Conspiracy Boy (Angel Academy)

by Cecily White

  “Illuminé,” I called louder, flexing my fingers.

  A few stray sparks danced just under my skin but died almost immediately.

  “My powers aren’t working,” I said. “Luc, why aren’t my powers working?”

  This time he made a few hacking noises, then fell silent. Which concerned me. Luc wasn’t exactly known for his silence in the wake of someone else’s failure, so the fact that he didn’t seize the opportunity to tease me came as a surprise. In fact, it alarmed me more than the forest or the darkness—or anything else that’d happened since I opened my eyes.

  Careful not to jostle him, I shifted upright and trained my gaze on him, waiting for my vision to focus: the outline of his face, pale against the dark brown earth; the shape of his button-down shirt, blue pinstripes stretched over lean, squared shoulders; the dark smudge of red at the base of his neck.

  Oh, snap.

  I ran my hand up his shoulder until my fingers found the hilt of Jack’s knife. It had lodged below the collarbone, above the heart, thank heavens. Enough to cause a problem, but probably not enough to kill him. Since the blade was originally meant for Jack, I could only assume Petra hadn’t intended death when she threw it. She probably just wanted to stun him like before, so she could get away again. This time with me as her prisoner.

  “Luc, try to stay calm. You might have nicked a lung, so panicking is a bad idea right now, okay? Lie still, and I can heal you.”

  For a second, I thought he was laughing. Dark specks of blood stained his lips and dribbled out the corner of his mouth. His head moved side to side, but no words came out.

  “Quit that,” I said. “The more you move, the longer it’ll take.”

  With clumsy hands, he found my wrist, then fumbled his way up to my palm. My empty, powerless palm. He lifted it to a cut at his forehead—a tiny cut, which, despite the time lag since we’d landed, had not begun to reseal itself.

  Crud, he was right.

  Whatever drain had happened traveling through the portal, it had affected both of us. If I couldn’t power a light command, no way could I power a healing charm. Which meant, if he was going to heal, he’d have to do it on his own. Except that he hadn’t been able to heal the cut on his forehead. How was he supposed to mend a gaping wound like the one in his rib cage?

  Yeah, we were screwed.

  I leaned closer to his face, where he still struggled for breath. “Don’t freak out. I’m going to try something.”

  In the moonlit half darkness, I could just make out his eyebrows cinching together as I wrapped both hands around the hilt of Jack’s knife. It felt cold and familiar between my fingers.

  Yeesh. How did I always manage to be the one pulling knives out of boys? It couldn’t be normal courting behavior, could it? Lisa and I had read the American Girl’s Dating Manual the year we turned twelve, and let me just say, they totally didn’t cover this.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to warn him what was coming, but I stopped. I didn’t even like knowing when a Band-Aid was about to get ripped off my knee. If I’d been the one about to get a knife jerked out of me, I probably wouldn’t want to hear about that, either.

  “Hold still.”

  Luc released a gurgly grunt as the knife slid out and fell to the ground.

  Before he could start thrashing, I hooked a leg over his knees and flattened my palms against his wound. Maybe I couldn’t call open a channel. But when I’d tried earlier, there had been a few shreds of power bubbling under my skin—residue from that pesky bond thread. Which meant that if any power was already alive between me and Luc, I could use it to heal. And I shouldn’t need a channel to access it. Short of trying to call back his soul after he died, it was the best chance I had.

  “Salve,” I whispered, focusing all my energy into Luc. “Salve pacem.”

  Nothing happened. Not right away, at least.

  Healing doesn’t work like normal charms. Most of the commands Channelers give are energy based, so we have to call power out of the Crossworlds to activate them. Healing is different.

  My mom once described it as being similar to prayer. Except not church prayer, like when you ask some external deity to help you out. No, it was the kind that emanates from inside you. That desperate, incomprehensible need that reaches deep into your heart and asks exactly what you would sacrifice to have whatever you’re praying for. It requires you to love the object of healing in a very intimate, personal way. It doesn’t have to be all-consuming and huge, the way romantic love feels. But it does have to be real. Mom said that’s why I was so good at it—I wasn’t afraid to love.

