Heaven's Fury (Pandorax Academy #3)

by Ember Hollis

  I’ve never been able to just sit and do nothing. Plus, the sound of so many people sobbing is really getting to me. Even when my mother died, I’d dealt with it by putting everything I had into surviving at Pandorax. Collapsing into tears and sitting around just isn’t who I am, and I don’t know anyone in the cafeteria well enough to be of any comfort to them.

  It’s better to at least try to do something than to sit around and waste time.

  I leave the cafeteria and head to the cliffside where Noah and I had hung out not so very long ago. The Shattered Forest stretches out before me, with scorched trees and darkly stained patches where Hellspawn bodies had been burnt. It’s not a pretty sight, but it is extremely motivating, and I immediately resolve to do my best to harness my energy, even though I hardly know where to begin.

  I sit cross-legged at the edge of the cliff, and try to focus. I’ve tried meditating before, and I imagine that it’s somewhat similar, except that instead of focusing on my breath and emptying my mind, I’m supposed to concentrate on the energy within me and become aware of it.

  After a few minutes, I get the urge to manifest my wings. Even though I want to bring them out, it's not easy. I'm not sure if it's because of the emotional roller coaster I’ve been experiencing since I woke, up or because I’d fought the whole night long. Perhaps it’s also because I’m so self-conscious about what I’m doing now.

  Either way, my wings emerge slowly but steadily. And since I’m concentrating so hard on them, the sensation that accompanies them is heightened. Though the pain I used to feel when they emerged out of my back is completely gone now, I can feel my skin parting smoothly for my wings, each delicate bone and feather sliding out of me with a pleasant ache that feels like a satisfying full body stretch first thing in the morning.

  With a long exhalation, I stretch my wings high above my head, enjoying the feel of air running over my feathers. I start practicing making them sharp, then soft, then sharp again. Before now, I’d only ever done it when in danger or threatened, but it seems like practice does make perfect, and I find to my delight that I have a lot more control over them now.

  It also looks like my feathers have grown back, with the ones that I’d lost when I used them as weapons completely replaced. I bend my neck back and stare at the tops of my wings in the fading twilight, feeling utterly at peace. I may not be able to heal yet but at least I have my wings. I snap them out, then run my hands through my feathers, trying to figure out which ones are newer than the others.

  It’s amazing how there’s always been a part of me that’s special that I had absolutely no idea about for so long. All those years I’d felt sad and alone, powerless to do anything but go along with my Mom’s decisions. If only I’d known that I’d had these beauties buried deep inside me all along. Maybe I could have tried harder to be a better person and not stirred up so much trouble.

  It’s so ironic that I had to come here and go through so much crap to get to know the truth and figure out who I truly am. But as they say, things always happen for a reason. And now I know.

  I’m flicking my wings to and fro as I try to imagine what other powers I have hidden inside me, when I notice that one feather in particular is a little darker than the rest. It’s such a tiny one that I would never have noticed its discoloration if I hadn’t taken the time to sit down and study it. But now that I have, it seems almost impossible for me to ignore the fact that it is not entirely white.

  My heart skips a beat.

  “Calm down, Heaven, it’s just dirt,” I mumble to myself. I curve my right wing down and start brushing at the feather.

  At first I’m sure that it’s just been smudged with soil from the cliff. But when no amount of brushing lightens the father, my heart starts to pound as an almost unthinkable thought takes root in my mind.

  Before I know it, I've dug my nails into the thin sensitive flesh beside the feather to separate it from the rest.

  Sharp, throbbing pain radiates from the skin under it, but I grit my teeth and just groan as I slowly but surely pinch the feather between my forefinger and thumb and start pulling it out.

  “Ahh, damn it!” I cry when the feather detaches from my wing, leaving a spot of blood in its place like a little red flower bud on a sea of snow.

  I clench my teeth together and suck in a breath at the pain. I have no idea why, but pulling out my own feather like this feels so much more painful than when I’d used them as a weapon.

