Phoenix Contract: Part One (Fallen Angel Watchers Book 1) by Melissa Thomas

members being MIA or incapacitated.
    They entered the archeology building’s northeastern stairwell, one of four located in each of the structure’s corners. Along the cinderblock walls, the concrete stairs turned every half-story. The cold, damp, and drafty area was far preferable to the deathtrap of an elevator. Troy led the ascent, his heavy steps echoing thud thud thud in counterpoint to Katsue’s stiletto heels which produced a brisk click click click .
    “We should be on our way to the hospital, not wasting precious time with pointless meetings,” Katsue grumbled. “Aiden’s already been there over six hours by herself. She needs someone to relieve her.”
    “As soon as we hand over the sword, we can go,” Troy replied in a soothing tone.
    Katsue harrumphed with dissatisfaction.
    The first and second floors of the building housed faculty offices and classrooms. The third and fourth floors belonged to collections and held historical artifacts and art from many eras and cultures. The fifth floor served as the domain of the enclave’s elders—the Watchers—Desdemona Leromenos and Matthew Bunson. The sixth floor, their ultimate destination, contained the student library and a suite of conference rooms.
    Troy carried the cursed sword in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Katsue’s covetous gaze strayed to the bag often, especially when she knew her partner wasn’t looking. Under the moist cotton bandages, her right hand throbbed with pain due to second degree burns. Her palm bore a brand in the shape of the dragon hilt. The emergency room doctor had prescribed painkillers which Katsue refused to take because they dulled her senses.
    You are unworthy.
    Katsue still heard the sword’s voice in her head—feminine, cold, and haughty. The rejection stung. She resented the summation of her worth, taking it as a deeply personal insult. It also left her feeling oddly shamed. So far, she had told no one, not even Troy, of the voice she had heard in her head. Troy already thought her weakened. She didn’t need him assuming she was crazy too.
    “It’s a waste to just turn it over for study,” Katsue complained. “They’re going to lock it in a safe where it’ll gather dust.”
    They reached the fifth-floor landing. Troy stopped and turned to face Katsue. The stairwells were self-contained, and the heavy metal doors opened with a great clatter. They were alone in the stairwell, their conversation private when he faced her, his body language tense.
    “We’ve been over and over this. This thing… ” Knuckles white, Troy held up the duffle bag and gave it a shake. “This thing is too dangerous to keep. The smart thing to do is lock it up.”
    Katsue’s eyes flashed. There were times when she hated Troy as much as she admired him. His misplaced nobility could be a downright liability. The cursed weapon had been an object of contention since he’d pried it from her unconscious fingers and taken custody. Their reactions to the weapon were as different as their natures. The sword fascinated Katsue and repelled Troy. The thought that the sword might accept Troy where it had rejected Katsue killed her.
    “It’s a waste,” Katsue repeated. “It’s got real power. We just need to figure out how to use it. There are so many monsters out there that need killing—”
    “It’s evil.” Troy locked gazes with her in a contest of wills.
    Katsue’s jaw set. She refused to back down. “You don’t know enough to say that.”
    Finally, Troy threw up his hands in disgust. “There’s no reasoning with you.” He ended the argument with a sharp cutting motion and turned to resume his upward march.
    Katsue glared daggers at her partner’s back and followed. “Damn it! I’m the one who got burned.”
     
    On the sixth floor, Troy and Katsue wound their way through a maze of towering bookshelves. Many of the library’s collection were rare editions or first run prints, valuable books kept under lock and key. The