by Eva Brandt
There was just one problem. Shiro wasn’t there.
A jolt of shock coursed through me at his absence. My exchange with my parents had been short, but Shiro should’ve come back by now. I started looking around the small grove for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
I did my best not to panic and focused on staying rational. I’d only turned away for a few moments. If he’d fallen or had been hurt, I’d have realized it. He would’ve made a sound that would’ve alerted me he was in trouble. Since I hadn’t heard anything, it was safe to assume that he must’ve gotten distracted by something far more interesting than a stick. He couldn’t have gotten far. It should be easy enough to find him.
“Shiro?” I called out. “Where are you?”
My faithful dog didn’t react to my call. A shiver coursed down my spine. Could he have been incapacitated in a way that had kept him from whining or barking? It wasn’t out of the question.
Now struggling not to hyperventilate, I rushed toward the area where I’d last seen him. Since Shiro wasn’t visible in the grove, maybe he’d gone deeper into the forest.
I didn’t have to look for too long. I found my canine companion at the edge of the meadow, snarling at a tall, dark-haired man dressed only in a white leather suit that looked like something straight out of The Matrix.
He was eyeing Shiro with an undecipherable expression, but he immediately lost interest in my dog when he saw me approach. “Alyssa Michaelis?” he asked without preamble.
I didn’t know what I found eerier, the fact that he knew my name or his odd, golden gaze. I’d seen people wearing contacts who didn’t look that way. On the other hand, him being aware of my identity was far more dangerous than his eye color. Was he some kind of weird stalker? If so, I needed to get out of here at once.
I instinctively took a step back. Sensing my wariness, Shiro positioned himself in front of me, as always my faithful guardian.
The man didn’t seem taken aback by our reaction. “You are Alyssa Michaelis, aged 18, parents Charles and Frances Michaelis. Please confirm your identity.”
I had no intention of doing such a thing. He hadn’t attacked me yet, but I should still be running away to alert my parents of his presence.
And yet, there was something about him that kept me rooted on the spot and prevented me from leaving. “Who are you?” I asked.
The stranger let out an irritated sigh and gave me a look that suggested he was questioning both my intelligence and the reason for my existence. “My name is Lenoir and I am a cherub.”
For a few seconds, I thought I’d heard him wrong. “Excuse me? A cherub?”
“That is correct. Class III Cherubim, to be more specific. Not that you’d know anything about that. Humans.”
I ignored his disgruntled tone and eyed his leather-clad form from head to toe. He looked more like a bouncer from a fetish club than a cherub. “Pardon me for saying this, but… you don’t look very cherubic.”
Lenoir’s eyes flashed with visible fury at my comment. “Ah, yes.” He smiled tightly, displaying a hint of fang. “I know all about that. The… charming portrayal of us cherubim in human paintings. Young children wearing diapers and carrying a bow and arrow? Really?”
Oh, shit. I’d accidentally hit a sore spot.
“I mean, all right, we did use a bow and arrows, one time. Two thousand years ago. But we don’t actually need them. It’s absurd to think that divine creatures of any kind would have to resort to something so primitive.”
All right then. Clearly, I was having a very strange dream. I had no idea what could’ve made me conjure a leather-clad fetishist who claimed he was a type of angel, but my imagination had spawned weirder stuff.
Oblivious to my thoughts, Lenoir continued to rant. “You’d think humans would forget about that by now, the way they’ve forgotten about a million other, more important things, but no. That’s the imagery that stuck with them. Children wearing diapers. I swear, as soon as I finish this, I’m hunting down those stupid Renaissance painters and making them regret ever making it popular.”
He wasn’t even talking to me anymore and even Shiro stopped being so wary, too busy eyeing the strange display to feel the same hostility as before. I felt the same. Despite the strangeness of the man’s appearance, I couldn’t help but find his outburst funny.
I crooked a small smile, and an image of the intimidating stranger dressed in nothing but the classical cherub outfit flashed through my mind’s eye.
