Prophecy Girl

by Cecily White

  “Alternatives?” Jack caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “I’m listening.”

  “Well, Brazil is lovely this time of year. As is Mexico. I could charter a jet for you. Champagne, caviar, a well-trained companion of the finest breeding,” he offered. “You’d leave Saturday, after the Induction—”

  “Very subtle, vampire.” I kicked the back of his seat. “If bribery doesn’t work, just call your bodyguards and have them tie him up for you. I’ll bet you’ve spent your fair share of evenings in that situation too, huh?”

  Luc met my glare in the rearview mirror. “Must you speak?”

  “Bite me.”

  He sneered. “I don’t fancy your type.”

  “Why, too sober? Too much self-esteem?”

  Jack frowned at us across the blue light of the console. “Can you two at least pretend to cooperate? We’re on the same team here.”

  “Yeah, Dracu-Luc,” I said. “Play nice or I’ll ride with the werewolf.”

  “I’ll give you fifty quid if you do,” Luc offered.

  “Both of you, cut it out!” Jack said, irate. “Luc, quit goading her. She’s unstable enough as it is. And Ami, Luc has put himself at risk, both physically and politically, to help us. He deserves your gratitude, not your contempt.”

  “Oh, please! He’s a sneaky, self-serving man-whore who doesn’t know the first thing about—” I stopped. “Hold up, did you call me unstable?”

  “He was being kind,” Luc said.

  “Luc!”

  To be fair, Luc was far from the Mother Teresa of vampires. When we’d first approached him with the rescue plan, his immediate response had been to offer us vodka martinis, probably spiked with Ambien. I suspect it was some lame plot to knock Jack unconscious so he could drag him to the Peace Tenets signing on Saturday.

  Evidently Luc’s mom, a vampire aristocrat named Arianna Fassnight (no Montaigne, interestingly), had threatened to cut Luc off financially unless he hunted down at least three of the original peace petitioners from each group. And since he’d dismissed his minions, the poor bloodsucker had been forced to actually do the legwork himself. So far he had vamps and werecreatures accounted for, but he hadn’t found a single Guardian signatory. I couldn’t decide which would be more tragic—losing the Peace Tenets or denying Luc a chance to cope with poverty.

  “Tell you what,” I suggested diplomatically. “Let’s get my dad, then Saturday afternoon we can take one of Luc’s vamptastic cars and drive to Tijuana. You don’t mind, right vampire?”

  “Not a bit,” he said generously. “Anything but the Ferrari.”

  “What’s wrong with the Ferrari?”

  “I lost my virginity in it,” he said, as casually as if he’d been describing a business meeting.

  I flashed a quick look at Jack. There were a few mental images I never thought I’d have to deal with, and chief among them was the crazy-hot vampire being deflowered in the backseat of an Italian sports car.

  “He’s kidding,” Jack assured me. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “The night of my fifteenth birthday party,” Luc mused fondly. “It was Beatrice Boudreaux, Mum’s yoga instructor. Honestly, if not for that woman’s flexibility and the Rachmaninoff on the stereo, it might have been a complete disaster.”

  “I’m going to be ill,” I said.

  Unwilling to stomach the details, I let myself out of the car and headed for the azalea bushes lining the street across from St. Michael’s. Normally, a mud-strewn canopy of pink, semi-poisonous plants wouldn’t hold such appeal. But when the alternative was a blow by blow of—

  Never mind. My brain felt dirty thinking about it.

  A few minutes and several troubling images later, Jack crawled into the bushes behind me carrying a backpack full of C4 and a few remote detonators. He handed me one of the heavy gray bricks, stuck something metal between his teeth, and started pulling a tangle of black wires out of the pack. I couldn’t help but be slightly turned on by how focused he looked as he labored over the wires. It almost silenced the Rachmaninoff in my head.

  “There,” he said, when they were finally loose. “I have to go set the charges with Dane. Will you be okay for a minute?”

  “Do I need a babysitter?”

  “I think we’ve established that you do.” He pulled a baseball cap low over his golden curls. “Try meditating. Maybe it’ll keep you out of trouble.”

