Court of Command (Age of Angels #1) - Milana Jacks Page 0,2

carried swords, spears, bows, and other ancient weaponry. The humans wore white uniforms with golden trim. They also carried weapons and fell in several lines as soldiers would in an army parade. Then they started marching like one. As they exited the walled-off property, I crept along the wall and peeked around.

And dear God, I had no idea where I was and what had happened. I am not dead and it wasn’t my imagination. I actually had seen an angel stab his sword into the ground and…and change the neighborhood. I couldn’t linger. I needed to get out of here and find my Dad. He would be looking for me. He’d never go home without me. Maybe I’d fallen on my head, gotten up, and wandered off, and now I was regaining consciousness.

Pretending as if I belonged here, I followed behind the marching people. Outside one gate, I discovered another courtyard, this one mostly paved with cement and filled with angels shouting orders at the paired-up humans fighting with wooden sticks. They appeared to be training, and nobody was dying, so that was good.

Thinking about Dad, I walked toward the house next door, where I found no house next door. Turning back, a few feet away, I discovered a man stirring a steaming pot over a flame. I avoided eye contact, pretending as if I was just strolling along.

“Civilian,” he called out, “you should get that healed.”

I spun around, looking for the civilian he spoke to. Pretty soon, I realized he meant me. Everyone else wore white uniforms. I still wore torn jeans and a tank top.

“What?” I asked.

“Your arm.” He pointed his ladle at me. “Get it healed.”

“Right.” My arm. I held it tight against my side and moved past him across the second yard, past the second gate, and entered a different yard littered with pitched tents and people striking stone against stone until they started a fire. Weaving through the campground, I searched for my dad until I reached another gate and walked through, realizing it was actually a tunnel that led me outside of wherever this was and into the streets. Streets made of cobblestone. Again, I looked up before glancing left and right.

Light-headed, I blinked a few times to clear my vision. Although I didn’t see angels flying above me, nothing looked familiar, and the sun had set. I knew enough to know I shouldn’t be walking around at night. I didn’t know where to go other than forward.

I moved down the street, taking in the city threaded with narrow streets and glued-to-each-other two-story houses. It looked more like a town than a city, and the more I walked, the scarier it became. The buildings weren’t the same as in LA, the houses weren’t the same, the streets weren’t paved with asphalt. The saving grace? The angels, bare-chested and winged, left me alone.

Shivering, seeking warmth, I stuck my hand into my pocket. Why was it cold in August?

White dust started falling from the sky.

I extended my hand.

Not dust. A snowflake melted on my palm.

Why is there snow in south Cali? Winds swept the street. Cold seeped into my bones. In a tank top and loose torn pants, I nearly froze. Everyone walking past me was bundled up. I felt as if they’d all been here all along, and I’d just arrived.

But the glass in my arm…

It remained. The pain. My backpack and torn jeans. The image of the beautiful angel I’d seen kept coming up. I couldn’t unsee him, forget him.

Dizziness made me sway on my feet, and I leaned against someone’s door. When my legs wouldn’t hold me, I slumped. If I passed out, I’d freeze to death. Even knowing I had to keep moving, had to get home, didn’t make my body move. I could barely keep my eyes open. So I closed them.

As the door opened, I fell back and stared up into the most frightening pair of eyes I’d ever seen, shaped like cat’s, slanted at the corners, one deep brown and the other deep green. The urge to flee overcame me, and I tried to sit up, but couldn’t.

The man stared down at me and quirked his lip—like the golden angel had—showing no fang. Despite the scary eyes, the man was exceptionally beautiful, and completely human. No wings.

“Welcome, Julia. Crawl in.”

As if on strings, I sat up, holding my arm. A wave of dizziness hit me. The wind outside blew right through my bones. How did he know my name?

“Close