No Angel (5 page)

Chapter 7

A
re you sure you’re comfortable, Raffi?” Ms. Wormwood said as she put a fresh bucket of soapy water down next to me. She winked. “I know detention is still technically within school hours, but I’ll turn a blind eye if you want to relax the dress code a bit more.”

“Really, I’m fine.” I swiped the back of my hand across my dripping forehead, then bent over the scrubbing brush again. Actually, cleaning spray-painted pentagram symbols off the final-year girls’ dormitory was bloody hot work, even in the cool autumn air. My shirt stuck to my back.

Of course, that was mainly thanks to the previous bucket of water, which Ms. Wormwood had accidentally sloshed over me. At least, she said it had been an accident. Given that most of the girls from my year were surreptitiously watching me from the upper-floor windows, I strongly suspected bribery.

Or rather, I
hoped
it was bribery.

“Well, pet, if you get too hot, feel free to undo another button.” Ms. Wormwood’s gaze lingered on my throat. “Or two. Or four.”

Oh, how I wished I hadn’t taken my jacket and tie off. Or that I’d been able to do the evening’s detention with Ms. Vervaine, like I had the lunchtime one. The History of Art teacher, who obviously hadn’t wanted to supervise a detention any more than I wanted to be in one, had plonked me down in a comfy armchair in her overheated office and instructed me to pay close attention to a riveting documentary called
Sheep Breeds of South East England
. I’d been asleep in under five minutes. Ms. Vervaine was definitely my new favorite teacher.

On the other hand, Ms. Wormwood was rapidly becoming my new least favorite teacher. I paused again, glaring at the stubborn pentagram as I caught my breath. “This isn’t really coming off, miss.”

Ms. Wormwood peered over my shoulder. “Oh, that’s much better, pet,” she said, though I’d only gotten rid of a few lines. Still, at least the weird swirling optical illusion had been broken. “We mustn’t spend too long on a single bit of graffiti. We’ve got quite a list to get through.” She checked an item off on her clipboard. “The Headmistress wants you to tackle the library tower next. Come along.”

I gathered up the cleaning supplies, making sure to casually lift the heavy bucket one-handed, and was rewarded by an appreciative murmur from the open windows above. Clenching my jaw, I just about managed to last until we were out of sight. “Ms. Wormwood?” I said, panting. “I kind of need some help.”

“Of course, Raffi pet.” The teacher gave me a warm smile. “I thought something seemed to be on your mind. As your head of year, I’m here for you. You can ask me anything. Anything at all.”

I’d actually meant that my arms were about to drop off, but now that she mentioned it . . . I paused to both readjust my load and try to figure out how to explain what was preoccupying me.
Well, you see, last night this weird goth girl told me I’m an angel, and this morning I woke up with a halo. . . .

“Raffi?” Ms. Wormwood touched my arm. “Something’s clearly bothering you.”

No. Krystal
had
to be playing some sort of practical joke on me. “Not something,” I said instead. “Someone.” Krystal wasn’t the only girl acting strangely. “Miss, what does it mean when a girl seems to hate you but sits next to you in every class anyway?”

Ms. Wormwood’s eyebrows rose. “Generally, it means she secretly likes you.” She started walking again. “But if we’re talking about Michaela Dante, I’d say it’s because she hates you.”

“But I haven’t done anything to her!” My pickup attempt hadn’t been
that
bad. “I was only trying to be friendly.”

“I know, pet.” Ms. Wormwood led the way in silence for a moment, as if needing time to pick her words. “Raffi, although the Headmistress says we must make allowances for Michaela’s . . . unfortunate history, the fact remains that she causes a great deal of trouble at this school. I know how attractive you find her, but she’s a very disturbed individual. It would be better if you avoided her, pet.”

“Believe me, I plan to.” Having Michaela’s black eyes fixed longingly on my jugular vein wasn’t exactly helping me to concentrate in class. “I’m not really into the psychotic type.”

“I’m glad to hear it, pet.” We were coming up to the library tower, its modern structure wildly out of place amidst the older stone buildings. Reflected in the mirrored glass, Ms. Wormwood gave me a long, considering look as she unlocked the door. “You know, you really are a very mature young man.”

“Uh . . . thanks?” Was she sidling closer to me, or was that my imagination?
Please let it be my imagination.

Ms. Wormwood steered me through the door with an entirely unnecessary hand on my back. “I’m so glad we have this time to . . . get to know each other.” Her hand drifted downward, and I practically teleported two feet forward. “Properly.”