Unfortunately for me, Lenoir chose that exact moment to end his rant and face me again. His eyes turned thunderous when he saw my tiny grin. “Don’t laugh!” he snapped, his voice dripping with far more venom than an angelic being should’ve been able to express. “It’s not funny!”
It was, but I decided that pointing that out wouldn’t help me right now. “I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly. “I meant no offense. It was just surprising, that’s all.”
The cherub sneered, not seeming in the least bit convinced by my words. “Is that a fact? Well, Ms. Michaelis, you have other things to be surprised about, and I assure you none of them will be amusing.”
Uh-oh. That wasn’t good. I took a step back, reminded that I was talking to a very dangerous, unpredictable, and possibly insane stranger. If I wasn’t imagining him, of course, which was a possibility too.
“Right. I’m sure that’s true, but that can wait. I’m a little busy now, you see. Maybe we can talk about this later.” Or better yet, never.
“I’m afraid I can’t fit another meeting with you into my schedule,” he replied. “I’m busy as it is. You will stay here, and I will convey the message I came here to bring.”
A jolt of power swept over me, and all of a sudden, I found I couldn’t move a muscle. By my side, Shiro whimpered and went rigid, as paralyzed as I was. “Don’t panic,” Lenoir told me. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“That would be a little easier to believe if you weren’t already doing that,” I answered, desperately trying to move, but finding it impossible to fight the force that kept me trapped. “How are you doing this? What do you want?”
“Like I said, I am here to have a conversation with you and bring you some news. I realize I’m an unexpected, unlikely messenger, but I want you to hear me out to the end.”
If that was the only thing he wanted, I’d agree. Then, when he was distracted, I’d take Shiro and run. Assuming I could even do that, considering the fact that this guy could paralyze us with a thought.
Was he really a cherub like he claimed? Christ, what in the world was going on?
“All right,” I said. “I’ll hear you out.”
“Excellent.” Lenoir snapped his fingers and just like that, I could move again. He didn’t tear his eyes off me, though, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d guessed my intentions.
Feeling my face heat, I cleared my throat and dared him to explain. “Well? What’s this important thing you wanted to talk to me about?”
Instead of answering, Lenoir asked a question of his own, the unlikeliest one ever. “Have you ever heard of Sébastien Michaelis?”
“The anime character? Sure.” I’d thought it funny that I shared a last name with the demon butler from the famous Kuroshitsuji manga. No one had ever mentioned it when we’d been in high school, which I assumed might’ve been because they didn’t want to admit they were watching anime in the first place. It had ended up as my personal, private quirk, and something I took pride in. But why would Lenoir mention it, now of all times and in this context?
Lenoir groaned and actually facepalmed. “No, not the anime character. Heavens help me, I hate humans.”
“Yes, you’ve already made that clear,” I snapped back at him, my irritation with the absurdity of the situation starting to chase away my dread. “Why is the demon butler important?”
Was Lenoir one of those fanboys who took offense at the portrayal of manga characters in anime? He looked a little too… mature for that, but stran
ger things had happened and, contrary to popular belief, anime fans were of all ages. That knowledge didn’t fix my problem, though.
Had I pissed off some crazy stalker on an anime forum? I didn’t remember having a dispute with anyone recently, but I could be wrong, and I wasn’t using a VPN for my computer. Also, that idea, while logical, didn’t explain Lenoir’s apparent superpowers.
At this point, I didn’t care about his reasons. All I wanted was for him to let me go. “You know what, never mind. Don’t answer that question. If you prefer the manga over the anime, that’s your business. Shiro and I are going to go now and… leave you to it.”
The self-proclaimed cherub stared up at the sky, as if praying for patience. Then, he faced me again. “Please stop saying nonsense before I lose all hope for your species as a whole. Sébastien Michaelis was not originally an anime character. He was a French inquisitor and a prior of the Dominican order. He lived during the late 16th and early 17th centuries and is known for his in-depth studies in demonology.”
