No Angel Read online

  Dedication

  For my mother June, who is not at all like the Headmistress.

  Mostly.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Helen Keeble

  Back Ads

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  The shiny new sign above the towering wrought-iron gates said ST. MARY’S BOARDING SCHOOL FOR GIRLS AND BOYS, which, as it turned out, was wrong by one letter.

  “Wait,” I said, staring at the Headmistress with a slow-rising sensation of dread. “You mean I’m just the first guy to arrive, right?”

  “If you fail to understand the meaning of the word only, Mr. Angelos, I will have to schedule you for remedial English lessons,” replied the short, severe woman. “But to make it crystal clear, you are indeed the first, sole, singular member of the male gender here.” It was obvious that she considered this at least one boy too many. “I trust you will be a worthy representative of your species. Welcome to Saint Mary’s.”

  Declarations of outright war had been uttered in friendlier tones. I grabbed my dad’s arm as he came back from the car, carrying the last of my suitcases. “I’ve changed my mind,” I said, turning us away from the waiting Headmistress. “Don’t leave me here!”

  “You were the one who begged to come to your mother’s old school when you found they were accepting boys this year. ‘A way of honoring her memory,’ you said.” He dropped my bags in front of the school gates and raised an eyebrow. “Not to mention ‘a heaven of honeys in very short skirts,’ as I recall you saying to your friends.”

  I flushed. I hadn’t realized he’d overheard that conversation. “But I thought there would be at least a few other guys around. Who am I supposed to talk to?”

  “Girls?” Dad suggested mildly.

  “Ha-ha. Seriously, Dad!”

  “You want serious?” Dad folded his arms, looking up at me. “It’s cost me a serious amount of money to enroll you here, so I expect you to actually make an effort for once, Raffi. Saint Mary’s has always been one of the most exclusive schools in England, and we’re incredibly fortunate that they’re opening up to boys at last. And even more fortunate that they’re allowing you in for just the final year.” His finger jabbed me in the center of my chest. “You will work hard.”

  Behind him, the Headmistress’s expression suggested that she personally thought boys were best put to work down dangerous mine shafts.

  I scowled at my feet, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my new suit. “If it’s so fabulous here, then why didn’t any other guys apply?” I muttered under my breath.

  “Our entrance requirements are extremely strict,” the Headmistress said as if I’d spoken normally. “There was no shortage of male applicants, I assure you. Were it not for your late mother, I would have rejected you along with all the rest. But she was a personal friend of mine, as well as an outstanding member of this institution.” She fixed me with a piercing stare. “I trust you will live up to her legacy.”

  “You hear that?” My dad poked me again. “This is your last chance, Raffi. You’re lucky to get into any school, after what happened at your last one. You should be grateful for this opportunity.” In my head, I started reciting the inevitable speech along with him. I’d heard it enough times to have it memorized. “You can’t keep wandering around in a dream, absentmindedly strewing chaos in your wake.”

  Honestly, incinerate one lousy building by accident once, and your dad will never, ever let you forget it. “That fire wasn’t my fault!”

  “Perfectly ordinary toasters do not spontaneously spout four-foot pillars of flame!”

  The Headmistress took a phone out of her pocket and murmured into it, “Memo to self: Mr. Angelos is banned from Home Economics.”

  My dad was still on a roll. “Your problem, Raffi, is that you’re too unworldly for your own good. You have got to quit goofing off and start paying attention to what’s going on around you—”

  His voice droned on, but I didn’t hear another word. I was too busy falling in love.

  She was tall, only a few inches shorter than myself, but so light and slender she seemed to float on the breeze. Her feet barely made any sound on the gravel as she slipped around the gate and headed for us, her waist-length blonde hair rippling behind her like a cloak. Even though all the girls must have been warned that boys were joining them this year, she still did a very gratifying double take at the sight of me, her summer-sky eyes widening. For my part, it was all I could do not to gawp at her like a total idiot. The instant I saw her, I knew her. She was The One.

  For a moment we stared at each other. Then the girl shook herself, her hair shimmering with the movement. A delicate rose tinted her high cheekbones, but—my stomach dropped into my socks—she didn’t look pleased. A small frown marred her perfect face as she turned decisively away from me. “M— I mean, Headmistress?” Even her voice was perfect, so soft and sweet I half expected her to break into a duet about kittens and rainbows with a passing bluebird. “Everyone’s ready and waiting.”

  “Thank you, Faith,” the Headmistress replied. She lifted a hand, cutting off my dad’s lecture. “Major Angelos, while I am certain your son’s head has not yet been filled with your sound advice, time grows short. I must ask you to make your final farewells.”

  “Of course.” Dad put his hands on my shoulders, looking me squarely in the eye. “Now promise me you’ll apply yourself, Raffi.”

  “Oh,” I said, staring past him at Faith. “You bet I will.”

  “That’s my boy.” To my utter mortification, Dad ruffled my hair, then pulled me in for a hug. “You’ll do fine.”

