Children of the Archangels

CHAPTER 17: CLEAN UP & WHISKY

Good news: no classes for the rest of the day. Yay. Yak attacks should occur more often at a school near you.

Bad news: the cleanup. Besides the shattered glass windows, cracked pavements, and soldiers suffering from hypothermia, there was also yak guts, dark orange blood, and a fully dead Iumenti at SGA. Thank goodness there were no visiting families.

Immediately after Luke finished the Zengan, people stared at him with mixed expressions. They definitely weren't in the mood for meat that smelled rotten before it died. So, naturally, many were repulsed at the sight and smell of Luke covered in legendary yak guts.

But, once people got over the smell, they were surprised at what he could do. They had seen him earlier melting the ice with his right hand by conjuring up a flame. Now they had seen him slay a Zengan with his left hand coated with electricity.

The Dean walked up to him, bearing the putrid smell. He gripped his gut, the spot where the Yak's horn had struck. However, besides looking like he had some stomach cramps, he seemed to cope with being stabbed just fine. "We've never had an official member of House Uriel—until today," the Dean spoke loud enough that almost anyone could hear in the quiet sports field. "Luke Sanchez, the first adopted Nef of the archangel Uriel—elemental angel of fire and lightning."

Luke was kind of stunned that one archangel could be put in charge of two of the most powerful elements. But hey, they both have two things in common: they are both very hot and very bright.

Luke was even more stunned at the silent reaction he got from the crowd. They looked like this revelation was a gunshot in the gut, an omen to coming tragedy.

The students looked at each other nervously, until Sirius stood up and banged his chest twice with his right hand and then made a cross with fingers from both hands. He gave the best smile he could for a kid who was exhausted.

Then Alpha seemed to appear from another building yelling into the silence. "I live with him! I live with the mighty yak slayer!" Then he made the same sign Sirius made.

The others around campus were not so quick to greet the news with joy.

"Alright," the Dean gathered everyone's attention. "Classes will be dismissed for the rest of the day, AFTER we clean all of this up. I need my Raguel students fixing these cracks in the ground. I need Orifiel students growing the grass on the field. I want my Raphael students tending to the injured and the rest will be sweeping up whatever's left of the dust that's about to form in three, two, one..."

The yak's body dissolved into gray dust and started to seep into the ground a bit like lava. Either the Dean had some experience with Iumenti, or he was an oracle.

Everyone got to work, and the Dean pulled Luke aside. "Luke, come with me. We need to talk."

Twice in the same day Luke had been in the Dean's office. In most schools, students tended to avoid the head of discipline's office for fear of being yelled at, getting detention, or worse—calling one's parents.

But at this school, where teachers can blast rowdy students out a window, he didn't want to be under any authority figure's magnifying glass.

"Take a seat," the Dean motioned to a chair in front of his desk. He opened up a drawer and pulled out a glasses case, two glass cups, a scroll that looked about as ancient as dinosaur fossils, and a bottle of whisky.

He poured the whisky into the cups. "You're 18 right?"

Luke nodded. "But isn't the law in America 21?"

"You forgot two things: one, this isn't America. Two, you got an Irish Dean who used to drink porters like it was chocolate milk when he was four."

Although Luke seriously had some concerns about all the precious brain cells that were drowned in the Dean's alcohol induced youth, he took more notice of the first part.

"But SGA is in Colorado—in the Rockies. That's in America last time I checked."

"And some say the Vatican is in Italy, but they would be wrong. But this is not why you're here."

He took a sip of whisky, and a sip of whisky for Dean Ammon was gulping down a 4-ounce glass like it was water. The drink seemed to make his body steam and Luke saw water vapor evaporating from his skin.

"Ah, I needed that," the Dean hummed like an engine stalling. "Especially now that we know you're the first adopted child of Uriel."

"Like I've said before," Luke said. "And why did everyone seem so..."

"Worried?" the Dean finished. Then he unwrapped a scroll that was no bigger than an A3 paper. Luke could barely make out anything beyond the faded coffee stained toilet paper.

And even when he finally did make out a word or two, he didn't understand any of it. "What is this?"

"A prophecy," the Dean said and filled his glass again.

"About what?" But Luke knew the answer. The way the students looked at him as if he was both a good sign and a bad omen. The reason why the Dean called him into the office and even offered Luke a drink. "It's about me?"

The Dean took another 'sip' of whisky. "I'm not going to sugarcoat this so be prepared for the bombs to drop: you are the sign of the second coming of Christ."