Montrose Paranormal Academy, Book 1: The Nexis Secret: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Academy Novel

by Barbara Hartzler

  I opened my eyes to see my veins glowing white. The electricity built up inside me until—wham. Twin crackles of lightning shot out from each of my hands, searing into the madman who had me locked in his grip.

  In a blast of sparks, my attacker shot back ten feet and crumpled onto the carpet, his face frozen in a look of terror. His chest still rose and fell, so at least my angel fire hadn’t killed him. And oh yeah, I guess I could add angel fire to my list of abilities. More like angel lightning if you asked me.

  I sucked in lungfuls and winced, glancing down at the burn marks on my wrist. Hot pain seared my flesh in a strange symbol that was hard to make out around the puffy skin. But I didn’t have time to lick my wounds right now. I had to get my friend out of here.

  Tony peered up at me between the table legs. “Poor Lenny.”

  I bumped my hip on the table frame as I scanned the lower half of the room. Someone lay crumpled in the corner—poor Lenny indeed. His chest rose and fell, still breathing.

  I tugged on Tony’s shirt, pulling him up. “Go help him. I can take care of myself. And we need to find Bryan.”

  “Yeah, I caught that.” He nodded and thrust an oblong object at me. “Just in case that crazy guy wakes up.” Then he stumbled across the room to help Lenny.

  I could barely make it out in the shadows—his trusty pocketknife. What good would that do? I flipped out the knife blade, just in case.

  Ragged gasps sliced my eardrums, and I found Bryan slumped in a corner between the bookshelf and the window. The candelabra on the windowsill still flickered, casting eerie shadows on his face. I reached for Bryan’s collar and pulled him to his feet. My shoulder burned with his weight, but I finally got him to his feet.

  “We better get out of here before that lunatic wakes up. Who knows what I might do to him.” I brandished my pocketknife in the air.

  Bryan almost smiled at my antics, but it turned into a wince. “If only that were larger. We have to get you out of here.” He dug out his phone and dialed 911.

  “We don’t have time for that now. We’ve got to go.” I barely had to whisper with his face so close to mine.

  “I’m on hold, anyway.” He waved the phone at me. Cuts scabbed up over his eyebrow, his was nose bloody, and a dark bruise swelled under his eye. My fingers brushed across his temple, combing into his hair. I felt the beginnings of a bump under his scalp. He winced again.

  “Oh, no. He’s up again.” His eyes widened at my touch. Slowly, he slid his phone into his pocket, but didn’t end the call. “Just stay behind me.”

  I turned around to find the fake priest on his feet again, squaring off with us. My pulse skyrocketed again as adrenaline coursed through my veins.

  “Actually, I think you need to stay behind me. I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve.” I closed my eyes and held my arms out, searching for the angel fire once again. It came much easier this time. In one, two, three seconds the electricity in my veins was primed and ready to go. Time to play.

  With my palms flat in front of me, I released enough electric current to form balls of lightning in my hands. The white light crackled and swirled as the balls increased in size.

  Backing up toward the door, I kept my eyes on the priest and yelled to the guys. “You better get out of here. Now.”

  I heard them scrambling around behind me. I didn’t have to tell them twice.

  Now it was just me and the priest. He stood between the two windows with candelabras with a crazed look in his eyes.

  “I was right about you.” Picking up the branding iron, he twirled it around in the flames once again. “You’re not going anywhere, little girl.”

  “Who are you calling little girl?” Anger stirred in my gut, making the balls of lighting grow exponentially larger.

  The priest lunge for me again, and something inside me snapped. I thrust my hands at him, sending the lightning shooting right by him. Fire grazed his shoulder, but the lightning struck the curtains behind him. In an instant, the drapes burst into flames.

  The man’s black pants caught fire. He screeched like the hounds of hell were after him. The ghoulish sound ripped through the air, even as tongues of fire scorched the room.

  Racing for the door, I didn’t look back.

  Acrid smoke billowed behind me. As soon as I cleared the doorway, Bryan and Tony slammed the door shut. Tony dumped a still-unconscious Lenny at my feet and doubled back to help Bryan barricade the door.

