Fallen Academy: Year Two (Fallen Academy #2)(14)

‘Stop horsing around and point me at him,’ Sera demanded.

Oh. Right.

I tipped the blade over Mr. Claymore’s shoulder and pointed the tip right at the Yew demon. A bright shot of white light erupted from the blade and slammed into its chest, knocking it backward. Mr. Claymore pulled tightly on the purple bands and the portal sealed shut.

Once he was satisfied it was closed, the Light Mage spun around and looked at Sera in my hand. “Thanks for that.” He nodded. His hair was a mess, completely wind-blown.

I just bobbed my head. “That was a portal to Hell,” I stated matter-of-factly.

He looked down at my chest and frowned. “Brielle, I’m very sorry I wasn’t able to remove your mark. It looks as though the dark prince has… a security system of sorts on it.”

My gut tightened with fear. “You mean… you tried to take it off and…” I couldn’t say it.

He looked utterly gutted. “And it opened the portal, which means I won’t be able to remove it. I’m truly sorry.”

A mental fog rolled over me, bringing with it a deep depression. I’d been totally stoked that I was going to be rid of the mark. I’d even told Lincoln and Shea to get ready to throw a party for me if it worked.

“I’m glad we didn’t trigger the demon alarm. I’m sorry to have gotten your hopes up.” Now he seemed to be taking all of the responsibility on himself. I wasn’t about to let that happen.

I plastered on a fake smile. “Hey, it’s all right. It doesn’t hurt or anything. I’ll be okay.” I grabbed my bag and shouldered it.

“Go in peace,” he whispered.

I left the room to find Shea and Lincoln across the hall, waiting expectantly. One look at my chest and their faces fell.

Go in peace, I did not.





Chapter Six





The first two weeks of school passed pretty smoothly. I had pretty much the same classes as last year, but instead of two hours with my Celestial master teachers, I had only one hour— alternating with the boys—and I had a new class called war strategies.

My brother was still in his wolf form and living with Clark on his land, which was God knew where. I’d called to check on him a few times, and they’d been brief thirty-second conversations where Clark informed me that Mikey was progressing fine, and then was silent to the point of awkward.

My mom was absolutely freaking out. Mikey was the baby of the family, and she just couldn’t take it. She texted me daily, asking if I’d heard anything. I’d started lying and giving her more information than I’d received, like he was doing so well that he was no longer needing to hunt, he’d made friends, he’d be human again soon. None of that was true, of course, but I would say anything to give her peace.

“Okay, it’s almost done,” Shea announced.

Chloe, Luke, Angela, and I were all huddled around Shea’s desk in our dorm room. She was finally brewing Tiffany’s payback potion.

“Is this going to throw her in the healing clinic?” I asked.

Shea nodded. “It better. Bitch nearly made us all fail by taking out Luke.”

If she went to the healing clinic, she might rat us out. We were Fallen Army soldiers now and had signed a code of conduct form on the first day. I was guessing this was against the ‘respecting fellow Fallen Army soldiers’ bit.

“Is there any way one of the Mage teachers could trace this back to you?”

Shea looked off to the side of the room, seemingly lost in thought. “Good idea. I’ll do a scent masking spell on top of it.” She reached for a few jars of powdered God knew what, and threw a pinch in the potion.

“Whatever. Even if we get two weeks’ detention, it’ll be worth it,” Chloe proclaimed.

We were all fond of shit-talking Tiffany—it’s what had brought us closer. I just wanted to make sure I could keep my cushy job, now that I had my mom and brother to worry about.

I pulled out my phone and texted Lincoln.

Brielle: Hypothetically, if we spelled Tiffany to shit her brains out as payback and got caught…

His reply was immediate.

Lincoln: Delete this text, dummy. You’ll get a week’s community service.

Community service didn’t sound so bad. I deleted the text and then looked at Shea. “Let’s do it.”

Shea grinned before snapping her fingers, and the potion puffed into purple smoke. Reaching in, she pulled out a small blue wafer-thin piece of paper.

Luke held out his hand. “I will have the honors.”

Shea dropped the wafer onto his palm. “Just slip it in her drink or on her food. It’ll dissolve and do the trick.”

He gave a mischievous grin and nodded his head. “I’ve waited months for this day. You distract her,” he told us, closing his meaty hand lightly around it.

We nodded.

Operation “Make Tiffany Crap Her Brains Out” was in full effect.



It wasn’t too hard to slip her the spell—we just asked her questions about herself and she blabbered for ten minutes, then dismissed us like cattle. Now we were sitting at our table on the demon-gifted side of the dining hall, watching her intently. With every bite of soup she took, Luke grinned wider and wider.

“How many months until Fight Night?” he asked, never taking an eye off his prey.