Angel Academy Page 4

  There are several qualifying factors to be accepted into Heaven, but the most important is behaving with empathy. One must put others before themselves if they are to be accepted into Heaven. This can be seen with historical examples such as Mother Theresa, Nicola Tesla, and Jeanne de Clisson.

  I think back to my unnaturally short life. I wasn’t that old when I died, but I certainly didn’t live with empathy. Every single thing I did was for survival. I didn’t have time for empathy. After Mom died, Dad stopped caring. If I couldn’t take care of myself, I wouldn’t have made it.

  A niggling voice in my head reminds me that I did not, in fact, make it.

  My heart sinks as I read on. Although Jeanne de Clisson was a murderous pirate, she saved a lot of people by destroying a large number of the French ruling class.

  Maybe the fact that I didn’t kill anybody counted toward me?

  Seems unlikely, though. The only person I cared about in the end was…

  The name doesn’t come to me. I can think of every other person in my life, but not her. I wrack my brain for the information, but it’s like it’s been sliced out with a surgical scalpel.

  Why can’t I figure this out? Why is she gone?

  My breathing quickens, and I stare at the page for far too long.

  What does this mean?

  Am I even supposed to be here? Or has there been a horrible mistake?

  Chapter Fourteen

  I pay attention in class. I do all my homework. I offer to help clean up at the end of Fencing, and I try harder to participate in Huỳnh’s book club. I even pick a book the others might enjoy. Twilight should be simple enough, right? Romance seems to be a theme with this group.

  Still, I can’t shake the niggling feeling that something is wrong with me. No matter how much I try, I can’t remember the girl from the meadow, the girl who’d been in the car with me when I died. Why did I make it into Heaven, and she didn’t? There’s something I’m missing, a puzzle piece that will explain everything, but it’s just…gone. Like it was stolen.

  “Good job,” my sparring partner, Jenine, says after a particularly strenuous martial arts lesson. We’re working on Taekwondo, and I’m getting okay at it.

  “Thanks,” I say, shaking her hand. Does she see something I don’t? Does my being here make sense to her? I consider asking, but what if there was a mistake and I’m not supposed to be here? Would asking about it arouse suspicion? I’ve been treated with nothing but kindness since I arrived, but if I slip up, that could change in an instant.

  “Avery, may I speak with you?” Azrael says as I’m leaving class. I swallow and do my best to quell my ever-rising panic.

  “Sure,” I say as casually as I can.

  I enter her classroom as everyone else is heading out to their afternoon activities. I was supposed to work on a Demonic Symbols assignment with Nicolai, but I’m sure he’ll understand. Or he won’t, and I’ll be found out. Maybe I should have told Azrael that I’m supposed to be somewhere. But that might make it look like I’m avoiding her. There’s no good answer here.

  “Take a seat,” she says. Her face appears open and relaxed, but how can I be sure? “Would you like some hot chocolate?”

  I’m about to say no, but I don’t want to seem panicked. “That would be great!” I say with far too much enthusiasm.

  She waves her hand, and a cup of steaming cocoa appears. I wonder if there will be marshmallows, and they appear in the cup. I take it, and the warmth grounds me in this moment. I just have to think positive.

  “How are you adjusting?” she asks, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. Her dark hair is pulled into a French twist, but one curl escapes just ahead of her ear.

  I shrug. “Okay. I’m in a book club.”

  She smiles. “That’s fantastic. I know that some students have trouble making friends when they first arrive, but it seems that you’ve been taken in by a few others.” She pauses, then puts her hands down on the table. “I did want to ask, though, how you’re feeling about everything else.” She gestures at me, I assume at my wings.

  I shrug once again. Am I shrugging too much? How often do people normally shrug? “Not bad, I think. I get a lot of attention, but there’s not much I can do about that.”

  She nods, then purses her lips. “I was thinking,” she says slowly, “that we might move you up to a few of the term two classes.

