Angel Academy: Full Series

by Kate Hall

  Probably from all the fire and brimstone and being surrounded by demons. I wish there were something I could do to make her feel any better.

  We should talk about plans to get her out of there, or discuss how we’re going to see each other again, but instead, she asks me to tell her about my day, and I tell her every little detail.

  “Well, Marcus appreciates you not killing him. He’s kind of a dick, but he owed me a favor.” She finally cracks the tiniest of smiles, and I grin in return.

  “He had a name?” I ask. When I’d first found Desireé, she hadn’t remembered her own name. The only thing she’d kept from her former life had been me.

  She nods. “Most do. That’s what they hang on to. The smallest sliver of themselves.” She pauses. “Before I found you,” she says, her voice suddenly hushed, “they all called me Avery. Because that was the only name I had to give them.”

  This should make me happy. It’s supposed to be sort of funny and sweet, right? Instead, it just makes my stomach drop and my eyes burn with tears. Everything is just so awful for her. Because of me. I look away.

  “Well, I’m glad he appreciates it. You should tell him that I got Angel detention,” I say, my joke thickened by the tears.

  She sighs. “I’m sure that’ll get a laugh. And plenty of remarks.”

  I shrug. “Doesn’t bother me. How can a bad day here compare to a good day there?” Of course, I don’t know what a good day looks like in Hell, but I can imagine that it’s absolutely awful, even for those who aren’t being tortured all day every day.

  Like Desireé had been. I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

  Her face goes pained. “Can we talk about something else?”

  I nod and tell her about Heaven. The real Heaven, with roads paved with gold, just like in the stories, and endless ice cream, and buildings made for people who fly. The eternally perfect sunsets with waterfalls cascading down the mountains.

  She sighs longingly.

  “You’ll be here soon,” I assure her, although it’s surely a lie. How am I supposed to turn a demon into an angel? Or convince anyone in Heaven or Hell that she’s not supposed to be a demon in the first place?

  She nods, but she obviously doesn’t believe it. It’s kind of her to at least pretend to in the first place. Even now, as a demon who literally lives in Hell, she’s nothing but kind.

  She’s always been kind.

  Chapter Ten

  We speak nearly every night. I tell her about my day, and she avoids telling me about hers. One night, a voice hisses, “Tell her I said thanks for the non-murder.”

  She shoves someone away. “I already did, you ingrate,” she replies, and the person laughs wickedly. That must me Marcus.

  Does she have friends in Hell? Is that even a thing? I hope so. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be a total outsider down there, living for an eternity of fighting and the strong possibility of a more permanent sort of death.

  One night, I gasp with a realization.

  “You’re not the only one,” I tell her after looking around like someone might be watching me or listening in. Unsurprisingly, nobody has showed up in my closet’s miniscule cubby hole to listen in on a secret conversation.

  She looks confused, her eyebrows scrunched together and her eyes a bit squinted. “What are you talking about?”

  I continue, “Nicolai. His sister switched with him as well. Her name is Nadia. Maybe you can find her?” I try to keep the excitement out of my voice. I don’t want to pressure her into doing this, but I have to at least try. For Nicolai’s sake.

  She frowns. “I mean, I don’t know.” She sighs. “There are a lot more of us here than there are of you,” she says. After a pause, she repeats, “A lot.”

  I shrug. “I mean, I guess it’s no big deal.” I can’t help the sinking disappointment that runs down my throat and settles in my stomach, though. If she found another wrongly-placed demon, then maybe we’d be able to do something about it. As it stands, though, there’s nothing to be done. Desireé is merely one of millions. Nobody is going to hear about one person. If there’s a pattern, then maybe, but it’s impossible.

  A tiny voice in my head points out, The Creator might.

  I shake my head. Nobody speaks to the Creator. She’s always discussed in reverent tones, like she’s some big unknowable being.

  I guess she is, though. I mean, she’s the Creator. She’s God. Nobody talks to God.