  Of course, that was before she’d died.

  And before Lisa left.

  And before Jack quit hanging out with me.

  Ugh, Jack. My chest tightened at the thought of him. He would never forgive himself for letting me get snatched. He’d probably knit me a whole new wardrobe by the time I got back. But I couldn’t think about that now. I had to focus on Luc.

  Without speaking, I cast a careful glance at him, so handsome and perfect and yet so deeply flawed. If you’d asked me a week ago what I loved about him, I might have said, “Nothing.”

  He wasn’t selfless.

  He didn’t habitually look for ways to make the world better or send money to starving children in Africa, like Jack did. He didn’t pick up litter or buy sandwiches for homeless people. There were so many nice things the guy didn’t do, it’d make your head spin.

  Yeah, there were issues. But backstabby family baggage and social climbing aside, Luc did have some redeemable features.

  He was honest. He didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t. And after seeing him work with the SUC folks earlier that night, I had to wonder if maybe I’d been off in my estimation of him.

  This time, when I pulled my gaze back to Luc, my hands were lit with a pearl glow, that single bond thread weaving over my skin like a restless snake.

  “Salve pacem.”

  Luc’s body responded instantly. His muscles tensed and his hands knotted into the carpet of pine needles below. I know, technically, he didn’t need to breathe the same way mortals did, but his breath quickened, nonetheless.

  Beneath my skin, the bond thread stretched to a vibrating strand, weaving itself around my wrist then diving into Luc’s chest. It wasn’t the wild movement I got with Jack, and there was none of the flashy visual stuff. But it didn’t matter.

  Just like Mom said, this felt real.

  I wasn’t prepared for the wash of relief as he sat up, his hands clawing at the ground. It took him a second to get oriented—at least that’s what I thought he was doing. He kept looking at the sky and gasping lightly.

  My hands held firm over his injury, energy knitting up the wound from the inside. I could feel his heart picking up speed, and I knew it was time to pull back. But before I could, something truly disturbing happened.

  Luc kissed me.

  It wasn’t the tsunami of heat like when Jack touched me. Instead, it was a smolder. Wine and honey and power—sweet and rich all at once. Light and heat skittered over my skin in a soft sigh, holding me there, urging me not to fight. It felt so weird, kissing someone other than Jack, that it actually took me a moment to react.

  “Luc,” I whispered. “You have one second to get your mouth off my face, or I will channel you into four demon realms simultaneously.”

  As soon as the words were out, his lips froze on mine and his fingers stilled. I could tell he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. All he could do was flop back on the scatter of pine needles and twigs, clutching at his chest the way humans do in those advertisements for heart disease.

  “Sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry.”

  Apart from nervously fiddling with my new fuzzy scarf, I honestly had no idea how to respond.

  Good grief. What was he thinking? Or wasn’t he thinking at all? If Jack suspected for a second there was something happening between me and Luc, he would… Actually, I had no clue what h
e would do. But it definitely wouldn’t be good.

  After a second, I stood and brushed the snow and crushed flora off my butt. Not as dignified as I would have liked, but in the middle of the woods, I’d take what I could get.

  “So, that happened,” I said after an impossibly painful silence. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it, do you?”

  He glared at me for a second then shut his eyes.

  Yeah, I didn’t blame him. I didn’t want to talk about it, either. Like, ever.

  “You are healed, right?”

  For a second, I thought he was going to speak, but instead he threw a hand over his face. That’s how he stayed for another three and a half minutes.

  Three and a half minutes.

  It might not sound like a long time, but trust me, when you’re sitting in the ass-freezing cold surrounded by nothing but trees and potentially hungry wildlife, three and a half minutes is an exceedingly long time.

  “Luc, I know you’re not in the best space right now, but we really need to move. Like, find a cave or something. Maybe build a fire.”

  “You go,” he said. “I’m good here.”

