Conspiracy Boy (Angel Academy) Page 18

  That almost made me laugh. Since there seemed no limit to what atrocities Alec would commit, I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I’d have to violate that directive.

  Luc had his eyes closed when I sat next to him, though I could tell from his breathing that he was awake. His skin gave off a subtle glow as my shoulder brushed his.

  “Want me to sit somewhere else?”

  He kept his eyes shut, which I initially interpreted as dismissal, except when I stood to move away, he nudged me back down into my seat.

  “Stay,” he ordered and went back to ignoring me.

  Not confusing at all.

  The whole ride, I couldn’t relax. My mind remained focused on what Lisa had told me about Immortals being angelblood. So weird. It made the pearly glow between us that much more terrifying. Plus, every time I thought about kissing him, my chest felt like a guilt hippo had set up camp on it.

  “Luc?”

  “What?”

  “Do you…” I began and then stopped.

  Did I really want to know if he had a thing for me? I mean, even if he had developed some minimal affection somehow, it didn’t change my feelings for Jack. And it certainly didn’t make this bond thread issue any better, so what was the point in opening a can of worms?

  “Do I what?” Luc cut into my internal monologue.

  “Do you, um, want the rest of my granola bar?” I finished. “It’s pretty delish, except for the raisins.”

  Luc cracked an eye at me. “Can we maybe be quiet for a while?”

  And that about summed up the rest of the trip back to New Orleans.

  The only redeeming part was the sunset—a screaming shade of orange over haunted swampland as we drove into town. It lit up the heavens and shocked my brain to life. Nonetheless, by the time the bus pulled into the station, I felt grimy, chilled, and completely sick of raisins.

  “Hang on a sec.” I hugged myself tightly as Luc started to hail a cab. The night had gotten cold again, and now that I wasn’t huddled next to him, I felt it more poignantly.

  “What’s up?”

  “I need to go somewhere.”

  He nodded, thoughtful. “That may be the vaguest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  I sighed. “I need to visit the Great Books—specifically the Book of Lies—and I’m pretty sure Jack will tie me up and sit on me if he hears about this. So I’m going to go alone.”

  Luc’s lips tightened with annoyance, and I couldn’t blame him. “You want me to lie to him.”

  “Not exactly.” I shoved the wad of cash Alec had given me into Luc’s hand. “Just grab a taxi and tell everyone I’ll be there in a few. That’s not a lie.”

  He looked at the money like it was a strange insect. “Why?”

  “I can’t explain that yet,” I told him. “Maybe not ever. But I can promise you it’s important.”

  I waited as Luc stared at his hands for a long, indecisive minute, then finally shoved the money into his pocket.

  “You know I’m right,” I said.

  “I don’t know that,” he replied. “What I do know is that I haven’t got a choice.”

  He made a solid point. The Council had good reason last year for thinking it was me that had to fulfill the prophecy. Jack had once told me that this prophecy wasn’t just given by one person, and many of the translations of it named Lucifer’s line specifically. So with Lisa out of commission and Petra Netherbound, that left me.

  “You can’t tell Jack,” I reminded him, “about anything. Not about Lisa or where the portal went, or about us—”

  “There isn’t an ‘us.’”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “I won’t lie to him, Amelie. He’s my cousin, and he loves you.”

  I didn’t argue. How could I?

  Maybe he was right. Maybe it would be better to just come clean completely. Spill everything about the Nether, about Luc and my dad and the Society. If Jack knew Immortals were angelblood, maybe he could help me find the last of Gabriel’s line and finish off the prophecy for good.

  With a deep sigh, Luc stepped away, arms laced over his chest.

  “Just be careful. I’m fairly certain if you disappear again, Jack and your father will have to take turns killing me.”

  “The universe isn’t that cooperative.”

  I didn’t flinch when he lifted a finger to the pendant at my throat and touched it lightly. Honestly, I’d forgotten I had it on. It didn’t seem to carry the same weight as before.

