Read Conspiracy Boy (Angel Academy) Online

Authors: Cecily White

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Conspiracy Boy (Angel Academy) (6 page)

BOOK: Conspiracy Boy (Angel Academy)
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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 myself 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 in
vllvvd
?”

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 room. “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.”

“Not a big deal? They’re moving your boyfriend in with you and your billionaire playboy fiancé, in the hopes that you’ll murder him and save their prophetic asses. Don’t you think that’s messed up?”

“Luc’s not my fiancé,” I said. “And Jack’s not my boyfriend. And can we please not discuss the Elders’ asses? That’s not a good visual.” I tipped back the cup of coffee I’d swiped from the nurses’ station until the last drops disappeared down my throat. Holy crud, that was good.

“Well, the news mags all say Luc’s your fiancé. And if Jack’s not your boyfriend, then what is he? Your babysitter?”

“Definitely not my babysitter.”

“And you’re not in denial, either.”

I glared at him, tossing my empty cup into the garbage.

“It’s still messed up. What are you gonna do, anyway? Like, sit on the couch and watch foreign movies together? If things get freaky, do you at least get to be in the middle?”

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m being realistic. You and Luc have been functionally engaged for months. You’re nuts if you think the Immortals will ever let you run off with Mr. S.” He coughed into his fist. Again.

He’d been doing that for an hour, ever since I’d arrived after school let out. It took him nearly two minutes to get it under control this time, and when he finally pulled his hand away, the inside of it was flecked with blood.

It hurt my heart to look at it.

“Lyle, do they know what’s wrong with you? I mean, apart from the obvious?” I put a hand to his forehead. “Whatever it is, I can probably heal you—”

“Nuh-uh.” Lyle grabbed my wrist and gently lowered it. “Gunderman thinks I’m filtering Crossworlds taint, and they can’t figure how to stop it. Doc said no contact with Channelers. And
you
, my dear, are definitely a Channeler.”

“But I’m the best healer in school.”

“Maybe for Smith-Hailey, you are. But for me, you’re dangerous. And don’t think I don’t know what that means.” He gave me a significant look then waggled his eyebrows. “By the way, I’m officially taking you off my pref list. Even if you do have the perkiest rack in the senior class, I don’t go for bonded girls.
Bondage
girls, on the other hand—”

I couldn’t help it. He’d earned a smack for that comment.

“Ow,” he said. “Fine, you’re more than a perky rack. But even the killer legs and psychotic desire to slaughter demon things won’t get you back on my list. I stand firm. I will not poach another man’s quarry. I shan’t till another man’s field.”

“Oh, good grief.”

“I won’t pollute another man’s drinking well, lay seed to his garden—”

“Stop. Seriously.” I cut Lyle off before he went all biblical on me. “Henry thinks the only way I can develop my Wraithmaker abilities is if I channel with Jack, and the Immortal Synod figures Luc needs someone to protect him from Petra, the unkillable assassin girl. And the Elders want Inferni to stop dying. So, short of giving me a stabby knife and forcing me and Jack into an abandoned hotel in the mountains, they think moving him in is the best answer.”

“What do you think?”

“I think we should go to an Icelandic beach until everyone calms the hell down. Or at least until someone figures out how to get this stupid prophecy done without me.”

“Or until the world ends.”

“That, too,” I confirmed. “Are you going to drink your coffee?”

Lyle shoved his over-creamered, uber-sugared excuse for coffee toward the edge of the tray. “Are you going to be okay with this?”

“What do you mean?” I downed his sickly sweet beverage in about two swigs.

“You and Jack. If anyone at school finds out you’re bonded, they’ll—” He paused. “I don’t know what they’ll do, but it can’t be good.”

“In theory, they’ll have to either split us up or approve the bonding. Or kick us out of the Guardians,” I added. “That’d be pretty cool. Except if they want me to kill him, I don’t see any of that happening.”

“True enough.” My friend chewed his wad of French fries thoughtfully then grabbed another handful. He shoved that in, too. “What about Luc? You said he showed up?”

“Mmm. With a woman.”

“Classy.”

“She was,” I said. “At least five grand per day.”

That sent him into another fit of hacking coughs. “I take it he’s not acting husbandly yet?”

