Page 100 of Angel Lost

“There is another agent I use to help me dissociate. You could take a little of that instead.”

I start to shake my head.

“Let me finish. It’s made of stardust.” He pauses. “Not earthly…”

Slowly, it sinks in, and my hope blossoms. Maybe I can keep up my training.

“This stuff is potent, and expensive. Very expensive. I can lend you enough to come down slowly. After that, well, you’d need to buy it. I can source some, but it is rare. Even if you could afford it, you’d need to use it only for important visions. You’d need to stop your current use.”

“I can stop.”

“I believe you can. You’re strong. Stronger than your allegiance gives you credit for.”

The surprise compliment throws me, and I stare at him, fidgeting with the bed-cover. “I’ll come down from Angel’s Delight without help.”

The professor nods, pleased.

“Then, once my body has recovered, I’ll take you up on that stardust stuff. Only when I need to work through a challenging vision or when my progression is stuck.”

“Very well. I see your determination. It’s important sometimes to know we can do things ourselves. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement whereby we pay you for visions, in the stardust drug, in Nebulite.” Professor Lumis stands. “Just know I’m here if you need me. For you and your sisters too, if the need arises.”

Chapter Thirty-five: Lorelei

“Do not use your aether, Miss Bal.”

Scowling at the fire-retardant material in front of me, I picture all the ways I could set it ablaze with my aether and fire combined. Fingering the cloth, instead, I feel out the nature of the fabric, infusing it with magic, reminding it of what it was before it was chemically treated. Carefully, slowly, I coax a tiny corner into a pathetic, sputtering orange flame. Chano’s project beside me roars, flames licking toward the ceiling. Smug asshat.

“You’ve now caught up to where the class was two weeks ago, Miss Bal,” Professor Hannya snipes. The tiny lady stalks past, black hair in a curt bob glued to her jawline, with two small black horns poking out the top. She waves a hand and my flame sputters out.

“Channel the demonic,” she reminds me. “This is not fire class. I am not that oaf Maximillion.”

Beside me Chano grumbles. Prof. Max is his man; Professor Hannya is most definitely not. She narrows her eyes, and a spray of water engulfs Chano’s flames. His eyes widen in outrage, and I turn away to hide my smile.

The professor stands on tiptoe. “You’re getting there, Bal. More practice.”

I stick my tongue out at Chano and double down on my efforts.

“Miss Bal is summoned,” a voice calls from the front of class.

Professor Hannya spins around and walks in tiny fast strides toward the offender. The angel, a first-year student, wilts under her gaze.

“Miss Bal has far too much work to do to go gallivanting off. Denied.”

The student’s mouth opens, then closes. Finally, he squeaks out, “Dean’s orders.” He blinks for a moment. “Both of her deans.”

Professor Hannya draws herself up to her full three-foot height. “I shall send Miss Bal once she has mastered her current task.” The kid shuffles on the spot. “That will be all, angel.” She almost spits the last word.

My hands are clammy. Beside me, Chano sits straighter in his chair. Shit. I finger the knife on my belt and avoid his stare.

“What did you do now?” he asks.

“Nothing! That’s rude,” I bluster. “Mostly nothing?”

“Why is that a question?” He scowls down at me, but I clamp my mouth shut and wait for Hannya to dismiss me. She takes her time, clearly annoyed at being told what to do, but finally, five minutes before the end of class, she sends me to the dean’s office.

There’s no waiting outside this time; I’m ushered straight in. My footsteps echo on the tile, and I keep my gaze firmly on the ground in front of me.Give away nothing. Assume they don’t know anything.My heart hammers. What could they know? That I’ve been snooping? That I found those failed gifted kids? Or…I swallow the lump in my throat. Do they know what I am?

Both Dean Emrick and Davina are seated behind the desk, elbows vying for position on the glass.

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