  “I don’t think you need this anymore,” he said. “I can sense you, regardless.”

  I let my eyes fall shut for a few seconds, trying to search the mental space between me and Luc. It was fuzzy but present. “That’s good, I guess. If I get into trouble, you’ll know.”

  “When you get into trouble,” he corrected.

  I couldn’t help smiling. Clearly, he knew me better than I thought.

  ...

  The sun had long since set, but that didn’t seem to bother the city. The streets hummed with life and sound, humanity lighting them up like a power grid as I made the trek to St. Mary’s Church of the Ursuline Convent.

  Predictably, the church was situated in an area of the French Quarter that, unless you knew where you were going, could easily result in an unplanned field trip to the wrong part of town. There was a midwinter bite to the air that rattled my teeth, and I hugged my coat tighter around my shoulders.

  It was weird, doing this without Jack.

  For years, he had been everything to me—my childhood crush, my hero, my hope for the future. When I’d thought he was dead last fall, it almost killed me. Even now, the idea of a future without him just held spectacularly little interest for me. So, if having a life with him meant killing some random Immortal and living in a crappy cabin in the woods for the rest of my life, then I would happily do it. Hell, I would kill ten Immortals if I had to—a hundred—if it meant never feeling that loss again.

  That’s when I stopped in the street. And sat on the curb.

  And it hit me.

  This was exactly the choice Lisa had made. She had killed innocents, hundreds of them, to save the people she loved. She had done it for me, for Alec, for Matt, for our families. She had dismantled everything about her life and given up pieces of her soul to do it, because it was the only way to make things right.

  It almost destroyed me.

  Was that what I would become? A shred of myself, hiding in obsolescence? A criminal, lost and unforgiven, like Petra? Would it be worth it?

  By the time I hit Chartres Street, I was muttering to myself like a bag lady. The church was close, I could feel it. Already, little tendrils of light and heat wrapped around my heart, twisting and wiggling with anticipation.

  I had to do this. I had to get the name and finish the job, even if it destroyed me.

  Jack once said some things were worth dying for. But dying wasn’t the highest price you could pay. Dying was easy heroism. One quick moment of pain, and it was over. True heroism came in suffering for the greater good. Letting everyone despise and blame you, never acknowledging what a sacrifice you’d made so they could keep their comfortable lives.

  It occurred to me now that might be exactly what I was looking at—eternal shame and suffering.

  The possibility weighed in my mind as I stood on the street corner, staring up at the stony white face of St. Mary’s Church. It was beautiful—not ornate like the cathedral or imposing like the Cabildo. But it held history. The dignity and diligence of having kept so many secrets through the ages.

  I’m not sure how long I stood there, or what I was waiting for, until I heard him a few feet behind me.

  “Hey, you,” Jack said. “Did you think I would let you do this alone?”

  I breathed a sigh. That’s what I’d been waiting for. “You’re late.”

  “I’m right on time.”

  “Same difference,” I said. “Have I mentioned your cousin sucks at keep
ing his mouth shut?”

  Jack grinned. “True. But remember, I have years of blackmail on him and, fortunately, he still cares what his mother thinks. You ready?”

  My head shook slowly. Ready? I was about to go toe-to-toe with Lucifer himself. How could anyone be ready for that? Like, ever?

  I was still trying to tell myself not to bolt when I felt Jack’s fingers slide through mine.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered, pulling me close. His shirt smelled like hard work and sunshine with just a hint of marshmallows. “Do you remember the last time we came here? How scared you were? Everyone thought you were a murderer out to swallow the world, didn’t they?”

  I let my forehead fall against his chest, my body starting to relax.

  “You had no idea how crazy in love with you I was,” he said. “How all I wanted was to run away with you and protect you forever. And I didn’t even care if you had killed all those people, or if you would eventually kill me. I just wanted to be with you for as long as I could. Do you remember?”

