Prophecy Girl (Angel Academy) (19 page)

“Ami, why do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“That. Refuse to look on the bright side.”

I shrugged. “Not really seeing a bright side.”

“Exactly my point,” he said. “You’re a Wraithmaker. Granted, that’s not the best news, but at least it means you’re not a psychopath.”

“I share a soul with a psychopath.”

“Again, not ideal. But your share of that soul is pretty cool. Some people don’t have half the warmth and creativity you do. Just because their souls are freestanding doesn’t make them better than you.”

He gave up on the knotted lace and tugged the shoe off by force. Little sparks shot up my ankle and I smiled. The idea of a “freestanding” soul struck me as funny; as if a soul was something you could prop up on a stage and brag about.

“Besides,” Jack continued, peeling off my socks. “I’m not convinced you don’t have a soul of your own. The existentialist, Georg Hegel, had this theory that God isn’t something that exists ‘out there’ in some abstract form. He thought divinity, what he called the ‘Absolute,’ could be found in the connections between every living thing; that we all share a consciousness, a little bit of God, in the space between us.” He lifted his gaze to mine, the hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. “I doubt any living thing could so thoroughly get under my skin as you have, without being deeply connected to me. Which means that even though you’re made of Lucifer’s blood, you must have a little bit of God in you.”

I slumped deeper into the bedspread. I didn’t know why he was trying so hard to make me feel better. Pity, I guess. The sad thing was, it was working. “You know,” I said, “for a guy who’s complained almost constantly since I met him, you’ve turned out to be quite the little optimist.”

He groaned. “Amelie, never refer to a man as ‘little,’ even by measure of his optimism. Didn’t Miss Anselmo teach you that?”

I couldn’t help giggling. It actually hurt, given my last frantic bout of laughter, but I didn’t mind. Jack got me a glass of water while I changed into the tank top and boxers Lisa packed for me. It took about four seconds to down the whole glass.

“More?” he offered.

“No, thanks. I’m so tired I’ll probably end up wetting the bed.” I tucked my legs under the covers and pulled the sheets up to my chin. “Will you lie with me until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.” Jack vaulted over me to the other side of the bed and doubled the pillow against the headboard. “But I’m not getting under the covers, so no funny business.”

“Relax,” I promised. “Your virtue is safe with me.”

I rolled over so my head rested on his chest, then waited while he settled his arms around me. He’d insisted we sleep in shifts, allegedly so we’d be alert to intruders. I figured maybe he was afraid to share a bed with me, like I might throw myself at him during a wild REM cycle.

“Thanks, by the way,” I murmured into his chest, absently sketching a protective ward there. Tiny sparks flew up at the contact. “This was possibly the worst day of my life. You made it bearable.”

“At least you’re safe, right?” He reached over to turn the light out. “Maybe it’s true, every cloud has a—”

“If you say ‘silver lining,’ I
will
hurt you,” I threatened, pinching him on the stomach. “Little optimist.”

Laughter rumbled in his chest, deep and warm and alive. It made me want to curl into him, wrap myself around his heart and stay for a long, long time.

“Jack, can you tell me something?” I whispered after a minute.

“Sure. What?”

“I don’t care. Anything. Tell me about yourself. The more sleepy-making the better.”

“Sleepy-making, huh? Let’s see.” He made a thoughtful noise. “Well, I’m a Virgo. You know that. My favorite color is green—”

“Green. Why green?”

“I don’t know. I like trees, I guess. Cedar’s my favorite smell, too, especially when it snows.” He clicked his tongue. “Um, I crochet sometimes, when there’s nothing evil to kill.”

“You crochet? Like with frilly yarn and needles?”

“They’re called hooks. And if you’re going to make fun…” He started to get up, but I tugged him back.

“Wait, keep going,” I said. “I like hearing you talk. Tell me about your family. Focus on the boring parts.”

