No Angel

by Helen Keeble

  “I think so,” Faith said, forehead furrowed in concentration.

  “No,” I said. “You just drew on my bed.”

  Krystal brushed aside this objection with an airy flip of her hand. “So imagine one of us visiting a two-dimensional world—like standing on the paper. The two-dimensional people would just see the outline of our feet, where we made contact with their plane, and to them we’d just look like another drawing. But we’d be able to look down from our greater height and see the whole world spread out beneath us. We could see the little circle inside the big circle. To the two-dimensional people, it would seem like magic. Like we could look through solid walls. So a three-dimensional being in a two-dimensional world would appear to have amazing powers.” She pointed at me. “I think Raf here is a four-dimensional being, in our three-dimensional world.”

  “So,” Faith said slowly, “he can see inside and through things in our world, just like we’d be able to see into things in the two-dimensional world.”

  “Right! Part of his body, the normal part, is here in 3-D space just like us. But his wings and eyes can reach into a fourth dimension. As well as up and down, left and right, backward and forward, they move . . .” Krystal stalled, searching for a term.

  “Hellward,” I supplied, rotating my eyes to glance at the flaming sky. “Believe me, this extra dimension is not a nice place.”

  “Hellward and earthward, then.” Krystal tapped her pen on my sheet. “And the demon must be four-dimensional too. That’s why you can see it, and we can’t. It’s hovering hellward, not touching our three-dimensional world. Maybe it can’t come fully earthward, like Raf—”

  “Okay, this is obviously all very thrilling for you,” I interrupted, as Krystal looked dangerously close to doodling on my bed linen again. “But it’s all just theory.”

  “Oh, no it isn’t.” Krystal grinned. “Don’t you see, Raf? A normal three-dimensional person can’t fight a demon. We can’t reach them, up there in four-dimensional space. That’s why Faith’s dad wrote that the only way to get rid of them is to kill their host. But you can fight the demon directly! You can drive it off!”

  Faith’s mouth and eyes went round. “You mean . . . we don’t have to kill Michaela after all?”

  “Exactly.” Krystal pointed at me, practically vibrating with excitement. “We are going to do some experiments. Learn how your powers really work, and what you can do in four-dimensional space. And then”—her grin widened until she looked like a happy shark—“we are going to exorcise Michaela. With science.”

  Chapter 20

  Again,” Krystal demanded.

  “Krystal, I have already blown up a pencil case, a coat hanger, a doorknob, a hubcap, and a toilet this evening.” That last one had been an accident. I’d still been a bit wound up when I’d taken that bathroom break. I gestured with Faith’s sword at the still-smoking wreckage cluttering up the old shrine. “I’ve mastered channeling heavenly fire, okay?”

  I’d spent all of Saturday practicing my smiting technique. Faith had been dragged off by Ms. Wormwood before lunch, to do some unspecified chore for the Headmistress, but Krystal had been tireless in scrounging up targets for me. Maybe a little too tireless. I rubbed my aching shoulder. “How long are you going to keep testing me? It’s almost midnight.”

  “I’m not testing you. I’m testing materials.” Krystal jerked a thumb at the sword. “We still don’t know why that’s the only metal that doesn’t melt when subjected to your energy. What if you need to give Michaela a long blast to fully shake the demon off her? What if she wrestled the sword away? We need to find you a backup weapon, just in case.” Krystal grinned as she exchanged my sword for a can. “Plus, of course, I just like watching things go boom.”

  “I need to stop enabling your pyromaniac tendencies.” I glanced at the label as I stripped it off the can. “Lima beans?”

  Krystal shrugged. “If you’re going to smite a foodstuff with angelic wrath, might as well make it an evil one.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” I tossed the can into the air. As it arced up, I visualized a now-practiced mental image of demons threatening my friends, rousing my defensive instincts. In Hell-space, white flames crackled over my feathers. I caught the can as it tumbled back down. The instant my skin touched the bare metal, lightning flashed down my wings, through my hand, and into the mortal world.

  “Krystal,” I said a moment later when the smoke had cleared. “That was not one of your better ideas.”

