by Emery Skye
My skin embraced the warmth it carried. The sleeves were too long, and it fell well past my butt, but it was the best thing I’d felt all night. I wrapped my arms around myself and raised my shoulders up to my ears enjoying the warmth and smell of hazelnut. It contained the essence of the legite beside me.
After I sighed deeply, I realized that: 1. My eyes were closed. 2. Deror was right there watching me hug his coat.
How embarrassing.
When I snapped my eyes opened, my suspicions were confirmed. Deror was indeed watching me with a lifted brow and a glimmer in those cloudy green eyes.
Double embarrassing.
“What?” I bit.
My teeth were no longer vibrating like the stands of a packed football stadium, but shivers still raked my body, and I wore gooseflesh like tights on my legs.
“Where have you looked?”
I walked him through my search, step by step. In the end, he reached an arm around his back and pulled a black radio off his belt. He said a few words into the mic.
“Legite Cassian’s team will search the campus. I think you'd better go get some rest. We'll find her,” he put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed tightly.
How sweet. His touch... so... wow! I shook my head.
"With all due respect, there’s no way in hell you're going to keep me from looking for my own sister.” It was a very matter-of-fact, mature response, in my opinion.
He stared at me for half a blink before taking my hand.
We started toward Gabriel’s citadel.
I pulled him to a stop.
“I told you. I searched there. They're not there.”
He tipped his head left.
“They?”
“Well, she really wanted to see another noviate tonight,” I glanced up and to the right, hoping the Powers he wouldn’t ask whom.
“Who?”
Dammit. I swallowed. I knew how bad this was going to sound before I even said it.
“Alyosha. She might be with him.”
His face narrowed like a shark’s. Freaky.
With that, we hurried in the direction of the gym. Why? Girl hated everything that lead to sweating.
We entered the main gym. I yelled for her, louder than I had tonight. A legite, and especially Legite Deror, being here made me feel brave. I should’ve been more concerned.
Legite Deror grabbed my arm again. Why he had to do that was beyond me. It knocked off my concentration and did funny things to my stomach. I disliked it.
We cut across the gym into the back hallway. We turned left, toward the boys’ locker-room. I wanted to tell him that there was no way in hell Amalie was in there, but he had a look of grim determination on his face, so I followed silently.
He tried the door. It was locked from the inside. He quickly searched himself for keys, found none, and kicked the door in. It almost came off the hinges. We continued into the locker-room. We went around one set of lockers and stopped. I just about plowed into him. I moved to see around him and was shocked at what I saw.
“Amalie!” I gasped.
“Alyosha!” Deror roared.
They were on the floor. She was on top, straddling him. They were going at it big time. Talk about awkward. For a moment, I didn't know whether to leave or kill her. Or him. Finally, I pulled her off him and held her by her shoulders.
“Nathan? Man, you in here?” It was Legite Cassian. His stupid twelve-year-old, Beach bum voice gave him away. Deror hurled around the corner and kept him out.
“What the demon, dude? It’s me! He kept trying to force his way in, but Deror yelled, insisting he stay out.
I faced the door, sparing them both some dignity.
“Get dressed! Now!” I hissed
“How dare you!” Amalie shouted at me.
"Stop shouting!" I hissed again through gritted teeth. "People can hear you!"
"I don't care!" She shouted again.
“You should! Right now, we're the only ones that know. If you keep shouting, the whole campus will know by morning! How could you do something so stupid?"
I knew there were a lot of feelings I should’ve had, but I couldn’t help but focus on the embarrassment I felt that Deror had seen her like this. I cared what he thought. More than I probably should have. I bet he didn’t have a brother out there doing something like this.
“Don’t lecture me! You’re not mom!”
I felt something pulling under my shoe and bent down to retrieve a…her…bra. Oh, for Powers' sake! This isn't happening!
“Thank Gosh for that! It probably would have killed her.”
