Fallen Academy: Year One Page 7

  My shift at the clinic was from noon to four, and then I was free to go home, do homework, or whatever. My mom didn’t get off until five, so I told her I’d pick up Shea from work, and start dinner. After her shock wore off that I was now the proud owner of a brand new car, she let me leave.

  Mr. Burdock wasn’t at the front desk when I left, which was a relief. Climbing into the SUV, I booked it to the strip club to pick up Shea. She was doing half days at Tainted Academy to learn her Mage craft, and then half days at the club to earn a living, her day ending at four thirty.

  I pulled into the parking lot a minute early, and when I saw Shea come out the front door, I laid on the horn. Her eyes flicked up to my car and then she squinted. When she realized it was me, her mouth hung open in shock, which quickly gave way to a grin.

  “Shut the front door! Please tell me this is ours,” she shouted, after yanking the door open.

  “If by ours you mean mine, yes, it’s ours.”

  “Eeeeek!” she squealed, flapping her hands like a lunatic. Her eyes then shot to my tattooed arms. “Holy tatted-up hottie, tell me everything.”

  I laughed. “Other than the new car, it was actually an awful day. My new Celestial teachers are insanely hot, but the main guy is a total dick. I spent five hours straight in literal torturous pain, and then I spent the last four hours scrubbing dead bodies. Wanna smell my hands?”

  She gagged. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  I put the car in reverse, and pulled out onto the main road to head back to our apartment. “How was your day? Is Tainted Academy really haunted? Are the teachers really Abrus demons?”

  Our schooling in Demon City, thus far, had been taught by humans, a contract the fallen had drawn up for us. Anyone under eighteen received a free, somewhat normal education—math, science, and all that crap, with a few magical classes for added flair. Yet, I heard that at Tainted Academy, all bets were off. Demons taught the classes, and the fallen angels had nothing to do with it.

  Shea sighed. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  I froze. Pulling the car over in front of a demon-horn trade shop, I shifted into Park. “Shea… shit, was it that bad?”

  Shea never wanted to ‘not talk’ about anything, I couldn’t shut her up if I tried. Sure, she had her moments, but she always wanted to gossip. She was hands down the toughest person I knew, inside and out.

  Unfolding her arms, she extended one to me. There, on her forearm, was a big black skull tattoo with a green snakehead coming out of the eye.

  Holy shit. A Dark Mage mark. “W-why do you have that? I mean… isn’t it soon to do that?” I thought only advanced Dark Mages got one of those. After schooling, once they’d pledged their magic to the dark side until death. Or maybe that was just a story my mother told me to help me sleep at night.

  “I imagine it’s the same reason why you got your tattoos so soon. To claim us for their side. Whatever, it is what it is.” She crossed her arms, and stared out the window as it started to rain.

  No.

  “Shea, I have a car. Say the word and I’ll drive us out of here. Well go to Canada, and live in the woods or something.” I’d promised her I wouldn’t let her go dark, and I’d meant it.

  Her eyes filled with tears as she faced me. “The tattoo is also a magical tracker. Just take me home.”

  As the tear slid down her face, I tried not to fall apart. I could count the number of times I’d seen Shea cry on one hand. This was bad, so very bad.

  “We’re going to figure this out together, okay?” It was a total lie, I knew it the second it left my lips, but I had to say something.

  “Okay,” She said in a flat tone. It broke my heart, because I would forever remember that as the moment she’d lost hope.

  We ate dinner in silence. My little brother’s eyes kept jumping from my tattoos to Shea’s, but when he tried to ask about them, my mom kicked him under the table.

  Now, Shea and I lay in our beds, in our shared room, while staring at the ceiling. We hadn’t really talked since the car, I sensed she was in a bit of a depression, and wanted some time alone.

  “You awake?” she suddenly asked.

  “Yeah.” I turned over, and looked across the room at her curly hair spilling onto the pillow.

  “So you said your new teachers were hot. Like how hot?”

  I grinned and sat up as she sat up too. This was the Shea I was used to. “It’s weird how hot they are. It’s also like they get cockier and ruder the hotter they are.”

  She nodded. “That makes sense, actually.”

