Prophecy Girl (Angel Academy) (10 page)

“Daddy, come on. Don’t you remember when you were my age? How crucial rankings were?”

He frowned. “It’s that important to you?”

“You have no idea,” I said. “If I don’t take my test, I’ll never get ranked, and I’ll never bond. Is that what you want? A desperate daughter trolling the streets, hunting demons
alone
because no Watcher is willing to fight by her side?”

He sighed and swore under his breath. “I’m not going to talk you out of this, am I?”

“Not a chance,” I said. “Please? I’ll do anything.”

I met his eyes in silence as he drummed his fingers on the wooden table. I was about to re-initiate the begging when, like a good, loving father, Bud picked up his fork and pointed it at my face.

“
One
day. Against my better judgment, I’ll give you
one day
, but that’s it. When I get back from Baton Rouge on Wednesday morning, I want you locked in this house until that boy is gone. Do you understand me?”

“Yes! Thank you!”

I planted a kiss on his cheek and hurried out of the room before he could change his mind. Wednesday morning…that gave me thirty-six hours to ace my field exam, figure out what Jack was hiding, and prove I wasn’t the useless, selfish brat he thought I was. Not too difficult.

Thank goodness I work well on a deadline.

Chapter Nine:

Lessons and Nightmares

“Do you need to stop by your locker before first period?” Lisa asked as we pulled up to school the next morning. “I don’t want to be late for Meeks’ Theories class. He’s assigning lab partners today, and if I get stuck with Zeke Abbott again I’m going to hurl.”

“Would this be the same Zeke Abbott you want me to ask to the dance?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start, Amelie. Let’s just be on time.”

“You go ahead,” I told her. “I have to deliver something to Smalley first. Save me a seat?”

“Of course.” Lisa blew a kiss as she hurried off to lab, and I hustled toward the main offices.

It looked like a normal weekday morning. Students wandered the halls. Ty Webster bugged the cheerleaders. Zeke and Paul hid behind a bush chugging something out of a paper bag. Keller Eastman pledged undying devotion to some random sophomore whose name he probably couldn’t recall.

Despite all the familiar hoopla, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
Way
off. The sun was too bright, the shadows too long. I felt like someone had poured a bottle marked “drink me” in my mouth and shoved me down a rabbit hole.

Last night’s little father-daughter bonding session had ended with Dad retreating into his office while I prowled the Internet for “clues.” I periodically heard swearwords from behind Bud’s door (which I won’t repeat) followed by a few angry messages to Smalley’s voicemail. Finally, it vanished into a deep, yogic chant that meant he was probably meditating in the shape of a pretzel.

I still had my binoculars trained on the vampmobile across the street when Bud finally went to bed.

As I banged on Smalley’s office door, my hand tightened around the note he’d handed me at breakfast. The—wait for it—
twenty page
note stuffed in a manila envelope and sealed with wax, lest anyone wonder where I get my paranoia.

“Yes?” Smalley called.

I pushed open the door and peeked my head in.

Despite the four-zillion disciplinary lectures I’d heard in this room, the sight of it never failed to set me at ease. Giant carved bookshelves were set against two of the walls, the other two framed by ornate vaulted windows with cream-colored silk curtains. Even the painting of archangel Michael (covered in the blood of the infidels, of course) was comforting.

Smalley stood behind her massive desk, hands flattened on the desk blotter, her skin flushed as if she’d run a race. “Amelie, dear, this isn’t the best time—”

“Nonsense!” A booming voice cut her off. “Come in, come in.”

The owner of the voice stood, a puff of cigarette smoke encircling his head. He couldn’t have been more than forty, though something about him seemed to command a respect that usually accompanied an AARP card. He was handsome, with thick brown hair grayed at the temples and liquid-brown eyes. His charcoal suit was tailored and pressed, obviously expensive, and his hands were slim and artistic like a pianist’s. But what drew my attention were his legs.

Even under the dress pants, I could see how bent and knobby they were, one knee so hyper-extended I thought it might snap at any moment. He held a wooden cane with a carved ivory handle that he used to hobble forward.

“Amelie, this is Chancellor Thibault,” Smalley said briskly. “Robert, you remember Amelie Bennett, Charlotte’s daughter.”

“Of course.” He smiled tightly. “She takes after her father.”

“Uh, I guess,” I said, unsure how to respond. Bud’s reputation was too far down the toilet for it to be a compliment.

The Chancellor looked thinner than he had in the picture with Alec, yet more distinguished. It took a decent amount of effort not to stare at his legs, unstable as they were. Despite his imposing presence, every time he moved I wanted to reach a hand out in case he took a nosedive to the ground.