  “Mr. Angelos, you may leave your bags here for now,” the Headmistress said as I disentangled myself as fast as possible. “Faith will escort you to the hall. A last word with you, please, Major Angelos?”

  “This way,” Faith said, holding the gate open for me. She avoided my eyes, her own gaze lingering on my dad and the Headmistress as they headed back toward his car. “Your dad seems nice.” There was an odd, wistful note to her musical voice. “You’re lucky.”

  “I certainly am.” Falling into step with her, I tried out the charming, enigmatic smile that I’d spent the summer practicing in front of the mirror. “Though not because of my dad.”

  “Yes, of course, we’re all lucky to get to go to a school like this,” Faith said a little too quickly. She indicated the carefully tended flower beds lining the path, and the landscaped woods beyond. I had to admit, it was all very pretty. Also, unspeakably girly. I could already feel my testosterone draining away. “It’s so beautiful here, don’t you think?”

  I edged a little closer, trying to keep up my smile while also throwing in a hint of smo
lder. My face was starting to ache. “Yes, I do.”

  “Some of the buildings we use for classrooms are hundreds of years old,” Faith said in the bright, brittle tones of someone determinedly paddling against a conversational undertow. She lengthened her stride, like a tour guide on a tight schedule. “Look, there’s the main school building. It has many unique architectural features.” I had a horrible feeling that Faith was about to start listing them all. Given that the monstrosity rising in front of us sported everything from Gothic gargoyles to a sort of bonsai skyscraper, she could probably keep going for hours. “It started as a chapel, though of course it’s been extended a lot since then. Saint Mary’s used to be a convent, you know.”

  I was beginning to feel like it still was one. Faith wasn’t looking at me at all. Time to deploy the big guns. “I know a lot of things, Faith Jones. Especially about you.”

  That got her attention. She stopped dead, swiveling to face me. “What do you mean?”

  Going for broke, I reached for her hand, gazing deep into her astonished blue eyes as I lifted it to my lips. “I mean that you’re the reason I’m here.”

  This was absolutely true. School brochure, page three, full-page picture: “AFTER A HARD DAY’S WORK, NOTHING BEATS A SWIM IN OUR BEAUTIFUL OUTDOOR POOL!”—FAITH JONES. The photographer had captured her rising from the water with her head thrown back and water streaming from her hair, looking like some sort of classic sea goddess. In a red bikini.

  The instant I’d seen that picture, I’d known this was the school for me. And now all my research in the romance section of the library was about to pay off big-time. All the wariness had vanished from Faith’s face, chased away by incredulous, breathless hope. Her fingers tightened on mine as my lips brushed the back of her hand—

  “Ah, Mr. Angelos,” the Headmistress said from right behind me. “I see you’ve introduced yourself to my daughter.”

  . . . Daughter?

  Abort! Abort! “Great to meet you!” I nearly punched myself in the nose in my haste to turn my romantic gesture into a hearty handshake. “Totally looking forward to being your classmate!” I dropped her hand as if it were a live spider, backing away. “I mean, in class. Outside of class, I guess we won’t see each other that much, because, uh, I like to study on my own. Really into studying. Doesn’t leave a lot of time for anything else. You know. In case you were hoping.”

  Faith, understandably, looked as if I’d just slapped her across the face. “I wasn’t.” She started walking away, fast. “And I can tell you’re going to fit in just fine around here.”

  “And I,” the Headmistress said, ice freezing around every syllable as Faith disappeared from view through an archway, “can already tell you are going to cause me many headaches, Mr. Angelos.”

  Too late, I realized that insulting the Headmistress’s daughter right in front of her probably wasn’t the best start to my career here. Great. Mentally kicking myself, I trailed behind the Headmistress as she followed Faith into a large courtyard, dominated by an ancient chapel that formed the far side. How the hell was I going to get on the Headmistress’s good side now?

  Possibly more easily than I’d thought, as Faith’s shriek echoed from the walls. The sound yanked me into a sprint, every other thought swept aside by an overwhelming need to respond. In an instant, I was at her side, catching her as she stumbled back from a small group of teachers. “Are you okay? What happened?” I looked past the teachers to try to see what had startled her—and took a step back myself.

  An intricate design of white-chalked lines sprawled across the chapel’s closed door. It had to be some sort of optical illusion, but the graffiti seemed to swirl sickeningly. I swallowed hard, forced to look away before I hurled. From the uniformly pissed-off expressions the teachers were sporting, they didn’t like the weird symbol any more than I did. “What the hell is that?”

  “A pentagram.” Faith’s own face was faintly green. Nonetheless, she shook me off, straightening her spine. “It’s nothing,” she said, though I noticed she was careful not to look at the door again. “Nothing that concerns you anyway.”

  “It does, however, entirely concern me.” The Headmistress had caught up with us. Her mouth thinned as she inspected the symbol. “This is becoming quite tedious.” She flicked her fingers, gesturing for the teachers to disperse. “We shall take an alternate route, Mr. Angelos. Faith, deal with it.”

