Pulled Away (Twisted Fate, #1.5)

by Sasha Leigh

  “Yes.” He nodded. “They were human until they died. Mostly teenagers. Instead of transitioning, they were brought to Glory Academy.”

  “How do you choose?”

  “I don't.” He hesitated and looked away, and I dreaded his answer. “The Sisters do.”

  I exhaled the breath I was holding and leaned back until the wall was holding me upright in my seat. “You cannot be serious.”

  But of course, he was. I saw the truth when he looked at me, and heard it in his voice. How could I reconcile this? Even if my head could understand—right now it didn't—my heart could never forgive, and I would never forget what the Sisters of Fate had done. How could the First watch as the Sisters ripped my stability away, and then expect me to follow their orders with blind faith again?

  The Sisters of Fate were responsible for thrusting me together with Alyssa. They knew, as Fate always did, what the outcome would be: devastation. The deepest, the most incapacitating emotional fracture any one being—human or angel or darkling—should never be forced to bear. Just as I found the piece of me I hadn’t known was missing, they pulled it away, and I would never be the same.

  Swallowing, I closed my eyes and licked my lips. “So what? They're running an angel school now? What do they know about our kind? They can't even see us—we are the one entity above their control.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “We are running the school, and since these angels were once human, Fate has seen them. That is, they were able to see them before their deaths, but even the Sisters do not hold power after that,” he said. “You know that.”

  I sat straight, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “Why are we still doing their bidding? Running a school? As if we don't have enough to do already? Hasn't everything else that's happened proven their inadequacies? What will it take for Him to realize this?”

  “He asked them to do this, Brother.”

  “Oh.” My hostility deflated only marginally. It seemed too convenient, like the First had rehearsed his answers. “So what would my role be? I mean, if I take you up on your proposition. What am I expected to do?”

  “Teach.”

  “Excuse me?” I laughed. It was the most ridiculous notion he'd ever suggested to me. I was the furthest from being a role model that one could be, and after Alyssa? In this mindset? The fact that I neglected duties should indicate that I wasn’t the best candidate for “teacher”.

  He shrugged. “It is a school, Brother. You've acquired the language of teenagers—surely you are the best of us to do this? The students need to learn how to be angels.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth with amusement. “You are the Second. Only one is better suited than you to instruct them, or have you forgotten that, too?”

  “So then you teach them.”

  “Only one of us is going to be duty-free. Since the rest of us have other matters to attend to, especially whilst shouldering your obligations, you are the best suited,” he said, and really, it made sense, though I wouldn’t say it. “Having you there allows us to stop splitting our focus. It gives you time, but can you do this? Is this the path that you wish to pursue?”

  And be away from an opportunity to see her again?

  Squinting, I looked to the wall and sighed, but it was still blank. Dark. And I had a feeling that that wasn’t about to change. Was it really grief? No . . . I looked at the First Brother and it was like a tub of water was dumped on my head, bringing everything into focus. It isn’t my fault that I can’t see Alyssa. They must have sabotaged it. So then what choice did I have? Obedience was such a dominant factor in my world, even when it wasn’t given, it was taken.

  With a sigh of resignation, I stared down at my hands and lowered my voice. “Just tell me one thing, Brother.”

  “She is doing fine.”

  Looking up, I met his gaze. It never faltered.

  “She has been sad, grieving the loss of David, but she is alright. And she is not alone.”

  I nodded. Suzie. The friend who hid her own goodness behind a wall of cruelty, too scared of what she thought she knew to remain attached. But when Alyssa had lived and those events failed to come to pass, Suzie let herself care again.

  “Okay.” I nodded. Not getting the chance to try to see Alyssa was . . . hard. But if I chose punishment, I would lose the chance to find my way back to her side . . . and her love. I lifted my head and exhaled. “I'll go to the school.”

  I was too curious not to.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Glory Academy was the same as any other school, though I had only ever attended one.