“Well,” he hesitated. “My parents died when I was eleven. Then Akira ordered me moved to residential. I don’t have any other family, except for Luc—”

“Luc.” I snorted, with no small measure of disdain. “What’s his deal, anyway? Are all vamps so…” Plenty of adjectives sprang to mind, but I didn’t know if Jack’s and my relationship was at the place where I could start insulting his people. I settled for “
Human
?”

“You know, I can’t really bore you to sleep if you keep asking questions.”

“Right. Sorry.”

His hand stroked little circles over my back. “The Montaigne clan are one of a few lines of
born
vampires—the royals. It’s like a brutal, murderous aristocracy and Luc’s family happens to hold power. They’re very political. Very image-based. The born vamps prefer to be called Immortals, though Luc’s not as picky about that as his mom. Usually, any one of them has four or five armed guards with him.”

“How did you meet—”

He shushed me again. “We’ve known each other as long as I can remember. There were three main families who formed Paranormal Convergence: mine, Luc’s, and a werewolf clan by the name of Delinsky. My friend Dane Delinsky was the one Luc sent to watch over you Monday night. He’s a decent guy, mostly. Not terribly regimented, but he’s got a good heart. And yes, they’re both very
human
—souls of their own and everything. That’s what the Peace Tenets are about. Is this boring enough?”

Jack’s thumb brushed against the back of my neck in slow strokes. Mmm, best bedtime story ever.

“More,” I murmured and felt him smile.

“Um, it’ll be ten years on Saturday since our families first petitioned for the Peace Tenets,” he continued in a whisper. “Hundreds of us showed up—vamps, werewolves, you name it. The vamps and weres had been hit pretty hard by demon attacks and with all the vampire in-fighting, Immortals were actually facing extinction. They still are. It was the Gabrielites who championed the Peace movement, but in the end, over a hundred Guardians signed the petition. Luc and Dane and I were just kids then.” His chest rumbled with silent laughter. “You should have seen it. Luc pitched such a fit when they said we couldn’t sign it, I thought it might become an international incident. In the end, Dad only gave in because it was my birthday. That’s what Luc was talking about before, the thing his mom is coming in town for…the Induction.”

“Induction. Right.” I wiped a smidge of drool off the corner of my mouth. The golden threads connecting us seemed to change texture, glowing thick and pliant against my skin. I nestled into his chest.

“If you’d paid attention to your theory lectures, you know it takes ten years after a petition is filed for a Guardian law to be ratified. That’s why we get so many petitioners to sign, so when the law comes up for Induction ten years later there’ll still be plenty alive to ratify it. The Peace Tenets shouldn’t be a problem. There’s a lot of dissent about it since the war effort’s failing right now, but we only need one of the original petitioners from each group to pass it. It’ll be good, you’ll see.” He tightened his arms around me, his breath warm against my hair. “Once the law gets ratified, everyone will be treated as equals. No more bigotry, no more distrust between species. The Inferni will be our allies against demonkind. Maybe the Elders will even train them to fight alongside us, instead of treating them like some hostile protectorate.”

I had to admit it sounded good.
If
they could be trusted.

The tricky thing about Inferni was that even though they lived in our world, ate our food, and drove our cars, they all still carried demon blood. Maybe it wasn’t as thick or toxic as true subterraneans—but could we really trust creatures who, for centuries, hunted humans as if they were no better than animals? Liberals like Jack would tell you Crossworlders must have souls because their origins were human. But I wasn’t so sure.

Heck, what did I know? I barely had a soul myself.

Right?

Chapter Seventeen:

Under Pressure

Jack woke me before dawn. Thursday morning. Only two days left until the prophecy.

It took me a few minutes to register where I was. The whole room looked dim and swimmy, and I couldn’t figure out why there were no Beanie Babies on my dresser. Or why my dresser had been painted puke green and hauled in front of the door.

“Hey.” Jack’s husky voice brought everything back in a flood. “You okay to keep watch for awhile?”

I blinked up at him. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Seven hours. You need more?”

I shook my head. “You should have woken me sooner.”

