“Believe me,” Nina said, wagging a finger at her, “when you’re pretty, and different, and you’re the talk of the school, Stephanie takes notice.”
“Why are we assuming that people think this about me?” Angela said, a crisper clip edging into her voice.
“Is your brother really Brendan Mathers?”
Angela slumped, her tone cooling to a hiss. “What does he have to do with it?”
“So it is true.” Nina smirked. “Sorry, but I had to check you out. He and Stephanie are an item, you know. That alone makes you ripe for gossip.”
“That’s impossible. He took vows.”
Nina was laughing now. “Yeah. He did, didn’t he? But would that stop you if some red-headed succubus was throwing herself on your lap? He’s still human, after all.” She crumpled her chip bag and stood, wiping her hands on her skirt. “But prophecy or not, Stephanie’s a blood head with some real power. A witch. You’d be smart to stay on her good side. Hell, even the Academy faculty stay on her good side.”
“Well, thanks for the warning, but I doubt she’s going to take any notice of me like you said. I’m not the only blood head entering the university this semester. Besides, Brendan probably wouldn’t have talked about me much. I’m more of an embarrassment than a real conversation point.”
“That’s fine.” Nina stooped down to snatch up her bag. “Just don’t be too surprised when it happens.”
“Where are you going?” Angela stood alongside of her, casually scanning the hallway for the novice with the pale skin.
“Oh, just back to my dorm. I’ve got some reading to do before lights out. Thought I might steal a smoke in the bathroom on the way. Care to join me?”
No. He mustn’t have been half as interested in her as he seemed. All thoughts of a forbidden romance aside, it would be nice to question someone about her brother. Learn where he lived and what classes he oversaw as a teacher’s aide. Hopefully, without this Stephanie finding out. Angela pushed the hair from her eyes, trying to peer through the crowd.
“Hello?”
A cigarette dangled in front of her face.
“No thanks.” Angela swatted it away, still trying to see. A ripple was passing through the large bunches of people, the students pulling back from either side of the exhibits to let a band of blood heads pass through. There were ten of them, but the woman at their head was obviously the leader, her heeled boots clicking across the tile with measured precision. Her skirt was at least two inches too short, and she wore a black overcoat over her blouse, its breast pocket embroidered with a five-pointed star surrounded by a circle. A pentacle. With every step, her thick ponytail swung side to side, shining beneath the wall sconces.
She stopped for a second, whispering to one of her friends—another blood head with layered hair and thigh-high tights. Then they both caught sight of Angela and strolled toward her fast.
“Shit.” Nina’s voice sounded like an ominous gong in Angela’s ear. “We’re done for.”
Before anything more could be said, the ten students were ringing Angela’s exhibit, silent and oddly forbidding. The lights in the room began to flicker.
“Well, hello,” the leader said to Nina.
Nina kept her mouth shut.
“So I guess you couldn’t stay away from an opportunity like this. Not that I blame you anymore. You see,” she said and smiled at Angela, “Nina here has a fascination with angels, demons, spirits. She even says she talks to them. In her sleep, or something.” The leader laughed gently. “She tends to gravitate toward new blood heads who don’t know any better, eventually wearing them down with a million useless, overly imaginative questions.” She glanced at Nina. “Right?”
“Who are you?” Angela said, trying to ignore Nina’s strange silence. This had to be Stephanie. But it took more than a funny symbol on her coat to make her a witch. And right now, she couldn’t be more mediocre. “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here?” She laughed again, some of her friends joining in. They all looked the same: heavy makeup and red eye shadow. More like bad mannequins than people. “I’m here to welcome you to Westwood, of course. I’m Stephanie Walsh, head of the Pentacle Sorority on the campus. I make it my personal responsibility to meet every new blood head who steps onto Academy grounds.”
“That’s nice of you, but I’m not too keen on sororities. Or being recruited.”
“Oh, that’s fine. But you might want to reconsider your opinion.”
“Why is that?” Angela said, aware that her eyes were narrowing to slits. The girl with the thigh-high tights was poking at her favorite picture, tracing the line of the angel’s long neck with a finger.