Conspiracy Boy (Angel Academy) Read online

  I lifted my gaze to meet his, but he looked away. Maybe Luc wasn’t trying to piss me off—he certainly didn’t sound like he was. But did he really think this was the time for cryptic word puzzles?

  “What do I know? English, please, dude.”

  “On the contrary, I speak English every day. Not that you listen.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, loosening my hold on Bud. “You’re kind of a jerk sometimes, you know that?”

  “I never denied it,” he replied.

  Dad sighed. “Baby, just hear him out. Luc, why don’t you show her around? Let her meet some of our recruits. Maybe she’ll understand better if she sees what we’re working toward. And you two try to be nice to each other, okay? We need all the help we can get.”

  Bud disentangled himself from my death grip while I tried to work out the nuance of that last sentence.

  Since when did Luc and my father constitute a “we”? For that matter, since when did my dad work with hellspawn? Granted, that was an iffy question, since he’d been a lawyer most of my life. But there’s a huge difference between a bloodthirsty lawyer and a bloodthirsty vampire. The second is way more literal.

  “Fine, show me around.”

  I moved to stand by Luc, who took a deliberate yet subtle step away from me. If you weren’t looking for it, you might not have noticed it. But to me, it was louder than bombs.

  “As you wish.” He pried open the door then let it slam behind him.

  Honestly, it was a wonder that thing stayed on its hinges. It gave an unholy groan before it swung shut behind me. As an afterthought, I popped my head back in.

  “Hey, Daddy?”

  Bud looked up.

  “Don’t leave, okay? At least not without saying good-bye. I need to ask you something.”

  He grinned, his eyes half lit with that mischievous George Clooney sparkle. “You got it, baby.”

  I returned the grin, though I’m pretty sure it didn’t reach past my lips. The truth was, all I wanted was to chuck myself into his arms and stay there until I woke up and this whole crapstorm faded into a distant memory.

  It took Luc less than a second to get back to the ring where Matt had transitioned Veronica and the teenage werewolf to the sidelines and pulled Katie into the center. He was demonstrating a defensive hold designed to immobilize a Channeler.

  “If their hands are bound,” Matt explained, “they have a much harder time directing the channel. They can still call power from the Crossworlds, but it’ll stay diffuse, so it’s less likely to kill you and more likely to reverberate back into them. Most Channelers won’t try casting if they can’t control the direction of their power. Katie?”

  My former BFF nodded. “Incendia,” she called, and Matt’s pant leg sprang into flames.

  It was like watching the bottom of a campfire, when the kindling takes and the fire starts to spread. First up his ankle, then to his knee.

  “Sine luce,” she yelled, and one of the lightbulbs overhead exploded, showering glass shards into the fighting ring.

  Matt yelped and sprang back, knocking Katie to the ground.

  “Sine,” I called, flinging the spell at his leg before the flames could lick any farther. The fire damped to a blue sparkle and then went out altogether. Around the room, newbies applauded like this was part of the show.

  “And that, ladies and gents, is what results from a lifetime of wreaking havoc on the academic establishment.” Matt shot me a broad, welcoming smile. “So, what’s the lesson here, people?”

  The scrawny werewolf who’d fought with Veronica raised his hand.

  “Evan?”

  “Wreaking havoc is good?” the boy asked.

  Matt considered that. “I was thinking ‘repetition breeds expertise,’” he said. “But yeah. Wreaking havoc has its benefits.”

  “Say it again,” I agreed, as Katie scrambled to her feet and ran over to Matt.

  “Babe, I’m sorry,” she said, stroking her hands over his face. “The spell came out stronger than I meant. Then I couldn’t direct the extinguishing spell. You okay?”

  He gave a short yet genuine chuckle. “I’m fine. Not so sure about my Diesels.”

  Katie grimaced, then flicked me a quick smile. “Thanks, Amelie.”

  Yup, that’s what she said.