“Don’t even—”
“Legate Nathaniel Deror, I order you to step aside from the door,” said a new, angry, and powerful voice that sent a shiver down my spine. Deror went still and silent. He stepped aside, allowing the Patron of the Academy’s Council to come around the corner.
My heart stopped. I couldn’t process this. I thought my mind might melt. The Patron! The Patron, here!
The Patron stared at me. I felt his disgust, and then shame. After a moment, he looked past to see Amalie putting on her shoes and Alyosha buttoning his shirt. Oddly enough, his disgust changed to indifference.
What a sight.
Chapter 7
I looked up at the inky, black sky, with its beautiful bleached sphere. I swear I could hear the moon laughing as the lot of us, pitiful as we were, marched through the courtyard behind the Patron. I couldn’t believe this.
The Patron’s wings were visibly translucent. He wore a gothic cappa, including a long, luminescent black train that flowed in the wind, exposing glimpses of his dress cassock at times. It reminded me of what a priest would wear.
The Patron.
Could this really be happening to me? He was the main influencer for the academy students when they went to Bethel. If he told the Powers he felt the novitiate should get clipped, they did.
Now, just days before my pronouncement, I had been caught out after curfew. I was in serious trouble, but I was more worried about Amalie. I looked at her.
Her big blue eyes were glassy in the moonlight. Her lips were trembling. I couldn't tell if it was the cold, or her fear. She hugged herself with her crossed arms. I removed Deror’s jacket and handed it to her. She scowled, but took the jacket.
Once through the courtyard, we went right, behind Michael’s Citadel to the Patron's Mansion. Noviates avoided this place like the plague.
The Patron was a disciplinarian who liked regular, frequent, public, and medieval chastisement. Something I had avoided—until now. This should not be happening. I wondered, briefly, how Deror would handle this. I feared he'd say that Amalie and I were troublemakers, which was so not true.
Deror quickly opened marble double doors for the Patron, who seemed to appreciate the (uncharacteristic) servile attitude. Good little legite, I could practically hear the Patron’s thoughts.
He casually walked inside. That door must weigh a ton. Pointless ostentation or proof of favor from the higher-ups? I hated politics.
The inside of his home took my breath away. I marveled. The floors, walls, even the domed ceiling were white marble, drizzled randomly with black. It made me think of a Jackson Pollack painting.
In the exact center of the room stood a sable piano and bench. It was the only place to sit. I couldn't look away from the piano. It called to me.
It was incredibly impressive. The rim was solidly constructed. Gabon counter veneer, and more beautiful, glossy, black veneer decorated the outside. There was a gray, cast iron, lacquered plate.
I had an innate love of pianos, but I was musically inept. I admired them from afar, even when they were silent and still. I envied that stillness. They made wondrous music if, and when, played correctly.
I saw three black doors, one on each side of the piano and one in the center of the wall. He led us through the center door, which Deror opened just as he had opened the last one. It was circular and small too. It was like someone had me
ant to make it cozy, and instead, it morphed into a cell.
Black granite bookshelves outlined the back wall. A large desk that matched the bookshelves dominated the center of the room with a black leather seat behind it and four smaller black velvet chairs before it. One for each of us. Perfect. I tasted bitterness. I shouldn’t be sitting here.
The Patron took off his cappa and hung it on a hook by the door.
I studied his face because I'd only seen him once, at my orientation. He looked different now. His shoulder-length hair had been black. Now, it had faded to grey and was streaked with white. His pale face was narrow and drawn.
His eyes were a deep, sagacious grey. I peered deeper into those eyes. I saw the mouth of a cave overflowing with deception. I tried to go deeper but was stopped by impenetrable blackness. Somehow, I was back in the room and looking at his face. That was weird. I saw a cave in the angel’s eyes.
“Please, sit,” his voice was as striking as his eyes were. The four of us hastily obeyed.
“Noviate Amalie Hasdiel.”
