“Good morning,” he says smoothly. “I’m Mr. Prince, one of the new teachers. And you are?”
What I am is about to give him crap about his fake name—Mr. Prince, really?—when I realize people are staring. “I’m Mysteria Cross.”
“What an unusual name.”
Ugh. He beat me to the name jab. I hate it when Lincoln wins.
“I was about to say the same thing to you.”
“Such a shame I got there first.”
Does my guy know me or what?
I take care to speak so quietly only Lincoln can hear me. “Enjoy victory while you can, buddy.”
“I plan to. I still have my kiss to look forward to.” He looks at me like he’ll call it at any moment.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
He totally would.
I quickly raise both my tray and voice. “I’m really hungry, Mr. Prince. So, if you don’t mind…”
Lincoln is totally not letting me go so easily. “You have gym class with me today. Not sure how well you’ll perform with that kind of breakfast in you.”
I’m sleepy, hungry, and grumpy at getting yet more hassle about my eating habits. The words tumble from my lips before I can stop them. “Bite me, big guy.”
Aaaaaaand I said that a little too loud.
The whole hall seems to fall silent. A few moments ago, about fifty students and teachers were milling about and getting breakfast. Suddenly, all eyes are on me and Lincoln. Based on the looks of shock and horror, I’m guessing people don’t mouth back to teachers very often.
I lift my tray again. “I’ll go eat now. Nice to meet you, Mr. Prince.”
“Until gym class, Missy.”
I grip my tray so hard the silverware starts to rattle. “Mysteria.”
“Right.”
Oh, he is so going to get it later.
The hall fills with chatter once more as I find a vacant seat next to—surprise, surprise!—another group of terrified girls who won’t say dick to me, no matter how much I try to start a conversation.
I give up on chitchat and focus on scoping out the room instead. Across the hall, Lincoln sits at the faculty table. He’s one of the few male teachers here and definitely the only hot one. Although, I suppose that’s a matter of taste. Some might think Prescott is yummy, if you’re into older dudes who play golf and grope your ass for no reason.
I chow down on more bacon and take a closer look at Prescott. What a loser.
My last bite of bacon is history when Prescott rises and strikes his fork against his water glass. The room falls silent. Guess it’s speech time.
“Good morning, students,” says Prescott.
“Good morning, Headmaster,” says everyone in unison. Their voices hold an excitement level that’s one notch above finding dog crap in your shoe.
“Today, I’d like to talk about an important subject. Archangology.”
I refold my napkin. What an interesting subject.
“The patron of our school is none other than the archangel Xavier. As you know, there are some ancient texts that say an artifact of the archangels has been hidden on this very island. It’s been a hobby of mine to search for it.”
Hobby? Try total obsession inspired by your Lady, whoever she is. Which come to think of it, considering that his Lady is involved with Aldred and ordering demons around, means that the Lady is possibly demonic. Definitely evil.
“I’ve recently been fortunate enough to receive some new information about the hiding place of this artifact. It may be buried somewhere on the east side of the island. I’ll need a good number volunteers to help me dig it up.” Prescott scans the room. “What do you say? Do I have any volunteers?” All the students are staring at their plates. No one seems interested in his offer.
Smart girls. Handling Lucifer’s coin is not something humans should do.
“Perhaps I need to sweeten the opportunity a little,” says Prescott. “Whoever volunteers may have a two-minute phone call with a loved one next week.”
Everyone raises their hands. I’m so shocked I almost fall out of my chair. My inner wrath demon writhes inside me. He’s tricking girls into doing something dangerous in exchange for a phone call? That’s it. I’ve had it with sitting around and being quiet, even if I could get more bacon for round two.
I rise. “What are you talking about? We students can’t contact our families?”
Prescott gives me a grin worthy of a Ken doll. “It’s what their loved ones agreed to when they came to this school, including your father. We’ve covered this before. You’re here to learn, not chat the day away and fritter on technology. We do things traditionally here, by using books, discussion, and healthy exercise. There are no computers, Internet, and only one phone. It’s in my office and only for emergencies.”
“Wow. I tap my chin, as if seriously considering his words. “That’s a terrible idea.” I gesture around the room. “I mean, look at these people. They’re two neck puncture wounds short of being in a vampire movie. If they want to talk to their parents, they should be able to.”