“I tried,” he said with a smile, “about three hours ago. You flicked me in the face and told me to piss off.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure you deserved it, then.” I tried to sit up, but the sudden movement left me light-headed. “Do we have any granola bars left?”

“I think you ate the last one at Luc’s. Along with all my breath mints and a half-eaten box of Red Hots you found in the seat cushions.”

“I don’t remember that.”

He grinned as he unstuck a clump of hair from my face. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were dangerous.”

I had to stifle a yawn as I stood, so I leaned against him while the head-rush subsided. It was nice, like leaning against a good-smelling brick wall. My pride might not have let me say it, but I owed him
so
much. And not just one night’s sleep, either. I owed him my life. It wasn’t a debt I could ever repay, and honestly, I didn’t know how to try. In a weird fit of gratitude, I wound my arms around his waist for a hug.

“What’s that for?” he asked, confused.

But I buried my face in his chest and kept hugging. It took him a second to relax, but eventually he sighed and his arms looped around me too. If it had been up to me, we would have stayed like that for another seven hours.

He didn’t speak after we parted. Just slipped into the warm spot I’d vacated and fell asleep.

My body made creaky sounds as I settled in for my turn on watch. I hated all the carefulness and sitting around. We needed a plan. Preferably one that didn’t involve psychic lunch ladies, pompous vampires, and flea-bag motels. Don’t get me wrong, I was as thrilled as the next girl about hiding out with the world’s most unattainable bachelor. But there had to be something else we could do. Something useful.

I slumped back on the dust-covered cushions and stared up at the stained ceiling. Yeesh. Was it even possible my biggest drama used to be figuring out who I should invite to the school gala? Had I really been that shallow?

Small beams of gray light slanted through the windows, casting flickery shadows across the bedspread. Jack looked so peaceful, fist curled around the hilt of his short sword like a little boy with a teddy bear. He probably loved that thing as much as most kids love their teddy bears.
Strange what this world does to us.

After what seemed like hours—and probably was—I tugged back my moth-eaten flannel throw and padded toward the bathroom. The mirror over the sink was so old and tarnished it even made the smattering of freckles across my nose look colorless. I tried to splash some water on my face.

“Great,” I muttered as chilled water dribbled under the collar of my tank top. “It’s gonna be one of those days, isn’t it?”

My clothes were still in Lisa’s backpack, so I dragged it into the bathroom and started unpacking. T-shirts, jeans, super-cute silk halter top. With my luck, Jack would probably have us scaling a skyscraper before noon. The silk top went back into the pack. I’d just decided on a sports bra and T-shirt over some jeans when the bag began to vibrate. It startled me at first, until I realized what it was.

Lisa’s phone.

I dug through the pack until I found it, yellow and flowery, at the bottom. “Hello?”

“Ami!” Lisa’s voice squeaked over the line like a manic frog. “Omigosh, I’ve been so worried. Did the jump go okay? Of course it did. You’re alive, right? Oh, we were so worried! I
said
you’d get in trouble. But did you listen to me? No, you didn’t. Because you never listen!”

Despite myself, I smiled. No matter what the tragedy, trust Lisa to fit a lecture in. “Hi, Lis.”

“Don’t ‘Hi, Lis’ me. Where are you? No, wait! Don’t tell me. If they torture me, I don’t want to have to give you up.”

“Relax, I don’t even know. It doesn’t matter, we won’t be here long. Jack’s like a psycho-nomad with a taste for one-star lodging.”

“Is he still with you?”

“Yeah, he’s asleep. Kind of a weird night. I’m in the bathroom right now.”

“Omigosh, y’all didn’t—”

“No!” I said, too loudly. “No, of course not. It’s not like that.”

It took about ten minutes to brief her on everything— the prophecy, my alleged twin brother, my dubious status as a Wraithmaker. The one thing I skimmed over was Jack. I had yet to sort through the kissing parts. And my feelings for him were
waaaay
too intense to put into words. Still, the omission left me with a guilty knot in my belly. I’d spent the better part of twelve years letting Lisa manage the details of my life. It felt weird to hide stuff from her now.

