Prophecy Girl (Angel Academy) (9 page)

Chapter Eight:

Deadline

At some point after my Advanced Wards class, it started raining. I didn’t mind. I liked it when the weather matched my mood. As Lisa drove me home, I couldn’t help staring out the window. It was oddly satisfying to see the wind whipping people’s hair into little rats’ nests, their umbrellas flipped inside out under the force of the storm. Seemed like a lovely first-day-of-school metaphor.

When she pulled into my driveway, I noted with chagrin that our front yard had branches down across the walkway and landscaping. Definitely a task for tomorrow. Or, better yet, never.

Picking my way through the obstacle course of fallen oak leaves and Spanish moss, I barely registered the screech of a very black, very European car with dark, tinted windows pulling up to the curb behind me. It was what Katie and I liked to call “vampire chic”—sexy in a way that let everyone know the driver didn’t just have money, he had
lifetimes
of accrued wealth. Technically, there was no law that said a vamp couldn’t hang out in my driveway if he wanted to. Heck, he could come right up to the front door and still be in compliance with the Peace Tenets. As long as I didn’t accidentally shout, “Please, suck my blood,” I stood very little chance of getting attacked.

Nonetheless, vampires being what they are, I decided to set up a quick, warded perimeter. Nothing too complicated—just a simple vamp repellant.

A cool blast of oak and incense hit me as the front door swung open. My mom had decorated this house when she and Dad built it the same year I was born. Parts of it looked like a museum, crowded with weird things: Egyptian urns, grandfather clocks, huge, throne-like chairs with eagles’ beaks carved into the arms. Of course, my favorite were the random antique toilets scattered around. They looked like little cabinets, for the most part, but I still smiled when I walked past them.

My school bag made an undignified
thunk
against the lacquered brick floor as I cruised into the kitchen to grab a soda from the fridge. I took the back stairs two at a time, oriental carpet squishing under my feet, and hurried down the hall to my room.

I
loved
my room.

Mahogany wood trim edged the ceilings and doors in an elegant contrast to, well,
everything
else. Mom had let me redo it myself the year before she died and I’d milked the autonomy for all it was worth. Pepto Bismol walls, rainbow stickers everywhere, Hello Kitty curtains. Even a dusty white mosquito net hung from the ceiling. I didn’t care that it looked like Toys R Us exploded in there. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of it. Walking into that square haven was like stepping into a much needed hug, especially after a day like today.

As I changed into grubby shorts and a holey T-shirt with the dubious slogan,
Licensed to Chill,
I tried hard not to think about Jack. Impossible, since everywhere I went it felt like he should’ve been there. In fact, the whole time I did my homework, I kept imagining him working next to me, our legs touching…

Psycho, I know.

By the time Bud pulled in the driveway a few minutes before sunset, I had not only finished my classwork for the next three days (mostly correct, I think), I’d also boiled some pasta, baked a pan of chicken parmesan, and chopped up carrots and cucumbers for a salad.

Before I go any further with this, I should probably mention that, despite his overprotective tendencies, Bud’s a decent dad. He gives me my vitamins and allergy meds every morning (okay,
most
mornings), he makes me wear a helmet when I ride a bike, and he has never once told me I couldn’t watch my reality TV shows. However, according to the Internet, raising a healthy child requires actual
food
. Like, beyond popcorn and Lean Cuisine. So, about six months after my mom died I started cooking—vegetables and lean meats and all that stuff. Not bad for an eight-year-old. And once I stopped counting lime gummy bears as fruit, my mood improved dramatically. Over the last ten years, we’d found such an easy groove; I sometimes wondered if he missed Mom at all.

I definitely did. It still bugged me that I couldn’t remember stupid things about her. Like whether she was a good cook, or if she liked rainbow sprinkles with her ice cream, or if she minded when I played dress-up in her evening gown collection. I would have killed for a few memories, even the bad ones. The night she died, for example. All I knew was what other people had told me: that there’d been a demon attack, and I had blacked out somewhere in the middle of it. Dr. Evans, the school shrink, used to promise me those memories would return when I was ready. But after a decade of silence, I wasn’t so sure.