“Brilliant deduction. He did save my life, though. Again. That’s all mentally filed in Reasons Not to Kill and Eat Him.”

I gave the fries an unsubtle shove toward Lyle. The nurse’s report said he’d eaten everything in sight since they brought him in. Despite the chowfest, though, he’d been losing weight at an alarming rate. The least I could do was keep him eating. I figured if he didn’t die or slip into a coma, I had a better shot of being allowed back for another visit.

“On a related note, Jack has the best kill stats of any operative in the history of the Enforcement Guild. Including my mom,” I said. “If he’s fully bonded to me, there’s no limit to what we can kill. Maybe Akira would approve it.”

“A Son of Gabriel matched with a Daughter of Lucifer? Yeah, that’ll fly.”

“Shut up and eat your French fries.” I flicked a glob of ketchup at his face.

He licked it off as he chuckled. “You realize this whole idea is destined for failure, right?”

I didn’t answer. Failure seemed optimistic, if you asked me. Even if I
did
know how to fulfill this stupid prophecy, it’s not like I could do anything until I figured out a method that didn’t include sticking a sword through someone’s heart. And the only time Jack and I had faced off with Petra the killer supermodel, I got my ass handed to me. Violently. Likewise, if Dominic really wanted me dead, I wasn’t sure I could stop him. Half the teachers in school probably wanted to assassinate me. How hard could it be?

Lyle popped the last French fry in his mouth and turned a covetous eye toward my plate. “You gonna eat that cheeseburger?”

I shoved the food at him across the hospital bed. Color already pinked his cheeks—from the food or the gossip, I had no idea.

“It’s still screwed up,” Lyle said, chomping happily. “But what can I say? Better you than me. Can I have your Jell-O, too?”

“You have four stomachs, I swear.” I glared at him but shoved the side of Jell-O his way. It still amazed me that no matter what one’s species—human, angel, or were-creature—the gelatinous quality of hospital food remained constant.

“I’m just peeved I won’t get to meet Lady Montaigne,” he noted, dipping a spoon into the orange globby stuff. “I hear she’s hot. And vampire chicks dig snacking on younger men. She’d totally go for me.”

Yup. As conversational partners go, a convalescing, morally flexible bag of teenage hormones with a penchant for cologne and hair product wasn’t my top pick. But he was better than nothing.

“On that note, I’m leaving,” I said, gathering my empty tray. “Glad you’re feeling better. Call me if you have anything useful to say.”

“Never happen,” Lyle agreed around a mouthful of Jell-O. “Be careful, okay? I worry about you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, guys can be territorial. Mr. S, especially. And when it comes to him, you’re about as subtle as a nuclear power plant.”

“Exaggerate much?”

“Do I?” He glared at me skeptically. “Do me a favor, Ami. Close your eyes for a second.”

I paused at the door, eyes closed.

“Now think about the last time you saw him talking to Hansen. How he leaned in close and whispered in her ear. Did he touch her shoulder or laugh at something she said? Picture it.” Lyle paused to give me a chance to envision the torturefest he was describing. Already images crystallized in my brain—my bondmate and the gorgeous instructor he dated in high school.

My belly tightened as I watched them together in my head. Touching. Laughing.

“Now open your eyes.”

I cracked an eye. The air around me shimmered imperceptibly, but there wasn’t anything obvious about it. Nothing like what had happened at the wharf last night.

“I’m fine,” I said defiantly. “See?”

“Look at your hands.”

Unwittingly, my gaze dropped to my hands, which clenched the cafeteria tray. Sure enough, my skin had taken on that faint, luminous glow, like I’d absorbed the sun or gone swimming in gold-colored toxic waste.

Okay, I admit the ignore-it-and-hope-it-goes-away plan wasn’t my most solid, but what options did I have? Run away and start a war? Explain to Akira that I couldn’t kill Jack because we were secretly bonded, totally in love, and planning to ditch Luc as soon as I got legal?

They’d be lining up to murder me.

“I’m just saying,” Lyle pointed out, his gaze drifting back to my hands, “you need to figure something out, or you’re going to get everyone killed.”

“Story of my life, Lyle,” I said. “Story of my life.”

