by Helen Keeble
“Wow,” I said weakly. “You look . . . nice.”
“Nice?” Krystal said from Michaela’s side. Krystal looked pretty good herself, though even I could tell that gym shoes didn’t really go with her party dress. She prodded me in the chest with the point of Gabriel Dante’s sword. “Three hours of preparation and all you can say is nice?”
“No, I mean, literally nice! As in, a nice girl.” I waved my hands in Michaela’s general direction. “Rather than a terrifying man-eating lesbian dominatrix.”
“Is that how I normally look?” Michaela said, sounding pleased. She looked me up and down, squinting a bit when she got to my disco-tastic horns. “Hmm. If more demons looked like you, we’d have less trouble with people agreeing to bindings.”
I was pretty sure I’d just been dissed, but before I could defend Lydie’s costume-making skills, a gong rang out. An expectant hush fell over the courtyard, all the girls going as tense as runners at the starting blocks as they stared at the chapel doors.
“Ladies and gentleman.” The doors opened to reveal the Headmistress, golden light and music spilling out around her. She stepped to one side. “The Ball has begun.”
I grabbed Krystal’s arm to keep her from getting bowled over by the sudden surge of the crowd. Michaela just deployed her best glare, effortlessly maintaining a bubble of personal space even as girls fought to be first through the doors. By unspoken agreement, we waited for the rush to subside before making our own way forward.
I hadn’t even seen Ms. Hellebore standing guard until she moved to block our path. “No edged weapons on the dance floor, Krystal,” she said a touch mournfully. “Much as I approve of your accessory choice, you’ll have to leave it here.”
“But it’s part of my costume!” Krystal waved the sword. She’d wrapped orange tissue paper around the blade. “I’m the angel at the gates of Eden. This is my flaming sword, see?”
With a glance that clearly said that she knew what Krystal was up to, Ms. Hellebore plucked the weapon out of her hands. Krystal cast me a “well, I tried” shrug, then slipped past Ms. Hellebore into the hall.
“Rafael,” Ms. Hellebore greeted me. Her expression turned sour as she looked at Michaela. “I cannot believe the Headmistress allowed this.”
“Can’t argue with school tradition,” I said. “I’m the most popular guy in my year, I get certain privileges.” I put my arm around Michaela’s waist, drawing her closer to my side despite the way she stiffened. “And Michaela is still technically enrolled here.”
“She shot you!”
“Yeah, well, just her passionate nature showing.” I gave Michaela a warning squeeze. “Right, babe?”
“Ours is a tempestuous love,” Michaela said through gritted teeth.
Ms. Hellebore growled. A shiver ran down my back as I remembered her tentacles lashing up through the world, trying to pull me and Faith out of Heaven. “Go ahead then,” she said, stepping aside. “But I’ll be watching you.”
“I bet,” I muttered. A shimmering curtain of crystal beads veiled the doorway, catching the light beyond like a waterfall. They chimed sweetly as I ducked through them, trying not to catch my horns. “Let’s find—augh!”
“What? What?” Michaela nearly drew her daggers as I bent over, clutching at my head. “What can you see?”
“Nothing,” I said, straightening again and rubbing at my normal eyes, even though those ones were working perfectly well. “That’s the problem. The instant I stepped through those doors, I went blind.”
“Me too,” Krystal said, appearing at my elbow. She was gaping, openmouthed, at the transformed hall. Pale stone columns soared up to delicate arches high overhead, where an enormous crystal chandelier blazed with rainbow-edged light. All-white mosaic tiles glimmered underfoot like chips of ice and pearl. White silk banners draped the walls and pillars, rippling gently and giving the impression that the whole structure was built from clouds and mist. “This is incredible. I had no idea the chapel looked like this under all the carpet tiles and temporary partitions.”
“I didn’t mean the decorations blinded me,” I said, lowering my voice as a group of giggling girls pushed past us, heading for the buffet table. “You know how I said there was a darkness over the staff room? Well, it’s back. And about a thousand times worse. Seriously, I can’t see a wing in front of my eyes.” Even Michaela’s angel was just a dim, guttering candle flame amidst the choking black cloud.
