Runaway Mortal by Komal Kant Read Free Book Online

asked. Her eyes widened as she noticed me and she nearly fell out of her chair.
    “Yes, Katerina Lyrille,” Veritas repeated in a no-nonsense tone. “The Headmaster is expecting us.”
    “We don’t have much time, ma’am,” Tyrone chimed in. “Katerina has unpredictable and uncontrollable outbursts. God knows what she could do to you.” He sounded incredibly serious if not for the glint in his eyes.
    I bared my teeth at her for effect. The receptionist looked like she was going to pass out and swiftly placed her fingers to her temples. For a second I thought she was trying to calm herself down, but then realized that she was a telepath like Veritas.
    There were an abundance of jobs for supernaturals once they graduated school. A demon with a Supernatural Law degree could eventually get a job in Parlum. An angel blessed with the power of healing could go into medicine and help supernaturals recover from injuries. A telepath who didn’t do so well at school could become a receptionist.
    Veritas turned to Tyrone, her forehead creasing as she frowned at him. “Acting your age shouldn’t be such a monumental task.”
    Tyrone’s face fell and he looked as though Veritas had slapped him. He didn’t say anything, but his face showed how annoyed he was.
    I suddenly felt the need to defend Tyrone. I had almost set him on fire, after all. It was the least I could do. “Hey, give him a break. We’re just trying to have a little fun.”
    Veritas’ soft features turned venomous. “You think this is fun? Being a murderer and a fugitive is a game for you? Don’t you understand that they could imprison you for life for what you have done?”
    I stared at her, stunned, as she stormed off into the corner, her perfectly wavy, blonde hair swishing behind her. What surprised me was how much concern she’d had in her voice; the same concern that parents had when you snuck out of the house late at night and they didn’t know where you were.
    I didn’t know why Veritas cared what happened to me, but she had a point. They could serve me with life imprisonment or something worse. I shuddered to think what they would do to a mortal found guilty of killing a powerful angel. Mortals rated pretty low on the supernatural food chain.
    I guess it was just easier to cover the serious stuff with humor—it helped me forget about the situation I was in, even if it was only for a brief moment.
    I noticed Loire studying me, and quickly dropped my head so he couldn’t see the expression on my face. I didn’t want him to know that Veritas had affected me. I had to be strong—I was supposed to be a cold-blooded killer, after all.
    The receptionist relaxed her hands and said to no one in particular, “You can all go in now. Headmaster Delware is waiting for you.” The door to Delware’s office swung open and we all advanced towards it; the receptionist was still eyeing me warily as I walked past her.
    Inside, Headmaster Troitan Delware—or “Uncle Troy” as Misha called him—stood waiting for us. He had a surprisingly youthful face, the features were soft, the skin smooth, and the eyes a unique hazel-green. Those hazel eyes ran in the family because Misha had the same eyes. The bronze erat markings on the side of his neck immediately gave him away as an earth user.
    Delware was not alone. An angel stood by him with greying hair and a sour expression like he was sucking on a lemon, wearing an expensive, red suit decked with medals. I squinted to make out what the three medals were—one was some sort of bird, another looked like a donut ring, and the third was gold and shaped like a lightning bolt. He was definitely someone important.
    There was a flurry of movement around me as Loire, Veritas, and Tyrone briefly bowed their heads. The formality confused me—they weren’t bowing for Delware, so it must’ve been for the angel.
    Delware stopped in front of me and studied me in a way a father might study his child. His expression was