  After I don’t say anything for a while, Desireé sighs. “I can try. That’s the best I can do. What does she look like?” I open my mouth, then close it again. I have no idea what Nadia looks like. And, with how different Desireé appears as a demon, it could be impossible to find her even if she’s standing right in front of us next to a photograph.

  “I don’t know,” I admit regretfully.

  She sighs. “Okay. Well...I’ll see what I can do.” She smiles just a little. How kind of her to not point out when I’m being completely unreasonable. I smile back, but it doesn’t feel right. Nothing about this situation feels right.

  “I have to go,” she says with a sigh. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I reply, and the line disconnects. Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the one before that.

  If this is all I can have with Desireé for all of eternity, it has to be enough.

  When I stretch and go back out to my room, though, I watch the golden light fade as the sun sets behind the clouds, the sky pink and the waterfalls glistening.

  It will never be enough.

  I’m about to go to bed when a white slip of paper slides under the door to my bedroom. I go to the door and open it, looking both ways down the hall, but there’s nobody there.

  That’s strange.

  My lips tilt down on their own, and I pick up the note from the ground.

  I know about the demon.

  I freeze, my eyes tracing over the letters over and over again.

  Someone knows.

  My secret is out, and it could ruin everything.

  Chapter Eleven

  The only thing I know for sure is that the note came from another student. If a teacher knew, I’d already be in questioning. I ask my friends at dinner on Saturday evening if they told anyone about the escape, but they all shrug and look just as confused as I feel.

  I’m jumpy all day every day as the term wears on, and I can’t help but look around with thinly veiled suspicion. Who sent me the note? Who are they going to tell? I try my best to go about my days as normal, but I’m far too jumpy. Desireé wouldn’t be much help, so I don’t tell her about the mysterious note. There’s no point in putting even more on her shoulders then she already has.

  At the end of our fourth week of classes, Gabriel says, “Today will be our first day going to Earth.”

  I tense, and I glance around furtively to see if anybody is watching me while we all stand in the infirmary to prepare for our trip. They aren’t paying me any mind, but a few of them do look nervous. I take Nicolai’s hand, though mine is sweaty with anxiety. No matter what, I need a friend by my side right now. It’s all I can do not to throw up.

  When I blink, we’re still together, fingers intertwined, but we’re standing in the middle of an expansive living room. Everything is far too dark, and I have to blink a few times to convince my eyes to adjust.

  In Heaven, everything is so bright that it almost hurts, so both times I’ve returned to Earth, it seems way darker than should make sense.

  Sunlight streams in through the blinds, and I avoid taking a breath. The warehouse had been rancid, and I don’t want to find out if Earth just smells terrible to me now. Better to just not breathe.

  “There are changes of clothing for you upstairs,” Gabriel says. “You have five minutes.”

  All the female students crowd into a huge master bedroom, changing from our silky-smooth school uniforms into normal clothes that itch when we put them on. I have to do a couple of squats to put on the hig
h-waisted skinny jeans that had been in the pile with my name on top.

  When we meet back downstairs, Gabriel explains the procedure. “We will just be doing some basic reconnaissance. This is your first test. You all remember what it’s like to be human, so just try to not look too suspicious.

  I nod, and when I actually take a moment to look at Nicolai, I’m shocked to find that his hair is no longer snow white, but pale blonde. I smile. It looks adorable on him. That’s when I begin to realize that everyone has a wide range of hair colors, from Daniel’s long black braid to my now dark blonde hair.

  “How many of you can drive?” Gabriel asks, opening a panel on the wall to reveal a series of car keys. I raise my hand timidly. The last time I drove a car, I died, but it might be nice to get behind the wheel again. It’s not like I can die in a car accident a second time.

  I hope.

  Gabriel tosses me a set of keys, and I smile. The back of the fob has a familiar symbol on it with four overlapping circles.

  This is gonna be way cooler than the ancient Camry I paid seven hundred dollars for.