  I bent down to examine Lenny, who lay stiff as death. Did I have any kind of angel healing powers? I put my hands on Lenny’s forehead, but he didn’t stir. I glanced up for help, any kind of help. God, please get us out of here alive. Only framed pictures of the parish priests stared back at me, one drawing my attention. The photo labeled Father Patrick was of an older man, but he was bald, no gray head of hair. So who was the “Father Patrick” we’d just met?

  Lenny’s chest hadn’t moved a millimeter in minutes now. My heart stopped. Was he still breathing? I had to find out. I slapped his face, and a moan escaped his lips. I almost jumped for joy.

  “Thank God,” I breathed, then an idea seized me. I flipped down the blade, calling out to Bryan and Tony. “Catch.”

  Tony caught the pocketknife with one hand. “What am I going to do with this?”

  I threw up my hands. “I don’t know. Shove it in the door jamb or something.”

  He mumbled things at Bryan, but I didn’t have time for that.

  I sank to my knees next to Lenny. “You okay, buddy? You need to get up. We have to get out of here.”

  “What happened?” He rubbed the goose egg on his forehead. “Are you okay?”

  How could he think of me first at a time like this? I smiled and helped him up. “I’m fine. Now let’s get you out of here.”

  Faint sirens blared in the distance as I limped with Lenny across the tiles.

  “Okay, we’re coming.” Bryan yelled down the hall. “Get ready to run.”

  I pinched Lenny’s cheek. “You ready?”

  “Sure.” His eyes glazed over like he couldn’t focus.

  The guys’ footsteps thundered behind me. I pedaled my feet with Lenny under my arm, but his weight was like an anvil on my already worn-out shoulders. Tony and Bryan rushed to my side, snatching Lenny’s arms.

  “Start running,” Bryan screamed at me, his eyes wild. “The cops can’t find you here. They could be on the Nexis payroll.”

  Scrunching my forehead, I opened my mouth to ask questions. I’d never seen his eyes like that—full of fear, even pleading. Desperate.

  “You can’t be caught. You’re too important, okay?”

  With a quick nod, I raced down the hall and out the front door. I almost tripped over Laura and Brooke on the steps sipping Cokes.

  Laura turned her head. “We were just about to come back—”

  “Not time for that. We have to get out of here.” I shot them the wild-Bryan eyes. One look at my face and they dropped their Cokes on the sidewalk.

  We took off down the street, sprinting in the opposite direction of the sirens, past dark doorways and storefronts until we hit the end of 104th Street. My lungs burned as if I were still back there, in the fire. But I had to keep going.

  Then we rounded the corner and ducked into the First Avenue Deli.

  “What happened back there?” Brooke panted and pressed her face to the window. “We went outside to look at the stained glass, then we found a guy selling soda. Before I know it, you’re running out of the church like it’s on fire. Where are the guys? Are they okay?”

  “It is on fire. I don’t know what happened. He just attacked us.” I gulped and heaved at her side. “That priest came back with a branding iron, shouting crazy things. But even worse, I don’t think that priest really was a priest. His picture wasn’t even on the wall.”

  “What?” Brooke gasped. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, something really strange is going on here.” I grabbed Brooke’s hand, then Laura’s, tur
ning my wrist over for them to see. “The guy wasn’t a priest in that parish. And he tried to brand me.”

  Their eyes widened in unison at my extra-crispy skin.

  “That’s a Watcher symbol.” Brooke’s words came out as a strangled gasp. “And our brothers are back there, taking the heat for this.”

  My eyes clouded up at the thought of those brave guys being arrested. “Bryan insisted. He said I couldn’t be caught.”

  Laura pulled us into a booth and stared out the window. “They’ll be fine.”

  “They have to be okay. They just have to be.” I closed my eyes, water pooling and stinging as I pressed them tighter to keep the tears at bay. I squeezed Laura’s hand, then Brooke’s, saying my own silent prayers.

  ~

  Neon lights burned into my eyeballs. The flashing billboards of Times Square glowed brighter as the night grew later. I could almost feel the New Yorkers’ stares as they wove around us, like they knew we’d almost burned down a church. Like they could see the horror cloaking us.