  I grinned. “You’d like Noah. Total sweet-talker, loves to wink.”

  She grabbed her chest. “I love a sexy winker.” I laughed. “Are the girls total bitches, acting all better than you?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. I start classes tomorrow. Today was all about the tattoos.”

  She nodded. “The girls at Tainted Academy are total vaginas. They were already trying to mess with me.”

  She lifted her arm to show bruising where someone had grabbed her. Shea was a feminist, so calling women assholes or dicks didn’t suit her. She thought they should be called vaginas or bitches. I just ran with it.

  Anger flared inside of me at her bruising. “What happened?”

  She shrugged. “One tried to start shit for no reason, so I took out her front teeth with brass knuckles.”

  My mouth popped open. “Shea! Where did you get brass knuckles?” Shea had always been scrappy—she owned switchblades, baseball bats, and mace cans—but brass knuckles! That was right under a gun, wasn’t it?

  She looked at a corner of our room. “From my new Mage master. Weapons and fighting are encouraged at Tainted Academy. She said after my schooling, my contract will probably be bought for seven figures, and I’ll get a hefty percentage of that in the deal. Dark Mages are rare, apparently.”

  “Oh.” Someone could buy your contract? Was that what Burdock was going to do with me? “Burdock told me he would only allow me to study one year at Fallen Academy. Then he’s probably selling my contract too.”

  Shea stared at the floor. “I’m tired. Night, Bri.” She turned over quickly and faced the wall.

  A chill broke out on my skin. “Yeah, night.”

  Our childhoods were dead and slaughtered. Tomorrow was the start of a sinister adulthood for the both of us. But I couldn’t deny that it seemed like I had it a bit better off than Shea did.

  I guess tomorrow will tell.

  I woke up the next morning to a five o’clock alarm from hell—no pun intended. It was actually 5:07 a.m. Shea threw a shoe at my face, which alerted me that the alarm must’ve been buzzing for that seven minutes.

  “Sorry,” I groaned, and turned it off.

  I took a quick shower, glad to not have to deal with my wings, and noticed my tattoos were fully healed. No flaking skin, no redness, nothing. It was both eerie and awesome.

  After dressing, I grabbed a bagel for myself, and then whipped up a quick PB&J for Bernie. Mom said as long as we had the means to feed him, she didn’t mind the extra grocery bill, so I tried to make sure he had at least two meals a day. Once a week mom let him take a shower in her bathroom and enjoy a hot cup of tea. I’d known Bernie for as long as we’d lived in demon city. No drug problem or anything like that. Just a guy down on his luck who couldn’t find work. Aside from being blind, he was a human. Menial human jobs like accounting and food service got snatched up quickly, and the government fell to shit after the war, so there was no such thing as food stamps or financial assistance.

  We took care of each other. That’s how we survived.

  I’d pulled on some skinny jeans and a T-shirt. After grabbing a hoodie and my messenger bag, I was ready to go. Walking down the hall, with my car keys felt a bit surreal. I had a car, four tattoos, and I was going to Fallen Academy. Was this a dream?

  My phone pinged with an email, and nerves rushed through me when I saw it was from a Lincoln Grey. />
  From: LincolnGrey@FallenAcademy.com

  Subject: Your schedule.

  Brielle Atwater

  Celestial Master Studies 6-8 a.m. 30 mins each master teacher. (Training Hall 304)

  Fallen History 8:05 a.m.-9 a.m. (Room 506, Mrs. Delacourt)

  Battle Class 9:05 a.m.-10 a.m. (Room 511, Master Bradstone)

  Weapons 10:05 a.m.-11 a.m. (Outside track field, Mr. Claymore)

  Lunch 11:05 a.m.-11:30 a.m. (Dining hall)

  You better be awake and on your way here by now.

  -Lincoln

  I scowled at the comment about being awake, then scanned through the schedule four times. Battle class? Weapons? Yikes. Then my lovely day ended by eleven thirty so I could wash dead bodies with my mom until four.

  I hit Reply.

  I’ve been up for two hours doing yoga and feeding the homeless. See you soon.

  Then I hit Send. Let him chew on that. It was partially true.

