Page 13 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)

Chapter

Ten

LUCILLE

I groaned, rolled over, and hit a warm body. Something tickled my face as an ungodly noise sounded.

Was that a trumpet?

I cracked one eye, finding a face full of Rune’s shadow fur. Curling my fingers in her soft, tickling depths, my soul settled. I didn’t know why, only that I’d come to crave the peace she gave me.

The trumpet blared again, and Oliver whined from Rune’s other side.

“What the hell is that noise, and why is it waking us up at the ass crack of dawn?” Oliver pulled a pillow over his head. “Tell them to go away, Lucy.”

“Like anyone here would ever listen to me,” I grumbled, wishing I could return to Aspen. What he did to me… I shuddered .

Someone knocked on the door to my sitting room. “Wake up! You have ten minutes to get dressed for the Infernal Sixty! Wear something you can exercise in.” Whoever yelled through the door had a deep voice and too-chipper attitude.

Oliver and I both groaned. Neither of us moved until Rune, whose eyes flashed golden, started bombarding my face with slobber.

“Okay, okay,” I said, pushing her away and elbowing Oliver. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have your size in my closet, so get a move on before we’re dragged out by our ankles.”

He groaned again, slid off my bed, and stomped out the door like a toddler. I laughed as I pushed off the comforter. Rune lay with her head between her paws, her tail wagging like she was excited for the almost day. I couldn’t say I felt the same. I would’ve rather stayed in my dream with Aspen.

Walking into my closet, I stripped off my bed clothes and dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and leggings. Taming my wild waves, I wove them into a low braid, covering my ears.

“Luce, you ready? I just saw the trumpeter on his way here.”

I met Oliver outside my closet. “I’m surprised you’re not wearing green.”

He shrugged down at his T-shirt and black sweats. “Would if I could, but whoever supplied my wardrobe has a thing for boring neutral colors. At least it’s not a tunic.”

Someone banged at my door and blew a horn. My hands jerked over my ears. “Is he using an airhorn?”

“As much as I want to say yes, Hell isn’t that modern.”

“Right. ”

I laced up black sneakers and walked with Oliver and Rune to my sitting room door. Oliver opened it, and we found a muscular blond guy about to place his mouth on a long animal horn.

“Yes, please blow out our eardrums. Maybe then I can sleep through your noise,” Oliver said.

The blond smiled, lowering his horn. “Get used to it, Nephilim. This will be your new routine for the foreseeable future.”

“Oliver.”

The blond held out his hand. “Alexei, General Ronen’s second. I’ll be seeing a lot of you two. But hey, no complaints here. I’d take castle living over the barracks any day.”

Oliver shook his hand and stared at Alexei without saying a word or letting go. I jumped in before it became awkward.

“Lucille,” I said. “But you can call me Lucy.” I already loved his easy smiles; I didn’t mind throwing in my nickname for him.

He removed himself from Oliver’s resisting grip, then kissed both of my cheeks. “Or I could call you beautiful.”

I blushed and fumbled for a response. Did I compliment him back? Did I smile and say thanks?

“Are we off to training?” Oliver interrupted.

Alexei gave us a long look, lingering on our shoes. “Yeah… Do you two have anything warmer? Maybe a pair of boots?”

I surveyed his thick, red-and-black leathers. “Exactly what kind of exercising did you say we were doing?”

His eyes glimmered. “I didn’t.”

“I guess we’d better find some thicker clothes and boots, then.”

Alexei tilted his head, his flirty grin lighting up his face. “Beautiful and smart. ”

I rolled my eyes, and Oliver scoffed before we both returned to our closets to change. Dressed in the thickest clothing I could find and boots, I met a similarly dressed Oliver at my door minutes later.

Alexei nodded. “Better.”

We followed the general’s second to the first floor, down a few hallways, through more doors, and into an enclosed arena.

The tile gave way to sand, and the temperature dropped. Like the castle, the arena had rows of tall windows, and natural light illuminated a sea of people.

Most wore red-and-black uniforms similar to Alexei’s, but a different group stood in the far-right corner, beside a towering wall of weapons. They wore no uniforms—just an eclectic mix of clothing from various cultures and periods. Together, their differences formed a strange, unified whole.

Oliver and I should’ve been with them. Instead, we stood out from the uniformed warriors like chihuahuas in a pack of Soulhounds.

“What’s with everyone’s outfits?” Oliver mumbled.

“Hell doesn’t discriminate on culture or dress. Some souls choose to stay in the clothes they died in. Others don’t. Blood-banded can bring whatever clothes they desire to Hell. Don’t worry, you’ll both receive uniforms if you pass the Infernal Sixty,” Alexei explained.

“And what is the Infern…” I trailed off.

What was that?

A red mark glistened across a female’s face in the far corner.

Was she wounded?

No. She wasn’t bleeding, nor was she alone. Others also had odd markings. Were they scars or paint? From this distance, I couldn’t tell. I squinted, then turned to the uniformed members before us, but they were all facing forward.

“Attention, warriors and recruits. Welcome to the worst sixty days of your lives,” General Ronen announced from the front of the arena.

He stood on an elevated surface in all his intimidating black-and-gold glory, staring me down as if his words were meant for me alone.

