Acca

by Christina Bauer

  It takes all my limited self-control not to gasp. The Lady. Aldred ordered Desmond to deliver the Rixa Codex to Earth because of the Lady. Yet when Desmond agreed to hand it over the dyad demons, they murdered him. This has to be the same Lady that Prescott is talking about.

  “The Lady? Who is she?”

  “A great benefactor of this school. That’s all you need to know.”

  I try my best to appear innocent and interested. It involves a lot of blinking. “She sounds so fascinating. I’d love to learn more.”

  Prescott lifts his chin. “She’s a very private person. All you need to know is that she hired me to clean up the school’s reputation, and I have done so. Those nasty rumors are a thing of the past.”

  It’s obvious I’m not getting any more insights into the Lady, so I decide to press for additional information about the school. Prescott assumes that I know what he’s talking about when it comes to the so-called “rumors,” which I don’t, so I figure my best bet is to play along. “Anything in particular you don’t want me to say? There are so many horrible rumors going around, after all.”

  “Just don’t say anything negative about the school, and you’ll be fine.” Prescott brushes lint from the lapels of his blue blazer. “Now, there’s something else you need to prepare for. You’re about to meet our welcoming committee. The best students and faculty will come to the shoreline to greet you.”

  “Wow. That’s really cool. But shouldn’t everyone be in class?”

  Prescott winks, like this is all between us. “This is summer semester, so we’re a little more casual. Besides, your father was kind enough to make a ten-million-dollar donation that will fund a new library. I’m rebuilding most of the Wheeler Institute, you know. The library will be my greatest achievement. The daughter of the man who made it possible should feel extra-welcome in our little community.”

  “Huh.” Note to self: add incredibly loaded to Dad’s list of superpowers.

  Prescott’s icy-blue eyes bulge out of his head. “I hope that wasn’t inappropriate for me to share. Would your father be upset that I told you about the money…Or that we’re having a welcoming committee?”

  “No, I’m sure that whatever you’ve said or got planned will be great. I’ll make sure my father knows how kind you’re being to me.”

  “Ah, it’s nothing.” Prescott leans forward and rests his elbow on his knee. “Since we have a few minutes alone, I wanted to discuss a few additional items before you meet the welcoming committee.”

  “Sure.”

  “We have rules here at Wheeler.”

  I fight the urge to groan. Rules. I hate rules. It takes some serious concentration, but I fold my hands neatly in my lap and blink innocently. “I’d love to hear them.”

  “First of all, no mentioning the unpleasant rumors.”

  “Of course not.” Besides the fact that I don’t know what the rumors are yet.

  “Second, you do exactly what you’re told and when.”

  “How specific.” Screw you.

  “Third, the whole point of our school is learning while in a natural environment. You must embrace the outdoors.”

  “You got it.” Especially since those outdoors may contain demons.

  “And fourth, whatever you do…” His icy-blue eyes darken. “Don’t go to the north side of the island.”

  Bullshit. The second I have a free moment I am so hitting the north side of the island.

  “Check.”

  Prescott grins, and that predatory look returns to his eyes. There’s something leery and gross about it. In an effort to distract him, I point at the shore. There are a lot of trees, a dock, and a group of about twenty people milling about, all of them in blue blazers. “Is that the welcoming committee?”

  Prescott still has a glazed look in his eyes. “What?”

  “Welcoming committee. Shoreline.”

  Prescott clears his throat. “Yes, yes. That’s them, all right.”

  I’m no witch. Still, the way he’s acting around me, it’s as if he’s under a spell. “Great. I’m looking forward to meeting them.” And getting away from you.

  I edge myself a little farther away from Prescott and watch the shoreline grow larger as we close in. Hemlock Island sure has a lot of trees. I can’t even see the school from here. This is nothing like Purgatory High. That place was a chipped-up block of bricks that towered over everything.

  I never thought I’d say this, but I’m starting to miss Purgatory.