“The Prince,” Michaela said grimly, tugging her skirt down over her daggers again. “He must be here already. We have to find Faith.”
“Already ahead of you,” Krystal said. She motioned us to follow her. “But you’re not going to like this.”
A dance floor had been set up in the center of the hall, under the chandelier. Couples spun in that wide, clear space, each radiant angel shadowed by a taller, black-clad form. As I watched, the boys lifted their partners in perfect synchronization, as easily as if the girls weighed no more than the feathered wings fluttering at their backs. Guess the reason for the limited number of guys was due to the size of Winchester’s dance club.
“I could do that,” I said under my breath, as one guy performed some complicated move that ended up with his starry-eyed partner bent backward over his knee. “If I wanted to.” Nonetheless, I was suddenly very glad that my own escort was likely to disembowel me if I suggested we take a spin around the floor. “Bloody show-offs.”
Michaela’s breath caught in her throat. She stared through the dancers as if she hadn’t even noticed them. “Faith,” she whispered.
At the very center of the floor, Faith spun, her unbound hair shimmering in her wake like the tail of a falling star. It wasn’t just a trick of the light that made her seem to glow—her halo was showing, just the merest sliver of gold edging her head. The crystal beads covering her long, white dress caught her divine light, shimmering as if she were clothed in raindrops. She wasn’t smiling, but there was an air of intent solemnity around her, like a bride preparing to walk up the aisle. She was so dazzling that for a moment I didn’t even see her partner. Then he twirled her around, dipping her nearly to the floor in his strong, confident hands, and I got my first good look at my rival.
My first thought was relief. The guy had a bloody great long tail sticking out of his butt, bright red and barbed, whipping around his legs as he danced. Even Faith couldn’t fail to notice that.
Then my gaze dropped to the guy’s feet, and the enormous expanse of perfectly white, perfectly pentagram-less mosaic floor surrounding him.
We all stared at one another, then back at Billy-Bob, as if we could make the pentagram reveal itself through pure willpower. “Could it be on the ceiling?” I muttered to Michaela.
“Does he look like he’s hanging from the ceiling like a bat?” Michaela hissed back. Her hands twitched helplessly over her hidden daggers. “I don’t understand. That has to be the Prince.”
“They make a lovely couple, do they not, Mr. Angelos?” I jumped. I’d come to rely too much on angelsight—I hadn’t noticed the Headmistress coming up behind us. Now she stood at my elbow, watching Faith and Billy-Bob dance, her face as neutral as ever. Her voice was dry enough to shrivel a slug. “Ah, young love. How heartwarming.”
It wasn’t my heart that was getting hot. I shifted my wings, stuffing my hands in my pockets to keep them away from anything metal. If Billy-Bob really was an ordinary human being, had we been wrong in thinking that the Headmistress had meant me to be Faith’s true partner? “Is he everything you hoped for?” I said bitterly.
“I do not hope for anything, Mr. Angelos. It is a poor substitute for planning. Mr. McFly has appeared precisely as intended.”
“Like a certain other individual?” Krystal said.
The Headmistress regarded her in silence for a moment. “You are a very intelligent young woman, Miss Moon.” She tilted her head, her eyes drifting from Krystal to Ms. Vervaine, who was standing against the wall a little way off, watching the dan
cers with an unusual, small, pleased smile on her bony face. “And as such, you will recognize when it is not the time nor the place to speak.”
“What is it time for, then?” I asked. If I was supposed to separate Faith from Billy-Bob, by the looks of things I would need a crowbar.
“It is time to party, Mr. Angelos.” The Headmistress gazed at the crowds with the air of a naturalist observing the mating rituals of some rare species. “I suggest you enjoy both the company and the surroundings. Perhaps find a vantage point from which to admire the bigger picture. I trust you will do so.” With a last nod to us all, the Headmistress moved off, effortlessly parting the crowd.
Michaela was looking baffled. I was glad I wasn’t the only one. “What was all that about?” I muttered into Krystal’s ear. “Did she really just tell us to go mingle?”
