Conspiracy Boy (Angel Academy) Read online

  My teeth made a grinding sound as I struggled to remain silent. It didn’t seem a huge reach to assume she was talking about me. Specifically about the Graymason issue that predicted I’d brutally murder Jack and trigger the downfall of a whole bloodline.

  At the mention of it, a hush stilled over the room, and I suddenly got the impression everyone was looking at me. Which might’ve had something to do with the fact that, you know, everyone was looking at me. Even Jack seemed uncomfortable.

  Before I could say anything, an albino guy in a red robe stood and put up his hand. Immortal Synod, I would guess, given the pallor and striking bone structure.

  “Intriguing as this is, I’m afraid the fledgling will need to wait outside. The rules are clear,” he said in a melodic yet clipped voice.

  “Correct, Lenaeus,” Akira agreed. “Children of Lucifer are not permitted in deliberations. Guardian Bennett, please take a seat in the hallway until a verdict has been reached.”

  “But—”

  “Dismissed,” she repeated.

  Then Akira nailed me with that dark, penetrating gaze. The air went cold, and my mouth didn’t work anymore. I don’t know if it was some evil mojo or just pure intimidation, but it sent hella-gnarly images through my head. All at once, the five-foot-nothing woman seemed about as harmless as a hormonal dragon.

  “I’ll stay with her, ma’am,” Jack offered, physically herding me toward the door.

  But Akira cut him off with a single finger twitch. “We require you here. Headmaster McFarland will send a faculty member to attend the girl.”

  The girl, huh? So I wasn’t even Guardian Bennett anymore? I was just the girl?

  This was so ridiculously inappropriate, I had no words. I’d been killing demons on my own for over ten years. I had taken down hell beasts no one else would touch. I’d conducted dozens of stakeouts and spirit cleanses.

  This just sucked. In so many ways.

  Any other year, on the last days before Christmas break, Matt, Katie, and I would have been sitting around Lisa’s back patio, gabbing about our plans for the holidays. Then we’d head in for the annual holiday Tofurky while Matt and I stared at Lisa’s cat, Brutus, wondering if it was true everything tastes like chicken.

  Not anymore.

  Now, Lisa was gone. Katie thought I was the vampire spawn of Satan. The Anselmos were rotting in jail for kidnapping and conspiracy to commit mass murder.

  And Matt?

  Where was Matt, anyway?

  The harsh clangs of locker doors resounded in my ears like gunfire as students clamored though the outside halls. Maybe it was the noise, or possibly my boyfriend saying, “Stay here. I’ll be back soon,” as he disappeared through the conference room door with the rest of the “grown-ups” to decide my fate on an issue I knew nothing about, but for whatever reason, I felt like vomiting.

  I slumped onto the settee outside Smalley’s office, debating a trip to the infirmary. Or better yet, a prison break from the school campus. Akira hadn’t authorized my departure, but that almost made me want it more. And at least if I yarked in a bush somewhere, I wouldn’t have a million dignitaries to witness the humiliation, right?

  I’d just started slipping my feet back into Bertle’s saddle shoes when the front door released a God-awful squeal and Luc strode in looking every inch the Calvin Klein model. Black hair tucked back in elegant disarray, jaw squared like a DC Comics superhero, violet eyes sparked with determination, the usual supermodel swagger.

  Of course, he had an entourage.

  At his heels, a beautiful woman followed, trailed by a cadre of guards and people in business suits. The guards, I understood, but the woman surprised me. Not the fact that he had a woman—Luc Montaigne never had a shortage of beautiful women. This one, however, exceeded even his game show hostess standards.

  Midtwenties, chiseled features, silky black hair that almost matched his. It was a little creepy how well they went together. The only thing that differed were her eyes. Instead of Luc’s pale indigo, hers glowed a brilliant green that set off her emerald silk suit-dress perfectly. And of course, the whole ego-slamming package clung to his arm like a high-class barnacle for hire.

  Gross.

  She probably was a call girl. Obviously not the Bourbon Street variety, but still. I wouldn’t put it past him.