  “Okay, I should have predicted that.” Krystal combed exploded lima beans out of her hair. “But at least now we know aluminum isn’t what we’re looking for.”

  “What I am now looking for is a shower, thanks.” I took Faith’s sword back from Krystal, shoving it through my belt. “Let’s call it a night.”

  “But I’ve got thirty-six more metallic alloys to try!” Krystal waved a plaque at me. “Look, I stole Ms. Wormwood’s nameplate! You must want to smite that!”

  “Good night, Krystal.”

  I left her gathering up her specimens and muttering darkly to herself about lazy angels with no respect for the scientific method, and headed back toward my dormitory. The sword bumped at my hip. This late in the evening, the main school building was deserted. Nonetheless, I kept several dozen wary eyes out as I crossed the courtyard in front of the chapel, alert for any patrolling teachers. After my promise to the Headmistress to get Michaela’s daggers, it would be beyond ironic to get expelled for carrying weaponry around the school myself.

  I blew out my breath as I levered open the trapdoor that led into the old crypts. A flickering line of candles made a path down the worn stones of the ancient spiral staircase. I hadn’t forgotten Michaela’s ominous threat about my “last day on earth” yesterday. At least her unknown countdown had lasted long enough to let me develop my own powers, but I had no idea if my newfound smiting prowess would be enough to counter whatever she was preparing. I shook my head as I ducked to avoid the heavy cobwebs curtaining the low, narrow passageway. I really wished I knew what she was doing.

  Hang on.

  What was I doing?

  I stopped, right where the candles did, on the threshold of a pitch-black archway. Not only were the old crypts that ran under the chapel really not on my way home, they were out-of-bounds to all students. I had absolutely no reason to be down here.

  No reason . . . except for a subliminal, bone-deep instinct that this was where I had to be. Now that I thought about it, I’d felt that sort of subconscious compulsion once before.

  When Krystal had summoned me to the school.

  The nagging urge grew into a roar as I tried to step back. I might as well have tried to walk through a wall. An irresistible force shoved me onward. As if in a nightmare, unable to control my own body, I felt my traitorous feet take that last, fatal step.

  Into a pentagram.

  “Fiat Lux!”

  White fire flared around me, running down the intricate lines painted on the floor as if they’d been drawn in oil. I flung up my arms to shield my eyes, blinded by the sudden light. It wasn’t just on the mortal plane—a glowing web flared around me in Hell-space as well, completely enclosing me in a prison of fire.

  “You arrogant fool!” Michaela’s voice rose in triumph above the roar of the flames. “I was almost convinced it couldn’t be this easy, that you must have planted a fake summoning charm in your little witch’s room in order to fool me.” She crouched at the far side of the room, just outside the pentagram, the tips of her daggers touching the painted lines. Fire poured continuously down the blades. “But you really are using your true name! Your pride will be your undoing, Rafael Angelos. By your name, I command and abjure thee!”

  I wrenched out my sword, answering fire blazing down the blade. I could see the demon hovering Hellward above Michaela, its many wings arched like some heraldic beast as it channeled power down to her. If I could only reach it—but the heat of my prison drove me back. Its eyes gleamed, b
right as my own, as if it was mocking me. Just like Michaela had always mocked me. She was laughing at me right now. All that time I’d spent agonizing over whether I’d have to hurt her, all that time working my butt off to find an alternative way, all that effort and sweat, and she was laughing at me.

  I was abruptly, coldly, utterly furious.

  “Stop. Laughing.” My rage ran down my sword, freezing the flames. Chill mist steamed from the blade as if I’d dipped it in liquid nitrogen. Heedless of the wall of fire, I thrust straight at the demon’s burning core—

  The pentagram shattered like a sheet of ice.

  The demon shot up into Hell like a startled pigeon as I crashed through the barrier. Michaela threw herself backward, crossing her daggers to catch my sword between them—but the instant my steel connected with hers, frost ran down her blades. The daggers clattered from her numb, frozen hands. A second later, I was on her, pinning her beneath my weight.