I hadn’t known that. I wondered if the anime character had been inspired from him. It seemed likely.
“Oh, okay then,” I replied. “That’s interesting. But I don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“Well, you’re distantly—very distantly—related to the man. And because of that, you’ll have to attend the same school he went to, The Academy of the Devil.”
Wait, what? The Academy of the Devil? I couldn’t even begin to explain everything that was wrong with that response.
Lenoir didn’t elaborate. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction from me.
I would’ve hated to disappoint him, especially after he’d been oh-so-nice and polite. Anger surged through me, and I glared at the crazy asshole who was trying to dictate my life. “Okay, I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is a bad dream that confirms I watch too much anime, a hallucination, or maybe some kind of crazy story you came up with for… reasons. I don’t know. But I’m going to leave, and you’ll let me go. I have no interest in medieval inquisitors and the only demons I want to talk about are in my fiction.”
The cherub’s lips twisted into a small smirk. “That’s a nice try, but your tricks don’t work on me, Ms. Michaelis. And it doesn’t matter what you want. Your ancestor made sure that you don’t have a choice.
“He was among the few humans who ever went to The Academy of the Devil, you know. Its main purpose is to pick the next Satan, and he had no real interest in the position. However, he did want to understand the nature of demons better. He believed that, to make sure the world prospered, there had to be a balance between good and evil. Everything has a purpose, even demonic beings. Attending The Academy helped him accept that.
“But in order for him to receive permission to go, he was forced to make a deal. Once a century, a member of his bloodline must go to The Academy. This generation, you’ve been picked.”
What the actual fuck? Was this guy serious? I’d been picked to attend a crazy demonic school, because my ancestor had been a nutcase with a boner for demons?
“You can’t expect me to believe that,” I said with a huff. “The sheer concept of this school of yours is insane. And even if I accepted you were telling the truth, there’s no reason why I should comply with something another person agreed on. Contracts don’t work that way.”
“Demonic ones do, but you can learn more about that once you actually attend the classes.”
“There’s just one problem with that! I have no desire to go to your crazy academy!”
For fuck’s sake, I had a life here. A plan! I’d already applied to several universities and I had high hopes for them. With an advanced degree in Foreign Languages, I would be able to have my own translating business, which meant that I wouldn’t be hindered by my condition in my work. That was my dream, and I couldn’t just set it aside because some random demon had decided to cash in on a contract made by my idiotic ancestor.
“It would appear you’re having some trouble processing your situation,” Lenoir said with a sigh. “Again, you don’t have a say in this. When it comes to The Academy of the Devil, no one ever does.”
For the first time, he sounded a little sympathetic to my plight. It didn’t really help me, not when his idea of providing comfort was waving a hand and producing a thick, golden book out of thin air.
He didn’t bother holding onto it per se. Instead, he dropped it, and I was too dumbfounded by this development to make a grab for it.
I needn’t have worried, because the book didn’t fall. It started to fly around lazily around Lenoir, like some kind of affectionate bird. “Don’t do that!” Lenoir huffed when the tome nudged him with the edge of its cover. “Now is not the time for your games.”
The book seemed to snort, although I couldn’t have said how it accomplished that, given that it had no vocal cords of its own. Still, it obeyed its owner—friend? master?—and floated back to the spot Lenoir had chosen for it.
He tapped the edges of the book with his index finger and the pages flipped on their own. “Term starts on September 6. You’ll receive your books from a staff member, once you are at the school. In the meantime, you should probably hold onto this.”
A page ripped itself out of the book and made its way to me. With some wariness, I took it, mostly because Shiro was eyeing it with interest. He’d undoubtedly turn it into a chew toy if I didn’t take preemptive measures.
The page turned out to hold an image of myself, including my details, parentage, studies, illnesses, and so on and so forth. There was a section of ‘affiliations and allies’, and Shiro was mentioned there. I would’ve found it interesting if not for the title I’d been assigned in the cherub’s file.