“Hey, how’s Bud?” I asked, deliberately changing the subject. “Still in Baton Rouge?”

“No, he came home yesterday, as soon as he got my message telling him not to come home.”

“Typical.”

“Tell me about it. Elder Akira finished interrogating us last night, but Bud and Henry are both still in lock-up at school. The Elders aren’t technically allowed to hold Bud since he hasn’t done anything wrong. But—”

“But they know he’d help me if he could.”

“Yeah. Katie thinks they’ll probably wipe his memory. And Henry—” She groaned. “Wow, I wish I’d seen it. According to Alec’s dad, Henry grabbed a broadsword at the interrogation and started screaming that
he
was the one who helped Jack break you out. Said if they wanted to stop him, they’d have to kill him. It took like four tranquilizers and a stunner charm to bring him down.”

“Sounds major.” I paused to crack open the bathroom window as a stereo blared to life behind Lisa. “Where are you?”

“At Alec’s house. His dad’s got a secret phone line.”

“Tell her I got detention for defending her honor,” Alec shouted in the distance.

“Did he really?”

“Well, he got detention, but mostly for calling Akira a closed-minded troglodyte,” she said. “Chancellor Thibault made them drop the rest of the charges against us. They didn’t even freak about the arsenal break-in since it was allegedly an attempt to stop Henry. Pretty gullible, right?”

“That’s grown-ups for you.” Much as it killed me to think of poor, sweet Henry in lock-up, at least I knew my friends were okay. That was something. And who knew, maybe Jack had a back up plan to break Bud and Henry out. I wasn’t putting anything past him.

“Lis, ask Alec if his dad can do anything for Bud. And Henry, too. Losing Smalley is going to be hard enough. He doesn’t deserve to rot in prison for the rest of his life.”

“I will,” she promised.

We fell into a semi-awkward silence. In the background, I could hear Matt and Alec sparring while Katie urged them to take it easy. It was hard knowing how little they could do for me…and how little I could do for them. I think Lisa felt it, too. Neither of us wanted to admit that, overnight, my friends had morphed from a vibrant part of my life into a useless piece of history—like turning the page of a book to find the rest of it suddenly blank.

“I should probably go,” I said.

“Yeah, I know.” She was quiet for another moment, though the line stayed open. “Look, the Chancellor’s trying to work out a deal. Immunity for Mr. Smith-Hailey and a stay of execution for you, in exchange for your surrender. It’s not ideal, obviously, but we can always break you out later.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind,” I said. I was about to hang up when another thought occurred to me. “Hey, Lis, if you needed to get a copy of your birth certificate, what would you do?”

“I’d ask my mom. Why?”

I stared at the phone. How can some people be so smart and so dense at the same time? “Let me rephrase.” I tried again. “If you were a seventeen-year-old fugitive with no access to your parents and you needed to see your birth records—”

“Ahh,” she said, “that’s harder. Guardians don’t keep records about stuff like that…you know, because of the Great Books and all.”

“Right. Of course.” Seriously, was I the only one who had no clue about the stupid Great Books?

“You could try Louisiana Vital Records,” she suggested, “but they’ll probably need a parent’s signature. Same for hospital records. There’s always the Guardian Internet Database, but that’s a lot harder to pick through. Is this about your alleged twin brother? Oooh, do you think he’s hot?”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that.”

She gave me her Internet passcode so I could bypass the human lockouts without tipping off any trackers, and quickly hung up the phone. If I didn’t get some coffee soon, my execution would be a non-issue since I’d perish from caffeine withdrawal. I milled around the bathroom until my stomach began to rumble, then went back into the bedroom to watch Jack sleep some more. It sounds boring, I know, but if you saw the guy, you’d understand why it wasn’t.

He was amazing when he slept. His body held a faint luminescence that seemed to intensify the closer I got. I found myself playing with that glow—holding my hand over his heart until I could feel the strands of light, then tugging at them until they glowed brighter. Even his face lost its careful diffidence in slumber. He looked so much more like the relaxed future-Jack I’d seen in my visions.

