The Angel of Olden Academy ✓

chapter three

"He's barely breathing." That was Adam's voice, frantic, frightened. "He's our most severe case and h-he hasn't even been looked at by a healer."

"He's a demon," sighed the unfamiliar voice of a girl. "They don't care whether he lives or dies."

Something trickled into my mouth and I swallowed reflexively, recognizing the bitter taste of Ezer.

"I shouldn't've left him," Adam said. "I knew he was weak. He'd been out for three days, and the second he woke I just left him—"

"Stop it, Adam," the girl said sternly. "It's not your fault." More liquid trickled into my mouth. "Look. I think he's waking."

My eyes fluttered open to the dim infirmary alcove, lit only by candles and moonlight. Adam sat before me on the bed, holding a vial to my mouth, and an light-brown-skinned girl stood over his shoulder.

"Here," Adam said, tilting the vial back. "Drink this. Quickly."

I swallowed to the last drop and almost instantly felt better, lighter, less like a stone held under a current. "That's disgusting," I grumbled.

Adam gave me that insufferable smile of his. "I thought we'd lost you for a minute."

His hand was on my arm; I shrugged it off. "Won't get rid of me that easily."

He laughed. It was the most beautiful fucking sound I'd ever heard. "Good." He smiled back at the girl, and then again at me. "Good."

The girl came closer, her eyes calculating and narrowed. "What's your name, demon?"

"Ehren Cross."

She raised her eyebrows. "I've heard about you."

"Nothing good, I presume."

She shook her head silently, a smirk tugging on her mouth.

I glanced out the window. "What time is it?"

"Just past nine," the girl said. "I'm Eesha. If you harm Adam in any way, I will poison you. It won't be hard. I'll use the tempest flower that grows in the meadows outside the castle—easily confused with lavender. When they question me, I'll say it was an accident."

"She's joking," Adam informed me, but I didn't think so. I looked at the girl with respect, even as my heavy eyelids tried to drift close.

"Go on," said Adam. "Rest. You need it."

The last thing I felt before sinking into sleep was a gentle hand brushing the hair from my face.

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On my eighth day in that bed, Ethan and Sander showed up without warning. Adam had just brought lunch, and they stilled when they noticed the silver wing on his wrist—the mark of the angel. Ethan's hand moved to the dagger he always kept inside his jacket.

"The fuck is one of those doing here?" Sander asked.

I opened my mouth, but Adam got there first. "Training to be a healer. Is that an issue?"

"Actually, it is," Ethan said, slipping out his dagger. "You can stay the hell away from Ehren from now on."

Adam laughed—laughed in his face. "I know who you are. Ethan Keller, Angel Slayer. Do you think that I'm afraid of you?"

I sat up. "You should be."

My friends snickered, but Adam's gaze held mine a second longer, and I knew he saw it for what it was: a warning. A plea. His lips curved slightly, and without another word he left.

"Can't believe they're making you deal with that," Sander said, plopping down at the foot of my bed. Ethan took the stool.

I dropped back against the pillows and began picking at my lunch. I had no desire to talk about Adam with them. "Could one of you bring in my classwork? I don't know how I'll survive exams."

They exchanged a look.

"We're not allowed to," Ethan said. "The weakness is mental as well as physical, and ... you're supposed to rest."

"Well," I said, dropping a piece of bread back on the plate. "I guess I'll just die of boredom."

"You're not going to die," Sander said sharply, then stopped, looking embarrassed. "I mean, in case you were considering it. Not allowed. Okay?"

I nodded and managed a smile. "Okay."

"Viola told us she's been visiting you," Ethan said. "You two back together?"

"No," I said. "We're just friends."

Ethan frowned. He hadn't said much when I'd told him and Sander I was bisexual. I'd always suspected that he hadn't fully accepted it, but he didn't give me shit for it, either. With Ethan, that was often the most you could ask for.

The silence stretched.

It occurred to me that we didn't really have anything to say to each other. We'd always built conversations off the places and people around us—never ourselves.

"Well," Sander said finally, standing. "You should get some rest."

That was all I fucking did, rest. I tried not to look upset as the two of them headed for the curtain.

"And don't worry about that angel," Ethan said over his shoulder. "We'll take care of him."

Something like fear shot through my veins, and I sat up. "Wait—"

But they were already gone.

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