  I was old, so ancient I could redefine the term and teach the so-called immortals what it meant to never die. But I had seen it all, like a clip of history rolling through my mind: painted lessons on cave walls, parents instructing children by firelight and coal, pioneers in the back of wagons, one-room schoolhouses, buildings with many rooms—from mass study to independent learning, and everything that fell in between. The appearance of schools would alter, but the underlying current remained the same: pride for knowledge gained, but an eagerness to avoid the work.

  “Not what you expected?”

  Take away the Glory lighting the golden walls, making the use of conventional lighting unnecessary, and it was a school.

  “Unfortunately, just the opposite.” I looked to the Seventh Brother and smiled. Turning to rest my elbows on the railing overlooking the cafeteria across from the entrance, I said, “I thought the First was exaggerating when he said it was teenagers the Sisters chose.”

  He nodded, his dark hair falling across his eyes to brush against his cheekbones, and followed my gaze to a group of students laughing over their food. It was an amenity no longer required for their survival, but a comfort, something that provided a link of familiarity to their life as humans. Yes, I would be the first to admit that food was one of the humans' greatest attractions. But it was sad to see such a large group of teenagers knowing that for them to be here meant they had suffered. Death, no matter how painless, was always a torture.

  How many resented waking up and being told they were being enrolled in school?

  Looking around the rest of the makeshift cafeteria, I could see others forming their own cliques, just as they would have done as humans. Here the Goths were replaced by sullen, quiet faces full of anger, unable to accept their death, and who could blame them? The jocks and cheerleaders were smiling, eager for whatever honour came next—likely the new Guardians. Every student would fill a type: Angels of War, Angels of Inspiration, Angels of Souls. Even the silent Watchers.

  “Do they remember?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Why are they so young?” It was a hard to reconcile. Was Darkness at fault? Or the Sisters?

  “Their youth allows them to be more accepting of their afterlife.”

  Not all of them. My gaze returned to the group that appeared withdrawn and angry. They were children who had barely begun to live, one for every race and color. Was it normal? That in a world of billions a few hundred wasn't an inconceivable number to factor until they were grouped together, and then it was tragic.

  I tore my eyes from the students and looked back to the Seventh, who remained respectful despite my temporary demotion. Would the others do the same if one of them had been chosen for my orientation? The Youngest had endured a similar task as I, minus the Sisters’ involvement and oh-so-important mystery. Only in the end of his story, the girl had died. Perhaps one day he would tell me the details, but not today.

  Taking a deep breath, I lifted my head and looked around. “Are there any adults?”

  “A few. Due to the necessity of numbers, though, the plan that He and the Sisters developed was complete nearly twenty human years ago. There are a few older, uh . . . prototypes, you might say.” He nodded to the students. “They have been accumulating over the last few months, and once they arrive, they do not age. Most of the adults that used to be here are on another floor. They were a little . .
. troublesome.”

  “How?”

  “They led full lives, Brother.” He shrugged. “They were too ingrained in life to accept death.”

  I could understand that. A person's afterlife could be as beautiful or as terrible and dark as one deserved, but it would always lack substance. Until I met Alyssa, I hadn't realized the difference, what the rhythmic beat of a heart lost when life ended didn’t keep emotions from being felt once it stopped drumming. Now my existence felt hollow, like every move was slow motion, but someday, if I persevered, I would see her again. Because no matter Fate’s plan, someday Alyssa would die, and even if she was too old to remember, I would still be here.

  “Come on,” he said, interrupting my downward spiral of thoughts. “I'll show you to your quarters and give you the full tour.”

  I glanced back at the students a final time and then nodded. The First was right when he said that I had the skill and experience to instruct them. Would they be able to show me how to move forward? To not dwell on what Death had taken? Life. Theirs, mine. It had all been stolen in a premature stroke of Fate's hand.

