Archon(7)

Stephanie nudged Tights sharply with an elbow, snapping her back into position. “Because you might find life to be a little easier here at the Academy when you have sisters to lean on. Otherwise, it can be hard.” She glanced at Nina, a frown twitching on her mouth. “You don’t want to start off on the wrong foot, acquainting yourself with people who don’t have your best interests at heart.”

“So you’re saying that if I don’t join your sorority, I should prepare to be miserable?”

“I’m only trying to help.” Stephanie stretched out a hand, and the blood head with the thigh-highs handed her a paper. She offered it to Angela. “If you change your mind, our house is in the Western District of the campus, close to the Tree. We have group nights every Tuesday and Thursday where we initiate new members if they decide to join.”

“This Thursday is Halloween,” Nina said, muttering.

Stephanie lifted an eyebrow. “So it is.”

She turned and headed for the exit at the far end of the hallway, the other blood heads gathering behind her. Angela crumpled the paper, tossing it on the floor when they were out of view. “She’s crazy if she thinks I’m going to spend my college years handing her papers.”

“Thank God.” Nina ruffled her hair, messing it even more. “I thought you were going to cave.”

“Why would I have done that?”

“So many people said the same thing. Until they met Stephanie face-to-face. The one in the thigh-high tights, Lyrica Pengold—she was stupid enough to spread rumors about her. Then her hair began falling out. Now she’s Stephanie’s most devoted slave and has hair that would make a shampoo commercial jealous.”

Angela let the matter rest, keeping her thoughts to herself while she opened her portfolio case and began taking down the paintings, one by one. The exhibit had an hour to go yet, but she felt sick, and exhausted, and really didn’t want anything to do with people until tomorrow. She wasn’t used to so much attention, good or bad, and the strangeness of it all had left her in a daze. Almost forgetting that Nina was still present, she picked up her favorite picture—a gorgeous oil portrait that focused on the beautiful angel’s sapphire eyes—and snuck a kiss on the edge of the canvas.

This was all for him anyway. Her last hope at finding a reason to live.

“Hey, Angela, I’m going to go now.” Nina’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Leaving so soon?” A male voice joined her. “And after I made the time to take a closer look at your exhibit.”

Wonderful. More people.

Angela slipped the last painting into its case and turned around with a fake smile at the ready. But then it became a real one. The novice with the pale skin and honey-colored eyes was standing across from her, his long coat swishing as he swayed slightly, stealing a quick peek before she zipped up the case. He was even more handsome up close, and a flattering shelf of bangs hung carelessly in his eyes. It was a portion of these that he’d dyed such a shocking red.

“They allow that—even though you’re a novice?” Angela nodded at his hair.

“Not everyone in the Vatican is as backward as the authorities in Luz, Miss—what’s your name?”

“Angela Mathers.”

“Pretty. It suits your work.”

Nina had been a step away from leaving again. Now she sat back down and busied herself with a book, glancing at the novice whenever he wasn’t looking.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I’m sorry to bother you. I can see you’re packing up for the night.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I wasn’t intending to leave so soon; I just . . .” Angela sighed. “It’s been a long day.”

“Would you like me to help you back to your room? I’m also heading in that direction.”

Nina was trying harder than ever not to appear engrossed with the conversation. But she was also turning the book’s pages much too quickly.

“No, that’s all right.” Besides, didn’t it occur to him that it might not be a good idea to be seen alone with her? Angela felt her cheeks starting to go red. She’d planned on asking him about Brendan, but now the thought of how and why was the furthest thing from her mind. It would be great to have a meaningful relationship with a person who either wasn’t part of her dreams, or hadn’t taken a vow of celibacy. But dating a priest in training certainly wouldn’t start things off on the right foot. “Thanks for offering though. Maybe next time.”

“Of course. Maybe next time.” He wandered away from the exhibit, gradually vanishing into the crowd.