Flaming Dove by Daniel Arenson

Author:Daniel Arenson [Arenson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literary, Short Stories, Fiction
ISBN: 9780986602825
Publisher: Moonclipse
Published: 2010-08-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Laila arrived late at the amphitheatre. Dawn was several hours past when she fluttered down into the ancient Roman structure and found Michael standing there, arms crossed over his breastplate. Her wounds from dueling Zarel ached, and she still felt weak and battered.

She landed in the amphitheatre, feet raising dust. Michael glared at her.

"Be late again, and the deal's off," he said.

"Oh yes sir." She gave him a mocking salute. I don't even want to be here. Everything still hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to escape to a pub or cave and drink the pain away. I don't care about Michael. I don't care if Bat El is imprisoned. All I ever wanted was to drink, to hunt with Volkfair, to be left alone. "I'm only here because I'm curious to see if you really can teach me any tricks, but to be honest, I'm doubtful. If you were such a mighty warrior, you would have faced Angor yourself, not dragged me from my pub to fight him."

Michael shot her his best glare, and Laila smirked. Did he really think he could treat her like some angel recruit new to Earth? She was Laila, of fire and shadows, not some lowly soldier. Michael had to learn that.

Michael spat and turned to leave. "Forget it. You're done. Go to hell, Laila. You don't want to train here? Then leave. We'll take over this world without you. Good luck with the whole usurpation of Hell thing."

Laila rolled her eyes. "You going to pull that whole walking away in disgust routine again? All right! God. I'm sorry, okay? I got beat up pretty bad yesterday, so I overslept. Sue me."

He turned back with a sigh, stepped toward her, and handed her a sword, hilt first. At first Laila didn't realize it was a sword; it looked more like rusty scrap metal. She stared at the weapon with its chipped, rusted blade and wooden handle, then stared at Michael.

"No thank you," she said.

"You agreed to train with a sword. Well, here's your sword."

"That's not a sword, that's a tetanus colony."

Michael shrugged. "You didn't want a heavenly sword. All the others are carved with David Stars, or crosses, or halos and angel wings, filigreed with gold."

Laila took the sword in disgust. Cobwebs clung to the blade. "This sword would break if you cut butter with it," she said.

"Learn to use it, and we'll forge you a better one."

Fine. He wanted her to use a sword? She'd prove she could use one and be done with. Maybe then he'll teach her some real things, not games with rusty blades. Feigning disinterest, she suddenly leapt toward him, lashing the rusty blade. I'll give him a scratch across the cheek, and we'll see how tough he acts then.

So fast she barely saw him move, Michael blocked her blow, kicked her legs from underneath her, and she slammed against the ground. She found herself lying, his boot upon her neck.

"Nice try," he said.

Laila stared at him, hissing, fangs bared.

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