He flicked the tip of his cigarette against a dish on Smalley’s desk, bits of ash scattering onto the smooth wood surface. “Well, my dear, your performance made quite an impression on my son yesterday. I could hardly keep him quiet at dinner last night.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Please.” He waved my apology away. “That’s why we’re here, yes? To end this demon blight on humanity?”

“Uh, yes sir.” My eyes flicked to Smalley. Chancellor Thibault obviously hadn’t heard the full version of yesterday’s little kerfuffle, otherwise he’d have known my “performance” was
far
from appreciated.

“The High Council is always interested to hear of new talent,” he continued blithely. “What are your plans after graduation? Teaching? Politics? Perhaps I could recommend you.”

“Uh—”

For some unknown reason, I kept looking at Smalley. Something about the man niggled at my brain like pieces of a dream I couldn’t recall.

“When the time is right, Amelie will enter the Enforcement Guild with her bondmate. She won’t need any help from the Council.” The headmistress turned to me with a tense smile. “Now then…did you need something, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” My fingers tightened around the envelope in my hand. “This is from my father. It’s about…the report yesterday. He said it’s self-explanatory.”

“Then I expect it is.” She stuffed the note into a desk drawer. “Anything else?”

“Nope, that’s all.”

With a mix of fear and relief, I beat a hasty retreat toward the door. I’d almost reached the hallway when Smalley’s voice stopped me.

“Amelie, one more thing,” she said. “
Fides via vi, in infinitum
.”

“Excuse me?”

She smiled. “Don’t forget. And good luck on your test.”

I blinked, suddenly nervous. With all the weirdness of meeting the Chancellor, I’d almost forgotten my test. I
wanted
to forget my test, especially now. It may sound like tea-bag superstition but in a school like ours, folks didn’t usually mess around with ancient languages unless it involved the Crossworld. I had no idea why Smalley would throw one at me this morning.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, backing toward the hall. There wasn’t time to worry about it now. If I hadn’t figured it out by lunchtime, Henry could help me look it up.

…

By the time I got to class, my heart had quit doing the pile-driver thing, but my stomach still felt like a toilet stuck on perma-flush.

Lisa wasted no time in pointing out the encrusted cinnamon sugar on my chin and commenting that my hair resembled, and I quote, “a mouse habitat.” Alarming, since I’d made a special effort to blow it dry that morning. I wiped off my face and laced my tangled mouse-house into a quick French braid.

At the front of the class, Professor Meeks stood behind a long, black-topped table identical to the ones where we sat. Despite its weird Frankenstein vibe, I liked the Demonology lab. With all the jars of pickled bat wings and formaldehyde-soaked sheep’s brains, the place held a delightfully creepy feel that always gave me the urge to cackle.

“Hey,” Lisa whispered as I took my seat next to her. “Your test is this period, right?”

“That’s the rumor.”

“Skye said Smith-Hailey’s in a foul mood this morning. Whatever you do, don’t mention werewolves.”

“Werewolves?”

“Yeah. Or vampires.”

Unsure what to say to that, I shifted my attention to the front of the room. Meeks had started waving a dry erase marker and yammering incoherently. Something about time paradoxes, folds in the space continuum, and speculations as to why non-demonic beings had such trouble with inter-dimensional portal travel. According to his math, it required more than four hundred rohms of Crossworld power to successfully shield someone from demonic exposure through a jump—more power than most bonded pairs could manage. The few times it had been tried, most of the Channelers wound up dead, and the Watchers came back acting like grilled-cheese sandwiches. Not great for morale.

“Of course,” Meeks said, “there are exceptions to every rule. In a few cases, portal jumps have been made with stunning success, which is why every bonded Channeler must have a portal locus code to a safe exit point.” He lifted his marker to where I sat. “In fact, we have with us the daughter of one of the most successful portal jumpers in history. Did you know that, Miss Bennett?”

I hadn’t, but it figured.

“It was before your time, of course, before all that nasty business with…” His voice trailed off. “Never mind.”

I tried to listen as he progressed through a brief, yet thoroughly confusing lecture on the biomechanics of cross-dimensional energy transfer and the rohm conversion effect of greater demon blood. Snore. Within minutes, I found myself spacing out on a squirmy tank of demon-hybrid gerbils at the front of the room. The wards around the cage were similar to the ones I’d erected on my house last night, except these were designed to keep the monsters
in
.