  I stare at the feather in my palm, tracing its membranes with a critical eye. I look at it for so long, my vision starts to swim. Now that it’s in my hand, it looks white. And yet, when I hold it against the rest of my wing… it isn’t quite.

  It gets to the point where I start to wonder if I’m imagining things. Then a cloud passes overhead, casting both my wings in deep shadow, and I flinch when the sight of them brings back memories of Mikhail and his oily black feathers. My stomach feels nauseous, the way it always did when he was nearby, and I jump up to scurry over to a nearby bush and throw up.

  I’m not really turning into him, am I?

  Tears sting my cheeks as I empty the contents of my stomach. Is this happening because I slept with Bain and Knox? Or is it because of what I did to Mikhail? I thought I couldn’t Fall before achieving Grace… but then why… why are my feathers turning gray?

  I yank my wings over my shoulders and start to scrutinize them, yanking feathers this way and that. Pain rips through both my wings, but I don’t stop, pulling feathers whenever I spot ones that might not be as white as the others. At first the ones are spot are barely off-white, but the… I start to notice darker ones underneath, sooty, coal black ones that I have dig deep to pull out. And when I do… I see rotten flesh beneath, and even more black feathers just waiting to sprout.

  Soon, my wings are spotted with blood, and feathers litter the grass at my feet. The pain makes me dizzy, yet I don’t want to stop. I can’t, not as long as there’s still a trace of black, a hint of—

  “Heaven. Heaven!”

  The voice doesn’t register in my mind, and I don’t pay any attention to it. Until hands grab me by the shoulders and I’m forced to turn around.

  Chapter 8: Heaven

  I look up into Malik's face. His eyes are wide and his hands on me seem to burn with heat as they engulf my shoulders. I flinch back when I see him, and he draws his hands away, frowning.

  “What's the matter?” I say, my voice hoarse. “What do you want?”

  Malik straightens but keeps looking down at me. I turn away to avoid his piercing gaze and see that instead of feathers littering the floor around me, there's nothing.

  “You were screaming,” he says. “I thought you were being attacked. You sounded terrified.”

  I draw in a deep breath, realizing what had happened. Some time while I'd been trying to contemplate or meditate or whatever the heck I'd been doing, I'd fallen asleep, and pain had been due to my wings getting caught in a thorny bush beside.

  “It was just a bad dream,” I say, feeling extremely silly. I hug myself, feeling the chill of the evening in the absence of his heat, even through the thickness of my feathers. My wings are still out, but it's so dark now that I can’t see what color they are, let alone if there are any gray or black feathers. I dismiss them, still disturbed by the dream.

  “And is there a reason why you're sleeping out here instead of indoors?” Malik asks. His voice is pointed and I immediately take offense.

  “Why? Is there a rule against sleeping outside?”

  “Actually,” Malik says, “There is. Curfew has been established again.”

  “Oh, I didn't know that.”

  “They just announced it an hour ago,” Malek adds, oddly reasonable.

  “Well, if there’s a curfew, what are you doing out here,” I ask. I look him over, noting that he’s still dressed in the same black fighting gear he’d been wearing last night. There is heavy stubble on his jaw, and his eyes are slightly bloodshot, as if he’d spen
t the whole night and day without any sleep. I guess it's quite likely that he has.

  “Help has come,” Malik says. “I was on my way to greet the newcomers.” He turns and looks up to the sky above the castle.

  I catch sight of a group of students and teachers gathered on one of the grassy archways that extends from one tower to the next. I've never been that higher before, since I don't take astrology classes. Those platforms are also reserved for advanced magic casters, who use them as launch pads for their broomsticks. Except that now, it looks like no one is practicing. Everyone is gazing up to the sky towards a speck that’s growing larger on the horizon. I get to my feet and stare alongside Malik.

  “Who are they?” I ask.

  “Remember when Pandora said that she would be asking for help from the angel emissary,” Malik says. “Well, that's them. They were supposed to arrive in time for the day of Sacrifice. Though that’s not going to happen now.”

  I look at him curiously, wondering at his words. Malik has never been one to say much in my presence, except for the usual threat or demand. Hearing him divulge so much information is new, and yet I find that I like this new Malik.

