Wilde Intent
Page 1
Wilde Intent
The Ashcroft Academy Series Book 2
K.M. Charron
Dark Arts Publishing
Contents
Wilde Intent
Other Books by Kelly Charron
Dedication
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Wilde Intent
Book Two
of the
Ashcroft Academy Series
K.M. Charron
Copyright © 2019 Kelly (K.M.) Charron
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system without the prior written consent of the publisher – or in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, license from the Canadian Copyright Licensing agency – is an infringement of the copyright law. The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the internet or via any other means without permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This edition first published in Canada and internationally in 2019 by Dark Arts Publishing.
Charron, Kelly, 1979-, author
Wilde Intent / Kelly Charron.
(Ashcroft academy series ; 2)
Issued in electronic format.
ISBN _ 978-1-9992881-0-5 (kindle).--
Cover Art by Dee J. Holmes http://www.djholmes.com/cover-art
Images licensed from DepositPhotos https://depositphotos.com
For more information, visit www.kellycharron.com
Please note: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Other Books by Kelly Charron
The Ashcroft Academy Series
Wilde Magic
Wilde Intent
Wilde Abandon
Wilde Fury
The Pretty Wicked Series
Pretty Wicked
Wicked Fallout
Dedication
For my beautiful (badass) sister Kristin.
Thank you for taking down my real life
Sydney Lockwood.
Chapter 1
Ainsley
October
Ainsley could never have imagined that she’d end up in a giant underground room via a hole in the forest floor. This was not what she’d had in mind when she’d decided to move from Maine to Massachusetts in order to attend Ashcroft Academy. The school’s reputation for academics was excellent, but she really wanted to learn why her father had spent so much time there before suddenly committing suicide.
She was lucky she hadn’t broken any bones or her neck. It was all thanks to none other than her nemesis, Ashcroft’s evil-incarnate queen bee, Sydney Lockwood. For no good reason, Sydney had chased her through the woods on horseback and caused her to fall into a huge hole after sweet Phoenix bucked her off from panic—a hole dug deep in the forest floor that neither girl could explain.
It had taken all of Ainsley’s willpower not to punch Sydney in the throat for acting the courageous hero instead of the snake she absolutely was. What kind of lunatic did something like that? She knew Sydney was a brat. She had no idea she was a psycho, too.
Ainsley slammed the door to her dorm room and inhaled as many calming breaths as she could before she grew lightheaded and had to stop. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, and the pulse in her neck felt like it might jump right out of her skin.
All she had wanted to do was mind her own business in P.E. Everyone was to go for a nice little horse ride through part of the forest to get the horses warmed up. She’d only ridden twice in her life, both times at her friend Megan’s grandparents’ farm. She could never keep up with the Ashcroft elite. They probably grew up eating peaches and cream off silver spoons from the backs of their ponies.
That’s why she had chosen to sneak off on her own down the beginner’s path. If the others saw her awkwardness as she rode Phoenix, it would only emphasize Ainsley’s less than well-bred status. She did everything she could not to draw attention to herself, but it hadn’t seemed to matter. A few of the girls had decided within the first week that Ainsley didn’t belong there and made sure to remind her every chance they got.
Thank God her roommate, Harper, wasn’t in their dorm. There’d be no way she could keep from exploding and telling her everything. Ainsley grabbed some clean clothes and locked herself inside the bathroom. She peeled her grimy, dusty riding clothes off and tossed them in a pile on the tile floor.
Her body felt better from the hot shower, and she practically melted into her mattress, her back and tailbone still sore from the hard landing. Seriously, how crazy do you have to be to chase someone on horseback, spook their horse, and get them thrown off?
Sydney could’ve killed me!
But that plummeted to the bottom of Ainsley’s thoughts when she considered the underground room and the carved symbols on the outside of the door and all throughout the room’s walls. And then there were the bones they’d found. Did they belong to one of the missing girls? She finally had her first real lead in the investigation she’d taken over from her dad. The last thing he’d been looking into before he jumped off their apartment roof, right in front of her. She only wished she knew what to do with it. Ainsley tried to imagine what her dad, an incredible investigative reporter, would do next if he were still alive.
Ainsley wrapped her blankets tight around her shoulders. Her eyes burned, begging for sleep, but she had so much to do before bed—and that didn’t even include her actual homework.