“Hey, Daddy,” I called as the back door opened and closed with a familiar
click
.

“Hey, yourself.” He sniffed the air, tossing his briefcase and jacket over the granite-topped island. “Dinner smells great. Extra garlic?”

“Keeps the vampires out.”

Bud grimaced. “That’s funny, sweetheart. Did you think that up while fleeing a graveyard?”

I decided not to explain about the vampire still parked across the street. Since my dad is such a liberal about human causes, I figured he’d probably support the Paranormal Convergence movement, in theory at least, if not vamp-snuggling reality. (Think supernatural ACLU with an interspecies truce thrown in.) Unfortunately, I’d never know. The Peace Tenets weren’t proposed until after Bud left the Guardians, which meant I wasn’t officially allowed to discuss them with him.

The premise was simple. Turns out the Crossworlders (excuse me,
Inferni
) we’d been hunting all these millennia—vampires, werewolves, etc.—weren’t as evil as we’d thought. Sure, they might have some demon blood from whatever infection they’d caught in the Crossworld but their origins were human. So were their souls,
if
you believed they had souls. The folks at Convergence did, which meant Guardians were now technically responsible for protecting them. Weird, right?

It wasn’t so bad. Werecreatures can be friendly when it’s not a full moon, and all the vamps really want is a little blood and a safe place to snack. Once the Peace Tenets recognized those needs, the random violence pretty much ended.

Still, I couldn’t get used to it. Vamps creep me out. If Bud found out we had one parked down the street, he’d probably impale himself trying to make a stake out of the kitchen table. Lisa once said Bud reminded her of a young George Clooney with a little extra paunch around the middle. Frankly, if I had to go up against a vampire, I’d rather have George Clooney.

I settled into the chair across from him, plopping my elbows on the antique table we’d salvaged after Katrina. My bare toes slid idly along one of the warped legs carved to resemble a lion’s paw, of course, with huge cat knuckles and claws as the feet.

“So, how was your first day at school?” Bud asked. “Any excitement?”

“Not a bit,” I lied. That was part of our agreement, by the way. He asked. I lied. “How’d your deposition go?”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “I have to deliver another appeal in Baton Rouge tomorrow. You have no idea what kind of monsters show up in the legal system.”

“Do any of them have claw-tipped wings and cloven feet?”

“No.”

I smiled. “Then I win.”

Incidentally, Professor Meeks claims that greater demons take government office all the time, especially here in Louisiana. So Dad might have been wrong about the cloven feet thing. Somehow, it seemed a bad time to point that out.

“Carol Anselmo called this morning,” he said after a minute of silence. “Lisa told her to remind me that the commencement formal is coming up. She says I should encourage you to go with someone named Lyle.”

“Good to know. Thanks for the vote.”
Note to self: Kill Lisa.

“So, are you going?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ve got a report to write and that Druidic spellbook isn’t going to translate itself.” I gulped down some water and stuffed another bite of pasta into my mouth. I could tell from the twitch above his left eyelid that he had comments. He set down his fork. Not a good sign.

“You know, sweetie, you’re getting to the age where you need to start thinking about the future. I’m not saying you should rush into a blood bond prematurely. I just don’t want to see you left behind. Is this ‘Lyle’ person someone I should know about?”

I shook my head. “Definitely not.”

Dad nodded. “Well, you don’t have to decide right now. I just worry about you after—” He broke off, hesitant. “I just worry.”

“Daddy, I’ll be fine. Smalley says some people are late bloomers, that’s all.”

Actually, what she’d said was,
’Tis a marvelous bud that opens its petals at midnight—not so eager as the weeds of daybreak.
I figured that translated to,
Just because you’re not a slut like Veronica, doesn’t mean you’ll end up alone
.

“If it’s any consolation, I did meet someone special,” I admitted. “He’s super smart, cute in a brutal-yet-bookish way,
and
a kick-ass fighter.”

His eyes widened. “Sounds terrifying.”

“Exactly.” I laughed. “The whole thing’s a little weird because he’s already graduated and I get the feeling we weren’t supposed to hook up. But we did, sort of, and now I’m in trouble.”

