-The Black Prince-Chapter 2

Chapter 2

On the surface, my father looked all nice, innocent even. Only my mother and I knew of his fiery temper, his mood swings when he didn't get what he needed, and his constant pressure in me becoming the family protector. He had too many expectations, and he expected everything to be perfect. He was to be constantly reminded that he was not in Heaven anymore, and then the memory of his fall made him jittery. He cursed Lucifer to death and sometimes took his anger and his fall on me.

He walked into my room and looked around. I didn't bother standing up and I didn't bother hiding the scowl that was fixed on my face. I just simply sat there. He was wearing an all white outfit, with a long cross chain. It made him look nicer than he was. I didn't want to talk to him and I definitely didn't want anything to do with him. That's what made me sick. If he did contact me, it was to do some favor that I knew that I'd have no interest in.

"Hello," he said. He picked up a dagger that was lying on my desk. One of my many. I collected them because of my interest in the time where instead of guns, there were daggers and instead of all of this gibberish, you used runes. A rune was much more powerful and dangerous than a gun. Each rune could vary, and daggers were quick and efficient.
I grunted and he shot me a dark look.

"You know, I was interested in these weapons once," he started. "That was before I got a weapon of my own. A sword, of sorts."

"What'd you do, lose it?" I asked sarcastically. "I'm not four. Tell me what's going on."

Azrael sighed. "Dante, you are so impatient. It's unbecoming."

"The word 'unbecoming' is for women," I ground out. "And you're avoiding the subject."

He laughed. "Alas, I see that you are not stupid. That's a good thing. Where I'm sending you requires smarts."

"You're still stalling," I reminded.

My father clapped. "Well, then. You, Dante, are not human."

I snorted in disbelief. My stomach dropped about fifty feet though.

That was why I could see the shadows. It seemed sort of fitting, though. And it was almost a relief, but I felt like an even bigger freak.

My dad stared at me, gauging my reaction. He probably expected me to faint like a girl, to get up and start pacing, or something completely idiotic. But, if I knew myself well enough, I would know that I would react later, freak out, and then just sit wherever I was. If I knew myself well enough, this reaction would happen in a few days, give or take a week or so.

"How do you feel?" he asked. "And you can call me Az, if you like."

"Well then, Az," I said sarcastically, "this is a bunch of bull. You're probably insane."

"Yet you somewhat believe me."

"I don't believe you, but it explains a few things," I muttered.

"Like what?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"Like I'd tell you," I answered. Mom poked her head through the door.

"Time for dinner, boys!"


Over the course of a week, I was moved into my father's house and learning about who and what I was—a mix between an Angel and a demon. Sadly, there was no name for me, since I was the only one in existence. I decided on a Latin name: dimidium sanguinem. I thought the Latin version of "Half Blood" sounded cool. Along the way, I had my little freak out, so now I was used to the idea that I was living as a human when I was actually a halfie. It pissed me off, big time. And apparently, I had enough money to buy the school.  He showed me the numbers and my eyes almost fell out of their sockets. I had too much money, and Az said that he put some odd amount of money in there every week since I was born.

He taught me how to fight and defend myself against demons, some of which were infinitely weaker than most Angels. I learned about every demon and Angel in existence, every weakness, pressure point, and any poison that could kill them. It took me the entire two months before the trip to learn at least eight years worth of knowledge that even someone with a high IQ couldn't even process.

About two weeks before the departure, he brought Mom in. She had been waiting patiently to see me, hating Az for taking me away from her when he could've come to her house. In her hand, she held a thick brush and some papyrus paper. On it was a rune for protection, loyalty, strength, love and bravery. There was another piece of paper beneath it.

"Dante," she said. "I want you to write a letter. This letter will be important. I'm sure that your father has taught you the importance of runes and how to properly write them." She sighed in defeat. "I couldn't keep this part of your heritage from you, and I deeply regret not telling you sooner." She swallowed. "I want you to write a letter to yourself, and keep it in your pocket. Write a letter so that, when the time comes, you can remember who you are." She gave a small smile. This almost seemed like a goodbye. "But don't write it in regular paper. Write it in runes."

Azrael took the paper and the brush and ushered my mother out. Before she left, I saw a glimpse of her face: I could see grief, anger, despair, and guilt. It was enough to make me sick to my stomach, but I swallowed the thickness that welled up within my throat, went to my room, and wrote to remember who I was.


Duomo di Milano was gigantic. It was another Gothic castle, which made me roll my eyes in disgust. The teacher was saying something about it being the second to the biggest Catholic cathedral in the world. Then, there were another few facts, protests, and picking of partners. It was enough to drive me halfway to insanity.