  Laura stopped at the corner and turned to me. “Is this really a good idea? We’re so exposed here.”

  “That’s the point.” Brooke reached around me, patting her shoulder. “If what Lucy says is true, they could be in real trouble. We can’t risk getting caught.”

  “But we didn’t do anything wrong.” Laura bit her lip, eyes glittering with tears. I knew just how she felt. “How do you even know they’ll figure out where to meet us?”

  Brooke’s face split into a grin, kind of like her brother’s did sometimes. “Please, he’s like Bryan’s favorite part of Times Square. He talked nonstop about this guy all summer break. I think he’ll be here.”

  “We’ve got to find him first.” An ache clenched in the pit of my stomach, as if I’d never see the Guardian guys again. Their terrified faces faded in and out. Lenny collapsed, Tony handing me the knife, Bryan’s bloody nose and bruised eye.

  Goosebumps popped up on my arms. I cinched my leather jacket tighter around me. “They have to be okay.”

  “There he is.” Brooke pointed down the block. “C’mon, girls.”

  She grabbed my hand, then Laura’s, and we raced around the thick crowd like bumper cars strung together. Two blocks later, the dulcet melody finally hit me. A tourist group clapped in time to the bagpipe music.

  “What is that?” Laura whispered as we huddled in. “It sounds like ‘When the Saints Go Marching In,’ but it’s hard to tell.”

  “I’d never make it as a saint. Especially not after tonight.” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “Is he the only bagpiper on Times Square?”

  Brooke’s eyes went wide. “Uh-oh, I didn’t think of that. Bryan just said whenever he needed to think, he’d come here.”

  “Bagpipes help him think? Kind of strange, huh?” My friend’s eyes bugged out, telling me I’d said the wrong thing. “Hey, I’m sure they’ll find us. Don’t worry.”

  The music lilted around the people in front of us, calm and slightly off-key. Then the song turned somber, a haunting tune that thinned out the bright-shirted tourists until only the three of us remained.

  Laura bit her lip. “What if they went to the hospital, or they got hauled in for questioning or something? It could be hours.”

  “Then they would’ve texted or called us by now.” Brooke tugged her phone out of her pocket. She held it in front of Laura. “See, no messages.”

  “Not if they’re in jail. They’d get only one call.” Laura’s eyes went past us, then her whole face lit up. “Wait, there they are.”

  The three guys straggled towards us, Lenny limping along on Tony’s shoulder. Behind them, Bryan’s face emerged from the shadows. Something inside me snapped at the sight of him.

  I let my feet run free, picking up speed until I practically barreled into his chest. I flung my arms through his unzipped bomber jacket and buried my face in his t-shirt. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”

  His hand trickled down my hair, pressing me into his warm shirt. My tears finally spilled over, soaking the black cotton.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m not going anywhere.” His breath tingled my ear. With one rough finger, he traced my jaw until it reached my chin, tilting my face toward his. A weak smile shimmered in my watery eyes.

  “I was so worried.” The words came out in a choked whisper. I reached up to wipe my eyes, but his hand stopped me.

  He brushed away my tears with his fingertips. “Don’t cry, Angel. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.” His fingers laced through mine.

  The butterflies swirled inside at that term of endearment. Then they crash-landed in a fiery pit. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “I’m so glad you figured out my text.” Brooke’s squeal broke us apart. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Don’t scare me like that again. I was worried sick.”

  “Sorry, sis. We’re fine.” Bryan huddled the group together, lowering his voice. “We told the cops we saw the fire from the window and rushed in to help. I think they believed us.”

  “How’d you explain your injuries?” Laura wrapped her arm around Lenny’s back, propping him up.

  Tony coughed. “Smoke inhalation. We said the guy was wigging out by the time we got to him, which is mostly true. They took our statements and patched us up.” The corners of his mouth arched up.

  “They didn’t ask about Bryan’s black eye?” My hands flew to his face but stopped mid-air. I didn’t want to hurt him. Tears threatened again. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m pretty sure it’s not worth this. Maybe I should just go back to Indiana.”

