Page 15

Pinewood Valley looked like something out of a greeting card—quaint wooden storefronts, hanging flower baskets, and a main street so clean it practically sparkled in the morning light.

But beneath the picturesque facade, I could feel the subtle pulse of supernatural energy. The wards around the town had recognized us as outsiders, and though they weren't actively hostile, there was a watchfulness to them that set my nerves on edge.

“So much for the element of surprise,” I muttered as we made our way down the main street. Humans passed us with friendly nods, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. “Where should we start?”

Levi's gaze swept the storefronts, assessing each one with the careful attention of a predator scanning for prey.

“There,” he said, nodding toward a small café with a hand-painted sign reading “Maple Leaf Diner.” “That matches the description Keeran gave us. The place where the witch mentioned the angels.”

The bell above the door chimed as we entered, drawing the attention of the handful of patrons scattered among the red vinyl booths.

Most turned away after a brief glance, but I caught the lingering gaze of an elderly woman in the corner, her fingers wrapped around a mug of steaming tea.

There was something about her eyes—a sharpness that didn't belong to a typical human of her age.

“That's her,” I whispered, sliding into a booth with a clear view of the woman. “The witch.”

A harried-looking waitress approached, her pen poised over a small notepad. “What can I get you folks?”

“Just coffee,” I said, not taking my eyes off the witch. “Both of us.”

The waitress huffed but didn't argue, hurrying away to the next table.

“Subtle,” Levi drawled, leaning back against the booth. “Why don't you just go over and introduce yourself?”

I shot him a look. “Because we don't know if she's friendly, and I'd rather not cause a scene in a human establishment.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you so concerned about human sensibilities?”

“Since we need information more than we need trouble.” I accepted the mugs of coffee the waitress set down, offering her a quick smile. “Thank you.”

As the waitress moved away, I saw the witch rise from her seat, leaving a few bills on the table. She adjusted her cardigan, cast one last knowing look in our direction, and headed for the door.

“She's leaving,” I hissed, already sliding out of the booth.

Levi caught my wrist. “Wait. Let her think she's escaped, then follow. Less obvious that way.”

I reluctantly settled back, watching as the old woman exited the diner with surprising agility for someone who appeared to be in her eighties. We gave her a thirty-second head start, then left our coffee untouched with a twenty-dollar bill, and followed.

Outside, the street was busier now, with locals going about their morning routines. I spotted the witch turning down a side street, her gray hair visible between the pedestrians.

“There,” I said, nudging Levi with my elbow.

We followed at a discreet distance, weaving through the crowd. The side street was narrower, lined with small, independent shops—a bookstore, a bakery, and at the end, a modest building with a sign that read “Herbal Remedies & Teas.”

“Predictable,” Levi muttered.

The witch disappeared into the shop, the door closing behind her with a soft jingle of bells.

We approached cautiously, peering through the window at the interior—shelves lined with glass jars of dried herbs, crystals hanging from the ceiling, and the old woman now behind a wooden counter, arranging dried flowers in a basket.

I pushed open the door, triggering another cheerful chime from the bells overhead. The shop smelled of lavender and sage, with undertones of something sharper, more magical. The witch didn't look up, continuing to arrange her flowers as if we weren't there.

“We know what you are,” I said softly, moving closer to the counter. “And we know you've seen the angels.”

Her hands stilled, but she didn't seem surprised. “Took you long enough,” she said, her voice raspy with age but edged with steel. “I was beginning to think you were as slow-witted as you are obvious.”

Levi snorted. “At least we're not hiding behind protection wards and pretending to be a harmless old lady.”

She finally looked up, her eyes a startling violet—a color no human could possess. “Who says I'm pretending? I am old. I am a lady. And I'm only harmful when provoked.” She set aside her flowers, wiping her hands on her apron. “Now, what do you want with the winged ones?”

“To talk,” I said simply. “It's important.”

“It always is, with your kind.” Her gaze flicked from Levi to me. “A demon and an angel. But you’re not like the others.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

She shrugged. “What really matters is that they keep to themselves. Don't stir up trouble.”