  “Back off!” I yelled at the circling demon as I fought to keep Michaela from writhing free. I spread my wings over her, in both normal space and Hellspace. Our breaths steamed in the suddenly freezing air. The demon’s burning tendrils brushed my black, ice-sheeted feathers, and it recoiled as if it too had been frost-burned. “She’s mine now. She’s mine. BACK OFF!”

  Hot wind buffeted me as the demon spread its wings wide in a blaze of fire. I crouched in my bubble of cold, refusing to so much as flinch, matching it eye for eye, glare for glare.

  The demon beat its wings down, once, hard, and soared high into Hell. In the space of a breath, it was gone.

  Michaela gasped and went limp, like a puppet with cut strings. “What have you done?” Her voice was as bereft as a lost child. “What have you done?”

  “I’ve won.” It was delicious to see her confused and helpless for once. Let her be alone and afraid. “I’ve won, and you’ve lost. Your little friend can’t take me. If you try to summon it again, I’ll kill it.”

  “If you can defeat her, so easily . . .” Tears ran down Michaela’s face. “What are you?”

  “More powerful than you could possibly imagine.” I got to my feet, throwing her contemptuously aside, and scooped up her daggers. “I’m taking these as insurance. You give me any trouble, and I’ll show them to the Headmistress. You know she’s just itching for any excuse to throw you out.”

  Michaela struggled to her knees. She was trembling with more than just cold. “Please,” she said, turning her beautiful face up to me. “Please. Not Faith. Take me instead.”

  “I don’t even like you,” I said, annoyed that she could still think I was shallow enough to be bribed by a flash of cleavage. I snapped my wings shut. “It’s over, Michaela. Stay the hell out of my way from now on.”

  Whistling jauntily, I left her alone in the dark.

  Chapter 21

  I deliberately slept late the next morning, for two reasons. Firstly, because I had to de-halo myself—if halo was the right word for the weird black aura that clung to my hair after my confrontation with Michaela—and since I couldn’t face yet another binge-eating session and still had no idea what Avarice was, Sloth was my new sin of choice. Secondly, because I reckoned that I deserved to sleep in after smiting down the forces of evil.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to have much effect on my weird anti-halo. In the end, I had to give up and jam Lydie’s pink hat on my head once again.

  “Hey, Raffi!” Suzanne waved at me as I strolled into the dining hall. Michaela was conspicuously absent from their table. Suzanne glanced at the empty chair, then gave me a knowing smirk. “Sooo . . . where’s Michaela?”

  Of course. They still thought we were dating. Aware that I had the full attention of every girl in earshot, I gave a careless shrug. “How should I know?”

  “Isn’t she with you?” another girl said. “She didn’t come back to the dormitory last night, so we thought . . . ?”

  “What, that she was with me?” I finished for her, when she didn’t. “Nope.” I leaned casually against the wall, examining my fingernails. “Actually,” I said in tones of complete boredom, “we broke up.”

  I couldn’t have caused more consternation if I’d jumped on the table and manifested my full angelic glory. Michaela’s gang stared at me with wide eyes and dropped jaws while whispers started to spread through the tables around us.

  “Well, I say we broke up,” I continued, appearing oblivious to the way heads were turning all across the hall. “To be more accurate, I dumped her.”

  Suzanne looked like I’d hit her upside the head with my flaming sword. “You . . . what? She—you—” Apparently, my act was so outrageous it had broken her ability to form coherent sentences. Michaela’s closest hangers-on were still looking stunned, but some of the less favored flunkies were starting to eye me with an air of speculative calculation. “Why?”

  I pushed myself upright, straightening to my full height so that I loomed over them all. “Because,” I said, speaking very clearly and loudly, “she’s a manipulative, evil bitch who doesn’t care about anyone except herself. No guy in his right mind sticks with that sort of girl.” The girls shrank back as I swept them with a disdainful look. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go join my friends.”

  I’d expected the buzz of gossip to start up immediately, but the entire hall was dead silent as I strode away from the popular girls. I caught a glimpse of Lydie through the crowd, frozen with her spoon halfway to her mouth, and gave her a little nod of acknowledgment; a mass intake of breath echoed through the hall, then gusted out again as I passed by her table without pausing.

