Read Online Prophecy Girl (Angel Academy) by Cecily White - Free Book Online
Authors: Cecily White
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Lane. Or Peter Pan and Tinker Bell.”
“Tinker Bell isn’t menacing.”
“Which proves how much you need me,” I insisted. “Fairies are terrifying.”
He sat up straighter and dusted off his pants. “Fairies don’t exist. Neither do Graymasons.”
“That’s what humans say about vampires and werewolves,” I argued. “So we’re agreed. You pass me on my field exams and I’ll help you bust the Graymason?”
Jack grunted at that, but didn’t argue.
His glasses had been knocked off during the fight, and this close, I could see details I hadn’t noticed before. Little worry lines edged his mouth and tiny scars streaked his left cheek and forehead. It made me wonder what kind of battle he’d gotten himself into, or if maybe he’d ridden his tricycle into a thorn bush when he was a kid. Either way, he wasn’t as perfect as I’d first thought, but I didn’t care. It made him more interesting to look at.
I was so hypnotized by those gorgeous eyes I barely noticed him getting closer until his face was only a few inches away. In a heartbeat, all thoughts of Tinker Bell vanished. As inappropriate as it was, I couldn’t help wondering what the school policies were on students hooking up with substitute teachers. Especially hot, young, unbonded ones. Did we even have policies on that?
“How do you feel?” His hand cupped my face and he hit me with an intense I-can-see-your-soul stare. “Any dizziness? Disorientation?”
I tried not to panic as he gazed into my eyes. “I was thinking about school policy. So, yeah, a little disoriented.”
“Your pupils are dilated,” he said. “I think—”
“Yes?” I breathed.
“I think you have a concussion.”
I blinked. A concussion ? That’s so not where I thought he was going.
“You do,” he decided, jerking his hand away. “Report to Dr. Gunderman for eval.”
“But…but he’ll tell me to go home.”
“Then you should go home. In fact, I think you should stay home this week to recuperate. I’ll mention it in your incident report.”
“ Incident report? ” I frowned at him as he yanked a yellow notepad from his back pocket and started scribbling. It wasn’t that I hadn’t gotten incident reports before. Or that I hadn’t deserved them. But this was such a clear case of wrongful persecution I had a hard time not screaming “objection.”
Narrow rivulets of blood trickled from his temple down one side of his face. I noticed with a jolt that one of his shoulders must have been dislocated, the muscles forming ropey knots at his neck. Even his eyes looked haunted from the power drain.
“Okay, no offense, but you just downed like two hundred rohms of Crossworld power. And your face looks like you made out with a lawn mower. You’re telling me to go see Gunderman?”
“I’m ordering you,” he corrected, still scrawling on the paper.
“Uh-huh. Because that worked so well last time?”
He glanced up, annoyed. “Miss Bennett—”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, hold still.” Before he could stop me, I lifted my hands to his face and squeezed my eyes shut. “ Salve !”
It began almost instantly. Heat sparked on his skin and I felt something gnaw at my chest. Although healing channels draw on Crossworld power, they’re a much milder brand of poison to Channelers. Vodka instead of hemlock. When I opened my eyes, shadows slithered across my skin. But instead of seeping in, they left only a tiny sting, then dripped away like rain before it turns into hail. With the tenderness of an artist’s brush, my fingertips stroked along Jack’s forehead, the cut on his jaw, then over his eyelids and lips. Everywhere I touched, his injuries knitted together.
Healing was the first thing we learned in school, around the same time we started writing our names, so it was one of the few things I did well. But in all the times I’d done it before, it had never resonated quite like this.
Each touch was a sigh through my body, the soft rush of eagles in
“Tinker Bell isn’t menacing.”
“Which proves how much you need me,” I insisted. “Fairies are terrifying.”
He sat up straighter and dusted off his pants. “Fairies don’t exist. Neither do Graymasons.”
“That’s what humans say about vampires and werewolves,” I argued. “So we’re agreed. You pass me on my field exams and I’ll help you bust the Graymason?”
Jack grunted at that, but didn’t argue.
His glasses had been knocked off during the fight, and this close, I could see details I hadn’t noticed before. Little worry lines edged his mouth and tiny scars streaked his left cheek and forehead. It made me wonder what kind of battle he’d gotten himself into, or if maybe he’d ridden his tricycle into a thorn bush when he was a kid. Either way, he wasn’t as perfect as I’d first thought, but I didn’t care. It made him more interesting to look at.
I was so hypnotized by those gorgeous eyes I barely noticed him getting closer until his face was only a few inches away. In a heartbeat, all thoughts of Tinker Bell vanished. As inappropriate as it was, I couldn’t help wondering what the school policies were on students hooking up with substitute teachers. Especially hot, young, unbonded ones. Did we even have policies on that?
“How do you feel?” His hand cupped my face and he hit me with an intense I-can-see-your-soul stare. “Any dizziness? Disorientation?”
I tried not to panic as he gazed into my eyes. “I was thinking about school policy. So, yeah, a little disoriented.”
“Your pupils are dilated,” he said. “I think—”
“Yes?” I breathed.
“I think you have a concussion.”
I blinked. A concussion ? That’s so not where I thought he was going.
“You do,” he decided, jerking his hand away. “Report to Dr. Gunderman for eval.”
“But…but he’ll tell me to go home.”
“Then you should go home. In fact, I think you should stay home this week to recuperate. I’ll mention it in your incident report.”
“ Incident report? ” I frowned at him as he yanked a yellow notepad from his back pocket and started scribbling. It wasn’t that I hadn’t gotten incident reports before. Or that I hadn’t deserved them. But this was such a clear case of wrongful persecution I had a hard time not screaming “objection.”
Narrow rivulets of blood trickled from his temple down one side of his face. I noticed with a jolt that one of his shoulders must have been dislocated, the muscles forming ropey knots at his neck. Even his eyes looked haunted from the power drain.
“Okay, no offense, but you just downed like two hundred rohms of Crossworld power. And your face looks like you made out with a lawn mower. You’re telling me to go see Gunderman?”
“I’m ordering you,” he corrected, still scrawling on the paper.
“Uh-huh. Because that worked so well last time?”
He glanced up, annoyed. “Miss Bennett—”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, hold still.” Before he could stop me, I lifted my hands to his face and squeezed my eyes shut. “ Salve !”
It began almost instantly. Heat sparked on his skin and I felt something gnaw at my chest. Although healing channels draw on Crossworld power, they’re a much milder brand of poison to Channelers. Vodka instead of hemlock. When I opened my eyes, shadows slithered across my skin. But instead of seeping in, they left only a tiny sting, then dripped away like rain before it turns into hail. With the tenderness of an artist’s brush, my fingertips stroked along Jack’s forehead, the cut on his jaw, then over his eyelids and lips. Everywhere I touched, his injuries knitted together.
Healing was the first thing we learned in school, around the same time we started writing our names, so it was one of the few things I did well. But in all the times I’d done it before, it had never resonated quite like this.
Each touch was a sigh through my body, the soft rush of eagles in
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