  14

  FSG expertly maneuvers our boat to a sleek wooden dock. I scan the shoreline. In every direction, there’s nothing but trees, trees, and more trees.

  Huh. This place looks more like a forest than a fancy pants school.

  About twenty teachers stand in front of the greenery, both male and female. All of them are wearing khaki pants and blue blazers. I get out of the boat, stand on the dock, and anxiously scan their faces.

  My heart sinks. No Lincoln.

  Along with the teachers, a half-dozen girls stand by the dock as well. They’re done up in short plaid skirts, white tops, and cutoff blue jackets. Somehow, in all of this, I didn’t realize there would be a dress code involved. More rules. Yuck.

  Prescott steps off the boat and introduces me to the teachers. I make a few quick hellos and hold onto my tail for dear life. I know how its skeevy little arrowhead-shaped mind works. The second I let go of my tail, it will dive back into the planking and hold me hostage. I am not giving it that chance.

  After the faculty greets me, Prescott turns to address the other students. “Now, I’d like to present the student welcoming committee. Girls, this is Missy.”

  “He means Mysteria.”

  “Hello, Missy.” All six of them speak in unison, their voices sounding in a monotone. It’s more than a little chilling, actually. The six of them are slim, pretty, and look well put together. Something about them is very wrong, though. It’s the look in their eyes. I’ve seen it before many times, right before I go for a killing blow.

  Fear.

  These students are scared out of their minds. My battle sense goes on alert. I want to start kicking ass, now. Whatever is frightening these folks is going down, and I’m the girl to do it.

  Calm down, Myla. Find the codex first.

  I force my breathing to slow and my thinking-side to kick in. After a few seconds, I’m able to slap on an innocent smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  Prescott beams. “The Wheeler School follows an acclaimed tradition of schooling in a natural setting. That means lots of outdoors time and no electronic falderal. You girls don’t mind not having cell phones or televisions, do you?”

  Wait, what? No cell phones? No TV? Don’t tell me I just left the only place in the after-realms that has no technology…Only to go to the only place on Earth without it, either.

  While I wait for the students to reply, I work hard to hide my panic. Maybe I’m worrying over nothing. Surely, they’ll all say something like “ha ha, what a joke” right as they pull out their phones and take a selfie.

  At last, the girls reply. “We don’t mind at all.” And they even say THAT in unison.

  So. Freaky.

  “Excellent,” says Prescott. “Let’s go to class, shall we?”

  “Like, at this very moment?” I haven’t been to class in months, and honestly, the whole no-school thing was really agreeing with me. “I thought there would be a tour or something.”

  “I’ll do that along the way.” Prescott elbows me slightly. “Not that you’ll remember. You girls are terrible with directions.”

  My face scrunches up into a look that can only be described as what the hell? Girls aren’t good with directions? Where is he coming up with this stuff? I scan the faces of the students beside me. They look so terrified, they probably couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag. I guess I’ll let it slide.

  For now.

  Prescott claps his hands three times. “Let’s go, girls! Time for the tour.” He
marches off into the line of trees. To be honest, I don’t know what I expected from Nova Scotia. Okay, maybe some salmon, a few rocks, lots of indoor living and television, and that’s about it. But this place is heavy with trees and shrubs and who knows what else. There are meandering pathways through the hefty tree trunks. Every so often, a wooden sign is propped into the ground with destinations listed on hand-carved arrows:

  “Jamboree Hall.”

  “Angelfire Learning Bunkers.”

  “Exercise Grounds.”

  “Student Cabins.”

  The last one gives me pause. “We live in cabins?”

  Prescott gestures through the trees. “Yes, there’s one now.”

  I blink to make sure what I’m seeing is right. It is. “I’ve never been near a cabin like that one.” Which is totally true. We don’t do much camping in Purgatory, but the few places around are pretty rustic, to say the least. The cabins here mix the old log vibe with modern style glass and concrete. Some places even have bay windows and porches. Whoa.

  “Impressive, right?” asks Prescott.