  “Yeah, that’ll work, for sure.”

  He kept to the shadows along the gray stone wall and disappeared around a corner before I had a chance to get irritated. The meditation thing went poorly, as expected. After a few failed attempts, I dug out the computer pad Luc gave us and turned it on. In all the hubbub of planning Dad’s jailbreak, I’d completely forgotten to show Jack the photo I’d found.

  It only took me a few seconds to boot up the screen, a soft glimmer illuminating the leafy darkness. If Jack had been there, he would have scolded me for risking the light, but I knew the danger was minimal. One of the benefits of being an aspiring career criminal throughout my prep school years—I had the guard rotations memorized. They never came outside the gates so late.

  I’d just gotten the photo loaded when Jack returned, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He dropped to his belly and scooted under the bushes beside me.

  “Charges are set.” He glanced at the computer pad, then back at me, suspicious. “Tell me you didn’t just log on to an unprotected local wireless network again.”

  I gave him my dirtiest look. Pointless in the dark. “I wanted to show you this. I figured it’d be a good place to start for a suspect list.” I tipped the screen so he could see.

  “Class photo, huh?” he muttered, distracted by the detonators in his hand. “Is that Chancellor Thibault?”

  “Thibault?” I scooted the computer back and scanned the blurred back rows. No Thibault. “Uh, you may want to reconsider giving up those glasses, dude.”

  Jack shot me a sharp glare, then pushed the detonators into my hands, a light tingle reverberating at his touch. It took a few strokes but soon the photo zoomed in over Mom’s bondmate’s face.

  “There,” he said. “Thibault.”

  I could see what he meant. The two men had the same wavy hair, the same squared jaw. I squinted at the photo, trying to imagine Bobby-the-bondmate with twenty years and a lot of politics on him.

  “Jack, you don’t think…”

  We both stared at the photo for another few seconds then at each other. Before I could say a word, Jack grabbed the computer pad and scrolled to the text beneath the photo. We both saw it at the same time. Robert Martin Thibault, assigned as Watcher to Charlotte Lane the year of their graduation.

  “Holy crow,” I said. “I didn’t even know they were in the same class. How did we miss this?”

  “It’s Alec Charbonnet,” he muttered.

  I glanced up. “Alec?”

  “Your brother,” Jack said. “If Thibault figured out what bloodline she carried, he may have decided to take Alec from her out of revenge. Or maybe he thought he was doing her a favor. Who knows?”

  The evening song of cicadas seemed to quicken along with my heart. In my mind’s eye, I saw Thibault’s gnarled legs, all bent and twisted like melted candles. Those injuries could easily have happened during the botched jump with Mom. And Alec certainly fit the bill as my twin brother. My age. Tall like me, with green eyes. His hair was darker, but it could have auburn highlights. Would that satisfy the “hair of fire” line in the prophecy?

  “Didn’t he leave class right before your test on Tuesday?” Jack asked. “Thibault approved the testing schedule and site assignments. He could have told Alec where to go. They would have had plenty of time to set up the wards at your test site. Hell, they could have done it the night before.”

  “God, I’m so stupid,” I whispered, panicked. “We have to call Lisa. And Katie! She’s practically dating him. We have to warn them—”

  Jack shook his head. “You can’t. Think a
bout it. If he suspects they’re onto him, he’s got a reason to hurt them.”

  “Jack, I have to do something.”

  “They’re safer not knowing,” he insisted. “And I hate to say it, but we don’t have time for this. Dane’s holding live explosive charges, Luc’s waiting for the go signal, and we’ve got less than thirty minutes before shift change. It’s now or never for your dad.”

  With shaky hands, I shut down the computer, slid it into my pack, and followed Jack across the street to our position on the north end of campus, away from the wrought iron front gates. The smell of magic burned in the air, and moon-shadowed leaves danced across the lawn like tiny black fairies. Until that moment, I’d never noticed how much the place resembled a fortress.

