Archon(39)

“I hope you weren’t upset that I slept in,” Angela ventured, watching the light glance off of Sophia’s sorority ring. “I was too tired to get out of bed on time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sophia said. She nibbled on a potato crisp and placed it daintily back on her plate. “I tend to be a light sleeper. When I’m upset, I often awaken hours before my alarm.”

Nina dropped the paper, her voice barely audible over the chatter at the table next to them. “Don’t worry about sleeping tonight. It’s Halloween.”

“And?”

“And?” Nina laughed, crossing her arms. “When the Vatican outlaws a holiday, everyone does their best to observe it. There are going to be a lot of parties tonight, some of them pretty wild. I’m not invited to any of them, of course, but we could sneak into a few, grab a drink here and there. I purchased”—she ducked down, rummaging through her bag, reappearing with a headband topped by triangular, fuzzy ears—“these cat ears after all. I have devil horns you could borrow, if you’d like.”

Or I could just go as myself. Without the tights.

“Actually,” Angela said, picking her words carefully, “I heard that Stephanie’s having a party tonight.”

Nina’s eyes seemed more bloodshot than yesterday. “Oh, God—and you want to go? How did she blackmail you into that?”

“She didn’t. I’m just curious about what they do there.”

Sophia sighed, pushing her tray aside. “I’ll be right back.”

She left her chair and walked into a crowd blocking the bathroom.

Nina rested her cheek against her hand, grunting. “What perfect timing. Off to tell Stephanie you’re interested, I’m sure.”

“You talk as if you know her, Nina. You don’t know a goddamn thing.”

“I know enough. She’s a member of the Pentacle Sorority, and she wants to get back into their good graces. But I’m telling you, of all nights, tonight isn’t the time to get interested in what goes on in Stephanie’s inner circle.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “Because it’s Halloween night, she’s having the sorority gathering in the Bell Tower, in the unused chapel that has the veranda porch to the outside. She’s a witch, Angela; you’re forgetting that. It’s no coincidence that she wants you there, if that’s what you’re driving at. For all you know, she’ll curse you to vomit up nails or something. That spot has a reputation—”

Noise rippled through the cafeteria. Chair legs screeched against wood. Students of all ages murmured to one another, some standing to get a better look at the sudden commotion on the other side of the room.

Nina stood up with them, straining to see. “You’re not going to believe this.”

“What is it?” Angela felt her insides seize up. This wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Your brother’s chewing out Stephanie and Kim, right in front of three other novices and a superintendent priest.”

“My brother—” Angela bolted out of her chair, scanning heads.

There he was, with those curled hairs below his ears, and that face that could have been a clone of her father’s, all soft jaw and sloping nose. But Brendan’s usually calm demeanor had cracked. His acidic tone could be heard even from where they sat, angry to the point where one of the novices reached out a hand to restrain him. Stephanie glared at him in shock, her green eyes narrow, her arms crossed above her hip as she dared him to keep speaking. And all the while Kim stood next to her, impassive, unreadable.

“Where are you going?” Nina said, grabbing for Angela’s arm. “Angela—”

“Wait here.”

Angela pushed through the crowds of students, weaving her way through tables and chairs, until she broke out directly in front of Kim. His eyes brightened as they caught sight of her, but he showed a wry smile, turning away as Stephanie did the opposite, staring at Angela with genuine surprise. Brendan’s voice died, and he looked at her too, slowly blinking as if he couldn’t believe she was standing almost right next to him. He was a mess, his long coat stained and torn in odd places, his hair greasy, like he hadn’t washed it for a week. A strange, sour odor, like a mix of flowers and old meat, clung to him in a cloud. What was wrong with him?

“Brendan, I—”

He ignored her, rounding back on Stephanie. “You thought I wouldn’t find out? Is that it? Well, here’s news for you.” He thrust an accusing finger at Kim. “I knew for months, that the two of you were in bed, Stephanie. IN BED. At least four times a week—”