“I'm not here to stir up trouble,” I insisted. “But there's a storm coming, and they need to know about it. It affects all angels, even those who think they've left Elysium behind.”

The witch considered me for a long moment, her ancient eyes seeming to peer directly into my soul. “They won't like outsiders poking around. Especially not one with a demon in tow.” She nodded toward Levi, who offered her a mocking bow in return.

“We just need to speak with their leader,” I pressed. “That's all I'm asking. Where can we find them?”

She turned away, busying herself with a jar of dried leaves. “I don't know.”

“You mentioned them at the diner,” I said. “Someone overheard you talking about the 'winged ones' who come to town.”

“Gossip,” she dismissed. “Nothing more.”

Levi stepped closer, his presence suddenly more imposing, more demonic. “Listen, witch. We're not here to play games. People will die if we don't find these angels. Important people. Maybe even your precious 'winged ones.' So cut the crap and tell us what you know.”

The witch's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she might cast a spell.

But then she sighed, the tension draining from her shoulders.

“I truly don't know where they live. No one does, except those they choose to tell. All I know is they come to town occasionally for supplies, and they help when supernatural trouble brews.” She pointed toward the window.

“Try Remy at the auto shop. He's a demon like your friend here. He fixed something for them once—a generator, I think. Maybe he knows more.”

I exchanged a glance with Levi, who nodded slightly. “Thank you,” I said, turning to leave.

“Angel,” the witch called after me. I paused at the door, looking back. “Be careful what you wish for. The ones who live in the mountains… they left Elysium for a reason. They might not thank you for dragging them back into its politics.”

I opened my mouth to ask how the hell she knew about all of that, but Levi just grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the shop.

Her warning followed me like a shadow as we stepped back into the sunlight.

“That was ominous,” I said.

“Don’t tell Lacey this, but here is the truth: witches are the kind of supernaturals I trust the least.”

I stared at him with wide eyes. “Never thought I would hear that from you.”

“I know.” Levi was already scanning the street, looking for the auto shop. “There.” He pointed to a building at the far end with an open garage bay. The sign above it read “Remy's Auto & Body.” “I can sense him from here. Definitely a demon, though not a higher one.”

“Let's hope he's more helpful than our witch friend.”

The auto shop was filled with the sounds of machinery and the sharp scent of oil and metal. A man—or at least, something that looked like a man—was bent over the engine of an old pickup truck, his hands moving with inhuman speed as he adjusted something deep within the machinery.

“Remy?” I called out.

The demon straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. He was tall and wiry, with dark skin and eyes that flashed red when he turned toward us. Recognition and wariness crossed his features in equal measure.

“Well, well,” he drawled, tossing the rag aside. “An angel and a higher demon walk into my shop. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.”

Levi stepped forward, extending his hand. “Leviathan. This is Ariella.”

Remy's eyes widened slightly. “Leviathan? No shit. What's a big shot like you doing in a backwater town like Pinewood?” He reluctantly shook Levi's hand, then turned to me with a respectful nod. “Ma'am.”

“We're looking for the Lost Legion,” I said, deciding directness was our best approach. “The angels who live near here.”

Remy's expression shuttered immediately. “Don't know what you're talking about.”

“Save it,” Levi said. “We already know they exist. The witch at the herbal shop said you might know where to find them. Something about fixing a generator for them.”

Remy shot a glare in the direction of the herbal shop.

“Old bat needs to learn to keep her mouth shut,” he muttered.

He moved to the workbench, busying himself with a set of tools.

“Look, I don't know where they live. They brought a couple of generators here, I fixed them, they took them away. End of story.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Please. It's important. There's trouble brewing and I’m afraid it’ll involve these angels.”

“And everyone else,” Levi added.

“We’re safe here,” the demon insisted.

“Not from this,” I said, trying to inflict as much conviction as I could in my voice. “If this trouble spills over, it’ll affect everyone … every human and every supernatural in the entire world.”

The demon stared at me for a moment, probably hoping to see a crack in my expression. He wouldn’t find any.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Yeah. Shit. Now, will you help us find these angels, or are we going to waste more time while the clock ticks down?”