  As I gaze at him, my eyes trace the line of his jaw and I remember what it felt like to be in his muscular arms as he carried me away from the bathroom that horrible night of the Dance. Could it be possible that like Bane, he’s started to accept me?

  “So… you came down here from there just because you heard me screaming?” I ask tentatively.

  Malik's eyes narrow and I swear I see a flicker of unease in them.

  “No, I happened to hear you while I was on patrol. Most of the Weres are still out of commission, and we only have a skeleton crew pulling double shifts to guard the castle and enforce the curfew. I need to go now though.”

  He moves to stride off towards the castle and I hurry to catch up. Malik doesn't object when I follow him through the halls, all the way up an unfamiliar tower until we reach the grassy arch where the welcome party is gathered.

  At the forefront of all of those gathered is Pandora along with a new secretary. This one is a little plumper than the others, but still handsome, and with an air of indolence and indulgence. To my surprise, I see that the three other Horsemen are gathered here too, as well as Madam Kahili, Madam Wilkins, and several other teachers. It seems that everyone who's anyone has decided to greet the approaching party, which makes me wonder who exactly they are.

  Nobody says anything as Malik walks over to join the Horsemen, leaving me standing hesitantly at the entrance to the archway, so I take my place among the crowd and wait for the approaching party to arrive. As they come close, my eyes catch the motion of flapping wings, and I realize my utmost surprise and delight, that some of the women with the approaching party seem to be angel bloods. I stare in admiration as girls with strong limbs and beautiful faces glide through the sky with a strength and grace that I can only hope to achieve one day.

  The angel bloods aren’t the only ones with their own wings either. There are several supernaturals with bat-like wings, and ones whose skin and wings look scaly and gleam brightly even in the fading sunlight. Besides those flying under their own power, are elves riding on pegasi, magic-casters astride decorated and tanked out broomsticks, as well as several exotic looking men and women who sit cross-legged on carpets that seem to skim through the air with a magic of their own.

  “Wow, don’t they look amazing?”

  I turn and see Amelie and Meg behind me. Both of their faces are pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath their eyes, but their expressions are filled with excitement.

  “Where have you girls been?” I exclaim. “You don’t look as if you got any rest!”

  “No,” Amelie says, gesturing to Madam Wilkins. “We spent most of the day converting the life force of all the injured hellspawn we found into energy for the Heartstone.”

  At her words, Meg nudges her hard, causing Amelie to clap her hands over her mouth.

  “Oh,” she says looking at me with wide eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that! I’m just so tired… please don’t tell anyone!”

  “Why not?” I ask. “I fulfilled my dance rituals—well, most of the real ones I promised to do.” There was no way I’d have gone all the way with the fake suitors that had ended up on my dance card. “I’d probably have been chosen to help with the Sacrifice.”

  “Yes, except that you would have given your own energy,” Meg whispers in a barely audible voice. “Not helped us convert Dark energy from hell.” She glances over at Madam Wilkins. “We had no choice, the Dome wouldn’t have held if we didn’t. But don’t let anyone know what we told you. These teachers and students from Ever After Prep are really arrogant, and they hate having anything to do with the Underworld. They wouldn’t even have come to our aid, except that the Horsemen are technically neutral and they’re obliged to help us, especially after the angel told them to.”

  “Wow, I had no idea,” I whisper back, before sealing my mouth with an imaginary key. So that’s where the new people had come from. “Don’t worry, I'll pretend I didn't hear anything.”

  “Good,” Amelie sighs in relief. “My family is high elven, but we’re among the few who don’t hold to such beliefs. Energy is energy, plus those hellspawn would have killed us on sight. There’s no point in rescuing them just so they can attack us some other time.”

  I nod slowly, not sure I agree, and yet not knowing what I would say if I were to speak up. So many innocents had been killed by the hellspawn after all.

  “By the way, I had no idea there were so many angel bloods at Ever After Prep,” I say, in the end, changing the subject. “Their wings are gorgeous!”