“I think she really did,” Krystal murmured back. “Think about it, Raf. All the boys here go to the same school. All of them except one.” As she spoke, the music ended with a few bright, final chords. Faith broke free from Billy-Bob’s hold and turned to applaud with everyone else. I made a move to head for her, but Krystal dragged me back. “Faith doesn’t think anything’s wrong at the moment.” Sure enough, Faith was already in Billy-Bob’s arms again as the string quartet struck up a slower tune. “If we want her to listen to us, we need evidence.”
“Let’s go get it then. Krystal, you see if any of the girls have noticed anything odd. I’ll talk to the guys. Michaela—”
“I’m staying to watch Faith,” Michaela interrupted. She glared at Billy-Bob as his hand slipped farther down Faith’s back. “And if he goes any lower, I’m cutting in. With a dagger.”
“Did I ever mention how glad I am you’re here?” I said with heartfelt sincerity. I clapped her on the shoulder as I went past. “Keep up the good work, Mike.”
“Mike?” Michaela could pack a lot of outrage into one syllable. I made a mental note never to call her that within dagger range.
I scanned the room, searching for the flashes of black in the sea of white. Most of the guys were firmly embedded within circles of girls, but I finally spotted a lone Winchester lurking in the shadow of an enormous flower arrangement. I felt weirdly nervous as I headed for him. I’d grown too used to hanging out with girls, who tended to supply the vast majority of any required conversation. What the hell was I going to say?
Apparently, nothing. The guy caught my eye as I sidled up to him, and nodded in acknowledgment. I nodded back. Crossing my arms, I leaned back against the urn myself, as if I’d just been looking for a convenient place to loiter. We spent a peaceful moment just standing there, side by side, idly watching the girls go past.
Man, I’d forgotten how much easier it was to get along with other guys.
He tilted his head at me. He was wearing horns too, glossy black prongs that jutted straight out of his temples. His movie-quality prosthetics might be cooler than Lydie’s headband, but I wouldn’t have traded. “Which one’s yours?”
Now I was doubly glad I’d brought Michaela. “Over there. Black hair, gold chains, looks like she’s about to rip out someone’s spleen?”
The Winchester guy whistled under his breath. “Better you than me, brother. Getting anywhere?”
“Doing well so far.” Given that my internal organs were still unpunctured, it was absolutely true. “What about you? Who’re you here with?”
“Her,” Horny said morosely, pointing. “I’m having absolutely zero success, no matter what I try. There’s no chance she’s giving it up tonight.”
“Good,” I said coldly. Over at the refreshment table, Debbie tossed her hair, laughing with a couple of other girls as they filled up their wineglasses. “Because that’s a friend of mine.”
“What?” Horny did a double take, his eyes flicking over me. “Wait—you’re him!”
“You know me? Hey, wait!”
He was already backing away, looking as nervous as if I was an abandoned parcel that had just started ticking. Without another word, he scuttled off.
“Great,” I said under my breath. I couldn’t actually blame him. If the only guy enrolled at a school full of girls had approached me, I would have been sidling away with my back to the wall too. I cast around for another victim and found a couple of guys loitering under the sign to the toilets, muttering to each other. They broke off as I wandered up. “Hey,” I said, nodding up at the sign. “What is it that girls do in there that takes so long?”
Actually, thanks to my stint as school guardian angel, I knew the answer to this mystery of life—that it takes an unbelievable number of powders and creams to look as if you haven’t done anything at all—but moaning about girls was always a good icebreaker. From the alarmed looks on their faces, though, I might as well have opened with a comment about quantum mechanics.
“You’re him, aren’t you?” one said, staring at me wide-eyed. Given that he was wearing bright yellow contact lenses with vertical slit pupils, the overall effect was of a cat who’d just seen a dog. “The—”
“—boy who goes to school here,” the other one interrupted, giving his friend a surreptitious kick with one cloven hoof. I had to admit, their subtle demonic costumes were pretty awesome. “Rafael Angelos. We’ve heard of you. From the girls, of course.”
“Oh, right.” I leaned against the wall next to them. “Hey, do you guys know the ginger guy with the tail?” I jerked my thumb in Billy-Bob’s direction.
“Yes, of course we do,” Hooves said, and my heart sank. So much for it being that easy. “But not personally.”