  As they passed through the entry hall, the woman caught my eye and smiled. Not an evil smile. It might have been an attempt at friendliness. Or maybe she was trying to figure out if I tasted like chicken, too.

  “Luc,” I called through the bustle of bodyguards. “Hey, Luc. I have a quest—ack.”

  Question was what that word was supposed to be.

  Unfortunately, it was hijacked by Luc’s bizarre decision to grab my arm and haul me into—oh, yes—the skeezy, disgusting, extremely dusty janitorial closet. He pulled the door shut and flipped on the light.

  In most buildings, that’s not a big deal. You flip a switch and voilà, you’re done. At St. Michael’s, however, it apparently involves thwapping around for a frayed string, smacking yourself in the face a few times, then cursing at the lightbulb in British-sounding swear words.

  By the time Luc finally got the thing turned on, the bare bulb was swinging in chaotic circles, a mop had lodged itself in his armpit, and he was holding a broken string in his hand.

  “Smooth.”

  “Don’t,” he said, as he began dusting off a tangle of cobwebs clumped at his shoulder. “Don’t start. Mum is fit to be tied over the botched webcast last night. Annabelle wants me to execute you—”

  “That’s not news.”

  “—my head feels like the inside of a boiled turnip, and I’m genuinely considering suicide.”

  “Now you know how I feel every day. Hold still.” I brushed a spider off his sleeve then started picking cobwebs out of his hair. “Maybe there’s a brothel nearby to recenter you.”

  “One can only hope. Have you spoken with the Council yet?”

  “Sort of,” I replied. “Akira implied I was evil and publicly urged Jack to dump my accursed ass. Then she booted me out of the meeting because I’m an infantile waste of pseudo-demonic space.”

  “I assume you’re paraphrasing.”

  “Not by much.”

  He stood still while I plucked the rest of the cobweb off him then dusted off his lapel. His nose had quit bleeding since Bertle’s house, but his eyes still held a shadow of pain, like the Crossworlds taint hadn’t completely run its course.

  “So, this morning, huh? You tracked me into a portal,” I said. “You saved my life.”

  Luc groaned. “I’ll buy you a pony if we never speak of this again.”

  “Tempting. Speaking of which, do you feel any better? The Crossworlds draw hit you harder than it usually hits Jack.”

  “I expect there are a great many things I don’t do as well as Jackson.” He swatted at my hands before I could clear the mop strings off his coattail. “Stop that.”

  I took a step back and held out my hand for the light string. “You planning to tell me what this meeting is about?”

  “Nope.”

  “Care to explain how the Guardians’ fate is in my hands?”

  “Definitely not.”

  I frowned. “Can we talk about Petra, then? She seems to know stuff.”

  He cocked an eyebrow as he dumped the frayed string in my hand. “Your lips are moving and words are coming out, yes?”

  “So?”

  “So that is, by definition, speaking about this. I’d suggest you bugger off on the topic if you want that pony,” he said. “And Mum insists you put your pendant on. Family solidarity, or some such nonsense.”

  Before I could say another word, he opened the door, squared his shoulders, and walked away. All the way into the conference room, until the door slammed behind him with a final-sounding thud.

  “Okay, then.” I waved to the giant slab of wood. “Good talk. Have a great day.”

  Annoyed and weary, I dragged m
yself outside to the main building’s wraparound porch. It wasn’t exactly following orders, but how angry could Akira get? I was still on school grounds, right?

  Below me, cool wind swirled across the front lawn, kicking up snow-dusted twigs and dead leaves. Within seconds, my skin had chilled into a topographical map of goose bumps that ran all the way from my hair down to my ankles.

  It really irked me that no one would talk to me. If old people in robes were calling meetings about me, then obviously I was already involved, right? Would it really kill them to go the extra mile and, you know, explain it?

  “All right,” I muttered to myself as I slipped a hand into my pocket. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  As deftly as my frozen fingers would allow, I fastened the necklace from hell around my neck and waited for the neural fireworks to calm.

