Prophecy Girl (Angel Academy) by Cecily White Read Free Book Online

else.”
    “Fiori’s dead?”
    “Retired, as of last week,” Lisa explained. “ I would retire, too, if it were me. Working in this place is like being the drummer in Spinal Tap .” She mimed an explosion. “Seriously, Ami. I know you’ve got an issue with rules, but I’m begging you. Don’t . That guy is a disaster. I heard he blew off the Elders’ bond assignment at graduation even though it meant a year on probation. He’s total bad news.” Lisa began digging around the bottom of her purse for a breath mint.
    Bad news. I couldn’t argue that. From forty feet away, I felt the heat of his glare ripping into me, sparklers igniting on my skin.
    “Hey, Lisa,” I whispered. “I think I’ve got a problem.”
    “Uh-huh. What else is new?”
    “No, I mean, I think I’m supposed to—” I stopped. Supposed to what? Bond with him? There was no way I could explain the magnetic draw I felt, not without sounding like a total idiot.
    I watched Jack slump back in his chair, his fingertips forming a prayer-shaped cage in front of him. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room, like he was making notes. It was artful, how he took everything in. Filed it. Cataloged it. Along one arm, a curved tangle of black lines peeked out from under his shirt cuff. It twined along the fleshy part of his wrist in a circular pattern, like vines growing up the path of his veins. I couldn’t see details, but I recognized them instantly.
    Enforcement Guild glyphs.
    My mom had those same tattoos. Technically, they’d been removed when she left the Guardians, but puffy, pale scars had remained. A distant memory sparked in my head of Mom singing me lullabies at bedtime. I used to trace those marks out on her forearms—memorize them—so I could copy them onto my own arms later with the black Sharpie I’d stashed under my pillow. They’d swirled and curved like bracelets around her wrists, intricate and beautiful, each one matched to a glyph on the skin of her Watcher.
    In almost meditative silence, my finger rose to my wrist, etching out the marks I saw on Jack’s arm. A gentle slope like a tilted S and a sideways V with a tiny eye in the middle—the glyphs for fortitude and insight. My flesh hummed beneath them.
    When I looked up, Lisa was staring at me in frozen-eyed disapproval.
    “Ami,” she warned.
    I gave an innocent shrug, but didn’t say anything.
    Rain had started to fall outside. Trees and azalea bushes smeared into a complex watercolor beyond the glass. I sank a little deeper into the cushions. If the Elders had sent an Enforcement agent to St. Michael’s, even a newbie like Jack, then maybe this Graymason rumor wasn’t total crap. At the very least, it made me curious.
    When the flock of faculty was finally seated, the double doors squeaked open again and we all rose in a show of respect.
    Headmistress Smalley shuffled in, too-tight sandals clip-clopping across the floorboards to the podium. Her amber eyes glimmered under the spotlight and her smile seemed to take up half of her face. Even the black academic robes, which should have flowed in soft waves, clung to her rounded form. She looked like a friendly sausage.
    “Good morning,” she greeted us warmly. “I am Headmistress Judy Smalley, and it is my great pleasure to welcome you all back to St. Michael’s Guardian Training Academy.”
    Polite applause swept through the hall, punctuated by the soft hiss of students settling into their chairs.
    I was tempted to tune her out since I’d heard this welcome speech a zillion times before. It was always the same. Watchers and Channelers: two halves of a whole. We couldn’t tap the Crossworld without them to drain us and they couldn’t survive the mortal world without us to heal them. It was a neat reciprocal setup. Of course, it came with a price.
    Once, my mom’s bondmate visited our house. It happened late one night, long after she’d left the Guardians. He was nothing remarkable. (Although I can’t imagine