  “Oh no,” Meg raises her brows. “Don’t get confused. Those girls aren’t angel bloods at all. They’re Valkyries. You’re still the only angel blood on campus.”

  “Oh,” I say, disappointed. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been looking forward to meeting others like me until I realized there were none.

  “Yeah, you’re pretty unique, Heaven,” Amelie says, giving me what I guess she thinks is a compliment, except that it only serves to make me feel more alone than ever in my situation. “But it looks like we do have some interesting guests. Those are real life guardian gargoyles, and if I’m not mistaken, some dragon bloods, the usual magic casters, and, da da dum!” she beats the air with imaginary drumsticks, “Genies!”

  “You’re kidding,” I almost choke in my surprise. “Those are real?”

  “Yup,” Meg winks at me. “They aren’t blue, but they can still grant wishes. Though it always comes with a price.”

  I want to ask more, but there’s no time as the first of the Valkyries alights on the grassy pathway and immediately walks straight to Bane to plant a kiss on his cheek.

  Chapter 9: Heaven

  I suck in a breath, causing Meg to turn to exchange glances with me. Her face is filled with curiosity, and I try to make my expression less tense. Meanwhile, Amelie shakes her head, a crooked smile on her face.

  “Who's that?” I ask her, not able to help myself. The Valkyrie and Bane seem to know each other so well. I try not to sound jealous but I can't help an interrogative tone from creeping into my voice.

  “That's Alya,” Amelie says. “She’s new, but apparently one of the strongest Valkyries in Ever After Prep. They probably met each other when she was reborn,” she says.

  “Reborn?”

  Amelie nods. “You know that Norse myth where male warriors who die heroic fights get chosen by Valkyries to go to Valhalla as Odin’s einherjar? Well, in real life, Valkyries are also revealed when they suffer mortal injuries, especially if its from violence. They’re actually a special subset of bird Shifters, and the myth comes from their ability to identify badly injured men and women who have dormant Shifter genes in them, and to help trigger their transformations so they can survive and continue living, only this time as supernaturals.”

  “Wait, what?” I frown. “I thought Weres m
ade other Weres by biting humans.”

  “Yes, Weres do that,” Amelie says. “But Weres are different from Shifters. Shifters are born with the natural ability to shift into specific animals. Weres are humans that survive infection by other Weres or Shifters. Think about it this way, you can be born with a natural immunity to a disease, or you can get yourself inoculated by an injection.”

  “Oh,” I frown. “That actually sort of makes sense.”

  Meg shakes her head. “I knew all that. But hasn’t Bane always been at Pandorax? When did he have a chance to meet someone from Ever After Prep?”

  “Oh, sorry,” Amelie says. “I got side-tracked. It’s true that he’s always studied at Pandorax. But I heard that the Horsemen are sometimes sent around the world to where there’s an overflow of their type of energy, to help curb it and maintain balance. I think the last time they left was two years ago, to deal with some serious fighting in the Middle East. It was hot news because Valkyries are rare, but so many people died that they actually discovered a couple new ones on that trip. She’s probably one of them since she knows Bane so well. Going through something like that tends to bring people close to each other.”

  “I see,” I gaze, my heart sinking as I take note of the Valkyrie’s luscious black locks and beautiful olive complexion. Her eyes sparkle a bright hazel even from this distance, and her body is built like a gymnast’s. Drop dead gorgeous, brave, and exotically rare?

  I watch as the Valkyrie leans in, exchanging what seems like intimate words with Bane, who smiles wider than I've ever seen him smile before. The two of them seemed to know each other very well, and have quite a lot to say which for some reason, makes me unhappy even though I know that I have no claim to Bain's heart. Even though we’d slept together.

  To distract myself from the sight, I look over the rest of the party. The other Valkyries are closer now and I realize that Amelie was right. Their wings are just as big as mine, and now that the setting sun is no longer shining in them, I can see that some are colored and not entirely white. More importantly, they don’t posses that special sheen of Light divine energy in them, which mine do. It sounds a little stuck up to say that’s the biggest sign that they’re not angel bloods, but I can tell even if others might not be able to.