  Opening the door to the street, I saw Bernie was still asleep. Maximus wagged his tail, and I popped an apple slice in his mouth before leaving the bag with the PB&J at Bernie’s feet. It was such an ungodly hour that even homeless people were still asleep.

  Jogging to my car on the curb, I was relieved to see it hadn’t been stolen or jacked of its wheels.

  I made it to the campus parking lot by 5:56 am, finding a grand total of three cars there, plus a silver Airstream trailer with a motorcycle leaning against it. Probably Lincoln, Noah, Darren and Blake; no one else wanted to be up that early.

  Exiting my car with my bag, I stared at the large stone steps that led to the main campus.

  Sitting there, in a black hoodie, was Lincoln.

  With a sigh, I picked up my pace, the lack of sleep already pulling at my limbs. When I got within two feet of him, he flicked his eyes up to mine. “Hatha or Kundalini?”

  I frowned. “I only speak English,” I enlightened him.

  He smirked. “I was wondering which was your favorite kind of yoga. I’m a fan of kundalini myself.”

  Oh. Shit.

  “Yeah, that one’s cool,” I told him, then started walking up the stairs.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” he asked, making no effort to move.

  I growled. “Not really, but I’m guessing you’re sitting out here waiting for me so you can show me.”

  He stood and shrugged. “I was going to, but I’m not a fan of the attitude I’m sensing.”

  Oh my God, I’m going to kill him. “I’m sorry. Pretty please with a cherry on top, show me where to go.” I made sure to lay the sarcasm on thick.

  He grinned, showing those dimples. “There, was that so hard?”

  I nodded. “It was. It really was.”

  He started to walk through the brick entryway, and I craned my neck to see two huge angel statues adorning the gates. “When does school start for the others?”

  “Eight.” He took a right down a hallway that led to a small brick building.

  I traced one of my tattoos with my fingers. “Are you… feeling better from yesterday?” I hadn’t exactly thanked him for taking my pain at the tattoo shop. I’d been planning on it, but then he was a jerk right off the bat with the kundalini thing.

  “I’m fine.”

  He reached for the door of the small brick building, and I placed a hand on his outstretched arm. Again there was that little zap when we touched, but it subsided quickly.

  “Hey, um, I just wanted to thank you for… ya know. I wasn’t feeling good yesterday, and yeah… thanks for the healing.” Oh. My. God. When did I forget how to speak?

  He nodded. “It’s my job.”

  Then he threw the doors open, leaving me wondering why he hadn’t just said, “You’re welcome.” Ugh! This guy is a world-class jerk.

  “Is this her?” I heard a female voice ask from inside.

  Stepping into the room, I saw a short woman in her fifties with long red hair. She was a human from the looks, and smell of her—don’t ask me how I could smell a human, I just could. Ever since I was five. She was buried in layers and layers of black and silver fabric.

  “Hi, dear. I’m Rose,” she introduced herself.

  “Brielle.” I waved.

  Her eyes roamed over my body, lingering on my hips. “She’s curvier than you described. I’ll need her measurements, but this should do for today.” She threw a black and silver jumpsuit at Lincoln, who caught it and handed it to me.

  I grinned, looking at him. “You described my body? That must’ve been fun for you.”

  He clenched his teeth, which made his strong jaw pop, and it was actually kind of sexy. “The highlight of my day. Just what I wanted to be doing after my long day at work.” The woman beckoned me over then, and Lincoln waved a piece of paper in my face. “Here’s a map. When you’re done here, meet us in the training hall.” Then he left.

  I looked at the redheaded woman. “Not the friendliest person in the world,” I commented.

  She smiled sadly. “Well, tragedy changes people. He was a very sunny boy his first few years here.”

  And just like that my heart stopped. Lincoln had been through a tragedy. I wanted to ask more about it. I wanted to know so badly, that it was burning a hole through my tongue, but I also didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to look at him differently, feel pity, or I don’t know, hear something so intimate from a stranger behind his back. So I kept my mouth shut as she measured me.