  Every muscle in my body tenses. “I don’t know.” My words are short and betray my anxiety. Surely being surrounded by upper-class students would make it clear that there’s something wrong with my being here.

  She rests a hand over mine, and her face is still nothing but kind. “That’s alright,” she says. “Although I do think you need something to make up for your…extra abilities.”

  I laugh a short, nervous laugh. “You mean extra appendages?”

  She smiles back, humor in her eyes. At least she seems to be mistaking my anxiety for nerves about working with the advanced students. “Exactly. I think you could benefit from extra swordsmanship lessons with Gabriel, and I could help you to control your wings. I’ve seen you practicing with your friends, but, in this case, I think a more experienced hand would do you some good.”

  I take a sip of my drink, and it warms me from the inside out. So that’s what this is all about. She’s not suspicious of me whatsoever. Maybe I’m just overreacting. “That sounds better,” I say slowly. “I don’t want to be more out of place than I already feel.” I shouldn’t have said that last part, but she doesn’t pick up on my extra reasons for feeling wrong.

  She nods, considering. “Alright, I’d like you to meet with me over the weekend. You don’t have to wear your uniform.

  I nod, then stand to go, setting the mostly-full hot chocolate back on her desk. “Thanks,” I say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to be helping Nicolai with a project.”

  She waves me off, and I have to try to not sprint out of her office.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Isn’t it interesting how similar Enochian Sigils are to Demonic ones?” Nicolai asks, tossing a chip in his mouth.

  I tilt my head. “They are?” I ask, then look back at the papers. Well. He’s right. They’re nearly identical. How did I not make that connection? “Huh.”

  He nods. “I saw some of these before I died. There were a lot of old churches in Saratov.” He pauses, then clarifies. “Russia.”

  “Got it,” I say, flipping the page in my textbook. “I’m from Oregon. I could basically see you from my house.”

  He seems confused at the last sentence, and I wave it off. “It’s a joke from an American politician from Alaska.”

  He nods. “Oh. That’s funny.” But he doesn’t laugh. Apparently not that funny. Or he could just be too busy focusing on this horrible assignment. We’re supposed to translate an entire passage, although I don’t understand why these pages don’t translate into English automatically like everything else seems to.

  I ask Nicolai about it out loud.

  “It’s because these aren’t human languages,” he says. Then, he smiles. “Maybe if you paid attention in class, you would know that.”

  I roll my eyes. He’s always teasing me about things. It’s all in good fun, but it makes me feel like I’m not good enough.

  I do have wings and a sword, though. I was good enough to kill a demon, at the very least.

  “You do know I’m kidding, right?” Nicolai asks. When I look back up at him, he appears to actually be concerned for my feelings.

  I smile, although it’s not genuine. “I know.”

  His mouth twists down, like he’s thinking about something. “I’ll make fewer jokes,” he says.

  I really don’t like confrontation, and this whole conversation is getting dangerously close to the question of why I’m so different from everybody else. “It’s really no big deal.” Then, I switch gears. “Do you know what this sentence says?” I point at a random sentence just to change the subject
, and he translates it for me to write down. “Thanks.”

  He smiles. “No problem.” Thankfully, he doesn’t talk about the joke he’d made, and I don’t offer him an opportunity to make assumptions about me. The rest of the study session goes by normally.

  “Your wings are amazing, by the way,” he says as he’s packing up his bag to leave my room. “The other students in our term may say things, but they’re just jealous.”

  I look at the ground. This entire evening has been so uncomfortable for me, and I just want to be alone to binge bad reality TV. I might not even sleep tonight.

  He steps toward me, and he’s giving me a look, his eyes boring into mine. What is he searching for? Secrets?

  Before I can figure it out, he shocks me by pressing his lips to mine.

  I jolt away, tripping onto my bed.

  “What was that?” I demand, covering my mouth with my hand.