  No hatred. No hostility. No thinly veiled threat. Beyond bizarre. But that wasn’t the oddest thing. The oddest thing, I didn’t even notice until she backed away from Matt. It wasn’t as intense as the golden strands that Jack and I activated when we channeled together, or even the pale, pearly strand between me and Luc—but it was definitely there. A dull, yellowish tinge to the air that seemed to hover between them.

  “Wow,” I whispered. “Is that—?”

  “A bond,” Luc finished over my shoulder. “Did you think you were the only one allowed to fall in love?”

  I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t imagining it. Nope, there it was, plain as day. It lingered for almost a full ten seconds after they separated and Katie returned to her seat with the other trainees.

  “I don’t get it,” I whispered to Luc. “Why is he training them on defensive moves against Channelers? We’re the good guys, aren’t we?”

  “For now.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we hope for the best and prepare for the worst. St. Michael’s plays by the rules. That’s where your boyfriend thrives—playing by the rules. Here, there are no rules,” he said, “so we prepare for the worst.”

  I half turned until my face was only a few inches from his. “And that’s where you thrive? With no rules? No hope?”

  He gave a wry smile. “Hope is for people with choices, love.”

  I sat through the rest of the training exercise while Luc filled me in on the recruits. Of course, I already knew Veronica and Skye. I didn’t even ask if they had their parents’ permission, because obviously, no way.

  Veronica’s dad had held military rank since the beginning of time. And since he worked with the Guardian Council, anything not reported to them and triple-stamped with Akira’s approval would get immediately classed as illegal. Likewise, Skye’s dad served under General Manning, so there was zero chance he would green-light something so antiestablishment.

  A few others, I recognized from school. A handful of vampires, one or two of the youngling Channelers, a few Watchers. The were-teen who squared off with Veronica had settled cross-legged on the floor and fiddled nervously with what looked like an old iPod.

  “What’s his story?”

  Luc glanced up. “That’s Dane’s nephew.”

  “Why’s he here?”

  “For the free juice boxes.”

  I gave Luc a look that I hoped suggested a very uncomfortable future if he didn’t pony up a straight answer.

  “Evan is here because Dane knows what can happen when too much power is concentrated in one place,” he said after a moment.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you should ask Dane if you want to know more.”

  Curious, I examined the boy.

  Reddish-blond hair, lighter than Dane’s, flopped forward over his face. His features looked young, with none of the hard lines and cynicism I saw in the Watchers from my class. Nonetheless, there was something careful about him. I could barely make out the jagged line of a pale scar along his forehead.

  “Prophecies don’t determine the future,” Luc said. “We do. Every choice, every day. We create the world. So we must inhabit our creation. That’s why the Society formed.”

  I looked at him, wondering if he realized I had no clue what he was talking about. “What’s the Society?”

  “Thought you’d never ask. The Society for Unaffiliated Crossworlders. As you know, some Crossworld groups possess ungodly wealth and power.”

  “You mean the Immortals?”

  That earned me an arched eyebrow. “As you also know, with power comes abuse of power. The Society trains targets of abuse to fight back b
efore they become victims.”

  “Like giving a turkey a handgun before setting him free for hunting season,” I observed. “Cool. You know, if I had a group with an acronym that spelled ‘SUC,’ I’d go by the Society, too.”

  “I said precisely the same thing to your father.” Luc drew a deep breath, which I know took effort given his complicated relationship with oxygen. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to discuss that on the grounds that it may incinerate me.”

  I had to laugh. Now there was a sentiment I totally understood.

  As my laughter faded, he shot me an amused glance. “You should laugh more often. It’s far less nauseating than your speaking voice.”

  “That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  I downgraded to a smile. The truth was, it didn’t surprise me at all that the lower ranks of Crossworlders had orchestrated an uprising. It seemed a lot more reasonable than sitting around waiting for some stupid prophecy to set them free.

  “Things are wrapping up.” Luc stood and reached a hand out to help me up.