  “Until you get eaten by a mountain lion.”

  But Luc stayed in relax-o-mode. Which I interpreted as admission that he, like me, lacked any clue how to locate a cave or build a fire with no matches and no channeling power.

  “We could climb a tree,” I suggested. “But if you fall out, I’m not healing you again.”

  “Brilliant,” he mumbled, his face still buried in his elbow pit. “I’d rather perish than endure that again.”

  “We’re on the same page, then. Now, get up.”

  It took me literally seven minutes, two veiled challenges to his masculinity, and three death threats to get him vertical and moving. Not that we even knew where we were going. The truth was, we could wander in circles and I’d probably never know.

  “There’s water ahead. I can hear it,” I said after a few minutes of wandering. It sounded like someone had left the faucet running and the bathtub had overflowed—more of a trickle than a gush. “It’s a creek or something. This way.”

  He hung back, shivering. “You think water will make things better?”

  “Water flow means elevation. Elevation means caves, and caves mean warmer temps,” I told him. “Besides, there might be something dry we can burn.”

  Or you could use the bond to keep you warm.

  The evil thought prodded the back of my skull, but I shoved it away. I didn’t care how good of a kisser he was. The thought of touching him made me indescribably wiggy.

  After a few more minutes, my skin felt raw from the cold, and my hands had gone numb. I wasn’t entirely sure I could make it to the waterline, wherever that was. Apparently, Luc had the same issue.

  “I need to sit down,” he said and squatted on a tree root.

  I stopped walking.

  The moon had rallied and sat high and small on the horizon, clouded by the continued unreasonable snowfall. All I could do was stare at it.

  This was how the universe decided to behave tonight? Really?

  The whole thing made me wish I’d paid attention to Jack’s blather about astronomy and direction finding and constellations being helpful for more than determining whether I’d have a good fashion month. If I’d remembered any of that stuff, I might have been more useful than a toadstool. I might also have been able to think about something besides how comforting Luc had felt pressed up against me and what a bad person I was for knowing that.

  Think, Amelie.

  At the moment, the only tools I had were vague night vision and a shaky awareness that moss grows on the north side of trees. Not enough to solve anything real, and definitely not enough to guide us to the nearest Starbucks. More than anything, I wanted to call Jack—he was probably already texting me like crazy. But with my cell phone out of commission, I couldn’t even reach him.

  Defeated, I slumped to the ground next to Luc. “Got any ideas? Because if not, then I think we might be screwed.”

  Before Luc could reply, a grove of evergreens rustled beside us, sending a scatter of snow over my shoulders.

  “Screwed, huh?” The guy behind me sighed and lowered his crossbow. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  I’d love to say there wasn’t much that could have surprised me, but that would be naive and stupid, two things which I am not. Still, it was with considerable shock that I scrambled to my feet.

  “Hi, Ami.” Alec Charbonnet smiled. “Or should I say, little sis?”

  Chapter Twelve:

  Secrets and Snowdrifts

  I have this theory.

  Granted, I have lots of theories, including one about the demonic nature of cottage cheese and another about meerkats being from outer space. But the theory I’m talking about is the one that God hates me. If the evening’s events were any indication, he clearly did.

  “Yo, babe,” Alec called as we stumbled through the front door. “I’m home.”

  Home, indeed.

  At first glance, it wasn’t the kind of place I would have envisioned Lisa living in. In fact, apart from a homeless mountain man, it wasn’t the kind of place I envisioned any human living in. Rough-hewn beams huddled together in an A-frame design with muddy grout filling the gaps and a few beams lashed to a support post in the center. At the far end, a stone fireplace stood near a garage-sale couch, where orange flames leaped invitingly at a metal screen. Despite the rustic look of the place, I instantly wanted to climb onto the couch and fall asleep.

  “Did you find out what set off the alarms?” Lisa hollered down from a makeshift loft area in the far corner—the bedroom, if I had to guess. It was far enough that the fireplace smoke stayed away, but close enough that warmth from the fire would make it a decent place to sleep.