  Instantly, his eyes widen. “I’m sorry. I thought…I mean, it seemed like…” His face is turning a deep red, which doesn’t make sense considering our blood is apparently liquid gold, but I can’t consider the logic too much because he kissed me. What the hell?

  I shake my head. “No, Nicolai. It’s not like that. I just consider you a friend.” I take in a deep breath, putting my hands in my lap and staring at them. So this is why he’s been looking at me so much, finding reasons to spend time with me. He’s not suspicious at all. “I don’t…like boys. Like that.”

  The silence is deafening. After a moment, he just says, “Oh.”

  I don’t dare look at him.

  “That’s okay,” he finally says when the quiet becomes unbearable. “I like being your friend.”

  I sigh, the air whooshing out of me along with all the tension.

  “I like being your friend, too,” I say, and I find that I’m telling the truth. He doesn’t ogle at my strangeness, doesn’t treat me like a freak, doesn’t whisper about me when I pass.

  “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, he says, giving me a small smile and a half wave.

  I smile back, and say, “Yeah. See you.”

  With that, he’s gone, and I bury my face in my pillows. What is happening?

  Chapter Sixteen

  While we’re taking an exam in Enochian class, another boom like the one a few weeks ago shakes the school. We all look up, and Azrael glancess around.

  “Stay here,” she says, her lips tilting into a frown. And is that fear in her eyes? She leaps out of the window, her wings catching the air instantly.

  As soon as she leaves, there are eyes on me. Not everyone in the class is staring, but enough. Nobody says a word.

  I could just sit here, waiting and fearing, but I can’t stand the thought of being a sitting duck. My sword is still tucked under my bed. Maybe I could do it again. Maybe I could keep us safe.

  When I lock eyes with Nicolai, his jaw sets, and his eyebrows are bunched. He’s scared. After a quick glance around, it’s clear that they all are. Everyone knows that I nearly died—or double died—when I killed the first demon. If one got in here, would we all survive?

  I stand from my desk and grab my bag, running across the school to get to my room. There are no angels in sight, just like last time. Everyone capable of fighting demons must have taken to the sky.

  I make it to my room without being attacked, but every slight breeze and settling of the building and crash of the waterfalls startles me. My heart is practically pounding out of my chest.

  I make it to my room and grab my sword. It’s heavier than I remember, but that same electric charge runs up my arm when I take it. How had I assumed that this sword belonged to anyone but me?

  I unsheathe it, and I try to hold the same position that Gabriel has been drilling into me for weeks. The plan is to go back to the classroom, ready to defend my peers if a demon does show up.

  When I open my door, though, there is a demon in the hall. At the sound of my door opening, it turns.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Desireé.

  The name slams into me, and I gasp with pain as my heart tears in two. Every memory that has been repressed, the face that’s been hidden from my memories, it all comes back.

  The face in front of me is one I know better than my own. The fact that I’ve forgotten it at all is inconceivable.

  “Desireé,” I breathe, and the creature’s eyes widen.

  She looks different. So different. If I didn’t know every curve and angle of her body, I wouldn’t even know it’s her.

  Hair that used to be a fiery red is now black as pitch, rolling down her back in waves. Her eyes are almost entirely black as well, seemingly draining the room’s light away like a vampire drawing blood from its victim. Her irises, though, are the same icy blue they’ve always been. Her features are sharper, her cheekbones ready to cut glass. Most notably, she has black spiral horns and dark, leathery wings. She is wrong. Everything about this is wrong, broken.

  But it’s still her.

  “What did they do to you?” I ask, raising a hand. When she lifts hers to me, I flinch. Her hands are black, like they’ve been dipped in ink, and the tips are no longer human. Instead, she has bird-like talons. My shoulder is long healed, but I can feel those talons under my skin like it was yesterday.

  She frowns, her lips a gruesome splash of red against her snow-white skin. If it weren’t Desireé, I would think her a monster. But those freckles, which stand out like dried bloodstains on her now impossibly light skin, are as familiar to me as my own heart. I drop my sword.