“We will assess your strengths and weaknesses through a series of drills and courses to see where to place you. Most of you won’t make it further than the Bowels Squadron, and some of you won’t make it at all. ”

The way he deliberately looked away when he said strengths, only to pin me again at weaknesses , said it all.

I held his condescending stare, frustration simmering in my veins.

The molten gold of his eyes beckoned like an abyss, daring me to surrender.

I resisted—or thought I did. A warmth stirred in my chest the longer I held on.

My breath hitched, and I hissed, jerking my gaze away.

“Recruits.” He pointed to the corner. Everyone looked, their faces twisting into predatory sneers.

At that moment, I was glad Alexei hadn’t led us to the mob of outcasts.

“We will test to see if you will join our lowest squadron, the Bowels. The rest of you—Bowels, Trenchers, Devils, Tormentors, and Infernos—this is the time to try advancing to the next level. Remember, Tormentors, Infernos, and Nightmares have a specific number for their squads, and a spot needs to open before you advance. Nightmares, you must prove yourselves to hold your current spot—and maybe one of you will shine enough to elevate yourself to my hand-picked squad of Dreads. ”

Someone in the back coughed and raised a shaky hand. The general slowly lifted a brow, as if surprised that someone had enough courage to interrupt him.

“How do you advance to the next level?” the male squeaked.

The general’s grin sent needles stabbing across my skin.

“There are three ways. The previous warrior either advances or dies, and you have to be at a level to take their spot. Or, in the final week, you can challenge them to a one-on-one, no-rules match for it. This is Hell. You prove yourself, or you die.

“For the blood-banded, that is. For the souls in attendance—you can’t die, but if you’re not redeemed, you can recycle. And there’s a much higher chance the Horde will devour you.”

Murmurs swept through the arena. Oliver shot me a wide-eyed look that I mirrored. We were both blood-banded—which meant we could die and be sent to whatever hellish circle our souls ended up in.

“Hell doesn’t have many rules, but our military has two. First, no killing is allowed within your squad. Save it for challenge week. Second, no gambling or betting against fights. Break either rule, and you forfeit your soul to a lower circle of Hell.”

“So I’m thinking you use your clout to convince the king to exempt us from this. We can get stronger another way,” Oliver whispered.

Alexei shot us a considering glance. “Ronen told me you guys had a debt to the king, and you’re living in his castle. Whatever clout you had has likely been used up since he placed you in the Tormentors. That’s our fourth-best squadron.”

Oliver’s eyes widened further, and my skin prickled with irritation .

No wonder the general had looked so unimpressed with me.

The king didn’t mention we’d be placed in an upper-level squadron.

We were better off trying to make it in the Bowels with the rest of the haunted faces, shaking legs, and non-uniform-wearing beginners.

Not… I surveyed the sea of black and red.

There was a clear distinction where the lower-level military began and ended.

The lower levels watched the elites with hungry, eager expressions—like they’d be more than happy to kill an elite member to join a higher tier. But the elite squadrons tauntingly smiled back with blazing eyes as if to say, Try and you’ll die.

“Well, what circle do you think we’ll end up in after this?” Oliver asked.

I jabbed him hard in the ribs. “Not funny.”

After the rest of the general’s speech, he called for the squadron leaders to find their groups and congregate. Bodies moved left and right while Oliver and I stayed put, shifting on our feet.

“You both will be with Moira—the Tormentors’ leader.

” Alexei gestured to the front, where an attractive blonde stood.

Her uniform had an added breastplate that accentuated her curves and cinched her waist. Add that to her heart-shaped face, two perfect ears, and eyes the same crystal blue as Alexei’s, and Moira was gorgeous.

“Damn, she’s hot,” Oliver said.

“Really? Because there’s a noticeable lack of bulge in the area you like,” I teased.

Oliver snorted. “You’re right, she’s not my type. Doesn’t mean she’s not hot.”

Alexei stared at Moira as if she’d put a bad taste in his mouth. “That’s good. She’d eat you alive, spit you out, and then stomp on your remains. Besides, she only has eyes for one plaything.” He nodded to the general, making his way to Moira. For some reason, their pairing made a lot of sense.

“They look like they could fuck and murder in the same breath,” Oliver commented.

I snorted my agreement as I watched Moira give the general a brilliant smile. He never returned it. The dour male probably didn’t know how to smile since he had a large fist up his ass. Maybe she could soothe it for him like she did his shoulder.

The placement of her massaging touch and perfectly manicured fingers provoked my Infernus. It whispered, flowing from my ears and scattering across my skin. I shook it off and shoved their songs away. “So what do we have to look forward to?”

Alexei brushed a wayward black wave from my cheek. “Nothing good, beautiful. The higher you rise, the more ruthless we are.”

That meant Alexei was at the top of the ruthless hierarchy. But as he shamelessly flirted with me, it was hard to see. His warm smile and the glittering playfulness in his expression said charming flirt , not touch me and die like the general’s expression always seemed to say.

My cheeks flushed at his attention, but before I could politely step out of his reach, Rune butted between us, forcing Alexei away, and sat pressed against my leg.

Alexei frowned down at Rune, glanced at the general, then waved us forward. “Come on. Better not keep General Ronen waiting.”

“Yay, off to our death,” Oliver groaned.