Amalie stood, head bowed. Thank God she had some sense of etiquette.
The Patron spoke again, his voice unexpectedly soothing.
“You've broken three Academy rules. You broke curfew. Your fornication with the boy is your second offense. Breaking into the gym is your third offense... Your punishment... is...”
“That’s not fair,” I jumped to my feet in her defense. Realizing my lapse, I quickly bowed my head, but continued.
The Patron was not amused.
“First, there are dozens of kids out past curfew. Second, you don’t know what she was doing with Alyosha. She could have been studying! Third—”
“Sit down, Noviate Hasdiel,” he growled.
Amalie sat down. I foolishly tried to finish.
“You don’t know that she broke into any building.”
“Sit down, Anna Hasdiel!” He said my name with slow, perfect, angry diction.
I sat. Each of their stares weighed two hundred pounds. In that eternal silent moment, I realized my throat hurt. I'd been yelling at the Patron. I'd just been totally arguing with him. Not the best way to help Amalie. Not that she deserved it. Instinct over wisdom. Over justice. Over angel protocol and the law.
“Anna Hasdiel.”
I almost stood.
“Please, remain seated.” His voice was smoother than before. I’d rather be yelled at.
I wanted to jump across the desk and rip out his throat.
The Patron was not accustomed to opposition.
“You have also broken rules this evening. You must be punished.”
Amalie spoke.
“Patron, may I speak?” quietly.
Sometimes Amalie surprised me. Like now.
“Yes,” he tilted his chin in her direction.
“She only broke those rules because of me.”
“Amalie!”
This was so not the time for her to act mature and sisterly. I wished she'd throw me under the damned bus. She was a terrible rescuer. This proved she should be a Harbinger instead of a Warrior. If she were a Warrior, she’d save anyone and everyone, even at her own expense. I admired that sense of self-sacrifice quality in most, it seemed wrong in my sister. It was a deadly quality to have, and she needed to live.
She glanced at me.
“Anna, shush.” I felt my eyebrows climb to my forehead. Her voice was unfamiliar. She went back to the Patron. “I wanted to see Alyosha.” Her voice was still quiet, but harder. “That's why I broke curfew, but. I didn't break into the gym. The door was open when we got there.”
Did she really just say that?
I wanted to hide her.
Once I could look away from Amalie, I saw a dumbfounded Patron. He sighed heavily so many times that I thought he was going to hyperventilate.
“Amalie, you will serve one week's detention. As will the boy.” The Patron glanced at Alyosha.
Oh, miserable Alyosha. I hated him right now. I glared at him. I faced expulsion.
“You two are excused.”
Amalie started to say something.
“Go, Amalie,” I growled.
She'd just gotten off so easy.
As for Alyosha, well, he deserved neutering. Little prick. This was entirely his fault.
“I'll be calling your mother, Amalie,” he said like it was an afterthought. Mom was going to be livid. Amalie flinched, but she held her tongue. Thank The Powers.
They left the room silently, quickly. Legite Deror and I were alone with the Patron.
* * *
The Patron stood. His small torso looked frail, like a twig that could easily snap under the lightest of pressure. His decrepit hands showed by his sides; the knuckles were knobby.
“Anna.”
I looked up at him and swallowed hard.
“I know your reputation. Your professors have spoken highly of you, time and time again. Because of that, I must separate you from your rogue sister.”
Rogue sister.
“Don’t you see, Anna? She's impeding your performance... causing you nuisance.” The Patron's face fell, sad.
I started to stand, but Deror caught my arm.
“No one, and I mean no one, can make me act any way against my will. My sister is one of the reasons I work so hard here. You can’t separate us.” He had to be kidding right?
The Patron cocked his head and stroked his chin with his long, frail fingers. A familiar chill crawled down my spine.
“Seeing the similarity in recent events, Legite Deror, what do you suggest?”