“He doesn’t exactly move in our social circles,” Catboy muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. His friend booted him again.
“Hi, boys!” Kate came out of the bathroom, followed by another girl. “Oh, hi, Raffi. Having fun?” Without waiting for a reply, Kate turned to Catboy. Sliding an arm around his waist, she batted her eyelashes up at him. “Sorry to leave you so long. Miss me?”
“Like the tide misses the moon,” he said. I blinked at the sudden confidence in his voice. He brushed a finger over her smiling lips, his cat-slit eyes practically smoldering as he gazed deep into hers. “I warn you, I’m not letting you out of my sight again. We only have this one precious night. If these memories have to last me the rest of my life, then I want to brand you into my soul.”
Rather than vomiting—which was what I considered an appropriate reaction to such utter cheesiness—Kate giggled. “Who says we’ve only got one night?” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s dance. See ya, Raffi.”
“Hey, Raffi!” I turned at the tap on my shoulder to find Debbie behind me, her over-full wineglass tilting precariously. “D’you know where my date went? I thought I saw you talking to him.”
“Yeah, about that.” I took her elbow, drawing her aside. “You got a moment?”
“Sure, but make it quick.” Debbie held up her drink with an evil smirk. “I’m on a mission. By the way, I spiked the punch. And so did Claire. And Julie. And probably more.” She giggled. “And I saw Ms. Oleander empty a whole bottle of vodka into it. God, I love that teacher. So watch—Raffi! What the hell are you doing?”
“You a favor,” I said, handing back her wineglass, which I’d just emptied into a vase of lilies. “Trust me. Debbie, your date is bad news. You don’t want to get hammered around him. Take my word for it.”
Debbie gave me an exasperated look. “That wasn’t for me, it was for him. The guy is sex on a stick.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, the stick is up his arse. I’m just trying to get him to loosen up a little.”
Why did girls always seem to go for total dicks? “Well . . . just promise me you won’t go off alone with him, okay?”
Debbie burst out laughing. “Raffi, are you kidding me? That’s exactly what I’m trying to do! I keep suggesting to him that we could leave this party and find somewhere more private, but he’s not getting the hint.” She shook her head, grinning. “What, were you worried about my virtue or so
mething? That’s so sweet.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Now, in the nicest possible way, butt out. I’m a big girl, I’m not your sister, and it’s none of your business.”
I caught her arm as she tried to slip past. “Wait—you’re trying to seduce him?”
“Hello? Have you seen the guy?” Debbie fanned herself with one hand. “Hot as hell.”
I froze.
No. Impossible. They couldn’t manifest outside a pentagram.
But both Michaela and the Headmistress had said that manifested demons couldn’t hide their true nature. That costume had been really good . . . and if the guy wasn’t after Debbie’s body, maybe he was after her soul.
Good thing the Prince needs a nephil to possess, Krystal said in my memory. Just a casual, throwaway comment. But ordinary demons didn’t need nephilim. Ordinary demons could possess ordinary people. And no Prince would travel without a proper entourage.
“Bit of a nerd, though,” Debbie continued blithely as all this flashed through my mind. “I don’t think he’s met many girls. Talks like a cheap romance novel. And kind of disturbingly intense. He’s already pretty much proposed to me—crap, Raffi, that hurts!”
My knuckles were white on her wrist. “Debbie,” I said urgently, not letting go, “listen, don’t talk to him again. Not another word. In fact, get out of here. Go for a walk or something—”
I stopped dead. We hadn’t been speaking loudly. There was no way anyone should have been able to overhear us over the music. But Catboy and Hooves—neither of them closer than ten feet—had, totally independently, just turned around to look at us.
Too late, I remembered the Headmistress’s warnings about demons’ ability to eavesdrop.
“Okay, now you’re getting weird.” Debbie tried to twist free of me. “Raffi, don’t make me hit you! What’s your problem?”
I thought faster than I’d ever thought in my life, as the two guys whispered something to their respective dates, then started to converge on us. “My problem”—I dropped to one knee, grabbing for Debbie’s hand and pressing it earnestly to my cheek—“is that I’m in love with you.”