Page 90 of Angel Lost

There’s one advantage to being beaten up—no one is going to expect me to be out of bed.

I retrace my steps to the corrections building, flitting from shadow to shadow. The paths are deserted. Not a soul to be seen or felt. Prowling around the monstrous building, the same foreboding stains the air, but tonight there’s no easy way in. No professors coming or going. And I haven’t managed to swipe an ID badge. Yet. Some thief.

With a sigh, I give up on the building and pad along the beachfront, away from the facility. The waves lap quietly against the shore, and I trail my fingers across the bark of the only oak tree on the academy grounds, vaguely recalling a professor telling me about how old it was. Spontaneously, I give it a hug, the bark rough against my face. Then, I start walking again.

Chano’s sister, the lack of new leads, Farrell and the rebellion. Farrell and me. My aether. Dean Davina’s threat to have me thrown out. My allegiance. Kai. The choice I made in front of the Angel King. The chance Kai knows. Zephyr.

I trudge on, my aching limbs loosening only slightly as I go. The silvery sand is almost iridescent by the light of the moon, but the tree line swallows all light. Even my vamp eyesight is struggling with the contrast. Put me inthe trees though, and no problem. I wander aimlessly toward the shrubbery, coming face-to-face with an oak tree. The goddess-damned same oak.

I let out a slow hiss and put the corrections building at my back again. Facing away from the oak, I drop into the ley lines. The energy flows, beautiful, snaking, sparking, until…it doesn’t. I shuffle forward, letting my feet have their way again, following the pull but careful to stay grounded in the physical. Slowly, I creep forward until I feel where the lines tangle. I ease myself around them, between them. Whoever hid something here might be alerted if I untangle it. Instead, I slip inside. A thief again.

Chapter Thirty-two: Lorelei

It’s like pushing through a misty veil. I concentrate on knowing I want to move forward, on stepping through, around the strands, and suddenly everything swims back into focus. Same beach, same sand, same sky. Even the same damn oak tree behind me. Up ahead, though, is a sleek gray building. The side facing the water is one big pane of glass. I tiptoe forward. A room, a bed, a desk, and a view over the water. What is this? A hotel? I creep past it, looking into the next room, and the next. There are dozens of them. Only after I pass the first few do I realize they’re mostly occupied. A figure under the covers in one, in the next a kid is awake, staring unfocused out over the water. Is she meditating? She doesn’t seem to register me, so I scoot closer. Her hand comes up, she presses it against the glass. Eyes still unseeing. I bring my palm up to mirror hers.

Nothing.

I snort. What was I expecting? She clearly can’t see me. I pad quietly on, and her gaze doesn’t follow me. The next few rooms are occupied too, but in these the people are slightly older, my age maybe, and they’re facing the walls. The blank walls. I hurry on. Something is wrong. In the next someone is perched on top of the cupboard, like a cat, and the next again is empty. I halt. Not empty. Bright eyes peer out from under the bed. I glance over my shoulder.

Unfocusing my eyes, I reach out to them, extending my senses, trying to feel for them, their magic. But…nothing. They’re empty. Emptier than your common or garden toad. A shell.

My palms itch. This is not the reassurance I was looking for. The next glass panel looks into a corridor, a large workstation against one wall. I melt back into the shadows. A couple of angels move around inside in crisp blue scrubs. I hesitate, torn between taking off and watching a few moments longer. A third nurse wheels a patient out of a bathroom, tucks a rug around his knees, and potters down the corridor out of sight. I take in the wheeled stand in the corner, with a blood-pressure monitor, pulse oximeter, and thermometer all tucked neatly into position.

It’s a treatment facility, dammit. Of course it is. A facility for the rich. Why else would they get beautiful rooms facing the water and twenty-four-hour nursing care.

I shake out my hands, wiping sweat onto my black leggings. I bet it’s super expensive. I take a few steps back the way I came, feet drifting to a halt of their own accord.

What is a medical facility doing on academy grounds? Maybe I can just outright ask the dean. Or, with recent events, maybe best not.

I’m almost out of time. The sun is threatening the horizon. If I want to get back without being spotted, if I want to make use of the shadows to hide in then I have to leave. Now.

My sneakers crunch in the early autumn leaves, away from the hidden building, away from where the ley lines twist in ways they shouldn’t.

The sound of feet slapping on the paving reaches me. I cock my head to one side. Bare feet. Racing around the corner, a blond-headed supe barrels into me. Reye. Letting out a muffled groan, I grab for her wrist. She struggles, eyes wild, wrenching away from me. Her nostrils flare and she’s panting.

“Lorelei. You’re not in the infirmary. You’re okay.”

She flings her arms around my neck, then pulls away. Her hand moves lightning fast, and she slaps me hard across the face.

I snarl, gripping her wrists again. “What is wrong with you?”

She bursts into deep, hiccuping sobs that shake her entire body. Nonplussed, I pat her back. Eventually, she gulps a huge breath of air and manages to stop crying.

“Blood. There was blood on your pillow. And you were gone.” Her breath hitches. “I-I must have forgotten my meds again. I thought…I was so sure I’d hurt you. Maybe even killed you. Because she told the professor I had to—”

I rub my cheek. “I’m fine.”

Of all the ever-loving reasons to slap me. But she looks genuinely shaken, standing there in the thinnest pajamas, arms wrapped around herself, shivering.

“What are you doing out here?” she demands.

I sigh. “Trying to figure out what’s really going on in this academy. I need to see for myself how bad it is.”

She shifts from foot to foot, shaking her head.

“Look, I have a conscience, alright?” Her bottom lip juts out and she shivers again. Sighing, I drape my hoodie over her shoulders. “Not that you don’t. Just…Look, I only agreed to come here to keep my allegiance safe. Walking away would put them in danger. But I need to see how bad it really is, what they’re putting vulnerable supes through, and decide whether I can live with being part of that.”

“You’re not doing anything to anyone by simply studying at Gifted,” she argues.

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