  The group burst out in protest, Bryan’s stern tone silencing the others. He snatched my hovering hand. “I don’t think so. You can’t go back to the home turf of your crazy ex. He’s a stalker. How would that be any better?”

  “At least no one else would get hurt because of me. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened. To any of you.” I looked around at this amazing, ragtag group.

  “Lucy, you can’t go. We need you.” Bryan squeezed my hand. Tingles zapped to my toes. “Everything’s fine now. I called a Guardian clean-up crew to tie up any loose ends.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Brooke grabbed his other hand, dragging me with him. “Let’s go see the famous bagpiper you’re always raving about. You’ll feel better.”

  “Good call.” Lenny stepped forward with a slight hitch in his step. “I could use something fun right about now.”

  Tony shook his head as we approached the musician. “What’s so fun about a Scottish dirge?”

  “I know more than that, laddie.” The bagpiper’s accent sounded half-Scottish, half-Irish. “Good to see you boys made it out okay. We’ve got a clean-up crew on the way to the church, so just pretend like you’re regular teenagers making fun of the street performer.”

  I scrunched up my eyebrows and stared at him, but he just swung his pipes around. Reaching out with my mind, I asked a silent question in my head. Are we safe here? Flecks of white light twinkled around the kilted, bagpiper as a blanket of peace settled nice and warm around my shoulders. I guess the angel dust said it all. We were safe, for now.

  “It’s okay. He’s one of us.” Bryan’s whisper warmed my neck. I relaxed my shoulders and leaned against him.

  The bagpiper’s green-and-blue tartan was frayed at the edges, fading in spots. Good thing the giant bagpipes covered most of his outfit.

  “It’s my family kilt,” he responded to my silent question. “The blue stripes mean that we’re Highlanders.”

  “Yeah, right. You made that up.” Tony mumbled under his breath. “He’s probably just a fan of the TV show.”

  “Shush.” Brooke shot him the evil-eye and turned to the bagpiper. “Will you play us a song?”

  “Of course, lassie, if you’ll do me a favor first.” Still with the Scottish accent? Not fooling anyone, buddy, except maybe Brooke.

  “Okay, anything.” Her sandy head bobbed like an anxious
puppy.

  “Me throat’s parched from playing all night. You mind going into the Marriott here and getting me a glass of water?”

  “Of course not. Anything for the bagpipe maestro.” She trotted off toward the hotel.

  “Now.” Mr. Bagpipes licked his lips at each of us. “What shall I play for you? I do show-tunes, standards, or a traditional bagpipe lullaby, if you prefer.”

  “No thanks.” Laura’s scowl wrinkled up her face.

  “How about ‘Fly Me to the Moon?’” Bryan’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer.

  “Good choice, lad,” the bagpiper beamed. “One of me favorites.” His accent landed on Irish this time. Unless my Alton High drama teacher had it all wrong.

  “Let me work out some kinks.” He touched the pipes tenderly and twisted the tuning pins.

  “Wait for me.” Brooke jogged up to us. “Here’s your water, sir.”

  “Thanks, lassie.” He sipped it and poured the rest into a tasseled leather pouch at his hip. He handed the cup back to Brooke. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. So what will you play tonight?”

  “Your strapping young friend requested ‘Fly Me to the Moon.’” He blew into the pipes, horrible screeches tearing through the chilly night air.

  “Strapping friend?” Laura giggled under her breath. I elbowed her in the side, if only to suppress my own laughter.

  The bagpipes wheezed out in a somber key, filling the space between us with its slightly off-kilter melody.

  Laura jerked on my arm. “Get a load of that. He’s trying to do a jig.” Sure enough, the burly man bent one knee then kicked out his foot, switching legs to do it all over again.

  I couldn’t hold back and suddenly busted out laughing. Laura cracked up too, whether at me or the bagpiper I couldn’t tell. Her high-pitched giggle rang out like a siren, louder than the Times Square noises around us.

  “Hey, what is this? I don’t play for no cynics.” The bagpiper’s face grew redder by the minute. Then he waddled close to Bryan and whispered, “The clean-up crew just reported in. The Watchers are here. Not sure why they’re being so persistent. They’ve never wanted to risk exposing themselves before now.”