The Chronicles of Fire and Ice (The Legend of the Archangel Book 1) by L.L Hunter Page A
Authors: L.L Hunter
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their abdomens. “In and out, girls.” The girls nodded silently. It was no joke that everyone was frightened of Professor Harpe.
“ Where’s Scarlett?” Delilah whispered. “I thought she’d be back in class by now.”
“ She’s back, I just don’t know where she is,” replied Emer.
“ Jacob said he dropped her off and hadn’t seen her since,” added Kat.
“ We…” began Del, before being interrupted by Professor Harpe’s stone cold stare.
“ Less talking, more vocal warm-ups!” She was beginning to sound like a drill sergeant.
“ Why is an angel’s voice so important, Miss?” asked Thomas and Emer shot him a glare. He shrugged. Always the straight-A student, she thought.
“ Thanks for asking, Thomas. An angel’s voice is important for many reasons. It can be used in identification between mates…” Professor Harpe paused because numerous giggles had erupted throughout the room. She continued, though. “It can also be used as a weapon as I said earlier.”
“ How?” asked Kat
“ Well, when used in conjunction with Glory, an angel’s voice is a shield.”
“ Can you demonstrate?” asked a Nephilim with silvery-purple hair. Kat remembered her from Combat Training as Diamond.
“ Ok, just a warning, though. An angel’s Glory is hard to look at by an untrained eye. For it is a representation of one’s self in the Realm of Fire. It is pure light and energy,” she told the class. Then she stepped backwards. The students stood on a tiered stage so it was easy for everyone to see clearly. Then Professor Harpe inhaled, opened her hands, and sang while showing her full glory. Students shielded their eyes from the glare. Looking at Professor Harpe’s Glory was like looking into the sun. It shone in perfect harmony with her impressive soprano voice.
Dyston felt as if he had been in the Chambers for an eternity. How much longer would they make him wait? He paced around his new surroundings. He had been moved from the white laboratory to a new red room. The furniture, the walls, everything was in varying shades of red, except for the floor, which looked like Hematite—dark grey and shiny. Who was the interior designer, he wondered. Then he moaned. The red made him think of one thing, one angel—Scarlett. He longed to hold her, to kiss her. To feel her heat beneath him, and then let his touch cool her down again. He also longed for a piano, so that he could play the song he wrote for her. It didn’t yet have a name, or lyrics, but he couldn’t get the melody out of his head. So, to keep him occupied, he decided to hum it. He wished he could hum it to her. As he hummed, his heart sank as he remembered how they had fought in Traits 101 . She had told him to stay away from her, and it had felt like a Tear Tip ripping through his heart. He slumped into a nearby loveseat and continued to hum. All the while trying to send a prayer to her, knowing that it probably wouldn’t work, but he had to try anyway.
Scarlett tore through her close t looking for something to wear. She decided on something practical, as she felt she would be doing lots of walking, running, or fighting. She took her Converses out from the bottom of the closet, readjusted her bra, with which she was thankful that Lakyn didn’t break, and put on clean knickers and her favourite acid washed grey skinny jeans. Then she looked for a shirt and found a maroon one. Perfect, she thought. She knew both of the Blackbell brothers found her absolutely irresistible in this shirt. She’d been wearing this same shirt the day she bumped into Dyston and met Lakyn. She stood up after tying her shoelaces, and gazed at Dyston’s perfect black feather, still sitting where she had left it on top of The Chronicle by her bedside. She picked it up and stroked it. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, a thousand times sorry from the bottom of her heart. But that would have to wait. Right now, she had to play the role of a schoolgirl with a
“ Where’s Scarlett?” Delilah whispered. “I thought she’d be back in class by now.”
“ She’s back, I just don’t know where she is,” replied Emer.
“ Jacob said he dropped her off and hadn’t seen her since,” added Kat.
“ We…” began Del, before being interrupted by Professor Harpe’s stone cold stare.
“ Less talking, more vocal warm-ups!” She was beginning to sound like a drill sergeant.
“ Why is an angel’s voice so important, Miss?” asked Thomas and Emer shot him a glare. He shrugged. Always the straight-A student, she thought.
“ Thanks for asking, Thomas. An angel’s voice is important for many reasons. It can be used in identification between mates…” Professor Harpe paused because numerous giggles had erupted throughout the room. She continued, though. “It can also be used as a weapon as I said earlier.”
“ How?” asked Kat
“ Well, when used in conjunction with Glory, an angel’s voice is a shield.”
“ Can you demonstrate?” asked a Nephilim with silvery-purple hair. Kat remembered her from Combat Training as Diamond.
“ Ok, just a warning, though. An angel’s Glory is hard to look at by an untrained eye. For it is a representation of one’s self in the Realm of Fire. It is pure light and energy,” she told the class. Then she stepped backwards. The students stood on a tiered stage so it was easy for everyone to see clearly. Then Professor Harpe inhaled, opened her hands, and sang while showing her full glory. Students shielded their eyes from the glare. Looking at Professor Harpe’s Glory was like looking into the sun. It shone in perfect harmony with her impressive soprano voice.
Dyston felt as if he had been in the Chambers for an eternity. How much longer would they make him wait? He paced around his new surroundings. He had been moved from the white laboratory to a new red room. The furniture, the walls, everything was in varying shades of red, except for the floor, which looked like Hematite—dark grey and shiny. Who was the interior designer, he wondered. Then he moaned. The red made him think of one thing, one angel—Scarlett. He longed to hold her, to kiss her. To feel her heat beneath him, and then let his touch cool her down again. He also longed for a piano, so that he could play the song he wrote for her. It didn’t yet have a name, or lyrics, but he couldn’t get the melody out of his head. So, to keep him occupied, he decided to hum it. He wished he could hum it to her. As he hummed, his heart sank as he remembered how they had fought in Traits 101 . She had told him to stay away from her, and it had felt like a Tear Tip ripping through his heart. He slumped into a nearby loveseat and continued to hum. All the while trying to send a prayer to her, knowing that it probably wouldn’t work, but he had to try anyway.
Scarlett tore through her close t looking for something to wear. She decided on something practical, as she felt she would be doing lots of walking, running, or fighting. She took her Converses out from the bottom of the closet, readjusted her bra, with which she was thankful that Lakyn didn’t break, and put on clean knickers and her favourite acid washed grey skinny jeans. Then she looked for a shirt and found a maroon one. Perfect, she thought. She knew both of the Blackbell brothers found her absolutely irresistible in this shirt. She’d been wearing this same shirt the day she bumped into Dyston and met Lakyn. She stood up after tying her shoelaces, and gazed at Dyston’s perfect black feather, still sitting where she had left it on top of The Chronicle by her bedside. She picked it up and stroked it. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, a thousand times sorry from the bottom of her heart. But that would have to wait. Right now, she had to play the role of a schoolgirl with a
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