Page 32 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)

I gently took her fists, slowly uncurling her shaking hands, trying to ground her. “You’re in a coma. We’re stuck in Hell. The only way is forward. There is no more locking me away to keep me safe, okay?” I said softly.

Her gaze slid away, avoiding mine.

“What else are you keeping from me?”

Silence.

“When will the secrets end, Mom?” I shouted, standing and stepping back.

“I don’t need your protection anymore! Your secrets have gotten us nowhere.

What I need is help—help training my body and powers, and figuring out how to get on the general’s good side!

Things I’m sure your secret angelic life before me could actually help with! ”

She continued to stare at the wall like she hadn’t heard me. I dug my nails into my palms, wanting to throttle her. When I entered this dream, I just wanted to see her. I hadn’t realized how much anger I still carried.

But why, after everything that had happened and everything our choices had cost, did she still think it necessary to keep her secrets? What was she hiding?

I shook my head, unable to feel empathy while she remained so blinded by fear. Turning away, I headed for the door, desperate to wake up from this dream-walk before I said something I’d regret.

“Fine.”

I stopped.

“I’ll help you train when you dream-walk to me. But I’ll only share things with you when I’m ready. Deal?”

I turned. Pure white armor materialized on her body, hugging every curve, and a long sword peeked out over her shoulder—her Archangel uniform.

I’d never seen her wear anything like it.

It was strange, seeing her look so… imposing.

During our sparring lessons, she always wore loose-fitting exercise clothes.

“Do I even have a choice in the matter?”

She placed her hand on my shoulder and met my gaze.

“There are few instances when you don’t have a choice.

” Then my shirt and pants shifted into a Hell Squadron uniform—black with accents of purple, instead of the usual red.

“Your choices now are simple: take the deal and I’ll train you, or don’t and get nothing from me. ”

For the first time, I saw the version of my mother that existed before I was born. Growing up, I’d caught glimpses of her—but never like this. Never in her armor. Never with that fierce expression.

“Now let’s go dissect the fight you had today and see how you could’ve won.”

I twisted, frowning as she strode out the door. I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into, but I followed her out into our snowy front yard.

“Show me your stance and explain the fight in detail,” she said, squaring off in front of me.

I separated my feet, raised my fists, and tensed my core, then began explaining, leaving out Theon’s insults and my taunts.

My mom nodded her approval, then jabbed at my face just like Theon had, only faster.

I bobbed to the side. She clipped my chin, pulling her punch at the last second. I’d forgotten how fast she was.

She must’ve seen the shock on my face. “Sweetie, I trained as an Archangel for hundreds of years. If you can dodge all my punches, you’ll be more than a match for most of Lucifer’s elite squadrons.” She circled me, and I mirrored her.

“Okay, but it’s not just sparring. I told you Theon used his water against me. How do I combat that when I can’t use my powers on him—or anyone else, for that matter?”

My mom hummed in thought before mimicking Theon’s punches. Except each one of hers connected, and they stung.

“If you can’t use your powers, then you need to cause enough pain to distract him.”

She flew at me, and despite expecting it, she still broke through my guard. I tried the same footwork I used with Theon, but had to remind myself—she’d taught me those moves. And I’d never once beaten her in a sparring match.

“Ready for the tackle?” she asked before slamming into me, sending me crashing to the snow faster than I could dodge.

I groaned, the impact jarring through my spine. I lay there, letting the snow kiss the nape of my neck. The sensation was soothing until it began to burn.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed up onto my forearms. “I thought the purpose of this was to show me how to improve the things I did wrong, not beat me at the things I did right.”

She reached out a gloved hand, her armor glinting in the porch light. I took it, but she didn’t pull me up.

“No. The purpose of your training is to make you faster and more equipped than Lucifer himself,” she said firmly, the seriousness of her gaze making me pause.

“Lucifer isn’t going to kill me.”

She ignored me and pulled me to my feet.

It wasn’t that I thought it was impossible. Lucifer had an agenda—why else place me in an elite squadron? But Cato’s words had slithered into my mind, making me question the king’s intentions .

“Isn’t he your cordistella? Your soulmate? Why would he kill me if it meant losing you?” At least emotionally. I suppose if he killed me, my mother would wake from her coma.

My mom tilted her head to the stars and sighed. “We’re no longer cordistellas. Our bond was severed when Lucifer was made King of Hell.”

“Okay, but he still loves you.”

Her eyes locked onto mine, but there was a quiet sadness in the downturn of her lips. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“So you turned to Michael?” The words escaped before I could stop them, but I just couldn’t understand how he fit into all this. Lucifer would do anything for my mom—he acted like he wanted the best for me, something Michael could never claim. “I don’t get it.”