  According to what I’d been told, the thing was supposed to represent some blood link between me and my Immortal sire, so he could keep track of me. Of course, with so few instances of Immortals taking angelblood fledglings—especially one with a bloodline as freaky as mine—the whole thing was a bit experimental.

  Still, a blood link was a blood link. And if he could use it to spy on me, then maybe, if I focused, I could make it go the other way.

  At first, things were so quiet, I thought he might have taken off the identical family crest he usually wore on his pinkie finger. But no, this was more like a perceptual vortex. A smoky, oppressive, vaguely disorganized vortex.

  “He’s blocking you,” a familiar voice said. “Can you really blame him?”

  My eyes fluttered open to find a pair of friendly brown ones twinkling at me, the corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. I couldn’t help returning the smile.

  “Hey, Dane,” I said. “What’s the news?”

  “You, apparently. Heard about your little stunt last night.”

  My werewolf friend slumped against the snow-covered railing next to me. His hair was, as usual, unbrushed, and his trainer uniform bunched in rumpled folds over his narrow shoulders. I didn’t mind. Of all the new people in my Immortal social life, Dane might have been the only one I didn’t dream about killing on a regular basis.

  “What are you doing out here, anyway? Didn’t Akira tell you to stay in the foyer on pain of death?”

  “Pain of something.”

  Dane touched the scrape still hiding beneath my hairline. “So, you met Petra, huh? Jack said y’all went toe-to-toe.”

  “Nose to fist was more like it,” I admitted. “It’s okay. I think she may have broken a nail.”

  Dane made a face. “I should have been there. It’s my job now.”

  “I guess,” I agreed, scanning his uniform-clad self.

  Dane wore the same gray and black trainer garb as Jack, except on him it held absolutely no appeal. Don’t get me wrong. He was cute enough, but in a frumpy, comfortable way. Wavy brown hair flopped over his forehead, and a crooked smile lit up his face like something out of a toothpaste commercial. Even his nose looked casual, like it’d been broken a few times in childhood and didn’t bother healing itself properly anymore. It was practically impossible to be near the guy and not feel yourself start to relax.

  “What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be in the teachers’ lounge or something?”

  “I came for you, babe.”

  “You’re not in heat, are you?”

  “I’m a guy. We live in heat.” He wiggled his furry eyebrows at me. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the moon is a waning crescent at the moment, which means we’ve got another few weeks before I go wolfy. And I say this with as much delicacy as possible but, sweetheart, you’re officially off my radar.”

  “The Immortal thing, huh?”

  “It’s more the bonded-to-my-best-friend-and-betrothed-to-my-other-best-friend thing.”

  Um…betrothed?

  “It was on the Immortal Thread this morning,” Dane said. “Arianna probably started the rumor so people will hate you less. No offense.”

  “None taken,” I said. “Of course, I’ll have to kill Luc for this.”

  “He’ll fix it. He’s not exactly the marrying type.”

  I shut my eyes for a second. Ultimately, I didn’t trust Luc any farther than I could throw a fully loaded garbage truck. But Dane knew him better than anyone. Maybe he was just an innocent bystander in all this.

  “Whatever,” I said. “The important thing is you’re here now and you can bring me up to speed.”

  “On what?”

  I cast a questioning glance at Dane. Could he truly not know about all the cloak-and-dagger stuff going on in the conference room right now?

  “I’ll give you a hint,” I said. “Gabriel’s prophecy being unfulfilled? My role in the downfall of the Guardian race? Petra the angelblood assassin?”

  He frowned. “You know about her?”

  “No, actually,” I snapped. “But I did almost get killed by her. Honestly, if nobody tells me squat, how am I supposed to protect myself?”

  “You’re not.”

  Sigh. Obviously, that was a rhetorical question.

  “What about Dominic Montaigne?” I continued. “How is he invllvvd?”

  I was surprised it had taken him that long to clamp his hand over my mouth.

  Admittedly, it wasn’t very often I got to see Dane annoyed, but when I did, it left me no doubt why Jack tried so hard to keep him calm. His eyes had already begun to glow a fierce yellow, and wolf muscles rippled violently under his skin. If I kept bugging him, full moon or no, he’d probably change into his animal form. Which didn’t necessarily mean one of us would die, but it upped the likelihood dramatically.