While we’re on the topic, I still hadn’t figured out why Inferni were staking out my house. The vamp-mobile had vanished at some point during the wee hours, replaced by a huge pickup truck I could only assume belonged to a werewolf. Or a Republican from north Louisiana—hard to tell the difference. Their presence left me unsettled. Unfortunately, so long as they didn’t break the law, there wasn’t much I could do about it.

Halfway through his lecture, Meeks ambled to the locked cabinet and drew out a potted plant—the same houseplant he’d been carrying at assembly yesterday morning. He stroked it lovingly.

“I’d like you all to meet Balthazar. You may recognize him as the species
begonia coccinae
, or Angel-Wing Begonia, but I assure you Balthazar is no ordinary plant.” Meeks set the plastic pot down on the lab table. “Since the day he was seeded, Balfie has been watered with an increasing concentration of greater demon blood—enough to protect him from the usual degradation of Crossworld travel, but not so much that he’d revert to a demonic existence. Can anybody guess why we would do this?”

The scratch of Lisa’s pencil was the only sound over the air conditioner. Most of us were probably too busy wondering where Meeks got the blood of a demon lord to bother taking notes. It’s not exactly something you pick up at the local drugstore.

“Does it have to do with portal travel?” Matt asked finally.

“Very good, Mr. Marino. Balthazar is, indeed, the first mortal life form to travel, unshielded, through a Crossworld portal and emerge, still flowering.” Meeks went on to explain how, because of the natural shielding effect of greater demon blood, the total power draw of Balfie’s jump was low enough for any mortal life form to manage.

“Have you tried it with anything sentient?” Alec followed my gaze to the gerbil tank. “Something simple-minded and morally vacuous? A hamster, perhaps? Maybe Veronica?”

“Excuse me!” Veronica griped from the back table.

“Those are gerbils, Mr. Charbonnet, not hamsters. And I’d thank you to minimize the insulting commentary.”

“My apologies, sir.” Alec nodded. “The gerbil is a noble beast. I shouldn’t have compared it to Veronica.”

The class erupted into sniggers as Veronica flushed an attractive shade of pink.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Katie said. “If greater demon blood works on begonias maybe it could work on something bigger.” She paused. “Like one of us.”

Immediately, the class exploded into discussion—the ethical implications of a demon-infected Guardian, speculations as to whether it would render them unbondable. I think even Lisa stopped taking notes after a while.

Meeks’s cheeks had turned an annoyed shade of red, verging perilously close to eggplant. He slapped his palm down on the table. “People, settle down. We are men and women of high morals. We do not demonize the innocent.”

“What if we’re not innocent?” Alec winked at Katie.

Lisa smacked him on the head with her notebook.

Katie giggled and Meeks gave a weary sigh. “Mr. Charbonnet, please report to Headmistress Smalley’s office.”

Laughter rippled through the classroom while Alec, still with his slightly bored smirk, stood and slung his messenger bag over one shoulder. As I watched him go, I couldn’t help thinking it had taken
me
a whole month at St. Michael’s before I got sent to Smalley’s office. Maybe I wasn’t the craziest one in our school after all. The thought was oddly comforting.

“Hey, Ami?” Amidst the chaos, Lyle scooted his stool across the aisle next to me. “Can I talk to you? It’s kind of important.”

“In a sec. I want to hear the gerbil thing.”

He frowned. “Who cares about that? Screw the gerbils.”

“Screw them?” I raised an eyebrow. “Lyle, this is not your personal recreation time.”

With a sigh, Meeks picked up Balthazar from the lab table, muttered something about scruples, and headed for the back door. He’d made it halfway there when I realized someone else had already come through it.

My heart gave a twitch.

Jack slouched against the doorframe, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other lightly balancing a clipboard. His face held a mixture of exasperation and dismay—not a happy combo, but one I was rapidly becoming familiar with.

Meeks said something to him that made, if possible, his frown deepen. Then Jack nodded at me.

“Amelie Bennett,” he said. “You’re up.”

I tried not to smile. Even after hearing him lecture me like a toddler yesterday, his voice still made me all melty inside. Whatever clichés exist about girls liking guys in power, I tell you, they exist for a reason.

“Jeez,” Lisa whispered. “I didn’t even hear him come in. Is he like a ninja, or something?”

“Or something,” I said. “See you in a few.”

“Good luck!”

I tucked my schoolbooks into my backpack and hoisted it onto one shoulder. As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, my body relaxed. I’d missed him.

“You’re almost late,” I noted.

“I’m on time.”

“Same thing.” I followed him down the hall, doubling my pace to keep up. “So, my dad hates you, did you know that? He almost didn’t let me come to school today.”

“What a shame that would have been,” he muttered, loping off toward the faculty parking lot at a speed my legs had trouble matching.