  It was on the tip of my behavioral repertoire to take it—that’s what a lady does when a guy offers a hand—but at the last second, I pulled it back. Granted, the likelihood was tiny that anything would happen, but as long as that stray bond thread existed between us, I didn’t feel quite settled touching him. I needed to talk to Jack.

  “So, I get why the Society exists,” I said, rocking to my feet unassisted. “What I don’t get is why you’re here. Shouldn’t you be out tyrannizing virgins?”

  “Alas, the virgins shall have to wait. I have business to attend to.” A frown creased his forehead, but he said nothing more. “Excuse me a moment.”

  I watched as he made his way through a cluster of were-creatures and vampires to where Matt and Katie huddled at the edge of the ring. If it’d just been us in the room, I might have been able to eavesdrop. With all the ambient noise…no way.

  Instead of making a fool of myself trying, I decided to check in with Bud. There were a few questions I still needed to ask him, and I didn’t want to lose my opportunity.

  By the time I reached the office, Matt had his hands pocketed, and Katie’s head was wagging around like a bobblehead on a mission. Apparently, neither of them liked what Luc was saying.

  It took all the self-restraint in my bones to walk past them without craning my neck to listen.

  “Daddy?” I poked my head through the office doorway.

  He was bent studiously over the desk, pen scratching across a page of numbers and glyphs. Nothing I recognized, but given the attention it commanded, I assumed it must be important. Beside him hunched a guy in his early twenties, equally engrossed with the page.

  He reminded me of a younger, more elegant version of Professor Gunderman—equal parts geekfest and James Bond suave. A long-sleeved T-shirt and faded jeans hugged his body, and his eyes held such intelligence and conviction, I couldn’t help but like him instantly.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  They looked up as I entered.

  “No, baby. Your timing’s perfect. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  I sidled in, leaving the bubbling cacophony of sound behind me. Most of the time, I appreciated the extra senses Luc’s blood gave me. Other times, they made my head feel like the sensory equivalent of a witch’s cauldron. This was one of those times.

  “Blake, let me introduce you to my daughter,” Dad said. “Amelie, meet Blake Fassnight.”

  I squinted at the guy. “Fassnight, huh? Any relation to my future mother-in-law?”

  “Brother of the same, actually.” Blake’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “She loves you, by the way.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “You’re very intuitive.” He grinned, extending a hand. “So…Wraithmaker?”

  “That’s the rumor.”

  I took his hand and froze. His skin was icy to the touch—way colder than Luc’s or Annabelle’s—which didn’t bode well for an Immortal bloodline. Or anything nondemonic, for that matter.

  Blake must have noticed my confused look, because he loosened his grip. “I’m demon infected, going on two years now. Not contagious unless I bleed on you. Or kiss you.”

  “I’ll watch my step.”

  Behind Blake, my father chewed on his lip nervously. “Ami, he may be demonblood, but there’s no danger. He’s a unique case.”

  “A unique case with a long, tedious story, which you needn’t be bored with,” he said. “Trust me.”

  “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you,” I said, and I meant it. “And sorry about your demonblood stuff.”

  “Likewise.”

  I would have said more to the guy, but honestly, I didn’t really know where to take that conversation. There were very few folks I’d ever known who’d been exposed to pure demonblood: Henry, Alec, and now Blake. Alec’s was intentional and nonlethal. Henry’s happened during battle, but he hadn’t gone viral, either. Blake obviously had.

  And me? My exposure had been to Luc’s blood, which wasn’t pure demon. Pure evil, maybe, but not pure demon. For the time being, I was still an unknown commodity.

  Normally, Bud would have given me a lecture for not being more chatty. Today, however, he must’ve been so blissed out to see me, he managed to overlook my first graderesque manners. “Sweetheart, did you need something?”

  I blinked at my dad and crushed the urge to go straighten his glasses. It would have been so easy to slip back into the same pattern I’d occupied since Mom died—taking care of him, cooking dinner, doing his laundry, etc. All the things that were apparently too dangerous for someone with possible demonic infection to manage. Ugh, so strange to think how dramatically our lives had shifted in just a few months.

