Chapter One

“—the new students transferring here from the rehabilitation facility arrive tomorrow, so please act appropriately and set a good example,” Mr. Woodrow, the headmaster, announces.

“Yes sir,” we all mutter. He speaks for a few minutes more then dismisses us.

I wait for the auditorium to empty before standing. I trudge behind the crowd of students, clenching my jaw as I am suddenly surrounded by people.

I walk through the hallways with my hands tucked deep in the pockets of my hoodie.

The other students shove past me, throwing me disgusted looks and nasty glares. It used to make me want to crawl in a hole and die, but now, I hardly notice it at all.

All of the students have special uniforms that are backless to accommodate their wings—well, all except me. If those idiots knew how to put their wings away then they’d be able to have a more diverse wardrobe.

They don’t teach that here though. They want to make sure everyone at the Academy is under eighteen and the best way to do that is to look at their wings. On an angel’s eighteenth birthday, their wings change into their own unique shape. But before that they all look the same; some are white, some are black.

They usually stay the same color when they become an adult, but they change their form and grow much larger. At that point they must decide their career.

Adult angels dress in certain colors based on their field, while all of us under 18 wear grey.

I have a different uniform than the others but it’s still that dreadful grey: baggy pants, a fitted T-shirt, and an oversized hoodie.

There’s no need to wear special clothes when you don’t have wings, I think with a defeated sigh.

And of course the Council just had to make sure everyone knows I’m the only wingless Angel in the school. They just had to make sure I’d be spit on and ostracized for one simple difference.

No need to protect me or keep me away from these assholes; who cares about the angel with no wings? I growl to myself when I spot a familiar blonde head.

I quickly turn down the nearest hallway but it’s no use. She saw me.

“Luciana!”

I stop with a sigh of frustration. “What do you want Mikayla?” I ask tiredly.

I keep my head bowed as she moves to stand in front of me. She crosses her arms and smirks. “You heard Mr. Woodrow, we want to set a good example for the new students, so you should probably find a way to make yourself scarce. We wouldn’t want them to think we’re housing fugitives, now would we?” She sneers.

I purse my lips. “What makes you think I’m a fugitive?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“Oh please, everyone knows you did something. Why would the Council take your wings if you weren’t a fugitive, huh?” She smirks.

“What makes you think that the Council took my wings? For all you know, some human could have taken them,” I shoot back before shoving her aside and pushing past her friend.

Many of the light angels were full of themselves, and the dark angels always got into trouble. I wish they’d at least try to refute their stereotypes; being able to predict someone’s personality by their breed quickly grows annoying.

All the angels were virtually the same other than that though. None of them liked to mingle with the other breeds and wingless apparently fit into its own category.

As I get closer to my dormitory, I see fewer and fewer angels. I don’t get as many looks as I used to, but there are still enough watchful eyes that it makes me uncomfortable.

Nobody really knew why I got my wings taken, I constantly spread rumors around to keep them confused. The last thing I need is for them to figure it out and confront the headmaster. Who knows what the Council will do with me then?

When I finally reach my room at the end of the hall, I flash my wrist over the scanner. All of us have an ID chip implanted in our wrists, it tracks us and allows us access into certain places based on our security clearance.

I open the door after I hear the click of the lock.

My room is much bigger than the others even though I don’t have a roommate. It’s lonely sometimes but I find myself enjoying the solitude on most occasions.

The Council has done as many things as they can to keep me locked up. They took my wings, put me in the Academy, and have me in a room by myself. I even have my own bathroom so I don’t have to use the girls’ showers.

I also have multiple extra tracking chips implanted behind my ear, in the bone of my hip, and probably more hidden underneath the scars that litter my skin. My choices were to either live like this, move to the Cage, or die.

At the age of eight years old, I thought that this was the best choice, but as the years passed I began to regret my decision more and more.

I shut the door behind me and go to my dresser. I find a fresh outfit before stripping out of my sweaty morning clothes.

I put my old clothes in a basket. Each dorm room has their own personal maid that keeps our rooms clean and washes our clothes. Because apparently angels are incapable of taking care of that themselves.

I go to my bathroom and quickly take out my contacts. The damn things dry my eyes out and burn like hell but the Council would kill me if I didn’t wear them.

Light angels have light eyes and hair. Dark angels have dark eyes and hair. The Council forbids the mixing of the breeds: hybrids are killed on sight.

Or at least that’s what they tell everybody. The truth is, they only kill the hybrids of low birth. If a Council member has a hybrid child, they’re willing to bend the rules.

My father was a dark angel. My mother was a light angel. And like all hybrids, I took after both of them.

I have one light blue eye and one dark green so I wear black-colored contacts to hide them. My hair is streaked blonde and dark brown so I dye it completely brown every few weeks.

I quickly wash my face in the sink, taking a deep breath as I dry my skin.

The corners of my lips turn upwards when I realize how much I am beginning to resemble my parents. I have my mother’s fair complexion, small nose, pointed chin, and dimples. And my father’s long eyelashes, high cheekbones, and sharp canines.

