Demon Born (Hellfire Academy Book 1)

by C. L. Coffey

  I folded my arms and arched an eyebrow. “You also said nephilim can’t be potentials, and yet here I am, ready to what? Earn my wings? And you said that the person has to be dead and…” I held a hand up to my throat to check my pulse. “Yep, my heart is still beating.”

  Gabriel reached up and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it in a way that made some of it stick up at odd angles. In any other situation, I would have thought it was cute. Now I was just irritated.

  And even if it was cute—and I wasn’t going to admit that one out loud.

  “The point is, Kennedy, that you can’t be an angel in a living body. You’re going to remain in it forever. Your body is that of a nephilim, and we don’t know how it will react to you becoming an angel.”

  “That still doesn’t mean I’m going to possess the body of a dead person.” I curled my hand into a fist, and I hit it down on my thigh in exasperation. How could he speak so calmly about something like this?

  “Believe me, there will come a point where you will need to work with humans. Assuming you are able to earn your wings before you age too much, you’ll need to be taken seriously. The cherubim have struggled for centuries–”

  “You think that’s the problem,” I repeated, cutting him off. “You think I’m against this because of age? And you think I’m the evil one?”

  I got up and marched towards the door, but before I could get close, I stopped and whirled around.

  “How can you expect me to become someone else? What if I bump into one of their friends or family? How on earth am I supposed to react to that? How will they react to that?”

  Gabriel looked surprised. “Oh.” His tone mirrored his expression. “Well, we could use a vessel from another continent.”

  I looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate further. Apparently, that was it. I sighed. “Have you heard of Facebook?” I asked. “Instagram? Snapchat? YouTube?” I offered, at his blank look. I gave another sigh. “The internet?”

  “I have heard of the internet, and Facebook, and Snapchat, and Instagram, and YouTube,” he told me, dryly.

  It was my turn to look surprised. “Fine,” I said. “Then you should know that, these days, once something is on the internet, it’s always out there. And if someone catches a picture of that dead person, then someone is going to go looking for them, and they’re going to find them. And it’s not like you’re a big secret anymore.”

  There was a long pause while he considered this. “I think I need to discuss this further with the Seraphim. Either way, this isn’t a thing to concern yourself with yet. For now, we need to concentrate on more important issues.”

  Feeling suddenly weary, I walked back to the chair I vacated and sank into it. There were more important things than whether I possessed a person’s corpse if I became an angel. If this was who my mom was running away from, I was starting to understand why.

  “What are the ‘important issues’?”

  “You need to fit in here, and I don’t mean the fact that you’re now the new girl,” he said before I could. “You must have noticed how you don’t feel the cold or the heat?”

  I nodded. That had been one of the first things. “And I can run without tiring,” I added. “If this was a large campus, I could probably get away with the fact that I was the new girl, but unless there’s more to the college than what we saw walking back here, this is a small campus. A college full of nephilim like me, who probably can’t feel the cold either.”

  “Nephilim and humans. Humans have been led to believe that angels look like men. Or little babies with arrows,” he said with a small smile. When I didn’t return it, he frowned. “Our job varies from guidance to protection, so communication with humans is essential. These vessels allow us to do that.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table in front of him.

  “I need to not stand out?” I wasn’t wanting to be worldwide famous or anything, but even I could see the advantage of humans knowing what I was.

  “Angels are strong and fast. We draw our strength and abilities from faith and belief—from prayer. We have the ability to go days without sleeping, and we don’t actually need to eat. We also do not feel extreme cold or heat. As a nephilim, you too, have acquired many of these abilities. As you have noted, you don’t tire easily, and you are unaffected by temperature. It may not seem like it, but I assure you, you also have more strength.”

  I thought back to Duncan’s body flying through the air: I was aware of my strength.

  “Humans cannot know of the existence of angels.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Yet I’m talking to one of the most famous angels ever, made famous because he appeared to a human and told her she was pregnant.”

  Gabriel stared back at me, returning my arched eyebrow with his own. “I told a human she was pregnant? Kennedy, you do know it was more than just that, right?”

  I shrugged.

  “Either way, I told a person, not people. I spoke to one person, and I delivered a message.”

  I shook my head. “It can’t be just that.” I disagreed. “Because if you told a person, then how did others know? People turned up to that birth. You weren’t the only angel mentioned in the Bible. Someone noted it and shared the story.”

  “And that’s why you can’t tell people what you are.” Gabriel pointed to something behind me. I turned and saw the television in the corner of the room. “People and times are different today than they were then.”

  “Fine.” I sighed. “I will do my best to make sure humans don’t know what I am. But the other students are nephilim too. Surely–”

  “No,” Gabriel snapped, making me jump. “The human students must not find out what you are. The other nephilim can know you are a nephilim, but they cannot find out you are also a potential.”

  “Why not?” I hadn’t even officially started here yet, and he already wanted me to lie to people?

  “Because they are half fallen angel.”

  It took me a moment to process what he was saying. “You don’t trust them.” I didn’t get a response. “If you don’t trust the nephilim, why are you here? Why are you letting this happen?”