  Hopeful as I’d been about getting my dad back, all I could feel was dread. What if Alec decided to use Lisa and Katie as bait? Would he hurt them to draw me out? And what about Matt? He was too brave not to fight back—would Alec kill him when he did? It’d been over twelve hours since I’d talked to Lisa. Twelve hours. They could all be dead by now.

  Jack must have noticed the vacant look on my face because as soon as we reached the wall he tugged me into the shadows. “Look, if your head’s not in this we can still abort. I won’t risk you getting hurt. Not even for Bud.”

  I blinked my eyes into focus. I could do this.

  “Amelie?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “Let’s go.”

  Jack had set explosive charges all along the south corner of the wall, each block of C4 marked with perimeter-disabling glyphs. Of course, once they went off, we’d still have another layer of wards before we broke through to the security building. That was where our handy vampire alliance came in. I was more than a little curious how Luc had managed to come up with six pounds of military-grade explosives plus a rocket launcher with just a few hours notice. Best not to dwell on it.

  “As soon as the charges blow, we have to move fast,” Jack warned. “We’ll only have a few minutes before reinforcements arrive. Assuming our diversion works and we can get a clear path in, we’re still cutting it close. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “Just get me in.”

  Jack gave a quick nod. “Plug your ears.”

  I did, but it didn’t help much. When Jack pressed that button, it sounded like the entire city block had exploded. It didn’t even matter that it was on the opposite side of campus. The ground shuddered, car alarms screamed and, most importantly, the dome of shimmering light around St. Michael’s flickered.

  And went dark.

  “Ladies first.” Jack made a cradle with his hands and boosted me over the wall. I landed hard on my butt amidst a pile of deceptively fluffy-looking bushes. Like a hawk in flight, Jack leaped over the stone wall and landed beside me. On his feet.

  “Show off,” I said.

  Jack stayed by my side as we sprinted across campus toward our target. We were still about forty feet from the security building when I heard Dane and Luc start their assault. It began with a crack, followed by a slow hiss like the bottle rockets Dad and I used to set off on the Fourth of July. I barely had time to register what it was before another explosion rang out, along with the soul-crunching sound of my beloved school’s walls crumbling.

  At least it was just the janitorial wing. We’d chosen that as the target because it shared a ward blanket with the security building and would be empty after hours. I didn’t think I could bear it if the main campus got hurt.

  The acrid smell of diesel and gunpowder rolled off the target as the next two rockets hit, their glow lighting up the sky in a sick flash of orange. For a moment, it looked like the warded perimeter would fail. Its brightness flickered like a summer brown-out. Then the glow stabilized.

  “Dang it,” Jack muttered. “Stay close.”

  Ducking low, he ran toward the security building. We didn’t have enough time to mess around setting off multiple charges and Luc and Dane didn’t dare linger with the rockets. Guards already poured out of the buildings toward the south campus. If anyone recognized Luc, there’d be hell to pay at the Peace Tenets. We couldn’t risk it.

  Dane’s tires screeched down the street in the distance and my stomach gave a little dip. Whatever fortifications the Guardians had put on the interior wards, there was no guarantee Jack and I could get through them.

  “Jack, what are you doing?”

  He’d extracted a metal-encased device and was attaching it to the wall of the security building. It looked like a small, black cake pan with a tiny red dome. He flipped a switch on the side and it started beeping. “Plug your ears again.”

  Before I could breathe, he’d scooped me up and tossed me into a dark green Dumpster a few yards away. Yeah, you heard me. A Dumpster. Filled with garbage. The muted aroma of ink toner and day-old mac-and-cheese seeped into my clothing.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

  He pulled the heavy lid closed and lowered himself on top of me only seconds before the world exploded.

  Heat flared against the metal walls as the Dumpster lurched across the pavement, slamming into the west wall with a hard clang. Shrieks and wails rose up like demon cries as metal buckled under the heat. The only thing that kept me from completely wigging out was the feel of Jack all tingly against me.

  “You okay?” he asked when the pops and bangs had settled into a low crackle of fire.

  I didn’t know how to answer, so I contented myself with flicking a handful of cheese sauce at his face. Chuckling, he pried himself off me and used his shirtsleeve to open the scalding metal lid. Billows of black smoke thickened the air, blocking out the light of the full moon.

