No Angel (15 page)
A
s it turned out, we weren’t.
It hurt. A lot. Somewhere very far away, there was a great deal of running and shouting going on, but I was more interested in blinking at the sky at the moment. Something was wrong with my eyes; my normal vision was going dark around the edges, while angelsight seemed to be getting brighter and brighter.
“If you die, Mr. Angelos, I shall be greatly inconvenienced.” Where had the Headmistress come from? Her hand felt like a cement block on my chest, stopping me from flying away. Even though her fingers were flat against my skin, I had the weirdest feeling that they were somehow under my ribs, holding me together. “Kindly refrain from doing so.”
There was a point of light, high above her head, like a star hung too low. The Headmistress looked up as if she could see it too. For the briefest instant, her impassive expression cracked, revealing—regret? Welcome? Or maybe just recognition . . .
“Yes,” the Headmistress said. Not to me. “Come.”
Wings, a storm of wings, hurtling down out of the swirling sky. They spread wide, revealing a burning core of fire studded with eyes like a million suns. The Headmistress drew back her hand, making way for the wings, and pain washed over me. I was going to drown in it—
The brilliant feathers settled over me soft as snowfall, and I lost myself in blissful, blank whiteness.
R
af, you look
awful
,” were Krystal’s first words to me on my return, two weeks later. Her note had asked me to meet her outside the old shrine at midnight, but now that I was actually here she looked like she wanted to pick me up and carry me back to bed. “Are you sure you’re fit to be back at school?”
“Oh, don’t you start too.” Having arrived late in the evening, the only people I’d seen so far had been teachers, and all of them had told me I should leave immediately. I was sure the fussing was meant well, but I was starting to feel positively unwelcome. “Believe me, I would have liked to stay in my nice, comfy, completely Hellgate-less hospital room.” I scowled. “Damn Dantes. If it wasn’t for them, I’d still be enjoying my holiday.”
The first thing I’d seen when I’d woken up in the hospital was a very large ornamental cactus squatting on my bedside table. The card prominently displayed on the side had read:
With sympathies on your unfortunate accident. The Headmistress.
“Accident” had been underlined. The cactus had been extremely spiky. I’d gotten the message.
Problem was, since the official story was that Michaela’s paintball gun had suffered a catastrophic and mysterious malfunction—and that there was thus no need for a lengthy and expensive investigation into the school’s health and safety policies—the Dantes were fighting tooth and nail to prevent any blame from being assigned to her. They were also insisting they wouldn’t pay a penny of the promised bursary money if Michaela was expelled. And apparently, the Headmistress found that of greater concern than the fact that I’d been shot in the chest. Thanks, Headmistress.
Which reminded me . . . “Thanks for the updates, by the way.” Krystal had sent me a letter every day, along with a bundle of homework assignments. I’d pored over the former and ignored the latter. “Especially the bits about Lydie and my other girls.” Without even a half-assed angel around to watch out for them, they’d been getting bullied worse than ever. “That certainly motivated me to get better fast.”
Krystal bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to make you stagger up from your sickbed and race back here. I mean, you’re hardly fit to fight demons. You really do look like death.”
“I have to admit, I could have done without late-night hikes.” I adjusted the bulky bandages wrapping my torso under my shirt. Getting shot point-blank in the chest was no joke. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad to see you but couldn’t this have waited until the morning?”
“
I
think it could have,” Krystal said sourly. “But I’m not Faith. Come on. She wants to talk to you. Urgently.”
My stomach lurched sideways. “Is she okay?” Krystal had already set off into the dark woods, her flashlight beam bobbing. I put a hand on the sword thrust through my belt to stop it from tripping me as I hurried after her. “Did things go downhill for her again while I was gone?”
“No, it’s okay, she’s fine. Still queen bee and all.” Krystal shot me an odd look over her shoulder. “Didn’t she keep in touch with you?”
“Not really. Sent me a nice card, though.” I was quiet for a long moment. “You know what the weird thing is?”
“Apart from the fact that apparently you’re not offended that she thinks your taking a bullet for her is only worth a single stamp?” Krystal muttered. She stomped through the dry leaves with rather more force than necessary.
“Actually, that’s it exactly.” I shook my head. “I didn’t mind that she didn’t write. I didn’t . . . I didn’t
want
her to write. I didn’t miss her. I missed
you
.” I nearly ran into her as she stopped dead. “Uh, and Lydie and everyone too, of course,” I added quickly, grinning to cover the sudden awkward moment. “Hell, I even started to miss Ms. Wormwood.”
Krystal snorted but started walking again. “Okay, now I know you must have been on some serious drugs.”