Grabbing her computer from the bedside table, she sat it on her lap and typed: occult symbols with knots. A ton of stuff came up. The internet was bound to have a bunch of posers or whack-a-doodles who actually believed in satanism and witchcraft. She clicked on a link that brought her to a site done in neon pink ‘ye olde’ text against a black background. It was blinding. After one minute, her eyes went crossed. She blinked a few times and tried again. There were posts about ‘how to get him to like you’ and ‘make more money now,’ but her fav was ‘how to remove the curse on you in ten easy steps.’
She went back and clicked on the images section. Her screen filled up with every variation of knotted symbol—Celtic, Hebrew, Buddhist, Egyptian, and of course, Wiccan.
This was ridiculous. Any nut job with a pencil could draw one of these and put it online. It didn’t mean anything. Ainsley sat up, the muscles of her chest so tight it hurt to breathe.
Ashcroft had a massive library. They had to have books on this sort of stuff. This was Danvers, or as Sydney had so mockingly reminded her Old Salem Village, after all.
Throwing the blankets off, she felt a second wind.
That room meant something. Who digs a giant hole and a secret roo
m in the middle of the woods, carves weird symbols all over it, and rigs the door with hundreds of intricately placed ropes? Was it used in some sick satanic ritual? Was it a serial killer’s secret torture room? Could it be connected to the missing girls?
Maybe if she could determine the details around each girl’s disappearance, it would point to a pattern. Did they all vanish in the same month or disappear from the same area? Had any of their bodies ever been found? Finding that room wasn't a coincidence. Her dad had never believed in them, and she was beginning to agree.
Sydney’s face came back to her—complete shock, not to mention the way she’d fainted like an extra on the set of Gone with the Wind, all swoony and delicate. Maybe she wasn’t as brave as she wanted everyone to think. Seeing the symbols around the room, Sydney had looked jump-out-of-her-skin nervous, more than from the bones on the floor. And she’d agreed—without a fight—to keep it a secret.
Ainsley didn’t want to involve the police because she knew they’d swoop in and take over, and she’d be shut out. If she wanted to continue her dad’s work, to find out what he might’ve gotten involved in, she had to do it alone. But what possible reason did Sydney have for keeping it concealed? She knew more than she was letting on about those symbols. It was on school grounds, so why didn’t she run straight to the headmistress with it? Sydney played it off that the room was just a relic from hundreds of years ago when people believed in witchcraft. So why did she look scared?
Ainsley needed to figure out how the connection between that room, its symbols, and the girls. And she needed to do it before Sydney said or did anything that put her investigation in jeopardy.
Ashcroft Academy’s library was open until ten every night. A little jitter of bliss tingled along the edges of her skin as she pushed open the doors. She loved this place and spent at least three evenings a week studying here. It was far quieter than the dorms.
Aisle after aisle of bookshelves stirred her insides into a giddy jumble. She inhaled the sweet, musty smell of paper and dust. Anywhere else, it would be disgusting, but here it was heaven. The center of the room housed rows of wooden tables, each with two antique-looking lamps with crafted green glass and thin brass pull chains. The wooden chairs were upholstered with deep purple cushions to match the eggplant and gold-accented carpeting. It felt a bit like a palace ballroom, which just happened to have every book Ainsley could ever hope to read.
Ainsley went over to one of the computer areas, checked to make sure everyone nearby was occupied, and typed ‘occult’ in the search bar. The search results directed her to the very back of the library, the historical reference section. She would’ve expected the spirituality or New Age section, but this was Danvers. Maybe they were a bit more sensitive to the subject, considering the past. Witches and magic might be fantasy, but the Salem Witch Trials were an important historical event, so she supposed it made sense to shelve them there.
Ainsley strode through the stacks letting her fingers brush along the shelves. She stopped at the call numbers indicated and surveyed her options. There were a few generic books about the occult, but they looked so… commercial—the sort targeted to teens who watched reruns of Charmed. Not helpful.
Maybe Hugo, who had quickly become her favorite librarian when he’d admired her attempt to read House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski, could help. If the library had what she needed, Hugo would be the one to ask. He knew every book, nook, and cranny in the library, having worked there for over twenty years. Hugo was French—debonair, worldly, and hilarious—and Ainsley loved the way his handsome black face and rich brown eyes glowed when he talked books.
From the front desk, she scanned the room and noticed him working in the Literature section, re-shelving a cart full of books. She made a beeline for him, her hair blowing off her face as she moved.
Standing behind him, she leaned in and whispered, “Hugo.”
He jumped, dropping the book he was shelving and clutching his chest. “You trying to stop a man’s heart? My God, child, you scared me half to death.” He bent down to pick up the book.