  “Heaven has no idea this place exists. Angel thinks things aren’t black and white. That nephilim are the gray.”

  “And you think this place is a disaster waiting to happen?”

  When Gabriel didn’t respond, I looked out of the window. The sky was slowly starting to grow pink. Instead of looking pretty, it looked ominous.

  There was a sigh so long and deep that it caused me to look up, and I caught Gabriel staring at the same part of my wrist I had been focused on earlier; the tattoo hidden beneath my sleeve.

  Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet mine, this time, lined with sadness. “I was close to killing you.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to shrink into the chair. “I survived only because I was hit by a car.”

  “Yes,” he said, softly.

  “But you’re not going to?” I asked, hopeful. “Kill me.”

  There was a slight pause. “No.”

  “But you don’t trust me, either.” It was a statement, not a question. And I didn’t need the answer because I knew it, but he gave it anyway.

  “No.”

  “Then why the hell would you put me in a college, in the middle of nowhere, and give me a charge?” I just didn’t get it. “You don’t trust me, yet you want me to protect someone? What am I supposed to be protecting him from?”

  This time, the pause was a long, uncomfortable silence in which Gabriel never took his eyes off me.

  My irritation turned to anger. This wasn’t going to be a fresh start; this was just going to be another version of a previous school where I was pre-judged on rumors and gossip. I wasn’t a saint, but I wasn’t a bad person, either.

  I got to my feet, softly shaking my head, and made to leave.

  “Kennedy.”

  I glanced back at the archangel and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
>
  “We aren’t finished.”

  I turned back to him, folding my arms as I continued to glare impatiently. “What else can you possibly have to say? If the master plan is to have me look out for someone, then I’ll do it.”

  “That’s not–”

  “I’ll even attend all my classes and work my butt off to catch up. I will do my best to appear as normal as I can. I will go to bed at a reasonable time. I’ll go back to my room and read the rules and do my damnedest to follow them.”

  “Kennedy, it’s not just about the rules.”

  I walked over to the door, irritation washing over me, then turned back. “Don’t sit there pretending you haven’t already made up your mind about me. That I’ve already failed before I’ve started. And certainly don’t sit there pretending that you care about anything other than this boy. It’s fine that you don’t trust me because I don’t trust you either.”

  Before I said anything else—or something I would regret—I left.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  At the last minute, I grabbed the coat Gabriel had given me and threw it on as I walked out his door. I didn’t stop until I was outside, and the door to the gym was pulled closed behind me. Then I took a deep breath, leaning back against woodwork, and sucked in a deep breath.

  I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even sad. I guess the closest to what I was feeling was disappointment. About twelve hours ago, I was promised a second chance, but that wasn’t what this was.

  This was my only chance.

  After a short walk, I returned to my room. I’d planned to get more sleep, but by the time I had gotten there, I wasn’t tired anymore. After seeing Leigh-Ann still hadn’t returned, I decided staying in the room was more likely to result in Gabriel finding me and dragging me back to the gym.

  So instead, I grabbed the big, thin welcome booklet that had been sitting unread on the corner of my desk and slipped it into my bag.

  The hallways were still empty. There was something about this place which gave off creepy boarding school vibes rather than the college experience I’d dreamed of having.

  Lights automatically flickered on the further I walked. It was clear that no expense had been spared here, despite how old the building was.

  The hallway seemed to carry on for a long time, and I counted about twenty rooms on either side. Miles of sleek, dark wood, patterned carpet, and old oil paintings hung on the walls. Expensive and exclusive.

  There had to be more to this place than what I was seeing?

  Hopefully there was a map in the booklet.

  I followed the corridor until I arrived at a large double door. Above it, engraved into stone, were the words Freshman Common Room.

  “Common room?” I read aloud, arching an eyebrow. What the hell was a common room?

  With no one around to ask, I pushed one of the doors open. Unlike the corridors, there were no automatic lights in here, and I quickly flicked on the first switch I could find. It turned on several wall lamps rather than the overhead fluorescent lights. Liking the warmth the lamps lit the room with, I left them on. Unsurprisingly, given the time, the room was empty.

  It was a large room, which screamed wealth as much as the rest of the place. Along the far side were tall windows, frost still decorating the glass. The sun was finally starting to come up, and I could make out the outline of the gym and the church. For half a moment, I wondered if Gabriel was still there, but I pushed him from my mind as quickly as I could, and instead, turned my attention back to the room.

  Unlike the hallways which had wooden floors and rugs, this room had a carpet so thick that my feet sunk into it. The walls were decorated with scenic mountain landscapes, with the exception of the wall by the door which had a large notice board. The display was littered with a vast array of posters and more formal looking papers, but it was the first thing that really made the place feel like students—not royalty—lived in it.

  There were four exceptionally large sofas surrounding a fireplace to the north, and I did a double take as I spotted the television hanging above the mantle. It had to be at least sixty inches. A couple of tables and chairs sat in front of the windows. Finally, there was a pool table at the back of the room.