  “Do you have a death wish?” he snapped.

  “Mrrbeee. Mrrbee ntt,” I mumbled. “Yrr gnna tll meh?”

  “If I tell you, will you shut up about it already?”

  Silent, I nodded.

  “Like, forever?”

  I pretended to consider the request. “Frrevvvrrrsuh rllly lnnng tmmme.”

  Inside the main building, the hall had quieted. Classes were well in session, combat classes tucked away in the gym on the other side of campus. All that remained was a shuffle of activity under the conference room silencing wards and the soft thrum of traffic along St. Charles Avenue.

  Slowly, Dane took his hand off my mouth.

  “You can’t tell Luc I said anything,” he warned. “Jack either. They specifically ordered me not to talk to you about this. If I didn’t think you had a right to know, I would seriously walk away right now.”

  I metaphorically locked my lips and threw away the key. “Spill.”

  Dane drew a methodical breath then let it out. “What do you remember about the prophecy from last fall? Any specifics?”

  I vaguely recalled the wording, though it hadn’t seemed terribly clear at the time. “Something about Jack dying on his twenty-first birthday and the Guardian’s burden going away. Why?”

  “With blood of taint and hair of fire, the beast will fall upon him and his soul will be reaped, as the souls of his brothers. Before the dawn of his twenty-first year, judgment shall be rendered and the angel of death shall claim him. Only by sacrifice of blood may the Guardian’s burden be lifted.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I said. We did all that.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Did so,” I argued. “Jack died. Lisa killed him. I sacrificed some blood to bring him back. The end.”

  “How’s that Guardian burden thing going?”

  I squinted at him. Clearly I was missing something.

  “Amelie, have you checked the death stats lately?” Dane said. “It’s worse than ever out there. We’re still dying. More demons are breaking through every day. The war is going to end soon, true. But we’re not going to win. Humanity is doomed.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Dane cast a glance over his shoulder at the sealed door to the conference ro
om. “You’re still the beast with blood of taint and hair of fire. He’s still the last of his line. Guardians are still dying. You do the math.”

  A chill went through me as the implication of his words settled. They didn’t think it was over. They still wanted Jack to die. They still wanted me to kill him.

  “No,” I said. “No way. I’ll run.”

  “They may not let you,” Dane said.

  “They can’t stop me,” I said. “I’ll kill them all before I let them hurt Jack.”

  “That’s kind of the issue,” Dane said. “According to Arianna, Dominic’s already put out a kill order on you. Jack hasn’t said anything officially, but he thinks whoever hired Petra is using your bond with him to track you. If that’s the case, then it doesn’t matter where you go. As long as you’re with him, you’ll both be in danger. Currently, the Council of Elders and the Immortal Synod are debating whether to hand you over to assassins like Petra or hang on to you so you can fulfill the prophecy.”

  “Which I already did,” I pointed out.

  “That’s debatable.” Dane exhaled. “Anyway, do you see now why no one wants you to know about this? How do you think that would look if the fledgling of the Immortal dauphin ran off with the Guardian she’s supposed to kill, while simultaneously bailing on the entire species-rescue plan? Do you have any idea what kind of political nightmare that would be?”

  I stood silently and let the chill gather up my ankles while that sank in. Political assassinations. Genocide. Mass chaos.

  “Amelie, it won’t matter if we ever get the Crossworld cracks closed,” Dane said. “If the Immortals and Guardians start fighting again, we’ll be dead before the demons even get here. At the moment, you and Luc are the only ones who can stop that.”

  Call me sensitive, but by the time the conference concluded, I really wished I’d made Annabelle stop for coffee.

  Chapter Seven:

  A Not-So-Simple Plan

  “Wow. I mean, wow.” Lyle squinted at me over a swathe of white hospital blankets. His eyes still had a coal-smudged, sunken look, and his normally rounded cheekbones stood out in cut-glass edges.

  “Stop saying wow, Lyle. It’s not that big a deal.”