  When we walk out of the house, I find that we’re on a farm in the middle of nowhere. The land around us is full of rolling hills and tall grass, and way off in the distance, there are horses grazing in a pasture. Where are we?

  Nicolai joins me at the car I’m using, a two-seater Audi with a sporty, matte-red paint job. This is just about the coolest thing ever, and I’ve been to Heaven. The fleet of various sporty vehicles is in no way sensible, but I won’t complain if I get to drive a sports car. I take a breath of the outdoor air, which, luckily, doesn’t suffocate me like the warehouse had.

  “Where exactly are we going?” Nicolai asks, but when I start up the car, the GPS has a preloaded spot labeled as Term Two Class. “Oh,” he says. “Never mind.”

  I put the car in gear and rip out of the driveway, laughing as the acceleration pushes me back into the leather bucket seat. Nicolai grabs the handle with wide eyes, and he stares at me.

  “How did you say you died again?” he asks through gritted teeth.

  I laugh once again. “Don’t worry about it.” I shift down as we come to a curve, then right back up through the gears. Then, a thought strikes me. “Isn’t it weird that we can still understand each other on Earth? I don’t speak Russian.”

  He shrugs, but his body remains tense. “Maybe it’s an angel thing.”

  As I squeeze around another corner, I think of the note hidden in my cubby and the phone in my jacket pocket. I’m so glad the outfit I was given has a leather jacket, otherwise I’d have no good place to hide the device Desireé sent. It’s not safe to leave it in my room anymore, not if someone knows about my secret.

  “Who do you think it is?” I ask, slowing to a stop sign and slamming on the brakes. The transmission smells like burnt oil, and I frown. I can do better than this.

  He chews his lip. “I don’t know. It could be anyone, couldn’t it? At least, any student.”

  I take off again, glancing in my rearview mirror to find Gabriel following me in a more sensible SUV, which has at least five other students crammed inside.

  “It’s not like I can bring it to one of the teachers,” I say. “Desireé is supposed to be dead. Double-dead.”

  Eventually, the GPS takes me onto a highway. Based on the signage, we’re somewhere in the United States, or perhaps Canada, but I don’t recognize any of the scenery. Where I’m used to mountains and coniferous trees, there are huge sprawling fields and oak trees. It appears to be autumn.

  “What year do you think it is?” Nicolai asks, and the question gives me pause.

  “What do you mean?”

  He looks around the car like he might find an answer somewhere here, but he doesn’t dare mess with the GPS for fear of messing up our route. At the very least, we should stay with the class. “I mean, time is different, right? So what if it’s been like ten years? Or maybe it’s the year before we died.”

  I hadn’t considered that possibility. While it only feels like I’ve been at Theaa Academy for six months, years could’ve passed on Earth. Or maybe, as he’d suggested, we’ve gone back in time. The thought draws me through a spiral, and I have to slam on my brakes again when Nicolai shouts, “Stop light!”

  My heart races, but I don’t respond to his questions. What if it’s before we died? What if, somewhere else, I’m still alive?

  What if Desireé is still alive?

  I can’t help but fixate on that idea, although there’s no way we’re anywhere near where I used to live. I have no way to confirm her existence.

  Is it even possible for us to have gone back in time? It shouldn’t be. Time only goes one way.

  Or does it?

  Chapter Twelve

  As it turns out, it’s been a year since my death. And I only know that because we pass a bank in a small town that scrolls through information on their sign. The temperature, the time, and then the date.

  I sigh, letting all the tension leave my body as I take a ramp onto the interstate. There’s no point in wondering about the logistics of time travel if we haven’t actually done it.

  Still, a nagging voice in the back of my head wonders if it’s possible. Could I stop Desireé from getting in the car with me that day? Would that save her?

  When sprawling suburbs give way to towering buildings, we exit the interstate.

  “Are we in Kansas?” Nicolai asks, pointing out the Kansas City sign.