  “Matter of fact, I did.”

  Alec lifted the crossbow and quiver off his shoulder and chucked them on a shelf next to an ancient-looking microwave. For lack of a better term, I found myself mentally labeling that as the kitchenette.

  “Don’t get too excited,” he added. “It’s not dinner.”

  With an impatient thump, Lisa appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a basket of laundry. She looked beautiful, as always. Sky-blue eyes, wide set in a perfectly heart-shaped face. Cascades of chestnut hair fell in uneven tumbles around her shoulders.

  As soon as she saw me, she froze.

  I can’t say I hadn’t thought about this before—seeing her again. During countless insomniac nights, I’d played out what I would say when it happened. If it happened. The threats, the tears, the accusations. Of course, none of those things popped to mind. So I just stared at her.

  Waiting.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  “Oh my God, Ami!” She dropped the basket and flew down the stairs, hair fluttering around her in a cloud of brunette fire. I actually had to elbow Luc on to the couch next to Alec so he didn’t fall over when she tackled me. “Where’ve you been? It’s been, like, forever since I sent that note!”

  I could practically see the exclamation points falling off her words. My mouth opened to reply, but she cut me off.

  “Thank God you came. I thought maybe you wouldn’t forgive me. And if you didn’t, I just knew I’d die.” She tightened the bear hug for a drama-filled moment and then grabbed my hand to start dragging me toward the back door. “Alec?”

  “Babe?”

  “Ami and I are going out for a bit.”

  He nodded. “Nether?”

  “Yup.” She paused. “And could you fix us popcorn, please? Emotional reunions totally wipe me out.”

  Sighing, Alec hoisted himself off the couch and headed toward the kitchenette. Luc didn’t seem to mind. Within a few seconds, he’d stretched out under a discarded afghan and started shivering peacefully.

  I pried my hand out of Lisa’s.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? You single-handedly murdered dozens of innocent
Guardians, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

  “Not single-handed,” Alec chimed in from the kitchenette. “I helped.”

  “True story. He took out most of them. I only killed eight.”

  “Nine,” Alec corrected. “Jackson.”

  Lisa frowned. “He didn’t stay dead.”

  “Like that makes a difference,” I snapped. “Lis, you murdered people. And you practically destroyed poor Matt. Do you have any idea what went down after you left? How crazy things have gotten?”

  Lisa folded her hands behind her and looked at the ground. “That’s not my fault. Half of what’s happening now is exactly what Alec and I were trying to prevent. Besides, Matt’s with Katie. Jack’s alive. And you’re with…him.” She glanced at Luc with what could only be described as confusion. “Why are you with him, anyway? Not that I disapprove, but we kind of thought you’d be portal jumping with Jack.”

  “So did I,” I said. On the couch, Luc’s shivers had transitioned into hard-core hypothermia with a side of snoring.

  “What’d you do to him?” Lisa asked.

  “I healed him.”

  “But he looks like crap.”

  “Does it seem like I need feedback right now?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Remind me never to let you touch Alec.”

  “Lisa.” I leveled her with a glare. “I promise if I ever lay a hand on Alec, it will be with the intent of killing him. Now, can we not talk about this, please?”

  “Absolutely.” Lisa tugged on my hand again. “Now, come on. There’s someone you need to meet, and we don’t have much time.”

  Reluctantly, I followed her out the back door to a grove of pine trees clustered around a tiny underground spring. It must have been the same water feature I’d heard from the woods, which meant Lisa’s exit locus code really had dumped us in her backyard.

  “Wait,” I said.

  “What?”

  I hesitated. “I still don’t trust you. And I definitely don’t trust your boyfriend. If I go with you, can you guarantee Luc will be safe with him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  As much as my life would be simplified by Luc vanishing off the face of the planet, it didn’t seem quite right to leave him alone, undefended, with a guy who had tried to murder him just a few months ago. Granted, Alec didn’t seem like a killer psychopath at the moment, but he hadn’t seemed crazy last fall, either.