  ***

  Settling into a routine was easy, like switching into automatic pilot. Every day I functioned in a series of motions: getting up, preparing to face the day, teaching my classes, retiring to the library to concoct a new lesson plan, and then completing research before going back to the solitude of my quarters. I didn't know what I was looking for in the books I read, but figured I'd understand once I found it. If it wasn’t here, in this library, it didn't exist. All the knowledge of every world and time was stored in the Great Library, putting the Akashic Records to shame in comparison.

  But I didn't care about its prestige; I cared about its knowledge, the relevance of its contents, and how I could borrow those resources to aid my cause. Though I had resigned to life at Glory Academy, and seriously tried to help the students, I hadn't given up the fight to get back to Alyssa, and by extension, my heart.

  A clack of thunder cracked through the silence to echo throughout the glass-domed room. I looked up from the tomb I was reading, The History of Creation, and smiled to see my two brightest students enter the library. They stopped by the main desk and looked around the stacks, pausing to linger at every table and examine each face. Starting at the table closest to the door and working past each section of the round room, they searched until they reached the back, final table where I was seated.

  Everyone was giving me a wide birth, and rumours of my demotion circled without verification, but usually it was enough to cause hesitancy without obliterating respect. As a Brother, the students were in awe, but being just a teacher? The odd angel who was comfortable in the jeans they loved? Well, the hesitancy lasted only long enough for them to decide I was the most approachable.

  Once their gazes found me, they lit with the satisfaction of a hunter catching sight of their prey. Why would they wish to see me? I thought back to our last few classes, but no new assignments were scheduled, and nothing was coming due.

  “Brother?” Sera asked when they reached the other side of the table, her voice timid and her stance unsure. Neither tried to sit, for which I was grateful. She looked down to her hands. “Can we talk to you?”

  “Can you?” I raised an eyebrow, looking from one to the other. “Would you like to talk to me, or would you like to talk with me?”

  “We need your advice.” Keston placed a reassuring hand on the small of the girl's back and my gaze narrowed, but neither took notice of my condescending tone or scrutiny.

  Oh boy.

  I knew that gesture. I understood that look. Without any doubt, I knew their question, but would wait for it to be voiced with the hope that I was wrong.

  They were too young to know any better.

  Sera, maybe fifteen-years-old, with her innocence pouring from her in waves of inexperience, was tiny, like a delicate flower with short, almost black hair cut to frame her face in angled layers, just a bit longer in front than back. Her doe-shaped eyes pleaded in earnest, the silver-blue hard to deny.

  “What do you need advice on?” I asked despite my reservations, and leaned forward, folding my hands on top of the book I was reading.

  Sera looked to Keston and nodded for him to continue. Watching them side-by-side, I noted their differences like a contrast of light against dark. Where she was unsure, he was steady, and where she was petite, he was filled with muscle and stature—purpose.

  They were both doomed.

  Keston cleared his throat and levelled an unwavering, frosty green gaze on me. “We took our placement exams.”

  I nodded, but didn't speak. It was foolish to hope for something different to be said, but I found myself doing it anyway. What could I tell them? I didn’t listen to the Brothers’ advice, and it was impossible for me to lie, so what? I tell them about what I went through and hope they figured out what not to do? Given the fact that I would do it again, that I knew true emotion couldn’t be swayed by reason, it would do no good.

  “We're assigned to different duties,” Sera continued. “That means that we won't be able to see each other after graduation, right?”

  Nodding again, I leaned back in my chair, hooking my thumbs against my bottom lip and steeping my fingers over my nose. Narrowing my eyes, I took a deep breath, and let my hands fall back to the table. “Is this a problem? The placement tests determine your natural talents. Even if you placed similarly to one another, there's no guarantee that you will be spending time together after graduation.”

  “We thought you might be able to help us.”

  “Oh?” I raised my eyebrow and cocked my head to the right. Brazen souls.

  “What she means is that we want to be together,” Keston said.

  “To work together?”