  If my dad had ordered me to clean up my own mess in that tone of voice, let alone someone else’s, the resulting row would have been heard in the next county, but Faith just nodded as if she was used to being treated like a slave. No wonder she’d said I was lucky to have my dad. I cast a backward glance at her, alone and fragile in front of the pentagram, as the Headmistress led me into the building through a side door. “I could help her out,” I offered halfheartedly.

  “I did not admit you to this school merely to scrub graffiti, Mr. Angelos,” the Headmistress said, to my secret relief. It was dumb, but just the thought of getting closer to that symbol made my stomach pitch. “There are more pressing matters for you to attend to.”

  Right. Girls. Given that the one I’d originally picked had turned out to be majorly unsuitable, I was anxious to start evaluating the rest of the candidates. Which made me realize that so far, I hadn’t seen any of them. The dark, narrow corridors the Headmistress was leading me down were all deserted. “When are the other students arriving, Headmistress?”

  “Approximately two hours ago. You are late, Mr. Angelos. Do it again and you risk becoming the late Mr. Angelos.” Her heels clicked on the flagstones. “That was a joke, Mr. Angelos.”

  I really hadn’t been able to tell. “So when do I get to meet them?”

  “That,” the Headmistress said, opening a small iron-banded door and standing aside, “would be now.”

  Multicolored light streamed through the doorway, dazzling after the dark corridor. I hesitated on the threshold, squinting. I couldn’t see anything past the brightness, but I could hear a soft murmur of voices whispering to one another.

  This must be my home class. Twenty or so girls my age, doubtless all panting for my arrival. I swallowed hard. Okay, Raf. Remember, you’re the only game around. You just have to not be a total idiot. I drew myself up to my full height and arranged what I hoped was a suave expression on my face. Smooth. Casual. Cool—

  I felt a firm shove against my shoulder blades, and stumbled forward, my feet thumping onto a hollow wooden floor. I shielded my eyes against the bright light, blinking until my vision cleared.

  Three hundred pairs of female eyes stared back at me.

  I was in a chapel. On a stage. In front of the entire school.

  I was dead.

  Chapter 2

  Weekly Peer Assessment feedback sessions will now take place on Thursday evenings in your common rooms, mediated by staff.” The Headmistress swept the assembly hall with a stern glare. “Final-year girls, your Peer Assessment will be of particular concern to you this half term as it will determine whether or not you will be fortunate enough to have an escort to our traditional Masked Ball in October. As usual, pupils from Winchester Boys’ School have generously volunteered their services as your dance partners, but as there are only two dozen young men available, many of you must inevitably be disappointed. Selection of escorts will thus be done strictly by Peer Assessment results two days prior to the Ball itself. See your form head, Ms. Wormwood, for further details.” Glancing down at her lectern, the Headmistress flipped to the next index card. “The school play this year will be Shakespeare’s Othello, and auditions will take place—”

  She might as well have been announcing the latest football scores, for all the attention the girls were paying her. I could feel the heat of their stares washing over me like a flamethrower. I stood behind the Headmistress with my arms folded and feet braced, my own eyes fixed on the massive stained-glass window at the far end of the chapel.

  If my pose seemed cool, it wasn’t on purpose.
It was just that every one of my muscles had locked, rigid with terror.

  “And I remind you once more that the crypts below the old chapel are out-of-bounds for all girls.” The Headmistress paused as muffled giggles scurried around the cavernous room. “And boys. Boy. Which leads me to the next topic.”

  Another, louder mass giggle rippled through the hall. I didn’t dare glance down. I was going to be able to draw that sodding stained-glass angel on my deathbed.

  The Headmistress carried on, ignoring the interruption. “As some of you may be aware, recent changes to legislation about diversity and equal opportunity in education mean that single-sex schools are no longer eligible for a number of government grants. Happily, we have managed to find a way to avoid painful cuts to our school budget.” She gestured in my direction like a conjurer forced to produce a rather disappointing rabbit out of a hat. “I hope you will all welcome Mr. Rafael Angelos—”

  My total embarrassment was unexpectedly cut short, as someone at the back of the hall very thoughtfully picked that exact moment to fall off her chair with an earsplitting shriek.

  “Although not, perhaps”—the Headmistress raised her voice over the eruption of laughter—“quite as enthusiastically as Miss Moon.”

  The girl scrambled for her overturned chair, her face bright red behind a swinging curtain of poker-straight brown hair. She wasn’t much to look at, but at that moment I could quite happily have kissed her. At least now most of the school was staring at someone other than me.

  The Headmistress tapped her notes against the lectern like a judge banging a gavel, and the room quieted again, heads turning back to face the front. “And with that excitement out of the way, we move on to more important matters. Renovations to the plumbing in the central lavatories will be commencing—”

  With the tension broken, I was finally able to relax my shoulders a little. I risked dropping my gaze to the crowd. For the first time, I was able to get a proper look at my new schoolmates.

  They sat in age order, the front rows occupied by first-year eleven-year-olds, awkwardly sitting cross-legged on the floor in their pleated skirts. I skipped over them, and the first three-quarters of the room. Things got more interesting at the point where the chairs started.