“Try to do what’s smart from now on,” Stephanie was saying to Angela, “so that you won’t run into problems like these. Like I said to you before, sorority members are exempt from the sufferings ordinary students have to endure—”
Sophia was a sorority member, and she was suffering.
But this wasn’t the moment for sarcasm anymore.
“—and make sure that next time, you tell me the truth. That way, we won’t have to go through this again.”
“It will NOT happen again,” Sophia said. In front of her fellow sorority members, she marched up to Stephanie, her eyes like vacant holes.
Stephanie stepped away from her, an uneasy frown washing out her face.
The blonde grabbed Sophia instantly, slapping her across the mouth with a sound that resembled a gunshot. Sophia took the blow, her face twisted by the pain, yet she was gritting her teeth, holding back more of God only knew what kind of curses, revenge, and pure hatred. She clenched her fists so hard, blood that looked black in the poor light spattered from her palms onto the glass.
“Remember why you’re here, Sophia,” the blonde with the braids said. Her voice was absolute poison. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”
“She’s not the One,” Sophia said, pointing at Stephanie. “She will NEVER be the One.”
“Well, don’t worry . . .” The blonde looked at Angela as she responded, and her gaze almost hurt in its utter lack of sympathy. Her face seemed to meld with the gray angel’s, yet with the poorest imitation of her pride, and elegance, and dark, deadly beauty. This woman was like a scorpion, merely waiting for the moment to strike. “. . . we’ll find out soon enough.”
Eight
Is such a being capable of love? Because I firmly believe She will find it impossible to love anyone but Herself.
—ST. IMWALD, LETTERS TO THE HOLY FATHER
Angela had asked Sophia why she allowed that kind of abuse.
She’d begged her to leave the sorority and tell Stephanie to get a life.
But according to Sophia, no one really understood her situation. She’d earned her punishment and there were no other options left. Angela would do best to forget everything she’d seen.
That, though, was the problem. She couldn’t forget a single detail.
“You seem distracted.”
Angela blinked, returning to the gray darkness of the dormitory room. She and Kim were alone, sitting side by side on her bed, his musty-smelling book spread across her lap while he flipped occasionally through the pages. The book’s leather cover had a significant heaviness to it, and her legs were close to falling asleep. She glanced at the image of what appeared to be an angel—very tall, very fine featured, with the characteristic large eyes. Though it had two wings, not four, and lacked another pair near its ears. This was a generic picture, probably the equivalent of a child’s scribbles meant to emulate the real thing.
“I’m sorry,” Angela said, handing the book back to him. “There’s just a lot on my mind. That’s been my excuse every day lately.”
She groaned, stretching her legs.
Out of the corner of her eye, her beautiful angel stared back at her, his own features painted to a soft perfection. Kim was a novice. He was as close as she could get to any kind of real heaven. But he didn’t have gorgeous mats of feathers, or four pairs of beautiful wings that trailed behind him like a prince’s robe. If his waist were more slender, his skin more like fine pearl, his eyes a fascinating, teasing blue—
But that wasn’t exactly fair. Kim was attractive in his own way, and though that way might have been the opposite of her angel’s, he was no less fascinating. Maybe she’d been cut off from affection for too long. A priest in training flirted with her once, and she instantly lost her head.
Angela shut her eyes, alarmed at the warmth in her face.
I guess I’m never satisfied. This might not have been a good idea after all.
“Is this frightening you?” Kim touched her leg, right where a band of scars hid beneath her tights. His hand felt strong, reassuring.
“You’d be surprised to find out what actually scares me.”
She was seeing Stephanie again and the coldness in her eyes. Sophia, weeping and reaching out to strike her.
And that blonde . . .
Did Kim know about the kind of people Stephanie called friends?
“Honestly, I’m more worried about you.” Angela settled back on her elbows. “Stephanie warned me in her not so subtle way to keep out of your business.”
Kim lost his smile, his eyes hardening slightly.
“But it’s my own fault. I know what I’m doing. I just never meant for Sophia to take my punishment for me.”