“Hi. I’m sure you all know who I am,” I started. “I just wanted to say that I plan to put a stop to all of this. If you can buy me a little time, I plan to end this war.”

Raphael beamed at me with pride, nodding. “We’ll do our best, Brielle. Our numbers are low, but our faith is strong.”

Grace growled from where she stood, leaning against the wall, and all eyes moved from me to land on her.

“Grace, is there something you would like to share?” Michael smirked at his wife.

Pushing off the wall, Grace charged at the council of angels like she might cut off their heads. Anger lined her features as she stood tall next to her husband.

“You say you don’t have the numbers to buy Brielle time, and we all know why,” she declared, addressing the other angels. “Three times I’ve requested that you allow me to start a Demon Hunting Academy. Three times! I could have trained thousands by now! Don’t you see that the solution to your problem, with the growing demon population, isn’t to protect the poor frail humans, it’s to arm them? Let me train them to fight for themselves, so Angel City doesn’t become a page in a history book that no one reads!” She finished her sentence with a growl, and my gaze flicked to Michael.

Nothing in his face said he was embarrassed by his wife’s outburst. Yet, nothing indicated he disagreed with her either. If anything, he looked madly in love with the woman.

Raphael sighed.

“All in favor of a Demon Hunter Academy, led by Grace, in which humans will be trained to kill demons, say aye,” Michael declared.

“Aye.” Gabriel raised his hand.

“Aye.” Uriel nodded.

Michael grinned. “Aye.”

Every single set of eyes fell on Raphael. I didn’t know what the protocol was here, but it looked like it needed to be unanimous.

The archangel swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Grace, but I cannot allow the humans to be put in harm’s way deliberately. My job is to protect them.”

Grace screamed out in frustration. “Why, because we’re weak? Because we don’t have special abilities like your beloved angel blessed?”

Raphael’s features tightened. He was clearly annoyed with Grace’s outburst, but something else shown there too—he respected her. “Yes, humans are fragile. They don’t regenerate and heal like we do. As a healer, I feel it is my moral duty to do no harm, and I don’t feel right sending them out into battle.”

Reaching for her belt, Grace pulled out a long glistening sword. The blade ripped from its sheath with a menacing sound, and a few of the captains gasped, clearly unsure of her intentions.

“Raphael, I challenge you to a sparring match. If I can hold my own against you, then you give me my school.” She was dead serious.

Amusement danced behind the other archangels’ eyes.

“That sounds fair, Brother. I’ve trained her myself. If anyone can show us what the humans are capable of, it’s Grace,” Michael added in support of his wife.

Raphael stared at her a long moment, then finally nodded. “Okay, Grace. If you show me that I won’t be sending humans out to be slaughtered, I will give you Fallen Academy to be turned into a school for humans to learn demon hunting.”

My heart was racing in my ears. Seeing Grace’s passionate plight for the humans brought tears to my eyes. Since the Fallen War, we’d always seen humans as weak, but that needed to change, and Grace was proof.

Raphael looked to one of the captains who sat in the front row. “Please fetch my sword, and meet us on the field. “

Holy shit. Archangel Michael’s wife is going to fight Raphael.

Lincoln gave me a look of shock, and then we all stood and filed out of the meeting room in eager anticipation. If Grace won, this could change the face of the war. Maybe not this year, or the next, but as students graduated from the Demon Hunter Academy, it would bolster our numbers against the Hellspawn.

I hoped like hell that she won.

We all stood on the field. It was midday, and the sun shining brightly in the sky, reflected on the swords readying for a fight, making them almost glow. Raphael held his sword tightly, decked out in full plate armor with a shield, as was Grace. I’d fetched Emberly—sure she wouldn’t want to miss this—and now we stood with rapt attention, along with the captains of the army, and the other fallen angels in a semicircle.

“Kick his ass, Mom!” Emberly shouted, causing a grin to pull at the corner of Grace’s lips.

Raphael just stood like a sentinel, no emotion on his face. “I have a healer standing by in case you’re seriously injured,” he told Grace, then nodded to Noah, who was waiting off to the side.

“No. If I’m injured, I’ll heal naturally. Let’s do this, Raph. No more postponing the inevitable. You know this Demon Hunter Academy is the future.”

Raphael sighed and then waved her forward. “I’ll be the judge of that. Show me your best.”

Grinning, Grace began to stalk forward, waving her sword in a figure eight motion before her. While she was making a spectacle with her sword hand, I saw her free hand dip into a thigh holster at her side and pluck out a silver throwing knife. Before I could even register what she was doing, she threw it at the half-inch gap in Raphael’s armor, right near his collarbone. It sank into the meat of his shoulder, causing the angel to gasp in shock. That’s when Grace sprang from her spot, hurtling at him, sword raised.

Raphael yanked the throwing knife out of his shoulder, and tossed it to the ground, throwing up his shield just as Grace’s sword crashed into it. He blocked her blows, lashing out with his own sword, which she seemed ready for each time. It was like watching a dance—Raphael would push her back, cutting out her advance with his sword, and she would block before pushing him back once more.

“Don’t go easy on her!” Michael yelled. Not something you would expect a man to say to another man who was attacking his wife.

At his words, Raphael reached out with his giant foot and planted a boot into Grace’s chest, sending her flying ten feet up into the air with his superhuman kick. Grace must have practiced this, because she seemed ready for the fall and rolled into it as she landed, before springing up quickly into a crouch.

Charging forward, Raphael lifted himself into the air with his wings, and she tracked the motion across the space until he started to descend, fast and hard. She held her crouched position, sword out before her, until he was right on top of her. In that moment, she sprang from her spot on the ground and threw a handful of dirt into his face.

It was like watching a ninja.

Raphael coughed and sputtered as he landed, caught completely off guard, while Emberly cheered. Grace collided with the angel, sending her sword right through one of his wings, slicing into the meat. Raphael roared in pain or anger—I couldn’t tell—and lashed out with his sword, catching a piece of Grace’s exposed arm and drawing blood.

I held my breath, totally forgetting that breathing was essential to life. I was riveted to the spot.

Still, Grace barely winced at the large gash he’d made in her arm—blood now flowing freely down to her elbow. She just stood there, strong and steadfast, holding her sword up before her.

Raphael had stopped his advance, brow creasing. “Doesn’t it hurt?” he asked, his concerned gaze on the cut he’d made on her arm.