Chapter 3

Yvo continues to guide us, and although we meet no more trouble on the road, our progress is slow. The horse struggles to carry us both for extended periods of time - she’s fast, but not the strongest.

My travelling companion has frequent visions, which is helpful for locating the angel, but is causing him serious pain. He’s also distressed; worried that we won’t get the angel, and then the Duchess will be angry with him.

“Couldn’t you just leave?” I ask. It’s the first time I’ve spoken to him today in more than one word sentences, and he seems surprised by my sudden question.

Yvo leans back, resting his head on my chest and sighing, keeping his eyes closed in an effort to reduce the pain from his frequent visions.

“No - the Duchess is the reason my mother is alive. She’s sick, and without the Duchess’s help, my mother would die. So. I’m worried that if we don’t get her the fallen angel, she’d take her anger out on my mother. She’d never survive without the Duchess…” he says quietly, wrapping his arms around himself for comfort.

We’ve gotten fairly used to physical contact over the past week that comes with sharing a horse, but sometimes I do feel bad for him, and wish I could provide him with some kind of comfort. But. I’m about as comforting as a glacier.

“We’ll get the angel,” I murmur, trying to sound determined but my voice still coming out quietly. It’s not like I do it deliberately, I just can’t get my vocal volume to go any higher, so I’m stuck being endlessly spoken over.

Not that I say much anyway.

Yvo cranes his neck back to look at me, reaching a hand up and patting my cheek. I freeze a little at the gesture, before smiling briefly. He’s sweet.

“Thank you, Hunter. You’re a lot different than I first thought, actually. I mean, you’re still fairly laconic, but you make an effort so it’s all good,” he says with a good-natured chuckle, shifting his weight on the horse.

I think about his words, let them sink in…I suppose I am making an effort. I found Yvo rather frustrating at points, or simply ignored him, but now? He’s friendly and cheerful, and no longer rambles on about random shit all the time, so that’s good.

“Martin,” I say eventually. Yvo whips his head round to look at me, opening his eyes in disbelief. “Woah, are you saying I can stop with the whole ‘the Hunter’ bullshit?” He asks, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I turn my face away from him, taking in the fresh sunset as it bleeds across the sky. I nod slowly, leaving it up to Yvo or not to decide what he calls me. I don’t really mind either; I’ve always been called the Hunter by those I didn’t know, or people I worked with.

Martin, however, is reserved for friends and family. Those who know me personally.

Well.

With the exception of Duchess Derevene. She’s my family, but…I’m not seen as her family. I’m sure she only calls me by my name to trick me into a false sense of familiarity, something she’s been doing for years, and I’ve long since stopped caring about.

I just want a family.

And, after this job, I’ll finally have one.

“Things aren’t looking to good for the angel though, I think the poor thing is probably going to be dissected and used for parts…stupid really, everyone knows that a live angel is more helpful - I mean, their tears and blood are literally a cure-all healing potion,” Yvo muses, playing with a string on his shirt.

I hum, not really knowing much about the species other than the basics, and things told through rumours. Fallen angels aren’t common, only maybe 1 per decade, if humanity is lucky. And there aren’t that many left alive now - fallen angels can’t die from old age, they don’t age.

However, having your wings severed and your body drained for your blood would kill anyone, no matter where you originally come from.

“You think we’ll make it in time to get the angel back? Before it’s lost any limbs?” He asks quietly, worry clouding his tone. I stay silent for a moment; Yvo knows I’m thinking about my answer, rather than saying something I don’t truly believe.

“I know we’ll do everything we can to get it,” I say after a while, leading our horse into another forest. We’ll be camping again, the same as we have for the past few weeks. It would be crazy lucky for us if the angel hadn’t already been taken - I mean, the Duchess’s residence was quite far away from the place the angel fell, it has taken us a long time to get as far as we have.

And of course, there are many other groups out for this angel. I always knew we’d have to fight for it, but I was still hoping that by some miracle, we wouldn’t have to.

“By tomorrow we should reach the mercenaries who have it, although I don’t know their exact number,” Yvo confirms after another vision. His eyes are squeezed shut, dark circles surrounding them.

He hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in far too long; being constantly woken by the visions or the pain they cause him.

That’s part of how he’s such a powerful Diviner - he can reach out to the Archangels for guidance more frequently than others, but each time he does, it takes a physical toll on him.

“Are there a lot?” I ask cautiously, hoping there won’t be too many for me to deal with. Yvo taps a finger to his chin, before shrugging.

“I mean, there’s not loads of them, but a decent number, definitely.” I try to suppress a groan, instead letting a sigh slip. Yvo glances at me sympathetically, shrugging. “Best I can do, sorry.”

I wave him off, getting a small fire started. “Not your fault. You shouldn’t get involved in the fight though, if you can stay away, I won’t have to protect you as well as attack,” I explain, rolling my neck gently and feeling a cathartic pop as my joints ease themselves around.

Yvo nods, combing his fingers through the horse’s mane. “Sure, I’m no use in a fight. You think you can take care of them all?” He asks, sending worried glances in my direction.

I pull back the string of my bow, letting it go with a gentle twang as I smile slightly. “I can take them.”