Free The Fake Heart (Time Alchemist Series) by Allice Revelle
Authors: Allice Revelle
even ask who “he” was, Dove leapt from the window. I gave a startled yelp of surprise and raced to the open window just in time to see her climbing down with much ease and swiftness…on the vines that curled around the old walls of the dorm. A couple more feet down, and Dove jumped, landing gracefully on the grass and darted into the woods. Her shimmery blonde hair gleamed a pale white in the moonlight, making her look like a fairy or some sort of goddess.
It took me a while, long after I had shut and locked the window, pulled the drapes, changed into my night clothes and had settled into the lumpy bed before I realized who she was referring to.
The man with the black sword .
The same man who had killed me.
If Dove was so worried about him, then I knew that he was an alchemist too.
And considering how Dove had no powers anymore, that made him the strongest—and most dangerous—alchemist here at St. Mary’s.
This had to be the worst way to start a school year. Ever.
CHAPTER 8
Despite the shock of the first (unofficial) Monday at St. Mary’s, the official -official first day of classes seemed to be like a long lost dream that ached within me. It was almost as if everything that had happened yesterday didn’t even occur.
Ha. I wish. If it wasn’t for this bizarre tattoo, I probably could have spent the rest of my…frozen time…in perfect and utter Denial with a capital D.
Everywhere I looked, I saw prim and proper students, dressed in wrinkle free crimson jackets, deep black skirts or pants pressed to perfection; and in stead of dirty footballs or fashion magazines or makeup kits, every one carried…books. Books, bags, and lots of paper. And they actually talked about school instead of bad football games or lame arcade game scores or the latest scandals of the previous weekend.
It was as if, once St. Mary’s had officially started, all the rich party goers had snapped to attention faster than new recruits at a military boot camp.
I was in an ocean of crimson and black, wealth, and education. It was way different from my old school.
Schedules had been sent out to the students a week before school had actually started, but because I had missed orientation (to which I would oh so love to remind the Headmistress that it w asn’t my fault ) I had missed any introductions with all my professors (the professors that could very well guide me in the right path—or crush me with the soles of their perfectly polished heels), as well as which room my classes were being held in.
I had been pretty ecstatic when I had found the crisp white envelope in my personal student mailbox with my name written in the most beautiful flowing cursive, as if its mere presence allowed me to brag, “Yes, yes I am a student of this Academy, thank you for asking!” Every student had their own mailbox—sort of like a P.O. Box—(unless you were mega rich and had your mail delivered to your room personally) and we had a school e-mail account, but I didn’t really use it much except to keep in touch with my friends. I wish I could send my Dad daily emails instead of weekly phone calls, but he had no access to a computer. It was rough, and the conversations hardly lasted five or ten minutes because of the charge, but any way I could hear his voice was good enough for me. ( It was a comforting needle in this alchemic haystack of misery).
When I had opened the schedule some time ago, I had expected to be stuck in whatever class that had an open spot (courtesy of being a last minute fill in), but the courses I had where way more advanced than I could imagine! Composition II, Biology, Economics, Gym (referred here as Physical Education), and History III. Call me crazy, but these classes made my old school pale in comparison!
St. Mary’s wasn’t a typical 8-3:30 kind of school. Sure, all classes started bright and early but it was pretty much like a pre-college kind of school, with
It took me a while, long after I had shut and locked the window, pulled the drapes, changed into my night clothes and had settled into the lumpy bed before I realized who she was referring to.
The man with the black sword .
The same man who had killed me.
If Dove was so worried about him, then I knew that he was an alchemist too.
And considering how Dove had no powers anymore, that made him the strongest—and most dangerous—alchemist here at St. Mary’s.
This had to be the worst way to start a school year. Ever.
CHAPTER 8
Despite the shock of the first (unofficial) Monday at St. Mary’s, the official -official first day of classes seemed to be like a long lost dream that ached within me. It was almost as if everything that had happened yesterday didn’t even occur.
Ha. I wish. If it wasn’t for this bizarre tattoo, I probably could have spent the rest of my…frozen time…in perfect and utter Denial with a capital D.
Everywhere I looked, I saw prim and proper students, dressed in wrinkle free crimson jackets, deep black skirts or pants pressed to perfection; and in stead of dirty footballs or fashion magazines or makeup kits, every one carried…books. Books, bags, and lots of paper. And they actually talked about school instead of bad football games or lame arcade game scores or the latest scandals of the previous weekend.
It was as if, once St. Mary’s had officially started, all the rich party goers had snapped to attention faster than new recruits at a military boot camp.
I was in an ocean of crimson and black, wealth, and education. It was way different from my old school.
Schedules had been sent out to the students a week before school had actually started, but because I had missed orientation (to which I would oh so love to remind the Headmistress that it w asn’t my fault ) I had missed any introductions with all my professors (the professors that could very well guide me in the right path—or crush me with the soles of their perfectly polished heels), as well as which room my classes were being held in.
I had been pretty ecstatic when I had found the crisp white envelope in my personal student mailbox with my name written in the most beautiful flowing cursive, as if its mere presence allowed me to brag, “Yes, yes I am a student of this Academy, thank you for asking!” Every student had their own mailbox—sort of like a P.O. Box—(unless you were mega rich and had your mail delivered to your room personally) and we had a school e-mail account, but I didn’t really use it much except to keep in touch with my friends. I wish I could send my Dad daily emails instead of weekly phone calls, but he had no access to a computer. It was rough, and the conversations hardly lasted five or ten minutes because of the charge, but any way I could hear his voice was good enough for me. ( It was a comforting needle in this alchemic haystack of misery).
When I had opened the schedule some time ago, I had expected to be stuck in whatever class that had an open spot (courtesy of being a last minute fill in), but the courses I had where way more advanced than I could imagine! Composition II, Biology, Economics, Gym (referred here as Physical Education), and History III. Call me crazy, but these classes made my old school pale in comparison!
St. Mary’s wasn’t a typical 8-3:30 kind of school. Sure, all classes started bright and early but it was pretty much like a pre-college kind of school, with