“Right! Absolutely!” I brandished my scrubbing brush at Ms. Wormwood, along with a slightly panicked grin. “So where are those pentagrams again?”

Ms. Wormwood waved dismissively at a spiraling staircase. “Oh, on the roof. But you don’t want to tire yourself out going up all those steps, pet. Why don’t we leave those silly things and find something more productive to do down here?” Her teeth gleamed. “I won’t tell the Headmistress if you don’t.”

“No need!” I yelped, already halfway to the next level. I accelerated, taking the stairs three at a time. “I’m
really
keen to scrub some pentagrams!”

I reached the top of the staircase out of breath but unmolested. A door led out onto the flat roof and, miracle of miracles, there was a key in the lock. Not waiting to see how closely Ms. Wormwood was following, I snatched the key on my way through, slamming the door shut and locking it behind me as fast as I could.

With a gasp, someone leaped up from her kneeling position at the center of the tower top. Moonlight silvered her streaming hair as she whirled to face me.

“Faith?” I said, still panting.

“Raffi!” Faith clutched at her chest as if my abrupt arrival had given her heart failure. “What are you doing here?”

“At the moment, hiding to avoid a fate worse than death.” I took a step toward her. “What are
you
doing up here?”

Then I noticed the chalk in her hand and the swooping lines that curled around her feet.

“It’s you!” Faith cringed back from my pointing finger. “You’re the one drawing those pentagrams everywhere!”

“That’s not me!” Faith looked as if I’d accused her of sacrificing first-years under the full moon. “My holy circles are nothing like those evil things!”

I stared at her half-finished pentagram. I had to admit, it didn’t look like the others. For a start, it looked like it had been drawn left-handed by a five-year-old on a sugar high. But even leaving the wobbly lines aside, this was a different design from the ones I’d been scrubbing off walls all evening. Sure, it was basically a pentagram, but this had flowing symbols written all around the edge of the circle instead of angular glyphs in the middle of the five-pointed star.

But it still seemed familiar. I’d seen it before. Not as chalked lines, but engraved on metal . . . I groaned as it hit me. “Faith, please tell me that’s not one of Krystal’s idiotic angel-summoning things.”

“No.” Faith hung her head, her voice dropping to a bare whisper. “It’s one of mine.”

I remembered the jeers about being crazy that Suzanne had thrown at Faith in History of Art class, and I silently cursed Krystal. It was one thing to try her special-effects scam on me, but pulling it on Faith—sweet, gentle, possibly brain-damaged Faith—just in order to get
one
friend was reaching new lows of desperation. “You seriously believe Krystal’s crap? Whatever she’s shown you to convince you her angel-summoning stuff works, it isn’t real. If you think some guy with wings is magically going to appear to sort out all your problems, you really are nuts.”

Faith turned away, leaning her elbows on the low iron railing running around the edge of the tower. She rested her forehead on her folded hands as if praying for strength. “I know.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the soft, hopeless misery in Faith’s voice, or the way her pose inadvertently showed off the riveting curve of her backside, but I couldn’t help myself. “Look,” I said, coming forward to lean on the railing next to her. “I’ve seen how bad things are for you here.” Oh, I should so not be getting involved with this walking social disaster, no matter how pretty she was. What was
wrong
with me when it came to this girl? “But this isn’t going to help. You’re making yourself a target, being friends with a weirdo like Krystal and letting the other girls walk all over you. Ditch this bullshit. Just try acting normal.”

Faith turned her head to look directly at me. “But I can’t, Raffi,” she said with an odd gentleness. “Because I’m not normal. There’s a great evil under this school, and I’m the only one who can stop it. I have to keep trying. I have to keep fighting the darkness, no matter how strange it makes me seem. For the sake of my mother. For the sake of everyone.” She looked down at our hands, side by side on the guardrail, and drew hers back from mine slightly. “But I don’t expect you to believe me.”

Well . . . if she
was
crazy, it looked a hell of a lot better on her than it did on Krystal.

On impulse, I laid my hand over hers—and caught my breath, everything I’d been intending to say knocked out of my head by the heat of her skin. Faith’s head snapped up, her startled eyes fixing on mine. For an instant that stretched like an eternity, we just stared speechless at each other.

Then a thick, black tentacle burst out of thin air between us, and hurled Faith over the edge of the roof.

Adrenaline turned everything as sharp and clear as glass. On pure instinct, I flung myself after Faith. My entire world shrunk to her terrified face, her golden hair streaming behind her like the tail of a falling star.

