Page 21 of Hell’s Weapon

Dark grey are Dark Angels and those with white are angels and not from this plane. They were mentioned once before we moved on very quickly.

And the magic doesn’t stop there. It helps power everything here. The electric and the internet. Not that we’ve been allowed access to any technology. I’d had a small hope of being reunited with a computer when we learned about the classes, but no. We’re doing this old school because they don’t trust us with computers. Don’t trust me, most likely.

Computers are already my superpower. When school didn’t work out, I stayed up late most nights self-teaching. And tech was where I started earning. Testing security systems could get you a lot of money if you were good. And I was great.

I’ve gathered a few books around the technological set up that can be found in this realm, but they’re incredibly basic. They’re more about the technological revolution, which is still interesting, but have no detail on how their networks work today.

“Well, hello. I finally found you,” Wyatt’s lilting tone breaks the silence as his footsteps approach our table.

Looking up to see who he’s talking to, I quickly duck my head again when his eyes are fixed on Tacita. I can’t help but watch from the corner of my vision, however, as he almost skips up to her side and places a hand flat on the desk before he hops up on it so he’s sitting cross legged on the top, leaning over her.

Tacita is quick to swipe up the few sheets of loose paper she was working on, stuffing them all in her notepad before slamming it shut.

She levels a stare at the giant guy beaming down at her but doesn’t verbalise a greeting.

“What you working on?” Wyatt asks, cocking his head and reaching towards her stuff. She slams an arm across it before he makes contact and pulls it out of his reach.

“None of your business,” she hisses.

“Aw, come on, show me,” Wyatt whines.

“No.”

“Fine, how about we head back to the dorms and do something more fun instead?” He winks at her and somehow it’s me who flushes.

He’s such a player, so open and loud. The exact opposite of anyone I would show interest in. Not that I’ve been interested in many people.

But he’s not it.

And yet everytime I use one of the notepads he stole for me, I can’t stop the way my body heats.

He’s taller than me, far broader, and clearly much stronger. His muscles are huge. And his eyes are so expressive it’s like every thought gets written in them as well as being communicated across his face.

“You mean like throwing you off the roof?” Tacita drawls, not taking the bait.

She’s clearly not into him but he’s not giving up. I swear every time she turns him down, he just sees it as a greater challenge he needs to conquer.

And I get it. She’s just as gorgeous as he is in many ways, even if she’s the exact opposite. Her face is an unreadable mask ninety-nine percent of the time. And she calculates every word before she says it, every action before she takes it.

She’s like me in that way.

“Tut, tut.” He boops her on the nose and I swear for a second she considers biting his finger before he withdraws it. “We’re not allowed to harm each other until the next game. Although, if pain is what you’re into I’d gladly let you mark my skin in certain situations.”

“Not happening, Wyatt. I already told you, you couldn’t handle me.”

“But how will you know if you don’t let me try. I’ve never had any complaints.”

“One look at you and I know.” She runs her eyes up and down his body. “You’re not my type.”

“Ppfft. Not buying that.”

“You’re not.”

“I don’t believe you,” he pushes, and her fingers clench into fists on the tabletop as he winds her up.

“I don’t care, it’s the truth.”

“Come on, what about me isn’t your type? I bet you can’t name a single thing, Mo Stór.”