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If it wasn’t my father, it was Apollo’s. If it wasn’t Apollo, it was Valen. If it wasn’t them, it was the staff at school. The only time I had a moment’s peace was in my room with my roommate and best friend, Florence. Even then peace was a relative term, but that was my refuge and that was where I was going.
Valen looked down at me once more, his grey eyes boring into me. Searing every piece of skin they lighted on. Without taking those eyes off me, he removed the gun from his holster, like he was making a point, and emptied the clip. The nuns had put their collective feet down about weapons on campus. Guns were no-go, knives were easier to hide.
I had to force my breath to remain steady, to not give anything away under the watchful eyes of those gathered. Those, plus the ones who’d just joined us in the boys’ dorm garage.
“And so, God walks among man once more,” Fender cried, opening his arms wide to Apollo, who chuckled as Valen finally turned away from me and put his gun in the glovebox.
Fender. Another Angel. Followed by Marco and Gage.Four Angels shall there ever be, to help uphold God’s sovereignty.
“You take care of things while I was gone?” Apollo asked Fender before clasping his hand in greeting.
Fender grinned. “We’ve got a nice one waiting for you,” he answered, like I had no idea what they were talking about.
Cleanliness might have been next to godliness, but Apollo was anything but clean. His name meant ‘destroyer’ and it was the worst kept secret at Saint Benedicts that the Sinners called him the destroyer of girls. An utterly pathetic joke, but one I’d heard was true nonetheless. Though I’m sure they meant it physically, rather than whatever mental implication Apollo’s actions actually had on those he used and discarded.
Apollo instructed Valen to move with just a look, then reached for me. He put his hand on my waist and kissed my cheek. Always my cheek as agreed. “I’ll walk you back.”
I smiled. “No need. I’ll be fine.”
He looked at me like he genuinely cared. And there was a part of him that still did. “You sure?”
I nodded. “Yup. All good. Four years really gives a girl the lay of the land.”
He chuckled. “All right. See you tomorrow.”
Another nod. “See you tomorrow.”
He pressed another kiss to my cheek and started leading his Angels away. Valen alone paused before following his God. He threw me a look of utter contempt that I felt burn right through me. The only thing I could do was return it.
When I was alone in the garage, I breathed in deep. Then out. In. Out. When my heart had settled once more, I headed off for the girls’ dormitory and the safety of my own four walls, such as they were.
The room wasn’t much, but it was the closest thing to home I knew.
“Oh, you look nice. Have a good night?” Florence asked as I came in.
I shrugged. “It was fine.”
“Where’s prince charming then?”
“No doubt ball’s deep in a Magdalen by now,” I answered as I started getting changed.
We called them Magdalens. The whole school did. The girls who threw themselves at the Saints. Their conquests. The ones who made it to second – or more – helpings more than earned their name. A small sect in reality, but they were those girls either messed up by their fathers enough to believe they needed the validation of being fuckable by such ‘superior’ men, or who were looking for any social advantage that being even the future mistress of a Saint would afford.
Florence scoffed. “Lovely.”
I finished getting changed, undid my hair and brushed the blonde curls out, and cleaned off my make up. I looked tired. Not just physically, but mentally. There was a weariness deep in my honey eyes as I looked myself over; I was built like a pixie as my dad had always said. It made it easier to play my part when I looked like I epitomised it.
When I joined Florence back in our room, I dropped to the floor at the end of her bed and took the proffered chocolate biscuit.
Florence and I had been roommates since our first year at Saint Benedict’s College. She was a beautiful, curvy girl with thick curly dark red hair and piercing green eyes. She liked to joke that her Scottish ancestors were to blame, although neither of us knew for sure if she had any. Thanks to her, my sexual awakening had occurred without any help from the opposite sex. She’d passed on the magazines, the books, shared the TV shows and movies with me from the day she found out about my…predicament. She’d firmly believed that, if Apollo wasn’t going to teach me about the more pleasant things in life, then someone had to make sure I didn’t hit eighteen with no idea what I liked or wanted.
She’d had my back for over five years. She accepted me for who I was; the princess in an ivory tower. She’d been my escape, even if only mentally. She’d also made sure my mind spent as much time in the gutter as hers, even if her body was the only one making use of the knowledge.
I felt movement and saw her looking at me askance from where she lay upside down on the bed, her head hanging over the end near mine.
“We’ve never really talked about Apollo…” she said slowly. “Not like that.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Not like what?” I asked.