I caught her. The impact knocked all the breath out of me, but I gripped her tight to my chest even as I wheezed. Her arms locked around my neck.

For a moment, Faith clung to me, her breath coming in hitched gasps. I could feel her shaking as if plugged into an electric current. She lifted her head to look into my face, her own barely a handsbreadth away. “Rafael,” she whispered. Golden stars shone in the depths of her wondering blue eyes.

“Gck,” I said. Black spots danced in my vision.

Faith blinked, then appeared to notice that she was throttling me. “Oh!” She unwound her arms from around my neck. “I’m sorrAAAIIEEE!”

The word turned into a scream as Faith plummeted yet again. In blind panic, I dove, flipping completely upside down and just managing to grab her flailing hand. My shoulder screamed in protest as Faith seized my wrist with her other hand, dangling from my arm.

Hang on.

What was
I
dangling from?

I stared past Faith’s feet to the distant ground. It was definitely the ground. It was also definitely distant. The tower rose at our side, so close I could have reached past Faith and put my hand flat on the glass. Heart pounding, I looked at my reflection.

A blaze of white fire reflected in the black glass. My halo was back, shining as brilliantly as the midday sun.

And behind it, springing from my shoulders, were the wings.

Chapter 8

I
am not an angel!” Krystal and Faith both ducked as my wings swept over their heads. We were hiding out in the old shrine Krystal had shown me yesterday—Faith had gabbled something about the “sanctified ground protecting us” before running to fetch Krystal. I didn’t know what she’d meant, but at least the half-ruined building was deep in the woods and still had most of its walls and roof. The last thing I needed was for anyone else to witness my psychotic breakdown. “There’s—there’s a perfectly rational explanation.”

“For crying out loud, Raf, you have wings and a halo!” Krystal grabbed hold of my jacket, forcing me to stop my frantic pacing. “What more do you want, to be handed a harp by God Himself?”

“I don’t believe in God! I’m an atheist!” I checked over my shoulder to see if my wings had disappeared in a puff of logic. They hadn’t. I groaned, clenching my fists in my radiant hair. “I can’t be an atheist angel!”

Krystal shrugged. “And I’m agnostic. So? I still managed to get you here.”

“I can’t believe he’s really an angel,” Faith said, sounding as shocked as I felt. “I wasn’t expecting one to be so . . . physical.”

Krystal smirked, flashing her pentagram pendant. “Computer-guided laser-etching machine in the workshop. Accurate to a hundredth of a millimeter. I told you it was better than messing around with chalk on a freezing rooftop.”

“Angel-summoning is supposed to be done with holy reverence,” Faith protested. From the way Krystal rolled her eyes, this was not the first time they’d had this argument. “Not in between cutting out gears for your mechanical engineering course work!”

“Excuse me, could we get back to the topic of my
giant, glowing wings
?” I snapped, waving them for emphasis. “I don’t care how hard you wished. People make dumb wishes all the time. They don’t cause innocent bystanders to suddenly sprout extra limbs!”

“I didn’t wish,” Krystal said, maddeningly calm. “I made a summoning charm.” She shrugged. “Even if you know the right symbols to call the angel you want, it’s not easy. As Faith found out, if you don’t get every line spot-on, nothing happens.”

“I’m not good at geometry, okay?” Faith said defensively. She turned back to me, her voice softening again. “But the important thing is that you’re here. You’re my angel, and you’re finally here.” She smiled suddenly, as brilliant as the rising sun. “And now everything is going to be fine.”

“Everything is not fine!
Giant freaking wings!
” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stop hyperventilating. “Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at here, but I am
not
an angel. I’m a normal guy! I mean, I have parents and everything. What do you want me to do, show you baby photos? Call up my dad as a character reference? Trust me, I’m human!”

“I’ve met your dad.” Faith chewed on her lip for a second, looking pensive. “Raffi, what’s your mother like?”

“Dead, thanks so much for asking,” I snapped. Faith flinched, looking stricken, and I felt a stab of guilt. “Sorry,” I muttered. “It’s okay, it was ages ago. What do you mean, what was she like? She was my mum.”

“Yes, but how would you describe her?”

I hesitated for a second, trying out and discarding a dozen adjectives in my head. In the end, there was only one that did her justice. “Perfect,” I said, my voice going low. “She was perfect.” Then my head snapped up. “Wait, what are you suggesting?”

“I think you’re right, you aren’t an angel . . . not entirely, at least.” Faith pointed up at the star-filled sky. “I’ve read about nephilim. The children of earthbound angels, half mortal and half divine. Maybe your mother didn’t die. Maybe she just went home.”