Dad’s face paled to a greenish tint like he’d swallowed expired milk. “I’m sorry, you’re
in trouble
?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward like he was about to take someone’s deposition. “Amelie, this is a
very
big deal. This is one of the biggest deals you’ll ever encounter. I’m just not sure you’re ready to raise a child.”

I blinked at him, too stunned to speak.
A child?

“Not that your mother and I didn’t start young,” he fumbled on. “I admit we did. Some might say we were
too
young. But you have to understand, times were different. The passion we shared—”

My fork clattered to the table as I clamped both palms over my ears. Close as Bud and I were, this was not a topic we had ever, or would ever, discuss. EVER. “Stop! No visuals!”

“Sweetheart, listen to me. It’s natural to be curious. Sex is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“La-la-la-la.” I screamed louder.

“Every girl your age has urges, I’m just not sure you’re ready for the consequences of—”

“Dad, please!” I slammed my hands down on the table, nearly cracking a chunk off the edge. “I’m not having sex, okay? New topic, please.”

“You’re not?” Bud frowned. “I’m confused.”

In an effort to avoid speaking, I snatched the rumpled incident report from my pocket and tossed it across the table at him.
Urges
?
Seriously
? I would already have to bleach my brain. Did he want to damage me permanently?

I stayed quiet as Bud’s eyes scanned over Jack’s writing, a vein beginning to throb in his neck. When he was done, he set his elbows on the table and lowered his forehead into his hands.

“
J. Smith-Hailey
? That’s your ‘special someone’? You’re in trouble with
Jackson Smith-Hailey
?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s subbing as the new R.G. at school. The Examiner, too, unfortunately.”

Bud stared at me, eyes frozen, face rapidly darkening to an eggplant-like shade. My appetite had evaporated, but I stabbed at a clump of pasta anyway. The red and white swirls my fork made on the plate were easier to look at than him.

“All right.” Dad closed his eyes, the heels of his hands digging dents into his eye sockets. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this. You’ll stay home from school for the rest of this week and I’ll talk to Headmistress Smalley. I think, with a little pressure, I can get Smith-Hailey removed from his duties—”

“
Removed
?”

“It’s not meant as a punishment. I just don’t want him bothering you until after—” He broke off. “Until next week.”

“But he’s supposed to administer my field test tomorrow morning. It’s the most important test of the whole year.”

“Ami, honey, it’s just a test,” Bud soothed. “Maybe they can give you a different examiner. What about that Archivist guy, MacFarland? He can grade you, can’t he?”

“That’s not how it works.” I stared at him, stunned. “Is this because I said we hooked up? Trust me, it’s a non-issue. We didn’t even kiss. Besides, he’s on the faculty. He’d never be interested in—”

“He’s only twenty.”

I stopped. “What did you say?”

Bud shook his head. “Look, it’s not important. This isn’t about him. It’s about you being safe. If Smalley gives you any grief over missing class, just tell her to call me. Elder Horowitz from the Council still owes me a favor. I’m sure he’d be willing—”

“That’s not the point,” I said, thoroughly confused. How did Bud know how old Jack was? For that matter, how did he know Jack’s name? And why was he willing to tap one of our family’s last Guardian allies just to keep me home from school? “Daddy, I can’t miss my field test. Why are you freaking out so bad?”

“Because it’s not safe.”

“It’s a
war
. They are, by definition,
unsafe
.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Actually, Dad, I have no idea what you mean.”

The rain had started up again outside, branches scraping against the windows in an uneven rhythm. A crack of lightning sounded in the distance and the lights flickered, but Bud stayed silent. The set of his mouth hardened and I could tell I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this line of defense.

“All right,” I breathed, a new plan brewing. “Give me tomorrow morning. Just let me take my test, that’s all I ask. Then, I’ll come straight home and stay put until you tell me I can go back.”

“Amelie, it’s too—”

“Dangerous, I know,” I filled in dismissively. “What if I make chocolate mousse cake? And clean up all the branches from the storm? I’ll even wash your car. All I ask in return is to take my test.”

Bud glared across the table, stony-faced. “No.”