  I did. Every step we’d taken through the church. Every rung down the ladder to the catacombs that held the Great Books—it all burned in my memory. Those were the last precious minutes before I found out what I was. What I was supposed to become.

  “You’d still love me?” I whispered, so softly I wasn’t sure he could hear. “You’ll still want me if I’m a soulless killer?”

  Jack let out a quiet laugh. “You’ll never be soulless, Omelet. You’ve got soul coming out your ears. But yes, I will always love you. No matter what.”

  I was vaguely aware of his shirt getting wetter but didn’t fully realize it was from my tears until he pulled me away.

  “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he said. “I would follow you to hell if you asked.”

  For a moment, Dominic and Petra flashed through my head, in their weird little hell haven. It was reassuring to know he would follow me there, but I deeply hoped I would never have to ask.

  “Let’s do this,” I said.

  He paused for only a second before tightening his grip on my hand and leading me toward the church. The giant gray doors looked less imposing this time, the stained-glass windows less intimidating. I let my fingers run along the age-oiled wooden pews as we strode down the middle of the sanctuary.

  In many ways, this was just another church—another place where people went to feel safe and issue their prayers and hopes for a better, more peaceable life. Humankind needed places like this. I firmly believe that if we truly understood and were forced to observe all the horrors of the world around us, we couldn’t exist inside it. We would self-destruct in our own disillusionment.

  “Ami?”

  I glanced up to see Jack kneeling at the side of the altar, linen cloth pulled back and spring-loaded door gaping at his feet. We had to go.

  Wordless, I stepped into the abyss. It wasn’t as strange or awful this time—the descent into the caverns. And when the door swung shut above me, sinking me into complete darkness, and the distant smell of moss and sewer began to rise, it didn’t even faze me. This was our story. This was how the Guardians had begun.

  Four holy books huddled somewhere beneath me—the Book of Life, the Book of Blood, the Book of Days, and the Book of Omens—four corners of the Guardian legacy. But those weren’t the books I had come to see.

  The fifth book—the one no Guardian had been permitted to see or touch or read for a thousand years—that was the one I needed.

  As our feet touched down and Jack fired up the lantern, I let my gaze run up the walls. Smooth gray stone extended as far as I could see, lending the entire place a dreamlike quality. In front of me, the four doors loomed, each with the symbol of the book that cavern contained—the shield, the chalice, the hourglass, and the rising sun.

  I didn’t move as Jack started toward the door with the chalice, the one that contained the Book of Blood.

  He glanced back at me. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you coming?”

  I stayed put.

  Luc hadn’t told him what we were doing here. Which meant he didn’t know what had to happen next. He didn’t know what we were looking for.

  “Jack—” I began but never got to finish. I didn’t have to.

  As soon as I spoke, the air charged with electricity. Soundless pulses bled out of the corners of the cavern, as if the walls themselves had come alive and now pulsated with life and energy. It terrified me.

  Almost involuntarily, my sight settled on the stone carving of the fifth door. The snake coiled as tightly as I remembered it, his tail clenched tightly between his teeth, eyes dark and beaded, as if they could look through me. Without looking back, I walked to the door and knelt in front of it. It was smaller than the others, the wood darker and more splintered, yet still smooth to the touch. As soon as my fingers made contact, the pulsating stopped.

  “What are you doing?” Jack asked, his voice edged with panic. “I thought we were after the name of the last Gabrielite.”

  Slowly, I nodded.

  “Okay, so if we’re looking for a Guardian, then why aren’t you—?” He didn’t have to go any further. As soon as the words started to form, I could see understanding crystallize inside him. “It’s not a Guardian.”

  “Nope,” I whispered.

  The next step didn’t happen right away. I watched as the information settled into him, transforming into meaning.

  “Jack? Are you okay?”

  After another few seconds, he spoke. “You’re saying the prophecy was about—”

  “An Immortal,” I finished. “They’re angelblood. That’s what the Council of Elders hasn’t been telling us. I’m guessing one of many things the Council hasn’t told us.”