All angels are always beautiful—the elite members of the Council even more so. I’ve been told that as the daughter of two Council members, I could be the start of a war if I’m not careful. Though to me that sounds more like some ridiculous story a human would make up. How could someone possibly be so beautiful that others felt the need to start a war?

Just as I start moving towards my bed there’s a sharp rapping at the door.

My head falls back and I groan. The only time anyone comes to my door is if someone important wants to talk with me.

My eyes widen in surprise when I realize it’s Julie who knocked. I throw her a half smile and she wraps her arms around me in a hug. I awkwardly hug her back, still unaccustomed to her need to shower me with affection every time I see her.

My gaze moves over her shoulder and locks onto her wings. The feathers are absolutely entrancing: white that seems to turn gold in the light. The tips brush the floor when they’re folded and I can only assume they’d be far too big to fit in the hallways when stretched to their full span.

She steps back and her eyes bore into mine. My breath catches in my throat a little. The only time I have ever seen eyes as blue as hers was the last time I saw my mother.

“The Headmaster wants to speak with you and I have news from the Council,” she tells me.

I nod and quickly go back into the bathroom to put my contacts in again. I pull a hoodie over my head and follow her down the hall to the headmaster’s office with a heavy sigh.

The Academy has four floors and his office is on the top which normally wouldn’t be a problem except I have to walk up two flights of stairs to get there instead of just flying a few meters.

There is a large space in the center of each floor that allows angels to simply fly between them. I miss my wings terribly and my heart pangs at seeing the others fly around.

I desperately try to look away but my gaze keeps moving back to the flying students as we walk up the stairs. I sigh when a wall blocks them from view and forces me to turn my attention to Julie in front of me.

She knocks on the carved wooden door at the end of the hall, glancing back as if to make sure I was still there.

I hear the headmaster tell us to come in so I follow Julie inside. She stands in front of his desk while I sit down in a plush chair.

“Hello Mr. Woodrow,” I say, barely resisting the childish urge to stick my tongue out at the man who controls nearly every aspect of my life.

He nods his head with a small smile. “Luciana,” he says. “Take off your hood.”

I grit my teeth but do as he says, tugging the hood away from my face. “What did you call me here for?”

“Well, as you know, tomorrow some students from the rehabilitation unit are coming here,” he starts.

“Yes, what about it?” I ask.

“We want you to show one of them around,” Julie says.

“What? Why?” I shriek, staring at them in shock.

“Well this student will also be your roommate,” Mr. Woodrow says.

“It was decided that I have to live alone in order to keep my identity a secret,” I protest. They are both on the Council, they should know.

“Yes, but we have no choice, the Council has already discussed this. The Academy is growing faster than the building. We simply do not have enough space right now to allow you to continue to live on your own,” he explains.

“How the hell am I supposed to stay hidden when there is going to be someone by my side at nearly all times?” I growl.

“You can’t. We will be talking to the student tomorrow. I want you in here at 7 to meet her. You both will have the same classes, so you will be staying together for nearly everything.”

“If my secret gets out, my life will be fucking over, you realize that right?” I fume.

“Do not swear. We are fully aware of the situation. This student is a child of a council member so she will keep quiet. All we ask is that you get along with her so you can continue to live here. You have done well for nine years, it shouldn’t be too hard to make it ten,” Julie tells me with a smile.

“What about when I turn eighteen this year, what’s going to happen then?” I ask.

They look between each other nervously and I can tell they’ve been dreading my question.

“We honestly don’t know. No angel has ever gotten their wings taken as a child, so we are not entirely sure what’s going to happen,” Mr. Woodrow replies.

I bite my cheek until I taste blood. “Should be a fun surprise then,” I mutter, standing up and yanking my hood back over my head.

“Luciana we weren’t finished speaking with you—"

I cut Julie off with a low growl. “I’m going to sleep, I'll see you tomorrow.”

“You still have two evening classes to attend Luciana,” Mr. Woodrow scolds.

“I don’t care, I’m skipping today, I’ll make them up tomorrow,” I snap and walk out the door.

I hear a bell and the hallways empty almost immediately. I walk down the corridors, passing dozens of guards who don’t even spare me a glance.

When I first came here I wanted to be a guard angel. I envied their strong, sleek wings with the sprayed-on blue tint and their matching blue armor. The ones with gold wings were even more impressive and while I hated them more than anything, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be one of the most feared warriors on the planet.

The day I realized I could never be a guard angel was a crude awakening. It was the day I began to dread my eighteenth birthday; all I had to look forward to was either death or lifelong imprisonment.

I head back to my room and change into my grey shorts and matching tank. I take out my contacts again and brush out my hair until it rests in soft curls at my waist.

I walk back into my room and notice that my normal queen sized bed has been replaced by a bunk.

I glare at it. “I hate everyone in this damn school,” I mutter under my breath and climb into the top bunk.

I crawl under the silk sheets and close my eyes. Seconds after my world goes dark, I fall into a deep sleep.