“Felt more like I was coming off a drug. Like I’d been addicted to Faith and had kicked the habit. That can’t be right, can it? Aren’t you supposed to want to be with your true love?”
“When your true love is Faith, I can kind of see why absence might make the heart grow fonder,” Krystal said. She punched me on the arm and looked mortified when I winced. “Sorry, I forgot. Seriously, Raf, don’t worry about what love is ‘supposed’ to be like. Who says it has to be one particular way or it doesn’t count? Only you can know what’s right for you.”
“That’s the thing,” I said very quietly. “Even though I
have
to be in love with Faith in order to seal the Hellgate . . . I don’t know if I really am. While I was away from her, all the feelings I thought I had just faded, like a dream.” I sighed. “Maybe Faith has the right idea after all. Maybe she should stick with Billy-Bob. Maybe I’m not the one for her.”
“Maybe,” Krystal echoed softly. She cleared her throat, reverting to her much more usual brusque voice. “In which case, I’ll tell you what Faith has also got.” She stepped aside, revealing a small clearing in the woods. “Absolutely
terrible
timing.”
Dozens of small candles made a firefly circle in the short-cropped grass. Faith knelt in the center, head bowed as if in prayer. White petals were scattered around her. She rose at our arrival, her long, white dress flowing like water over her slim body. Her hair was braided away from her face, revealing her solemn expression.
The sight of her felt like a fishhook through my heart. Or a hole in my head. I could practically feel my brain dribbling out, along with all my doubts. “Hi,” I blurted out.
“Hello,” Faith said softly without smiling. She glanced at Krystal. “Thank you for bringing him.”
Krystal glared at the petal-strewn lawn. “Your mother is going to be royally pissed about those flowers.”
“I said
thank you
, Krystal.” When Krystal continued to fidget without actually retreating, Faith added with a hint of steel, “It’s late and you must be tired. You should go to bed.”
“
I’m
not the one with a chest wound,” Krystal muttered. “Raf . . .” She looked at me, and her mouth twisted. She turned abruptly, heading into the woods without looking back. “Don’t be stupid.” I wasn’t quite certain whether she was talking to herself or me.
That left me, Faith, and the awkward silence.
Faith took one of the flowers from her braided hair, holding it out to me. “I wanted to thank you for saving my life.”
“Uh.” I stumbled on my way into the circle of candles, nearly setting fire to my own trousers, and took the flower from her. What was I supposed to do with it? Stick it in my own hair? I settled for wedging it through my belt, next to the sword. “Thanks. For the thanks.”
Faith looked down at her bare feet. “Are you mad at me?”
“What? No!” My whole body yearned toward her as if I was a plant reaching for the sun. “Why would I be?”
“For the way I’ve treated you.” Faith took a deep breath, straightening her spine like someone about to charge into battle. Her blue eyes met mine steadily. “For the way I’ve kept pushing you away, refusing to accept what you’ve always known.”
“Right.” My mind struggled to work in the face of her beauty. “Er. What would that be, again?”
“That it’s you.” I stood frozen as she moved closer, until I could feel the heat of her body all along my own, only inches away. “You’re the one, Raffi. You would have died for me. If that’s not true love, what is?”
It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I put my hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Faith.” I gently pushed her back a little. “That’s what I feel for
you
. It’s okay if you don’t return it.”
“But I do.” Faith put her own hand over mine. “I’ve always felt drawn to you, Raffi. I buried it because I thought it was just attraction. I hated myself for being shallow, telling myself that I had to be loyal to Billy-Bob. But everything that’s happened, everything you’ve done for me . . . it’s fate. It has to be fate. I don’t have to wait for the Ball to meet my soul mate. He’s here now.” Her free hand found the back of my neck. “Close the Hellgate with me.”
Weirdest euphemism
ever
. My stomach roiled with instant performance anxiety. All I could think about as she pulled me down to her exultant upturned face was whether she was about to get the disappointment of her life, and if she’d hate me if she did, and . . . and . . .
And then our lips met, and everything went white.
Literally.
With a strangled yell, I flung myself backward, breaking the kiss. The fire surrounding Faith didn’t die down. It outlined her head in curling, eye-searing flames. Panicking, I reached for her, but had to jerk my own hand back from the heat. “Faith!”
Faith’s eyes opened slowly. Her expression was as serene and remote as the moon. Her hair lashed about her head, whipped by an invisible wind. “Rafael,” she whispered.
With a noise like tearing silk, her wings unfolded.
I
stared at Faith, newly revealed in all her heavenly glory, and could only think of one thing to say. “Oh . . .
shit
.”
It was an STD. I’d given Faith a bad case of angel.