So
weird.

I remember reading somewhere how human beings cycle so many carbon atoms during their lifetime it was not only possible, but probable, that every human on the planet contained a carbon atom that once belonged to Jesus of Nazareth. Or Martin Luther King, Jr., or Elvis. I always thought that was cool. It gave me some bit of comfort to think of all those people, all that history, being inside of me. I tried to time my inhale with Jack’s exhale, so I could take in as many of his carbon atoms as possible.

Jack had been asleep over four hours when impatience finally got the better of me. We had less than two days until he was supposed to die and our leads were nil. With Lisa’s passcode, all I needed was a few minutes on a computer and I might be able to verify the story about my supposed evil twin. Even if I couldn’t, at least I’d be able to hunt down some clues, right?

So far, we’d been thinking about this as a serial murder case. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that wasn’t the whole story. If what Bertle said was true, then the first crime wasn’t murder at all. It was kidnapping. So, if I could find out who had access to my mom around the time of my birth, and who had opportunity to alter the birth records, then maybe I could figure out who was doing this now. It wasn’t much, but it would give us a starting point.

Luc had packed us a mini computer pad with a satellite modem. It took a few minutes to activate the modem and link it to the Starbucks Wi-Fi across the street, then another minute to talk myself out of checking my email. No doubt the Elders had tagged my account. If I logged on, even for a second, they could find us. I stared at the Yahoo welcome page with the longing of a forbidden lover. It just seemed like torture, another scrap of normal I couldn’t access.

Resigned, I entered the web address for the Louisiana Vital Records Registry. According to the website, I needed to be eighteen, not a criminal, and willing to wait eight to ten business days for them to process my request. Or I needed my dad.

So much for bureaucracies.

I tabled that quandary for the moment and, using Lisa’s passcode, logged on to the Guardian search engine. If the Elders were tracking Lisa’s code, too, then they’d be able to see whatever I searched for. I knew I might only have a few minutes before they locked onto the transmission signal.

I typed in “Charlotte Lane Birth” and hit the search icon.

The hit came up instantly, though it wasn’t exactly what I wanted. “
Charlotte Lane Heralds the Birth of a New Guardian Dream Team
.”

It was an old
Guardian Times
article celebrating St. Michael’s “latest crop” of outstanding warriors. I watched carefully as a photo of my mom with a group of young Guardians digitized on the screen. Dad looked awesome with his battle garb and broadsword. He had one arm slung over her shoulder and an easy smile at his lips. Super badass. They wore the old Guardian uniform, before we moved to lightweight Kevlar gear. Black leather armor was stitched over every inch of the stretchy material, with panels of hard carbon along the forearms. Like Batman, minus the cape. It worked great if you were fending off an airborne demon attack, but the limitations in a sword fight were far from ideal.

The resolution on the photo was grainy, though I could still recognize a few of the others with them. Gunderman in the back row, with his floppy hair and lanky body. D’Arcy up front, caught mid-blink. Even Lisa’s parents grinned gleefully from the rear of the pack. My mother couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen in the picture, her face a bit leaner than I remembered. She smiled proudly at the camera, one hand intertwined with my dad’s, the other clasped firmly on the arm of the man beside her. He was tall and handsome, with wavy brown hair and a nice profile.

Mom’s Watcher.

Everyone liked to gossip about what happened between them—how Charlotte had betrayed him. As far as I could tell, none of it was her fault. She’d done nothing any other pregnant mom-to-be wouldn’t have done. Obviously, I didn’t know the details. Nobody knew the details.

My mom and dad were a couple all through high school. They’d gotten engaged, set a date for the wedding, hired a band, the whole nine yards. When bond assignments came up and Charlotte was given to a recent grad she’d never met, they were horrified. They postponed the wedding. They talked about leaving the Guardians, defecting to the human sector. But Mom couldn’t do it. As a child of Raphael, she had the mission in her blood. So Dad defected, and Mom bonded with Bobby.