  “No,” I say. “We’re in Missouri.”

  He frowns and mutters, “What the fuck, America?”

  I smile at the perfectly reasonable question. Maybe now isn’t the best time to tell him how to pronounce the state of Arkansas.

  Kansas City is smaller than Portland, but only by a hundred thousand people. I remind myself that I grew up in a town of less than ten thousand, but I can’t help comparing the cities instead. When I was alive, Desireé and I would take the hour drive to Portland some weekends.

  The Audi’s GPS leads us to a parking garage downtown. The streets are confusing and crowded, but navigable nonetheless. I only end up having to circle the block once after screwing up and missing the turn.

  Nicolai makes a snide comment about it, but he shuts up when I tell him to try and do better.

  Finally, after everyone arrives, we meet near the smelly stairwell of the dimly-lit parking garage. The sky is rapidly going dark, and I can’t help but shiver at the thought of being out at night in a big city. I try to remind myself that I can probably destroy anyone who tries to hurt me, or at least scare them off when I don’t respond to a stab wound or a gunshot, but the darkness still makes me uneasy.

  “Now,” Gabriel says, “we are only checking on leads from our sources. If you find a demon, do not draw attention to yourself, and do not engage.” At the last part, he stares directly at me, his eyes stormy.

  It’s not like I want to get into a fight with a demon. They just always seem to come after me. I don’t want to try arguing with an ancient being that seems to already dislike me, though, so I just nod. It’s better to not engage.

  “Good, here,” he says, passing out small plastic cards and newer model cell phones, although they all look a little worn. “You all need identification, as some of the places in this area only allow entrance to people who are over twenty-one.”

  I glance at my fake ID—I’ve never had one before. Nicole Thomas. Nicolai shows me his. Avery Dawson. I roll my eyes. How creative. I wonder who else just had their names switched around with each other?

  “You will be going off in pairs, as a whole group of you would be too suspicious. We don’t want any demons getting wind of you in the area. Keep your heads low, and report to me if you see anything. The number to my phone is the only one installed in yours.”

  We split off a moment later, and Nicolai and I follow the GPS directions programmed into our phones. For an ancient being, Gabriel sure has fantastic technology working for him on Earth. I remember trying t
o teach Desireé’s grandma to open her email. It had taken hours, and she’d only been in her seventies, not her thousands. Or millions? It would probably be rude to ask Gabriel his exact age just for the sake of an old-people-and-technology joke.

  I take Nicolai by the arm. If anyone sees us walking down the street, they’ll see a normal couple. I glance at his face. Okay, they’ll see an unnaturally beautiful couple, but still.

  “Are you nervous?” he asks, studying my face when I look at him for a second time.

  I shake my head. “Just thinking.” I chew my lip, but I stop when I catch him watching me once again. “I’m fine,” I insist, perhaps a little too defensively. I stare at the pavement ahead of me.

  The silence between us is deafening, nearly as bad as the time he kissed me in my room and I had to rebuff his advances.

  “What’s that?” he asks, freezing in place and jolting me to a stop. I follow his widened eyes to an old-school diner.

  “A diner?” I ask, tilting my head. Are diners suspicious all of a sudden?

  He shakes his head, then drags me against the building. He nods toward the diner. “Look at the sign. Really look.”

  I roll my eyes but do as he says.

  The longer I stare at the seemingly innocuous sign, the more it gives me a headache. Okay, that is weird. Angels don’t just get headaches. Then, the shape of the logo seems to shift into something else.

  The symbol for Hell in Enochian. Or, more specifically, the warped version of Enochian that demons use.

  “Fuck,” I mutter. When I glance into the windows, though, something there gives me pause.

  More specifically, someone.

  I can’t be sure, of course. His hair is no longer an inky black, but a soft brown, and his features have filled out from their emaciated look and are no longer drained of all color.

  “Marcus?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

  The face snaps up toward me, and his eyes widen.