  Jack didn’t reply for a long minute. Several long minutes, actually.

  I had to wonder what was going through his head right now as he learned that all the preparation and sacrifice he’d made his entire life had been based on faulty information. It must have been like thinking you had an incurable disease then, the day before you were supposed to die, finding out you’d been healthy all along.

  It changed everything, and not necessarily in a good way.

  It didn’t surprise me at all when, after the silence became unbearable, he finally shifted his back against the stone wall and slid to the floor.

  “The prophecy wasn’t about me,” he repeated softly. “I’m not the child of doom.”

  The desolation in his voice almost made me smile. I mean, most people would be happy to discover they weren’t something called the child of doom. But Jack sounded suicidal.

  “On the bright side,” I said, sinking to the ground next to him, “you can start saving up for a better car. And maybe you and I can take that vacation we’ve always talked about.”

  He frowned, and I noticed his eyes had begun to tear. “Stop it, Amelie. This isn’t a joke.”

  “I’m not joking,” I said. “Look, I know you thrive on suffering and martyrdom, but there are silver linings here.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well,” I said, “haven’t you ever wanted to do something completely wasteful and pointless?”

  He thought about it for a second. “No, not really.”

  “Exactly. You haven’t, because you were never a normal, idiotic teenager. But see, now you’re allowed to want that,” I pointed out. “If your whole life isn’t based around you eventually making the ultimate sacrifice for humanity, then you have the space to want stupid stuff. You can be selfish. You can go skydiving.”

  “We could have children,” he said.

  My stomach tightened, and my heart lurched at the thought of doing that with him. Being a family. “I’m not certain that logs in the category of wasteful and pointless, but sure. Later. Much later, like when I’m fifty. Fifty is the new thirty, you know.”

  “We could get old together,” he said. “We could sit on our porch and watch our grandkids chase chickens around the farm.”

  I st
ared at him. Chickens and grandkids? This was where his fantasy mind went?

  “We’ll need to discuss the chickens,” I noted. “And can we maybe go to Paris first?”

  His head flopped back against the stone wall. “I’m not letting myself get too attached to this yet. Just in case we go in there and it turns out to not be true.”

  “Probably wise,” I said. “Also, can we have a goat? I’ve always wanted a goat.”

  Jack laughed and swiped a fist at his tearstained cheek. “Shut up. Seriously. I feel like an asshole for being happy about this. You realize, even if it isn’t me, someone still has to die. And you still have to kill them.”

  “But I don’t have to kill you,” I singsonged, poking him in the chest. “That’s way better, right?”

  He lowered his forehead to his palms. “I’m a horrible person.”

  “A horrible person with a future.” I planted a kiss on his earlobe. “And with chickens. Probably. I mean, I could still screw this up and the cracks could open and the earth could still become a hellish, demon-infested nightmare, right?”

  “We can only hope.” He sighed. “Come on.”

  Chapter Fifteen:

  Vision Revision

  If there’s one thing I can say about dealing with Lucifer, it’s that you rarely get what you expect. For example, if you’ve just trekked through a tunnel into a sewer and stroked an ancient opening glyph onto the butt of a satanic serpent in order to gain entry to a secret, evil cavern containing something called the Book of Lies, you’d probably expect there to be, you know…a book. With, like, lies in it. Or even a book with answers—I would have taken that, too.

  What I did not expect was a tiny, almost-empty antechamber with a ratty red couch and a coffee table. Frankly, it looked more like the waiting room at a mob boss’s office than anything helpful or holy.

  “Be careful.” Jack stopped me before I could take a step into the room. His eyes were transfixed on the far wall, flitting around the space like he was tracking movement. “Just out of curiosity, what are you seeing?”

  I glanced into the empty room. “Not a ton. Couch. Table. A significant need for those Swiffer dusting cloths. Why?”