A lot of people here were staring at me. Not just the students, but the natives. But I didn't like it. I felt like I was in the middle of everything, in the spotlight. I sighed and glared at the photographer about to take a picture of me. This was why I hated traveling. People always stared, took pictures, and tried to get me for some experimental thing. I hated people that weren't that blunt, but edged around the words like it was a disease.

I walked into the cathedral with everyone else and then I wanted to leave. There was this annoyingly clingy smell that made me think of a nursing home. It smelled like old people and wax. I wanted to pray in there, for some odd reason. Then I mentally smacked Az in the face. He was the cause of my mental breakdown. He was the one who put the nonsense about Angels and demons in my head. My hand edged toward the papyrus.

The papyrus in my book bag was safely concealed in a spray-painted hazard tube, but customized with blue, green, and neon orange so that I could recognize it. On the inside was a location rune that told me where it was, the location looking like a tattoo on my arm.

"Stick together with your partners," the teacher said. "If you get lost, the walkie-talkies that were provided would be of some use. That's all, get away from me."

I rolled my eyes. My partner was a girl named Karen. She had long black hair and huge brown eyes that made me think of a frightened deer. The color of her eyes weren't really brown, I knew, but I didn't want to know the reason she wore contacts. It was none of my business. She had a bad habit of clacking her teeth when she was nervous, and if she wasn't talking she was always moving. She made me think of Aerondale, or what I imagined her to be. Just not as nervous and a lot more regal than the girl standing before me.

"Let's check out the pulpit," she said. "Or maybe the statues. There's one I read about. I think it was about St. Bartholomew. Something about flaying. Do you know what that means?"

I shook my head. "No idea." I touched one of the pillars and looked at the dust that collected on my finger. I wiped my hand on my jeans and then pushed Karen away, who was gaping at some statue.

As I looked around, I suddenly felt the sensation that I was being watched. It was a weird feeling. I looked around, but the person watching me must have faded into the shadows. That weird feeling I felt must have been something bizarre.

"Never mind," Karen said. Apparently she had been chattering about altars. "We should go onto the roof. I heard that the view of Italy is beautiful." She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the staircase. I tried not to trip going up the stairs and let go of Karen's hand for a few seconds.

"Come on, Dante!" Karen yelled. She yanked my arm and I almost fell.


One thing Karen was right about was that the view of Italy from the top was beautiful. Sadly, Italy was very crowded, buildings looked mashed together, and the people looked like ants, but it was still amazing. I kept looking down as Karen stayed in the middle, terrified of heights although she dragged me up here. It was funny, really, the way she encouraged me to do something that she wouldn't do herself. It was typical of most people.

We were the only students at the top, but there were adults and little kids walking down the aisle, enjoying the cold yet sunny day. I looked around, hoping to find a place to lose Karen. She was still holding my hand, which was getting stiff. She was still talking, and she was clacking her teeth at the same time. My arm was stretched from my body of the center of the aisle.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a little kid being held by their guardian as they looked over the railing. The little kid pointed at something, and I saw an evil glint in the guardian's eye. I pulled out of Karen's hand and walked quickly toward the two people.

There was no way this man was going to do this in broad daylight, with a ton of people milling around.

Then time went by slowly. As soon as I got to them, the man pushed the kid over. I mean seriously. I pushed the man away and jumped off the railing to save the kid.

I heard a lot of people yelling as I did that stupid daredevil stunt, but the ground was very far down and the kid would obviously die if I didn't do something. I leaned forward so that I was headed headfirst for the kid. The wind was whistling in my ears, and the ground was approaching fast. I didn't see how people could do this, jumping from high up. It felt like the skin on my face was tearing and that there was some force that wanted me to stay up, although it knew that gravity wouldn't allow it.

I got to the kid and pulled him up and wrapped him in my arms. I felt a sharp pain in my back, and then I felt the skin rip. Nothing could match the pain of that, but we were still heading towards the ground. Then there was a beating sound, and the muscles in my back started to twitch. Looking up, I could see pure black wings. There were four of them, a layer under each side. The kid was still crying, so my back twitched again and we surged up before gracefully coming down in an alley. When we landed, the kid ran to the Italian police and I made my way back to the hotel.

As soon as I settled down in the hotel room, the van holding all of the other students had arrived. I had already taken a shower and changed my clothing. In the mirror, I had examined my wings. Az hadn't told me about them. He never said a word about wings. But he probably didn't know. Just like he didn't know the powers that would manifest, the fate I would have, or anything else about me.

Some father.