I decided to walk home from the hospital. Given the snow patches littering the streets and the fact that I still felt like a walking ice cube, it probably wasn’t the brightest idea. But I didn’t care. I’d have frozen anyway. At least the chill left a nice reminder of Lyle facedown on the ground last night—the awful echo of his soul as it slipped through my fingers.

I’d
felt
it. I’d called it back.

Now I just had to figure out how to control the power.

By the time I got back to the Quarter, it wasn’t snowing anymore. Enough breeze still swished around to give the impression of falling flakes, though, like tiny tulle-clad dancers turning pirouettes through the air. I opened my mouth to catch a few on my tongue.

When Lisa and I were little, before we started manifesting serious power, we used to pretend snowflakes were fairy candy nuggets, each one with special abilities. Invisibility. Teleportation. The power to fly. I wonder if she knew back then what powers she had—what we would become.

I shivered, from the memory or the weather, I wasn’t sure. Before I could delve too far into self-pity land, my phone gave a buzz signaling an incoming text.

You okay? Got a weird vibe for you just now,
Jack texted, and my stomach gave a happy flutter. This had happened a few times recently—when I felt something, seconds later, he’d check on me. I liked it, feeling connected.

I’m good
, I replied.
Heading back to Luc’s.

K. Be careful.

I always am
, I typed, and then added,
I love you. You know that, right?

I’m counting on it
, he replied.
See you soon.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, I hurried through the servants’ entrance to the kitchen, where Marguerite stood with her back to me, gray hair knotted in a French twist.

When I had to be at Luc’s place, I tried to stay in the kitchen as much as possible, even though Marguerite constantly threw me out. Honestly, this was the only room that didn’t smell like old, rich people. Today, creamy scents of aioli and parmesan wafted through the air, punctuated by the buttery sweetness of hot rolls in the oven. I took one look at the bubbling vat of pasta and gave myself the luxury of a long, slow breath.

No perfume. No metallic tinge of jewelry or musk of fur. Just food.

I
loved
the smell of food. Tater tots and frozen pizza were okay if I was at school or hanging with Lyle. But nothing compared to real, solid, fresh food like I used to cook for me and Dad.

“That smells amazing.” I dropped my bag onto the floor with a
thunk
.

Without blinking, she picked it up and set it on the counter. “You’re late, love. Fancy a washup before dinner?”

I grabbed an apple and hopped up beside my bag, legs swinging from the smooth granite slab. “In a minute. I missed you at breakfast. How was your day?”

“If you’d been at breakfast, you’d know that Lady Arianna arrived this morning and Annabelle’s fit to be tied. A better question, dear, is how was yours?”

“How come we’re eating early?” I asked, eager to avoid the topic. “Come to think of it, how come we’re eating at all? Isn’t the household diet mostly blood based?” I scooped a spoonful of batter out of Marguerite’s bamboo mixing bowl and stuck it in my mouth. As expected, the cornbread pudding blended brilliantly with the apple.

She snatched the spoon back.

On a normal day, Marguerite might make a pizza for me, and Luc might have a bottle of something suspicious-looking. If he had to impress one of his human counterparts for a business lunch or whatever, he might eat some crackers and cheese or pick at a sandwich. Pretty standard for an Immortal—they
could
eat food, but for the most part, they stuck with willing blood donors. I shuddered to think of my culinary future if I ever went full demon viral.

Either way,
this
level of food prep was unprecedented.

Above the island, half the copper pots that usually hung suspended from a rack had been taken down and held bubbling red and white sauces on the stove top. The normally shimmering stainless steel appliances and cherry cabinets were coated with a thin sheen of white flour, and rags lay in partial use on the countertops. It was the kind of place where you could cook for hundreds, and today it looked like Marguerite had decided to do just that.

“We’re having guests, aren’t we?” I probed. “Anyone cool? Rock stars? Professional serial killers?”

“Best not to ask.” Marguerite smiled. “Now, off you go. His Lordship left specific instruction that you be presentable when they arrive. If I fail him, I’ll surely be drawn and quartered.”

“Don’t be silly. Luc doesn’t draw and quarter on weekdays,” I scoffed. “Actually, I need to ask you something. It’s serious.”

“If I answer, will you go to your room?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes”—she nodded—“there will be chocolate for dessert.”

BOOK: Conspiracy Boy (Angel Academy)
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