“Sacrifice?” I asked numbly. “That doesn’t sound very encouraging.”
“It’s not as threatening as it seems. There’s just some historical background I won’t bore you with. As a consequence, the demons at the school like to make the position of the humans obvious. That’s all.”
If he was trying to reassure me, he wasn’t being very successful. I plopped down on the ground, confused and drained of strength. “I still don’t believe any of this.”
Lenoir let out a small huff and crossed his arms over his leather-clad chest. “I assure you I’m telling you the truth.”
As he spoke, his book turned toward me and I got the feeling that my comment had offended him slightly. Maybe accusing an angel of being a liar was a bad move. Personally, I couldn’t have cared less about his sensibilities. I didn’t think I could be blamed for finding this a little hard to accept.
“So basically, what you’re telling me is that, because my ancestor was an anime character, I have to abandon my whole life and join the Academy where you pick the next Satan.”
Lenoir glared at me, and for a few seconds, I thought I could see two sets of wings glowing behind him. With a dose of distant hysteria, I noticed their color matched that of his leather outfit.
“Not an anime character, I told you,” he hissed at me. “An inquisitor. And I don’t pick anything. That’s not my job and I have no say. I’m only giving you this news because if a demon had done it, you might’ve perished before you could even start packing. Humans are so breakable.”
“Wow, you’re so considerate,” I replied in a mild daze. I couldn’t really argue with him on that one, though. For the moment, I’d yet to collapse under the weight of the news, but assuming this was real and not a bad dream, I didn’t feel very hopeful about my future.
My excellent record of being seizure-free was out the window.
Shiro placed his head on my lap and woofed, and just like that, I felt a little more clear-headed. I buried my hand in his white fur and looked at the cherub again. “But I’m not magical! I’m only a normal human. What am I supposed to do there?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Lenoir waved a pale hand, dismissing my concerns. “It’s all there in the papers and you’ll receive more information
on site.”
Papers? What papers? He’d only given me a small report that more or less told me things about myself that I already knew. “And if I refuse?” I asked between gritted teeth. “If I don’t agree to go to this… academy?”
Surely, they couldn’t force me. Every contract had its limitations and the one my ancestor had made couldn’t be any different, even if it was demonic.
Lenoir sighed once again. “Let me put it this way, Ms. Michaelis. The agreement between Sébastien Michaelis and the dean of the academy involved him acquiring certain skills. They allowed your ancestor to survive his years at the school with no real issue. He was never meant to keep them, but as it happens, his descendants did inherit certain latent… tendencies.
“You yourself have these abilities, as your medical condition clearly attests.”
Hysterical laughter rose in my throat. “This is a joke, right? You can’t tell me that I’m an epileptic because I’m secretly possessed or something.” These weren’t the Middle Ages, for fuck’s sake, and if he expected me to believe that, he might as well give up now.
“On the contrary, it is because of your ancestor that your epilepsy is not worse,” Lenoir replied, much to my surprise. “You know as well as I do that you’re lucky in that regard. But what has been given can be easily taken away, if you don’t fulfill your part of the bargain.”
A chill went over my spine at his words. I understood what he meant. When I’d been younger, I’d felt resentful over my condition, over the fact that I couldn’t do so many things other people took for granted. And then, I’d been forced into a longer stay in the hospital and I’d seen another patient—someone who suffered from a far worse version of epilepsy. The girl’s seizures had been so bad she no longer even recognized her own family.
Every time I recalled her mother’s haunted eyes, I counted myself lucky that I wasn’t sicker and valued my parents more.
But deep inside, I’d always been afraid that one day, I’d get worse, that I’d lose whatever had made my condition less serious than that of other people. It wasn’t necessarily a logical fear. Epilepsy didn’t work like that. But it was also not a sickness that was fully understood, so I’d never been able to help myself. It looked like I’d been right to be afraid.