  “Yeah.”

  “The quality living arrangements is one of the main reasons parents trust us with their children. As I’ve said, this is a natural learning environment. No phones, no technology. Being outdoors helps the mind to focus. And privacy is critical as well. Every single student gets her own cabin.”

  “That’s cool.” And I mean it. Being an only child, I’m used to my own, well, everything. Personal cabins will suit me fine.

  We follow the trail to the Angelfire Learning Bunkers. Soon the meandering path opens up onto a small quad made of four long buildings. One stands along each side of a grassy square. The architecture is Davy Crockett meets the Pentagon. It’s like a log cabin and a cement bunker got busy. The Learning Bunkers are cement blocks—no windows, mind you—with log roofs that slant down on an angle. Something about it makes my hair stand on end. It’s like the place is supposed to be all woodsy. In reality, it’s more like an armed camp.

  But are they keeping someone out or in?

  We walk into the first Learning Bunker. The interior takes me right back to Purgatory High. The place is all cinderblock walls, linoleum floors, and combo desk-chairs. These folks put a lot of money into the cabins where people sleep—I saw those on the way over—but when it comes to the classrooms? This is way cheap. I know since I went to a school like this, and nobody is more chiseler-like than the ghouls.

  Prescott moves to the front of the classroom and pauses before the green chalkboard. “Girls, take your seats.”

  The other students grab chairs at the front of the class. I debate for a minute about where to park my butt. Back at Purgatory High, I always sat in the back row. This could be an opportunity for me to turn over a new leaf. Be a front-row student and listen with rapt attention to…

  Country Club Ken.

  I scratch my cheek. Can’t do it. At least, not yet anyway. Maybe if I sit in on a lecture or two and he isn’t a douchebag, I’ll change my mind.

  Prescott claps again, three times. I feel like I’m in doggie training, and it’s not a nice feeling. I grab a seat in the back row.

  “As the welcoming committee, you girls represent the finest of the incoming senior class of the Wheeler Institute. Therefore, you’re in for a real treat today. I’m going to give you a lecture from the depths of my studies in Archangology.”

  The other students all lean forward, their eyes wide with anticipation. I must admit, I’m pretty interested as well. What I don’t know about my father is a lot. Anything I can learn on archangels is good news to me.

  “The angel we’ll focus on today is the General. Now, who knows which archangel is the General?”

  That would be my father.

  Prescott points at a girl with red hair and a ticked-off look on her face. I instantly like her. “What about you, Harper?”

  “That’s the archangel Xavier,” says Harper.

  Prescott grins. “Quite right. The archangel Xavier is indeed a fine warrior, but he’s also a virile man who’s had more than thirty-seven human wives.”

  “What?” The word comes out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

  Okay, I could totally have stopped myself, only I didn’t want to.

  “Missy, you’ll answer questions when asked.”

  “It’s Mysteria, and the archangel Xavier has not been married thirty-seven times.”

  Prescott’s blue eyes narrow to angry slits. “We spoke about being obedient before, Missy. You’ll answer questions when asked and not before.”

  I grab the bottom of my seat so I don’t do something else with my hands. Like chuck the entire desk at Prescott’s head.

  Remember the codex.

  Prescott glares in my direction. “This school is dedicated to the General, and I don’t mean to take anything away from him. That said, part of what we’re here for is to become independent thinkers. That’s why I’ll tell you what to believe about the archangel Xavier.”

  I dig my hands so hard into the plastic seat I’m surprised I don’t snap it in two. “Fine.”

  “The General does have a number of families.”

  Not fine.

  “Nope, you’re thinking about Aquila.”

  “What?” Prescott’s face turns pink.

  “The archangel Aquila. She’s been married to a thrax and a ghoul, at least that I know of. She’s the one with multiple bloodlines. My fa—” I clear my throat. “The archangel Xavier has only been married once.” And then, very recently. Not that I’m volunteering that part.

  “Missy.” Prescott’s voice quavers with rage. “Interrupt me one more time, and I’ll send you to your cabin for the rest of the day.”