Faith blinked, her eyes dimming back to their usual clear blue. The flames wreathing her sank back into her skin, although her halo still outlined her head. “Wow,” she said, sounding a bit dazed. “I didn’t think it would feel like that.” Anxiety crossed her face as she stared around at the unchanged night. “Did it work? Is anything different?”
Mutely, I pointed at the wings springing from her back, flexing a little with every breath she took.
Puzzled, Faith looked over her own shoulder—and froze. “Oh,” she said again, just the tiniest squeak of air. “Oh my.”
“I’m really sorry!” I gabbled as Faith extended one wing to stare at the glowing pinions. “I didn’t know it was contagious! I’m so, so sorry!”
“I’m an angel?” Faith said wonderingly. She turned in a circle, as if she could somehow inspect her own back. “This explains everything! My father must have been an angel in disguise, just like your mother. That’s why we’re so drawn to each other—we’re alike! Krystal was right, it’s our combined powers that can close the Hellgate!” She flung herself into my arms. “Oh, Raffi! It’s all part of a divine plan!”
“You’re okay with this? You don’t mind?” I said anxiously. The fact that she was squeezing me hard enough to crack a rib seemed like a good—if painful—sign, but I wasn’t sure she’d fully appreciated the potential drawbacks yet. “I mean, you might get the eyes. I’m really sorry if you get the eyes.”
“I
want
the eyes,” Faith said, muffled by the way she had her face buried in my chest. Her wings arched above our heads. “I want everything! I want to smite evil! I want to fly! I want—”
There was no warning. One moment she was in my arms, the next I was thrown backward by an icy tentacle. I hit a tree trunk hard, the impact jarring my half-healed wound. Pain made the whole world tip sideways and go black.
“Stay away!” Faith was shouting. I blinked up at her wings, spread protectively over me. She’d grabbed the sword from my belt, holding it ready in a practiced, expert grip. “I’m warning you. I know what I am now! You can’t touch us, Michaela!”
“Michaela?” A low, cold chuckle twisted around us like a snake. “Whatever gave you that idea, my pet?”
The figure stepped into the circle of light cast by our combined halos . . . but darkness still clung to her, as if she bent and broke our angelic radiance. Through that shadowy aura, her hair gleamed as red as freshly spilled blood.
“Ms. Wormwood?” Faith said uncertainly. The point of her sword wavered.
“Hello, pets,” said the teacher. The endearment no longer sounded affectionate, but a literal description of what we were to her. There was something wrong about the way she moved, as if she was a badly controlled puppet. She didn’t quite make contact with the ground as she stalked jerkily toward us. She seemed to have to fight against the brightness of our combined light as if against a strong gale. “I see you’ve managed to make a mess of everything as usual, Raffi. We should have ripped your heart out the day you arrived.”
Black tentacles unfolded from thin air around her.
Faith gasped, whipping the sword around to slice at the reaching limbs. They didn’t dodge—middle sections just
disappeared
, the blade whistling through thin air. She danced back, nearly tripping over me. “Raffi, I don’t know how to make it flame!”
“Give it here!” The pain had receded enough to let me struggle upright again. I snatched the sword from Faith—but even as my fingers closed around it, Ms. Wormwood hissed, a tentacle lashing out to wrap around the tip of the blade. The suddenly frost-covered metal ripped a layer of skin off my palm as she yanked it out of my hand.
“You’re not the only one who moves in mysterious ways, Raffi,” Ms. Wormwood said, flicking the sword away. It stuck point-first into the ground behind the possessed teacher, well out of reach. “And now, it’s time for you to die.”
“Faith, fly!” Even as her mouth opened in protest, I shoved her away from me. “Just don’t think about it, you can do it!”
Faith leaped into the air and hovered there for a second, looking rather startled. Before I could even attempt to spread my own wings to follow, icy bands clamped them shut. “Not this time, Raffi,” Ms. Wormwood snarled. Her tentacles wrapped around me like an octopus embracing its prey, winding through both the normal world and Hell-space. Their chill sapped what little strength I’d managed to regain. I was frozen, even my halo dimming, unable to resist at all as Ms. Wormwood hauled my limp body toward her. “You aren’t getting away from me again.”
“Raffi!”
Faith dove, her halo blazing around her head with the force of her fury. “Let him GO!”
“No, don’t—!” I was too late. Without angelic vision, Faith couldn’t even see Ms. Wormwood’s tentacles, let alone avoid them. A contemptuous slap from one of them knocked her spinning out of the sky. She hit a tree with a heart-stopping
crack
.