  “I just had a quick question about something. It’s private,” I told him. “You got a minute?”

  He and Blake exchanged a look.

  “Go ahead. I’ll finish this up,” Blake replied. “See you tomorrow?”

  “If we’re still here,” Dad confirmed.

  Blake gathered the papers and headed out to the main training area, where the horde of students had all but dispersed. “Oh, and Amelie,” he said, almost as an afterthought, “Immortals aren’t all ruthless bastards. And demon infection isn’t the end of the world. Call me if you ever need to talk, okay?”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  No way would I call.

  Even if the unthinkable happened and my blood went viral like Blake’s, I’d never be the kind of girl to chat it up with a stranger. Even a moderately chatty stranger who didn’t seem entirely psychotic. Though that did make it more tempting.

  As soon as he was gone, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pink Post-it Lisa had left for me. I’d held it in my hand at least a dozen times over the past three days, but it had never seemed right to show it to anyone.

  I’m not sure what I was afraid of. Maybe that, since she’d touched it, they could use it to track her? Or to hurt her? Or worse? Jack had said something about it being a good thing she’d gone into hiding, because if the Council ever caught her, she’d probably spend the rest of her life being brainwashed and dissected. I hadn’t asked if he meant literally dissected, because really, there are some things a girl shouldn’t know about her school administration.

  Yeah, maybe I wasn’t amping to start the Lisa Anselmo Serial Killer Fan Club, but she was still my sister. It seemed wrong to do something I knew could get her killed.

  I held out the Post-it, still stuck to the edge of my fingertip. “I found this in my locker. Do you know what it means?”

  He stared at it. “Someone at your school cares about your wardrobe?”

  I glared at him until he put on his glasses.

  “My, aren’t we taking ourselves seriously?” he said, exhaling. “Okay, civitas terrena. It’s obviously a reference to St. Augustine’s Civitas Dei, the City of God. Except terren
a means ‘earthly.’ Is it maybe linked to a portal exit code?”

  “That’s what I thought. But why?”

  Dad shrugged. “Do you know who wrote it?”

  “I have an idea,” I hedged but said nothing more. After a few seconds, it became clear I didn’t need to.

  A shadow clouded his features as he reached for the note—carefully—like it might crumble into dust at his touch. “Well, that changes things. Have you showed it to anyone?”

  “Just Jack. No one else in the Guardian community trusts me, let alone wants to talk to me.”

  I stayed quiet as he looked it over.

  We’d never really discussed Lisa. I mean, I knew it killed him, the way this had all gone down, finding out she was his daughter and that she’d basically been kidnapped at birth. He had adored her when he thought she was just my friend, I knew that much. But what he felt for her now, I had no idea. Hatred? Betrayal? Love?

  “Dad, you okay?”

  Bud nodded, his gaze still glued to the pink Post-it. Although there were no windows in the tiny room, the shadows seemed to stretch longer. Finally, Bud handed it back to me.

  “Check with Matt. Or maybe Katie. They knew her better than I did.” His voice faded a bit. “Sometimes I think everyone did.”

  In silence, I folded the paper back in my pocket.

  “Dad, can you tell Luc I’ll see him back at the house? I’ve got something to do first.”

  “Sure thing.” He nodded. “Be safe.”

  It wasn’t until I’d hugged him good-bye and sneaked out the back that Bud’s words fully registered in my head. They knew her better than I did. Past tense, like she’d already died or something.

  The thing was, Lisa wasn’t past tense to me. Not yet.

  Maybe not ever.

  Chapter Eleven:

  Out of the Closet and Into the Fire

  “Are you saying you can’t do it? Or you won’t do it? Because if it’s the second one, I’m happy to bribe or threaten you.”

  Lyle glared up at me from the hospital bed. “Do I look capable of jumping a portal to you?”

  “Depends if you want to survive it.”

  “Generally, yes.”

  “Then no, not really,” I said. “Want some more pizza?”