“Now you think my
mum
was an angel? That’s the stupidest—” The words died, half formed in my mouth.

My dad had always loved to tease my mum about their first meeting, at some bigwig general’s party. My mum had been a guest while my dad had been working security. “I fell in love with you at first sight,” he’d always said to her, “but with all the gold braid in the room, I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Then you saw my tag, and did that double take, and started laughing your head off.” My dad would poke her, grinning. “I think you fancied my name more than you did me!”

My mum had always just shaken her head with a small, private smile. And she never would explain what had been so funny about my dad’s last name.

Angelos.

I sank down to the leaf-covered floor, my wings obligingly refolding themselves behind me, and put my head in my hands. “Okay,” I said after a moment. “So let’s say I’m, I’m what you say I am. Why?”

“You mean, why did we want an angel?” Krystal asked. She jerked her thumb at Faith. “Your turn, Faith. This is your show, after all.”

Faith knelt opposite me, her expression grave. “Raffi, how much school gossip have you heard about my father?”

“Huh? What’s that got to do with anything?” I vaguely remembered Suzanne sneering something about Faith’s “crazy, dead dad.”

“Everything. He was trying to summon an angel too, before he died. My father was a member of a secret organization sworn to protect the world against the forces of darkness.” She took a deep breath. “You see, Saint Mary’s is built on a Hellgate.”

It took me two attempts to find words. “This school is built on a
what
?”

“A Hellgate,” Faith repeated, apparently completely serious. “A place where demons can manifest in the mortal world.”

“You have to admit, it explains a lot about this place,” Krystal interjected.

She kind of had a point, considering the rampant bullying, but I shook my head. “There’s no such thing as demons.”

Krystal snorted. “Says the guy with the wings and halo?”

“Raffi, you saw that tentacle yourself,” Faith said earnestly. “That was a demon. It must have been trying to stop me from awakening your angelic powers.” She frowned, looking worried. “I’ve never seen one physically manifest like that before. It shows that the Hellgate is starting to open without my father here to hold it shut. Soon the demons will be able to break through fully. They’ll be free to roam the world, spreading evil through people’s hearts, unseen and unsuspected.”

“Unseen? I should think people would notice giant, alien squid-monsters crawling around the place.” My wings shuddered as I thought of that icy-cold tentacle curling out of nowhere.

“If only demons were that obvious,” Faith said, the corner of her mouth twisting. “Raffi, Hellgates let demons approach our world, but in order to be able to stay permanently they have to find a human host. A demon will seek out a weak, foolish person inside the Hellgate’s area, and infiltrate their dreams with visions of a pentagram containing the mystic symbols that spell out the demon’s true name. When the person draws the pentagram, the demon manifests inside it, taking on a seductive appearance to better tempt its target. It will promise power, money . . . whatever it takes to make its target agree to the binding.” She shook her head. “Demons don’t lie. The host
will
get the promised rewards . . . while the demon slowly corrupts them with its evil. In the end, the host becomes as cold and heartless as the demon itself. And that’s not the worst of it.”

“It gets
worse
than demons turning people into monsters?” I said.

“Yes.” Faith’s face was set and pale. “Because once the host dies, and the blackened soul finally leaves the body . . . the demon moves into the abandoned flesh. And then it can act in the world directly.”

I thought of all the things an evil alien entity wearing a human skin could do, and shivered. “So close the Hellgate already! You said your father kept it shut, why can’t you?”

“Because I don’t know how he did it! He only talked to me about all this once.” Faith’s head drooped. “Just before he died, a year ago. He said that I finally had to learn the truth, because time was running out before my final year here, when I’d be able to attend the Masked Ball. He told me that there was something I had to do, and that he’d summoned help to make sure I’d be able to do it . . . but he didn’t get a chance to tell me more. My mother overheard and interrupted us. She thought he was delusional. They had the biggest fight. . . .” Faith trailed off for a moment. Her hair hid her face. “She made him leave. I never saw him again. My mother said his sickness drove him to suicide, but I know what really happened. Away from his home, without his holy sword, the forces of evil caught up with him.” She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “But I rescued his notebooks before my mother could burn them, and I’ve been studying them ever since. I’ve sworn to finish his life’s work. My father kept the Hellgate from opening.
I
am going to destroy it for good.”

“Great,” I said. “Super. How?”