  In a daze, I headed to the dressing room she had in the back, changing into a skintight black jumpsuit with the Fallen Academy silver wing insignia. It wasn’t so tight that I was afraid it would rip, but tight enough that someone could probably bounce a quarter on my ass.

  As I followed the map to the training hall, I decided to try and forget what I’d heard about Lincoln having been through a tragedy. It was better if I just wiped that from my memory.

  The moment I stepped into the large gym, Noah did a catcall whistle. I snorted, as Lincoln smacked him on the back of the head.

  “She’s our student,” he scolded.

  Noah shrugged. “No rules against it, my brother. She’s eighteen.”

  I dropped my messenger bag on the floor. “Don’t worry, he’s not my type, anyway,” I shouted across the space.

  Darren and Blake did the, “ohhhh snap” thing, but Lincoln’s eyes just burned into me with an expression I couldn’t read.

  Noah frowned. “What are you talking about? I’m everyone’s type.” He flexed his bicep and kissed it.

  “You’re too pretty,” I told him honestly. I could never date a guy with better-groomed eyebrows than my own.

  Noah grinned. “Thank you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So, where do we start? Want me to show you my moves? I grew up in the hood, so I’m probably more advanced than your average student.” I pulled my switchblade from my boot and gave it a twirl.

  “She’s adorable,” Darren told the room.

  “I’m not adorable. Kittens are adorable. I’m badass. Look, there’s still crusted blood on here from yesterday.” I showed them the blade.

  Lincoln stepped forward and sighed. “Put that away before you hurt yourself.”

  Party pooper. I retracted the blade, and slipped it back into my boot.

  Lincoln looked me up and down. “Pull out your wings. We’ll start with flying.”

  My eyes bugged out of my head. Flying? I don’t know why that didn’t even cross my mind.

  “Come on, Miss Yoga.” He snapped his fingers as the boys started pulling huge two-foot-thick pads onto the ground.

  Oh my God, those are to break my fall.

  I looked behind me and twitched my shoulders. Nothing happened. Swallowing hard, I jumped into the air a little and hoped they would pop out upon landing.

  No luck.

  The back of the suit had two twelve-inch slits for them to come out of, so I knew it wasn’t my shirt keeping them in.

  “Umm, how exactly do I get my wings out?” God,
it was so embarrassing.

  I was sure Lincoln was about to say something jerkish when Blake stepped forward.

  “I struggled with it too at first. It’s like learning to walk as a baby. You need to think about raising them, like you would your arms, and they’ll come out. They’ll also appear when you’re in danger.” He was the sweet one, I had decided.

  Okay… my eyes closed and I took a deep breath. I imagined my shoulder blades rising, and even arched my back. After an agonizing second, I felt a pop and then a heaviness on my right side. Falling over to my right, I forced my eyes open. All four of them were holding in their laughter.

  “What!” I roared. Peering behind me, I saw that I’d only managed to get one wing out.

  Kill me now.

  Lincoln was the first to be able to control his laughter. He walked over and reached behind me, stroking my exposed left shoulder blade, through the slit in my jumpsuit, with one delicate finger. Chills broke out on my arms as the heat from his skin trailed down my back with the sensual touch. My wing popped out, as I was kneeling there breathlessly, staring at the beautiful asshole who’d been through a tragedy, and then he stepped back.

  “Okay, first rule of flying. Don’t die.”

  I shook off his sensual touch, and my eyebrows hit my hairline. “Ha. Ha. What are the real rules?”

  Noah shrugged. “Our master teachers said the same thing—just don’t die. You’re basically immortal now unless killed, but you can snap your neck if you land wrong.”

  I’d been meaning to ask about the immortal rumor but wow, there it was.

  Lincoln pointed to a ladder. “Climb up to the top. Let’s see if we can get one good hover before our time is done. You’ll get your weapon in class today, and we’ll start working with it tomorrow.”

  “Is now a bad time to mention I’m afraid of heights?”

  Lincoln groaned. “Wasting time, Miss Yoga.”

  Ugh. I never should’ve said that yoga thing. Maybe I should start doing yoga for real in case he keeps quizzing me.

  As I climbed the ladder, I was sure of two things.

  All four of them were totally staring at my ass.