My mom’s eyes narrowed, and she swept her leg, sending me back into the snow. “If and when I am ready, Lucille Chiara.”

I gritted my teeth, wanting to know what she was hiding. She had a whole life before me, hundreds of years’ worth, and I knew an infinitesimal part of it.

Her hand fell in front of my face, and for a moment, I considered refusing it.

But despite how frustrating her terms were, I knew I needed whatever help she could offer.

I slapped my hand into hers, and a flood of overwhelming love and security washed over me, momentarily silencing the chaos in my mind.

I sprang to my feet and into her arms, hugging her tightly. “I love you so much.”

She pulled away abruptly, shoving me back and raising her guard as she circled me. I smiled, arms wide, hoping for another hug. But instead, she punched me .

Her fist slammed into my side, then my stomach, and I gasped, stumbling back. For a split second, confusion cut through the overwhelming love, but it quickly faded.

“Lucy, remember what I told you earlier. How do you fight off someone’s power?”

Her words resonated with something I needed to remember, but it was buried beneath the sticky love clouding my thoughts. “I don’t want to fight you,” I admitted, the words tasting wrong as they left my mouth.

She sent another combination into my body, carefully avoiding my face, as if she knew I wouldn’t be able to block it. But I could block. So why didn’t I?

Each painful punch jolted me, pushing harder against the haze in my mind. They came faster, and with each strike, my frustration bled through the love. I raised my arms, barely managing to block a few.

“Good. Fight it, but remember what I said.”

I needed to make her feel pain, to pull her focus away from her power. But how? Even with my mind fully in control, I couldn’t land a punch. Then, an idea sparked.

I forced myself to focus, drawing on the whispers of my Infernus, willing the purple flames to flare to life in my mind.

It felt foreign, like a muscle I hadn’t used in ages, strained and hesitant.

Back when we used to argue, I’d sheath my skin to keep her out, though it was an accident, triggered by my anger.

But this time, I didn’t want her to see me resisting—if I could manage it.

My head throbbed as I struggled to envision the shield, each punch she sent my way disrupting what little progress I made. Sweat trickled down my neck, and I panted, hoping she’d think it was from our sparring.

At the last second, just before giving up, I managed a thin, wavering barrier.

It barely held back her influence, and her powers still probed at the cracks.

But it was better that some snuck through, knowing she could feel emotional shifts.

I needed her to assume she still had control.

Still, I gained enough mental ground to quiet the overwhelming love that had silenced my clarity.

I kept the stupid smile plastered on my face, my hands awkwardly held up in front of my chest to maintain the act.

“Fight it, Lucy. Or you’ll never win.” She threw a punch at my face, and I let it connect. There was half a second where I could’ve stopped it, but I didn’t.

I whimpered, and it wasn’t entirely faked.

She hit hard, and my head wouldn’t stop throbbing, but I exaggerated the reaction.

I dropped one hand, clutching my jaw with the other, pretending to be stunned.

Her attack faltered, and I seized the opportunity.

With a swift twist, I brought my dropped hand up in a controlled uppercut, landing it squarely on her chin.

She stumbled back, the emotional probing of her power falling away from my mental shield. I swept her legs out from under her, sending her into the snow with a satisfying thud.

Pride gleamed in her smile as she looked up at me, and for a brief moment, I felt the weight of it settle in my chest. It had been a long time since I’d felt that kind of acceptance from her.

Even before I was kidnapped, our relationship had been rocky.

I wasn’t sure what it was anymore—but I missed that look .

“Good.” She took my outstretched hand and stood. “But using my concern for you against me won’t work on most of Hell’s elite military. You’ll have to find a different manipulation tactic.”

“I’ve read about others in a strategy and warfare book,” I admitted, pretty sure I was still sleeping on it as we spoke.

She nodded. “And if manipulation doesn’t work…” She threw a punch at my face, catching me off guard.

I fell on my ass, avoiding the hit, and my metal barrier crumbled.

“You’ll need to move faster and react faster. It’s you or them.”

“I’m well aware, Mom.”

“You should also stay away from Lucifer and Ronen.”

“Mom, Lucifer and the general have saved my life at least two, maybe three, times now,” I added quickly, counting the river incident in my mind. “Stop being paranoid. The only ones trying to kill me are my squadmates and the squad leader. So teach me how to survive against them .”

She seemed to agree, though reluctantly, and we practiced—well, I couldn’t tell how long, since time worked differently in dream-walks—but it felt like hours. Most of that time, I ended up flat on my back.

When I woke up in the library, I was surprised my body wasn’t one big throbbing bruise. And even more surprised that it was still dark outside.