  She darts forward, her hands wrapping around my wrists. She presses me to my door, her strength surprising for her emaciated frame.

  Had this all been a trick? Am I going to die?

  Her face comes right up to mine, fangs taking up half her mouth and breath made of smoke and fire. Instead of tearing my throat out, though, she presses her lips to mine.

  I lean into her, relief flooding my system. “It’s you,” I say, my voice incredulous. “It’s really you.” I pull my hands up and run them through her hair. I’m trembling, and I can’t help but hold her close as her kisses trail down my cheekbone and then down my neck.

  “Avery,” she whispers, her voice smoky and dark. My name on her tongue feels like home, and I groan, tightening my hands in her hair.

  Far too soon, she pulls away.

  “I had to find you,” she says. “I’ve been looking for a way in for months.”

  Months? “I’ve only been here a few weeks,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “Time is different in these places. Way different. What feels like weeks to you has been years to me.” Her voice is pained on the word ‘years.’

  I look her over, tracing my thumbs over her face. “Years?”

  She looks at the ground and nods.

  A sound at the staircase startles me, and I know exactly what this would look like if anybody were to find us. I whisper my room number and drag her inside, kicking my sword and sending it skittering across my bedroom floor before shutting the door.

  She looks around in surprise. At least, that’s what it seems to be. Her expression is hard to read now. She’s so different than she used to be.

  “I know this place,” she says slowly.

  I tilt my head. “Yeah,” I say slowly. “It’s my room. From…back home. Bigger, but still a lot like mine.”

  She hesitates, then sinks onto the enormous mattress. A moan is pulled from her lips.

  “Desireé,” I say, slowly. I don’t want to startle her. Now that it’s all come back to me, I can’t lose her again. I just can’t. “You said you’ve been…like this…for years. What did you mean?”

  She looks at me, then down at herself. She’s wearing all black, and it’s hard to tell where one piece of clothing ends and another begins. When she speaks, her voice is laced with shame. The tone breaks my heart. “I wasn’t always like this.”

  I nod. “I know. You used to be…” There’s really no polite way to say this, so I j
ust spit it out. “Human.”

  She nods. “I was punished,” she says.

  I don’t know if I can hear this. My entire body is tensed to run, to get away from whatever she has to tell me.

  But I have to hear her.

  “That’s how it is. They punish you. Until you forget your name. Your face. Your life.” She turns her head to look out the window. Her shoulders are tense. I want to tell her she’s safe here, but how could that be true? She’s a demon in a school of demon killers. When she looks back at me, her eyes shine. “But I never forgot you. That’s what got me through. How I resisted so long. I kept you.”

  My throat closes up. She’d been punished —tortured for years—because of me?

  “I knew I had to find you. So I lied. Acted like I didn’t remember. And they stopped. The pain stopped. But I looked different.” She lifts a hand to her head, her finger tracing the ridged horn on her right side. “I wasn’t me anymore. Until you said my name, I didn’t know it. I didn’t have one.

  “And then I was enrolled in Daemaac Academy. It’s…like here. But not.”

  I swallow, then take a step toward her. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s dark. So dark. When I got here, I thought I’d go blind. There’s so much light everywhere.” Her voice goes soft and hoarse, breaking like she’s been hurt. “How do you stand it?”

  I wrap my arms around myself. I’m afraid if I try to touch her, she’ll shatter. She’ll fall into pieces, and I won’t be able to put her back together.

  She lifts a hand, almost like she’s going to touch me from across the room, then drops it when her eyes find the talons at the end.

  That’s all the encouragement I need. I stride over to her and pull her into my arms. Her horns are rough as she buries her face in my neck, but I won’t let go. She could be tearing my heart out of my chest, and I wouldn’t be able to let go.

  “You’re safe now,” I say. “It’ll be okay.”

  “How?” she asks. I don’t answer, just stroke her hair.