  “We love each other,” Sera said in a small voice. “We want to be together.”

  “I'm sorry.” I meant it, too. “You know the rules—”

  “But you broke them, right?” Keston cut in. “And you're like, important. You can help us be together because you understand what we want.”

  I leaned forward and sighed. Of course I understood how they felt. I knew the desire to be with the one you love even when it isn’t possible. But how can I help them when I had yet to find a way to help myself?

  The rules in Heaven, those that governed Glory Academy, weren't like rules tied to the Mortal Realm. It wasn't like being grounded for missing curfew or skipping class; it was an eternity in Hell. The Lake of Fire.

  And they were both too young . . . .

  Too innocent for that to be their fate.

  But how do I advise them without deceit?

  “Perhaps . . . I think that the two of you should spend your time at Glory Academy apart.” I nodded. Yes, that was what would be best for both of them, though remembering my own feelings, I doubted they would listen.

  “But we heard the rumours!” Keston pressed his lips together and darted his eyes around the library. Lowering his voice, he leaned forward, and said, “You fell for a mortal and weren't punished.”

  “This will not end well—for either of you,” I said in a low voice. “Take a look at each other. Go on, look.” I paused until they did as I requested. “You love her. She loves you. Now look at me and understand where that love will lead. Alone, sad and withdrawn, without a lick of direction. If you truly love each other, stay away from each other or you'll end up as I am, instructing students who don't understand the importance of what your love has cost you.”

  Sera's mouth dropped open and tears sprang to her eyes. Keston narrowed his eyes to glint like lasers on me, hating me for the cruelty of my honesty. They should have asked if I thought their love was worth it. They would have enjoyed that answer better. Mortals and angels were rare, yet not unheard of. Angels and angels? Unspeakable! But as I had discovered, the heart wanted what it wanted.

  Keston whispered something into Sera's ear and they both turned to leave.

  “Wait,” I called,
narrowing my gaze.

  “What more do you have to say?” Keston demanded without turning.

  Good.

  Protective.

  He must have been assigned as a Guardian, or maybe even an Avenger. I was unsure of Sera, though, but would make a point of finding out.

  “What is that?”

  “What?” He turned back to glare at me, keeping his arm against Sera so she couldn’t look around.

  “What book are you holding?” I pointed to the tomb under his arm.

  “This?” Keston raised a golden tomb to eye level and flipped it over. “It’s The History of the Fallen. Why?”

  “Where did you get it?” Placing my palms on top of the table, I pushed up, half-standing.

  “In the stacks.” He shrugged.

  I stood all the way to my full height, causing Keston to have to look up. “That book isn't for students,” I said, and held out my hand. “Pass it over, please.”

  “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “Seriously. Students are not to read the historical volumes until their final year of study unless they are being supervised by an instructor for a classroom project.”

  I saw Sera's shoulders sag and felt bad for the couple they could have become. I took the book from Keston and watched as his touch once again moved to comfort her. He looked, lowering to whisper in her ear, and she nodded. Keston glared at me once more before turning to lead them away.

  “I hope you two have heard my advice,” I said to their retreating backs. “I would hate to be forced to rearrange your schedules to separate you.”

  Their steps faltered in a moment of hesitancy, but they didn't turn back. Keston seemed smart enough to choose his battles with care, and this wasn’t one he could win. It was a good quality. I was sure they were bound to put up a fight, just as I was certain I wouldn't be the one to separate them, though I knew it should be done.

  Once they disappeared back into the hall, I looked down to the book, and smiled. I fingered the cover of the confiscated text and then looked up, darting my eyes around to make certain nobody had taken notice. Quickly, I began tidying my table in preparation to retire to my own quarters where I could devour it in solitude. The History of the Fallen wasn't just a record of who had fallen and why. The entries chronicled other discrepancies, such as the actions of those who would have fallen, but didn't. Every detail of their infraction lay bare.