  In the hush, the click of my tray dropping onto Faith and Krystal’s table sounded as loud as a gunshot.

  Then the gossip started.

  I winced as the wall of sound hit me, then grinned at Faith and Krystal. “Well, that was fun,” I said, nonchalantly pouring milk over my cornflakes. “What are we doing today?”

  Krystal found her voice first. “Are you out of your tiny mind? Michaela is going to go ballistic!”

  “No she won’t.” I took a gulp of tea. “Ding-dong, the witch is dead.” Faith dropped her fork, looking aghast, and I hastily added, “Not literally. But we had a showdown last night, and . . .” I tried to look modest over the rim of my mug. “Well, let’s just say that she won’t dare to bother us anymore.”

  Faith clapped her hands together in delight. Krystal looked at her spoon as if she really wanted to beat me to death with it. “You stupid idiot, you went to face her alone?” she hissed. “Without any backup? Without even telling us? You could have been killed! You could have—”

  “Won,” I interrupted. “Which I did. She was no match for me. I was right, Krystal, she was the one who broke into your room. She stole your charm in order to discover my true name, and used it to trap me in a pentagram. But I—”

  Krystal kicked me under the table, eyes widening in warning as she stared pointedly over my shoulder. I turned to see a girl I didn’t know sidling over to our table. “Oh, hi, Faith,” the girl said, doing an exaggerated double take as if she’d only just noticed us sitting there.

  Faith looked startled. “Hi, Julia,” she said somewhat cautiously. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Actually, I’ve been meaning to catch you,” Julia said, supremely unconvincingly. She tugged at a beaded bracelet on her wrist, holding it out to Faith. “I accidentally picked this up yesterday in Physics. It isn’t yours, is it?”

  “Why, yes it is.” Faith’s tone had turned even milder, which appeared to be the closest she got to withering sarcasm. “I took it off for the experiment. I thought I’d put it in the pocket of my bag.”

  Julia at least had the decency to go red. “I guess it fell out,” she mumbled at the floor. She shoved the bracelet into Faith’s hand. “Anyway, here.”

  Faith fingered the beads for a moment, regarding Julia coolly as the other girl fidgeted and looked anywhere except directly at her. Then Faith smiled. “Thanks, Julia,” sh
e said in her usual sweet voice. “You want to pair up in Latin later?”

  From the look of vast relief on Julia’s face, you’d think she’d been expecting Faith to have her hauled off in handcuffs. “Sure!” she chirped. “Catch you later.”

  “You do realize she stole that, right?” I said in an undertone as Julia hurried off.

  “Of course.” Faith slipped the bracelet over her own hand. “But only because she was trying to impress Michaela by harassing me. Julia’s nice, really.”

  “If by ‘nice’ you mean ‘two-faced shameless weasel,’” Krystal muttered into her tea.

  Faith frowned at her, opening her mouth, but before she could defend Julia’s character, another girl plopped herself down at our table. “Hi, Faith!” she said brightly. “This seat isn’t taken, is it?”

  “No,” Faith said, blinking. “It’s . . . been a while, Kate.”

  “Yeah, well, you know how it is. All the schoolwork and stuff, I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to just chill out with friends.” Kate was a much better actress than Julia. I’d seen her hanging hopefully around the edges of Michaela’s outer circle. “Hey, speaking of activities, are you playing in the league this term?”

  I coughed loudly. “We were having a private discussion here, you know.”

  “Oh . . . just a minute, Raffi?” Faith said. “Because actually, I was getting kind of worried about the league. The first game’s only a week away, and I was starting to think I wasn’t going to be able to play at all.” She smiled hesitantly at Kate. “I was trying to get on a team, but everyone I asked said they didn’t have any spaces left—”

  “You can join us!” Kate interrupted. “Oh, please say you will. You’re so good at the game. Remember in second year?”

  “Yes, when we won the league,” Faith said, brightening. “I’d forgotten we were on the same team. You remember all that mud in the final match?”