Ms. Wormwood seemed to gain strength, her movements once again smooth. She even smiled her usual flirty, let’s-all-be-best-friends smile as her tentacles dumped first me, then Faith at her feet. “At least there’s one good thing to come out of all this mess,” she said in satisfaction. “I get to kill someone. It’s been too long.” She tapped her finger against her chin. “But do I dare . . . oh, why not. The Prince will be furious, but
she
can take the blame. She’s the one in charge of this debacle.” She hauled Faith’s limp form up, one hand around her neck. “And I am sick of your stupid, sappy love letters.”
“Don’t!” I croaked, grabbing at Ms. Wormwood’s boots. “Please!” I scrabbled to think of something to offer her. “I’ll be your—your willing sex slave! Anything! Just let Faith go!”
“Sex slave?” Ms. Wormwood dropped Faith like hot potato.
“Sex slave?”
She stared at me for a moment as if unable to believe her own ears . . . and then burst out laughing.
Okay, that was adding insult to injury.
Still chuckling, Ms. Wormwood lifted me up effortlessly with one tentacle. “Little boy,” she crooned as I dangled, feet kicking. “I’m a succubus. I’ve done things your sweaty mind can’t even imagine. And you actually think I want
you
? Believe me, you were just a job—if I hadn’t been ordered to distract you from the precious princess here, I would never have tried to seduce you. Not that it worked. You’re the most oblivious, obdurate male I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter.” She pursed her lips. Her fingers tightened around my neck. “Actually, you spoiled my perfect record. For that, I think I’ll kill you first.”
I choked, clawing desperately at Ms. Wormwood’s iron grip. Her vicious, delighted eyes filled my vision. “Struggle, Raffi,” she purred. “Extend the agony. No one’s coming to rescue you this time.”
“Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio!”
Water hit me in the back of the head. It splashed onto Ms. Wormwood too, and she screeched like a thousand nails running down a blackboard, flinging me aside. For a second, all I could do was wheeze, both my hands clutching at my bruised throat.
“Contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium,”
continued the strident voice. The veil of black stars clouding my vision finally cleared, just in time for me to dodge out of the way as Ms. Wormwood stumbled back.
“Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur!”
Next to me, Faith’s eyes fluttered open. “Michaela?” she said dazedly, looking around in confusion.
Michaela didn’t spare either of us so much as a glance. She had an empty plastic bottle in one hand, with a tiny amount of liquid left sloshing at the bottom. Ms. Wormwood eyed it, and her wary expression twisted into a sneer.
“Really, Dante? Taking me on with just a cupful of holy water? After all your caution?” Ms. Wormwood’s tentacles darted at Michaela, who twisted with perfectly timed precision to avoid them. The two circled each other like fighting cats, Michaela always keeping her own body between the demon and Faith. “You can’t bind me. You don’t know my name. You don’t have a circle. You don’t even have your sacred weapon. You have nothing.”
“I have the only thing I need.” Michaela’s voice was rock steady. She never took her eyes off the demon. “Faith.”
“Also this,” I added.
“Michaela, catch!”
I flung her the sword. Ms. Wormwood grabbed at it, but Michaela was faster. She snatched the spinning sword out of midair, twisting to redirect the momentum. In one smooth, fluid movement, she drove the blade straight through Ms. Wormwood’s chest.
The demon spat blood into Michaela’s face. “That all you’ve got?” she said, grinning.
Michaela’s mouth curved in an answering feral smile. “Not quite,” she said—and then, speaking so fast the syllables all ran together,
“Princeps militiae Caelestis, Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo divina virtute in infernum detrude
and for God’s sake don’t get in the way, Rafael,
Amen!”
Michaela’s demon plummeted out of the Hell-sky like an air strike. I flung myself flat, throwing a wing over Faith to press her down too, as it screamed over us in a white-hot blaze, invisible to normal eyes but blinding my angelsight. A bolt of lightning leaped from the burning feathers, haloing Michaela and running down the blade still embedded in Ms. Wormwood’s chest.
She blew apart into ash.
Dead demon was probably not a healthy thing to inhale, but none of us had much choice about it. We all spent a moment coughing before the cloud started to settle. “Thank you,” Faith said, waving a hand in front of her face. “I think. What on earth just happened?”
Michaela was bent double, leaning on the sword as she panted for breath. I answered for her. “Her demon destroyed Ms. Wormwood.”
“My
what
?” Michaela wheezed. She straightened, holding the sword so that the blade pointed directly at my heart.
“Sorry!” I held up my hands in surrender. “Sorry to you too,” I said to the apparently-not-a-demon, who was now hovering in the Hell-sky above Michaela’s head and looking, if a huge burning ball of eyes and wings could be said to have an expression, mortally offended. “Uh, no insult intended. I just don’t know the politically correct term for whatever the hell that thing is.”
“Not hell,” Michaela said icily. “Heaven.” She lowered the point of the sword. “And the correct term is
guardian angel
.”