What events was he talking about? This was the first time I’d screwed up. Well, other than little things with Hans and Taylor, but he didn’t know about that. Did he?
Deror stood and bowed his head.
“Noviate Hasdiel alerted the Warriors about Amalie. I requested that she come with me to find her, as she knew where her sister might go.”
Interesting, he protected me. Why?
“It’s a shame, really. Only days left until your pronouncement before The Powers, isn’t that right?”
I swallowed hard. He knew. He knew everything.
“What punishment do you think is appropriate?”
“I don't believe she needs to be separated from her sister. Sibling relationships are binding. So close to her pronouncement, she needs stability. She will be adversely affected if she and her sister are separated.”
“Then, what?” The Patron asked Deror.
“That's your decision, Patron.”
Way to help, Deror. We were going to have to work on his follow-through.
“I believe Anna needs constant supervision. She's earned eight weeks' detention and extra training. There will be no socialization,” he looked down at me. “When you're not training—which will begin two hours before class and end two hours after your regular classes—you must retire to your dorm. I will receive regular updates from your supervisor.”
“But you just said I'm best in my class. That’s crazy!”
“Be grateful Legite Deror defended you. If he hadn’t, you would have been expelled.” He paused. “For that last outburst, your first week of punishment will include total separation from Noviate Amalie Hasdiel.”
He could’ve just said sister.
I sighed and shook my head. I lost this battle.
“Fine.”
I looked to Deror for help, but he stood at stiff attention, staring straight ahead.
I remembered something the Patron said.
“Who will be my supervisor?” Please don’t let it be Dr. Ezekiel. Please don’t let it be Dr. Ezekiel.
“Legite Deror, of course.” I stopped breathing and jerked my head up to see Deror.
“Patron?” Mr. Deror looked as confused as I felt.
“You defended Noviate Hasdiel, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“Then she is in your charge. See to it she behaves.” The Patron moved back to his seat. “Unless, you decline. If you d
ecline, she will be transferred. Do you accept?”
Damn. If he said no, I'd be transferred. Would they seriously send me to another Academy? They couldn’t. I didn’t want to put Deror in this position, but I was praying he would accept.
“I accept, Patron.”
I released the breath.
“Leave.”
The Patron completed our dismissal by reading from a stack of pages on his desk.
Deror and I left. We didn't speak.
Chapter 8
Getting to sleep had been nearly impossible. I kept replaying last night's events in my mind... Amalie on top of a boy... my punishment... Nathan, I mean, Legite Deror being made my advisor, supervisor, whatever. It didn’t matter. Deror was going to be the biggest part of my life from now on. I didn't know if that was good or bad.
I'd barely fallen asleep when my alarm went off.
Damn.
All I wanted to do was roll over, hide under the comforter, and avoid this nightmare.
Fat chance. I grunted as I pulled myself out of bed.
Standing up made my head spin and the back of my skull throb.
Joyous. I sat back down, breathing deeply. Angel noviates were granted a special dispensation to protect them from illness. My schedule overwhelmed Grace. Wonderful. I threw on some frumpy gym sweats and a Max Headroom t-shirt that had been my dad's. It was one of the only things my mom had of his, and I kept it with me.
The walk through the bitter cold was painful. Actually painful. My joints ached. My muscles burned. It was times like these, at 4:45 in the freezing morning that I missed my Venti Starbucks skinny hazelnut latte with a double shot of espresso. I lived on caffeine. I'd been drinking it at my mother’s for as long as I could remember. Coffee in the Hasdiel house was like bread in a French man’s house or wine in an Italian restaurant: it was always there, never in small portions and in high quality. I knew a lot of the Harbingers and Warriors weren’t big on stimulants, and I thanked goodness for this little bit of rebellion.
Heading to the gym, I wrapped my arms around myself–a pitiful shield from the slashing wind. I always wondered why Alaska was so cold during term. It always pissed me off that the place warmed up when I left.