  “Got it.”

  Note to self: get sent to your cabin ASAP because this lecture? Sucks hard.

  “Another thing to note about the General is that he’s a bloodthirsty warrior, not a diplomat.”

  Anger zings through my nervous system. Even if I hadn’t just vowed to get myself sent to the equivalent of a time-out chair, there was no way I’d let that comment slide.

  I hop to my feet. “My father is the greatest diplomat Purgatory has ever seen. In fact, it’s how he met my mother in the first place. She was a Senator in Purgatory’s legislature and—”

  And I look like an idiot.

  “Mysteria!”

  I fist-bump my tail behind my back. Now, he gets my name right. Nothing like a little rage to help you focus.

  “Hope, Gale…Escort Mysteria to her cabin.” Prescott stomps down the main aisle to stand before me. “In light of your real father’s donation to this school, I’m going to assume this outburst was the product of a tired mind. You’ll go to your personal cabin to rest now, and when I see you for group breakfast in the morning, I expect you to be well behaved.”

  I put on my best mopey look. It’s not as effective for Prescott since he can’t see my tail go all droopy, but it will have to do. That was a big slipup back there. “Yes, Headmaster Prescott.”

  “That’s a good Missy.”

  My mopey look disappears. Did he just use the words “a good” before my name, like I’m a pet? Unbelievable. And I thought the ghouls were bad teachers.

  Prescott gestures to two students near him. “Gail, Hope. Get her going. This lecture is over.” The headmaster stomps from the room, and the other students follow along. The ginger-haired girl gives me a quick thumbs-up. I make a mental note to find some time to chat with her later. Harper.

  For now, I’m stuck with Gail and Hope, both of whom look wide-eyed and frightened. As we walk outside, I make sure to give them my most winning smiles. “So, how do you two like summer camp?” They keep staring at the grass, and I’m no ace at small talk. “This school has a lot of…Trees. And stuff.”

  There’s a saying that you speak and get crickets. At this point, I’ve got actual crickets chirping away at me. These chicks aren’t making eye contact, let alone using their verbal skills. />
  Without saying a word, Gail and Hope trudge off into the woods. I shoulder my backpack and follow close behind. Guess the perky approach isn’t the way to go.

  I’ll simply have to improvise. It’s what I do best anyway.

  We meander through the trees, and one thing becomes instantly clear. This place is loaded with guards. So far, all of them are adult humans. In other words, pretty weak as opponents go. I don’t spy any demons, but that doesn’t mean anything. If there are ones around, they’re most likely to come out at night. Only Class A jobs can run around in the daytime.

  Eventually, the path ends at a log cabin. The place is triangle-shaped and modern-looking. One wall is all logs; the other is reinforced glass. We go inside, and things get even nicer. There’s a small kitchenette with a dining table along with a couch and reading nook. Finally, the back wall has a door that opens onto a bedroom-bathroom combo. Only one thing to say about this.

  There’s no television. Boo.

  Gail and Hope stand by the doorway, their gazes still locked on the floor. They keep not saying anything, and it’s making the awkward factor get way worse. “So, guys…”

  Silence.

  “You all want to read a book or something?”

  More silence.

  I’m going for broke. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we play a game? I call it let’s tell each other the worst rumor I’ve ever heard about Hemlock Island. What do you say?”

  They all file out of the cabin like I started playing “Jingle Bells” by making fart noises with my armpit. (Yes, that’s a skill I have. No, I haven’t used it since I was four.)

  Well, that was the wrong thing to say, obviously.

  I’m alone again, and I decide to use my free time to scope things out. I open the front door, ready to explore the forest even if it is loaded with squirrels and goo. Three human guards step out from the trees and glare at me.

  I wave at them. “Hey, there!”

  They don’t answer. Verbal communication is a real issue on this island.

  “I think I dropped something by the trees. I’ll have a quick look around.”

  I step forward.

  They step closer.