  “The coast is clear,” he said, peering out the top.

  “You think?” I choked on the smoke.

  The breeze had picked up again, and although the temperature was probably only in the sixties, it felt like a sauna. Pieces of flaming paper swirled in the air and bits of charred furniture smoldered in bright orange piles on the ground. Without a word, Jack vaulted easily over the lip of the Dumpster and hauled me out, careful not to let me hit the scorched edge.

  In the security office, the remains of a desk huddled against one wall, while a splintered ceiling fan turned lazy circles from the force of the fire. Dented metal filing cabinets lined the far edge, alongside a few overturned chairs in what used to be a makeshift waiting area. Everywhere I looked, piles of rubble and scorched drywall littered the room. Through the blown-out door, I could see vertical lines of iron bars illuminated by a few residual patches of fire.

  “Daddy?”

  I pushed past Jack toward the cell block. It didn’t matter that the hallway was still dark and filled with smoke, or that I hadn’t checked for guards. All I could think about was getting to my dad.

  “Ami? Is that you?”

  I hurried toward my father’s incredulous voice, so focused I didn’t even notice the flurry of movement to my left.

  Jack’s body slammed into the guard with a cringe-worthy thud and they both hit the ground rolling. I couldn’t see because of all the smoke, but it didn’t take a military expert to know Jack was in trouble. I scrambled to my knees, desperate to make sense of the fight. Every so often they moved into a patch of firelight, but before I could see where Jack ended and the guard began, they shifted again.

  “Lucé,” I shouted, and a flash of light zipped through the air in a jagged streak.

  The room was still clouded with smoke but at least now I could tell which man wore the guard uniform. He was standing over Jack with his sword raised, about to plunge the tip of it into Jack’s belly.

  “Desisté!” I screamed, my hand outstretched. “Lay off my boyfriend, you twerp.”

  The man’s body froze at the command. Jack didn’t hesitate. As soon as he realized what I’d done, he rolled out from under the guard’s sword strike, grabbed the weapon from him, and cracked the hilt of it into his skull.

  “Thanks,” he said, breathing hard. “Tw
erp?”

  “I’m trying to swear less,” I explained.

  “Good for you. Boyfriend?”

  “We should probably hurry, don’t you think?”

  Jack drained energy off me while I unmade the cell’s wards. If the heat of the flames wasn’t enough to make me sweat, the fury in Bud’s glare would have been. It wasn’t until the lock clicked open that I realized his anger wasn’t directed toward me at all.

  “You!” Bud’s fist flew at Jack, slamming him into the wall with the force of a small truck. “What have you done?”

  “Sir,” Jack held up his hands in surrender, “I know how this looks. You have every right to be upset.”

  “Upset?” he fumed. “Do I look upset to you?”

  “You look upset to me,” I noted.

  “Mr. Bennett,” Jack said, “if you’ll just let me explain—”

  My dad drew back his fist again.

  “Hold it.” I attempted to wedge myself between them. “If you could both maybe dial back the testosterone for a second, I’d love to hear what the hell’s going on.”

  Dad’s eyes went back to Jack. “You didn’t tell her?”

  “Of course not,” Jack snapped. “How dumb do you think I am?”

  “Tell me what?” I piped in.

  Neither of them answered.

  “Seriously, tell me what?”

  Behind us, Henry shuffled to the edge of the cell. His face was bruised and puffy, and a thick band of white fabric held one arm in a sling. “I think they’re referring to the fact that Jackson is your bondmate.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Henry—”

  “She deserves to know, doesn’t she?” The Archivist shrugged his narrow shoulders and shifted his gaze to me. “The Elders thought it was too dangerous to tell you. A child of Lucifer was bad enough, but a bonded one? And with Gabriel’s son? There’s no way they could control that kind of power.”

  I glanced back at Jack. “Tell him it’s not true.”

  But Jack stayed suspiciously silent. So did Bud, which worried me even more than the pitying look on Henry’s face.