Ainsley allowed herself a small giggle at his expense. “Sorry, Hugo. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I thought you heard me coming.”
Composing himself, he put a hand on his hip. “What can I help you with today, Ainsley? Have you already gone through the stack of books I gave you last week?”
She shook her head. “I’m researching something, and I need your help. If anyone is going to know if this place has what I need, it’s you.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere. I’m like Obi-Wan—your only hope.” He grabbed three books and placed them in their proper spots. “What is it that only I can find?” He cocked a groomed eyebrow at her.
“I need some books on the occult. I know it sounds weird, but I’m doing a project in my ancient civilizations class about Paganism, and I’ve come across some interesting symbols. I’m hoping to figure out what they mean, and before you direct me to the Historical section, I’m here to tell you those are for people who want the Hollywood version of what I’m looking for. I’m after the real deal.” She blinked rapidly, feeling herself speed talking and hoped Hugo could keep up. “As real as any of this nonsense can be.”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to help you find non-fiction books about the real occult and other genuine supernatural things—that you don’t personally believe exist?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
He nodded. “This way.” Hugo took off down the aisle, turned right at the end, and headed toward the back corner of the library. Ainsley stayed close to his heels. They seemed to be in an unmarked section. Miscellaneous, perhaps? Hugo stopped, and she watched him scan the middle shelf before lowering his gaze to the one below it. “Ah, yes, here they are.” He selected two thick volumes, bound in heavy black cloth, and placed them in Ainsley’s outstretched hands. “Now be careful with them. They’re quite old and very delicate. Priceless.”
They were heavy, bending her wrists back. She readjusted her grip on the books and brought them to her chest, giving them a small squeeze. She knew what Hugo would say but asked anyway. “Can I check these out?”
He looked her up and down, put another hand on his hip, and said, “What do you think?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. He was in a good mood. This might be the perfect opportunity to ask him about the property. Hugo knew nearly everything about Ashcroft, the town of Danvers, and their histories since reading and research was the foundation of his job. Librarians and shrinks weren’t so different. People came to both looking for answers. “Do you know much about Ashcroft’s campus?”
“Lots. Anything specific?”
“Are there any underground facilities, maybe from when the founders built the school? Any abandoned or unused tunnels or cellars?” She watched his face for surprise or deception.
His brow remained relaxed. “I’ve never heard of anything underground except for the boiler rooms.”
“Not even away from the school, like inside the forest?”
He took a step closer, looking down his nose at her and crossing his arms. He was a good foot taller than her five feet four inches. “What’s with the interrogation? I know my school, and there’s nothing underground except for tree roots and groundhogs. Now, what’s got you so jittery? This have anything to do with such specific reading material?” Leaning in he whispered, “Has something got you spooked?”
Every part of Ainsley wanted to tell him, wanted to confide in an adult who would ease her mind and explain that what she and Sydney had found was harmless, a prank, or part of an old set from a movie that had filmed here years back. “Okay, it might not all be for my class. I came across some weird symbols out in the woods, and I was hoping I could research them to see what they meant.”
He eyed her speculatively. “And I’m assuming by your choice of book that you think they have some connection to the occult or the supernatural?”
Just hearing Hugo
say it out loud made her cheeks burn. She forced herself to hold his gaze despite wanting to stare at her feet in sheer embarrassment. “Or witchcraft or a satanic cult.” She held her hand up, “I’m not saying I believe in that either, but I think whoever carved the symbols did.”
His rigid back slackened. “This is Danvers, hun. I’m sure people leave bizarre witchy stuff all over the place and have for ages. There’s no shortage of supernaturalists here. Cults, on the other hand… Well, that’s a whole different level of crazy. I would know if there was something like that going on in these parts, and I assure you there is not.”
It was a risk she had to take. Her instincts told her she could trust Hugo. “But what about Daphne and the other missing girls? Maybe there’s a connection.”
His face softened. “Is that what this is about? You don’t need to worry about that. That poor girl had problems, but a cult wasn’t it.”
Her breath hitched; he knew something. She grabbed him by his sweater sleeve and pulled him closer. “Please, tell me why you’re so sure.”
He pulled his sleeve free. “No need to get all handsy. That girl was from a bad family and hung with a rough crowd. If she didn’t actually run off, and I tend to believe she did, she probably got mixed in with some trouble makers. It’s nothing someone as sweet as you should concern yourself with.”