  In the back corner, almost hidden in the shadows, was a beautiful grandfather clock. I still had some time before people would start to get up. This was as good as anywhere to read.

  Taking the couch nearest the fireplace, I toed my shoes off and curled my feet up underneath me, laying the booklet in my lap. The pages were thick and every one of them held a glossy photograph.

  ‘Packet’ really didn’t do it justice. Despite being thin, it was bound in navy leather with a golden crest embossed into the cover: two wings either side of a shield. Below it, were the Latin words: igne natura renovatur integra. Too bad I didn’t speak Latin. Inside, the pages were thick and heavy. The first had what was entitled ‘A Welcome from Dean Ursula Pinnosa:’

  Greenwood Preparatory University is an academic institution which prides itself on having a student body that works hard and undertakes a serious commitment to academic excellence. A minimum grade point average is required to remain at the college, and a minimum level of effort is also required. The faculty votes at the end of each year to determine which students will be invited to return. Students who do not meet the minimum standards must depart. Those who do not want to make such a commitment should not attend Greenwood Preparatory University.

  The required moral standards of Greenwood Preparatory College are just as high as its academic standards. Keeping a clean room, observing proper hygiene, appearing at required events on time, dressing properly, being courteous to others, must be insisted upon. Failing to follow regulations in these areas can lead to demerits, study halls, work details and restrictions.

  My eyes flew over the paper. This wasn’t a welcoming as much as a threat. The small portrait of Dean Ursula Pinnosa had her with a friendly smile and twinkling eyes that I had yet to see in person. I was beginning to suspect it was the same photographer with Photoshop skills who took every photograph of the dean. Shaking my head, I turned the page.

  The next two pages contained a map of the grounds. The campus was bigger than Gabriel had described it; the whole of this building was dedicated to dorms and living facilities. Behind the gym and church was another horseshoe shaped building, mimicking this one.

  According to the booklet, it was built in the '90s to accommodate the growing student body but had been built to replicate the architecture of this building.

  I turned the page, surprised to see there was a map down to the local town—a thirty-minute walk—and despite a reiteration of ‘moral standards,’ a list of local establishments, including a bar. I blew out a breath of relief.

  There is a god.

  I turned another page and then burst out laughing. ‘Co-Educational Life: Your Expectations and Responsibilities:’

  Greenwood Preparatory College firmly believes that a co-educational environment enhances the academic and social goals of its students. The friendships that develop between students are not only wholesome but frequently teach you how to establish future relationships. Your faculty strives to create numerous opportunities for students to share academic, athletic, cultural, and recreational activities together.

  However, there are limits to what is deemed as acceptable behavior. It is important for you to become well informed about all aspects of sexuality, to make responsible choices, to keep powerful emotions under control, to develop a sense of responsibility toward other persons, and to recognize that all actions have consequences. Some of the serious ramifications of sexual activity, including pregnancy, sexually transmitted disease, and emotional distress, raise formidable obstacles to reaching educational and personal goals. As such, it is expressly forbidden for students to enter the dormitory halls or the rooms of students of the opposite sex. Sexual intimacy, although a normal and healthy aspect of adult life, unduly complicates and compromises the college’s standard
s.

  My laughter turned into a cringe. I couldn’t help it. This was a college, not a high school. College students had sex. Hell, high school students had sex.

  Perhaps the dean never got the memo …

  Plus, if there was one thing I had managed to miss out on, it was ‘The Talk.’ Somehow, the thought of a saint allowing me to become “well informed in all aspects of sexuality” seemed disturbingly similar. I’d already made my decision on the matter, but I had images of the professors prowling the hallways, ready to issue detentions at the slightest hint of PDA.

  Detentions might have been a high school thing, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Greenwood Preparatory College had them.

  This place was a glorified boarding school.

  The next page held my timetable. There were five hour-long classes every day, starting at 9:00 a.m. With an hour for lunch, and five minutes between classes, the college day ended at 3:25 p.m. At which point I had another two hours scheduled with Gabriel every day. There was another hour for dinner, before there was another hour for study hall. It wasn’t until 7:30 p.m. before I was entitled to free time, and even then, I only had a few hours before lights out.

  Lights out … Study hall … This was a prison dressed up as a college, pure and simple.

  More importantly, this booklet had been presented to me within an hour of arrival—and they already knew my schedule?

  They clearly knew I’d be coming, despite the objections Pinnosa made. I blew out a breath. Was it too late to reconsider my options?

  “I never had an option,” I muttered to myself.

  The final page was entitled, ‘Faculty Advisor,’ and like most of the content of this book, I didn’t like the information.

  Each student has a faculty advisor who is concerned about the student in all facets of college life. Your assigned advisor is Professor Gabriel D’Angelo. When grades are sent home, faculty advisors meet with students to discuss their progress at the end of each term and write reports to parents. Should a student be required to appear before the Conduct Council, the Student Affairs’ Office would inform the appropriate advisor, who accompanies the student during the Council meeting and supports the student through the process. Given your present academic situation, you will be required to meet with your Advisor four hours every Saturday and Sunday until your grades reach a satisfactory standard.