Faith drew herself up to her full height. She practically glowed with holy righteousness. “At midnight at the Masked Ball, I will kiss my one true soul mate, and the power of our love will banish the demons forever.”

The wind rustled the leaves across the stone floor.

At last, I spoke. “That is—and I am speaking here as the guy who just found out he’s a winged, glowing mutant, mind you—the most insane thing I have ever heard.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks it’s unlikely,” Krystal muttered. She held up a hand to forestall Faith as the other girl opened her mouth. “Let me handle this one, okay? I at least get where Raf’s coming from.” She folded her arms across her chest, facing me square on. “Look, up until now, I wasn’t convinced myself that Faith could be telling the truth.” Krystal threw Faith an apologetic glance as she spoke. “I was just willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, it wasn’t like I had any popularity to lose by hearing her out.” Krystal gestured at me. “And now here you are. Pretty conclusive evidence that the mystic stuff Faith’s learned from her dad’s notebooks does work, no matter how nuts it seems. Isn’t it at least worth testing her theory about closing the Hellgate? All you have to do is make sure she has a date for the Ball. What have you got to lose?”

“Apparently, my mind,” I retorted. I buried my head in my hands again. “Demons and angels and now magic kisses . . . I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I know you didn’t.” I felt rather than saw Faith lean forward. Her fingers hovered hesitantly over my shoulder, as if she was afraid to actually touch me again. “I’m sorry, Raffi. But please. I really need your help. Please help me. Please be my guardian angel.”

I looked into her face and knew that even if I had no idea what I was meant to do, I didn’t have a choice about doing it. “All right. I will.”

Faith’s blue eyes met mine, shining with more than just the reflected light from my halo. She was so close. “Thank you,” she whispered, her breath soft on my lips.

Krystal cleared her throat. “I hate to interrupt the moment, but Raf is setting the place on fire.”

Wisps of smoke were rising from the dry leaves drifting around my shining feathers. I sprang to my feet, wings jerking straight upward. Faith scooted back out of my way as I stamped out the smoldering embers. “That’s strange,” she said, touching one of the scorched leaves. “You weren’t hot before.” She blushed. “I mean, your wings were touching things without them bursting into flame.”

“Uh, yeah, well,” I said, surreptitiously tugging my jacket down. “Very weird. No idea what happened there.” I cleared my throat. “All right. So I’ll help you. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Stop the sixth-year girls from being utter bitches,” Krystal said.

I stared at her. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to fight some demons instead?”

“You can’t fight demons,” Faith said, getting to her own feet. She was still faintly pink and avoided making eye contact. “In their natural state, they exist on a different plane than us. Even when they’re possessing a human body, they’re practically invulnerable to normal weapons. Anyway, I’m not trying to just drive them off temporarily, but to seal the Hellgate for all time. That can only be done with the power of true love. But I can’t
get
my true love here unless I have a date for the Ball. It’s the only time boys are allowed in the school. Were allowed,” she corrected herself. “Anyway, only girls with the highest Peer Assessment results are allowed to take a boy to the dance.” Her face was the very picture of woe. “And I’m the least popular girl in the year, thanks to the demons. They know full well what I’m trying to do. They’re influencing the girls here, making them hate me.”

Krystal must have read the skepticism on my face, because she aimed a kick at me. “She’s actually got solid evidence on this one. Up until last year—before Faith’s dad died—Faith was the
most
popular girl. She always has been. It was freaky how fast it all went bad. One minute everyone was tiptoeing around, feeling sorry for her because of her dad, and the next there were all these rumors flying around about him actually having gone insane and that Faith was just as crazy. Then someone drew one of those pentagrams—maybe under demonic influence, maybe just as a joke—and Faith completely flipped in front of the whole year group. That confirmed the rumors. Fast train to outcast town.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Faith said in a low voice. “Those things . . . they’re wrong and evil. I still can’t believe you don’t feel it yourself.”

Krystal wrinkled her nose. “They’re just lines, Faith. No one else finds them upsetting.”

“I do,” I said. “A few of them anyway.” I still hadn’t worked out why some of the pentagram graffiti I’d cleaned today had inexplicably made my stomach churn, when others didn’t affect me at all.

Krystal’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Well, you’re the angel.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Faith’s spectacular fall from grace was another of the things that made me think she might be onto something with her Ball plan. Why else would demons want to destroy her popularity? That’s why we decided to try to summon an angel, using the instructions in Faith’s dad’s notebooks. If demons
are
influencing the girls subconsciously, it makes sense that it could be counteracted by angelic influence.”