra disagreed. “Fighting better than kissing! Kissing boring!”
Chuckling, Nero and I sat up and cracked open the picnic basket. Sierra sighed in disappointment, then ran off to chase butterflies with the kittens. Apparently, they were way more interesting than we were.
“So, how’s life at the Vanguard?” I asked Nero, handing him a sandwich.
That’s what was keeping him busy at the moment: training the Legion’s most elite soldiers.
We’d defeated all our foes—that we knew about—but new ones always seemed to pop up to take their place.
An optimist would call that ‘progress’. It was very easy to be an optimist when the sun was shining, the cats and kids were playing, and I got to cuddle up with my sweetheart.
“Training is going well.” Nero nudged the cookie box toward me, an acknowledgement of my philosophy that desserts made the best appetizers. “Your friend Captain Morrows is happily taking a beating.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Alec.”
Alec was new to the Vanguard, but he wasn’t new to Nero’s demanding training sessions. He’d once served under him in the Legion’s New York office, just as I had.
“How are things going with the councils?” Nero asked me.
“The usual,” I sighed. “You know gods and demons. They love to fight over everything. The latest squabble is over the refreshments menu during council meetings.”
“If that’s all they have to fight about, things must be going well,” said Nero.
“They spent eight hours debating between chocolate cake and strawberry cake. Eight hours, Nero.” I opened the cookie box.
“Do you know how much cake I could have eaten in eight hours? A lot. And I would have enjoyed eating that cake a hell of a lot more than just talking about it.” I took a deep breath.
“But we’re not here to complain about work.
We’re here to totally forget about work. ”
Nero and I didn’t get to enjoy that many picnics nowadays. This was a rare quiet moment together in a sea of chaos, and I was determined to enjoy it. So I shoved all those problems aside and focused on this perfect moment.
We sat there for hours, eating and laughing and basking in the warm sun. We breathed in the sweet air. We watched our daughter and the destruction of cats chase butterflies and flower petals. Sierra had enchanted the flock of petals to amuse her feline friends.
“Her magic is growing stronger. More subtle,” Nero commented with an air of approval.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s nice that she’s finally moved beyond only being interested in setting the curtains on fire.”
“She does have a taste for danger,” said Nero.
“Speaking of danger…” I looked out across the field, past the butterflies and petals and kittens.
A familiar face stared back at me. And that face looked very, very worried.
“Leda Pandora,” she said, rushing up to us. “And Nero Windstriker.”
“Aspen?” I rose to my feet, and so did Nero. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” said the troubled princess, her chest heaving, sucking in breaths. She looked like she’d run all the way here from her world, wherever that world might be. “I’m in trouble, and I need your help.”