I catch sight of myself mirrored in the window. My bright pink hair hangs to my shoulders, untamed. Pale green eyes full of trepidation look back. People at school avoided me, once they realised I'm stronger than I seem. Other kids' parents didn't want me persuading their kid to become a soulhunter and lead them down my path towards death. They didn't want to lose their son or daughter. I gradually achieved a reputation for not taking bullshit from anyone. And using my fists.
They don't know me, the hidden girl who's terrified but determined.
I will be free.
2
I'm queasy after my journey through the portal. Even though the action felt like stepping through a door, my body feels the after-effects of being sucked through a black hole into the brightest place I've laid eyes on.
The portal exit is located inside a room the soulhunter academy, and we file into the hallway. The bright lights bounce off the pristine white walls and dazzle me. At home, we had simple houses built for us by high angels centuries ago, filled with greys and browns to match the sky and earth outside.
I squint as I adjust my eyes to this light. Even the floor tiles are a surgical white, which stretches along the hallway as far as I can see. We queue in single file, and our rough clothes and unkempt appearance turn us into stains on this perfect environment.
The man and woman who processed the recruits now stand at the front of the short line. I crane my neck to see. They're talking to two others, another man and woman. All have shining blond hair, and are tall and slender, dressed as if they work in an office.
I take a shaky breath but fight to show the weakness in my unsteady legs. The frightened girl from before staggers and a guy beside her lends a helping hand before she falls. The girl smiles, gratefully.
Do they know each other? I feel a pang of loss. Derrin should be with me. My best friend since childhood always swore we'd become soulhunters together. Instead, the stupid bastard fell in love and left me to train alone.
The new man clears his throat, and the sound amplifies as it echoes down the hallway.
"Welcome to the rest of your life," he announces.
The woman beside him titters and he grins as if this is a private joke.
"Welcome to the soulhunter academy. As applicants to the soulhunter program, you will train until we believe you are fit to join the ranks. Those who fail will return to the Fated."
A murmur ripples through the recruits. Nobody mentioned failure. Is our application not a guarantee we're accepted? I've never known a soulhunter trainee return to the Fated.
"Aurelia will direct you to your rooms where you will find your uniforms and a timetable. Then you may gather in the dining area for one hour before returning to study the training books in your room. Lights out occurs an hour later, and we will wake you once the day begins."
I scratch my nose and exchange a glance with a tall girl beside me. She gives a hesitant smile, and I shrug. At least we're not sharing rooms.
The woman, Aurelia, stalks ahead and we follow like a row of ducklings awed by their new world and occasionally bumping into each other. The academy appears to be single storey, and every inch is uniform in appearance. I swear I'll get lost.
Most doors we pass are closed, but when we pause for Aurelia to talk to another woman, I stand by a half-open door. I catch sight of a large room with a polished wooden floor, pale walls and lights but no window. I don't have a chance to see what's hung on the wall opposite because a man strides over to push the door closed, obscuring my view.
The guy pauses as he sees the recruits, and he studies those visible through the door. The guy is tall and wiry, his physique as perfect as the angels, only he wears a grey t-shirt and dark jeans. His arms are corded muscle crisscrossed by silver scars.
But this isn't the most unusual thing about him—he has dark brown hair, and green-flecked amber eyes and every other person working here has blonde hair and blue eyes.
The guy appraises me in a way that prickles my neck. Sure, he's not much different in age to me, and his strong features and full mouth make him more attractive than the choice around me, but the shiver tripping along my spine is for a different reason. I'm not uneasy because he's attractive, but because he sizes me up in the way I've seen farmers decide which cattle they'd like to buy.
"Nice hair," he says eventually and closes the door.
I blink in confusion. This guy is the first person I've seen at the academy who isn't an angel.
3
My windowless room could double as a cell. Single, narrow bed shoved against the wall, with a folded grey blanket and pillow resting on the bottom. A smooth white desk on metal legs contains a closed book. There's barely room to move between the desk chair and a small set of shelves. On the bottom shelf, somebody has left folded clothes.
I drop my bag of meagre possessions on the bed and take hold of the T-shirt on top. Black. Underneath are black jeans and a pair of heavy black boots. I hold the shirt against myself. I'm a jeans and T-shirt girl, and black's my colour, but I don't go for scoop necked tight ones like this.
Grimacing, I drop the clothes on the bed and pick up the book. I'm not much of a scholar, but the illustrated images of combat moves interest me, but not as much as the photographs of weapons halfway through the book.
I trace a finger across a picture of a sharp dagger with a symbol carved into the hilt. I recognise the shield and wings symbol from the top of the papers I signed. I was right when I presumed that represented the soulhunter academy.
How long before I get one of these babies in my hands?
The mattress feels hard beneath my backside as I sit and continue to leaf through. The thick book would take days to read—how long will I be here? Nobody ever told us.
The day's stress finally catches up as I hug the book to my chest and fight the sensation that the walls are closing in on me.
But I refuse to cry for what I left behind.
*
I'm lost in my thoughts as a loud voice calls something I can't make out, the words joined by the sound of a fist banging on doors along the hallway. The fist and voice owner reaches my room and hammers.
"Dining room."
I rub my tired eyes and jump to my feet, eager to escape the cell-like room. I don't want to miss where to go and run through my door to join the footsteps clomping by. I scout the hallway for a familiar face but only see scowling farmer boy and a squat girl he appears to have made friends with. No Sarah. I tiptoe and spot her closer to the front. Barging past those between us, without apologising to the tutting reaction, I catch her.
"Hey."
Sarah looks around as I tap her on the shoulder. "Uh. Hi."
"I'm Ava."
She half-smiles. "I know."
"Keep moving!" calls a stern voice, and I pick up the pace.
"I didn't realise I was famous."
"Infamous is the word," she replies. "I'm Sarah, in case you don't know."
"Yeah, I do. You were in my friend's Math class. Derrin?"
"I know Derrin. Did your boyfriend not come with you?"
"He's not my boyfriend," I reply tersely, words I've used a thousand times.
We reach double doors to a large room where the smell of soup or stew drifts out. I salivate as my stomach reminds me of how long it's been since I ate. But how long? In this enclosed environment, it's impossible to tell.
The man with the loud voice and hammering fist ushers us inside, and we file in to take our places at a long table. Metal benches are attached, and we slide along them until we all have a space to eat. As with everywhere else, the sterile surroundings are white and spotless.
"I wonder what's on the menu?" I whisper to Sarah as she sits beside me.
"The same as every day," says a small, uniformed woman who sets a tray in front of us. "Sustenance."
The tray contains a bread roll and a bowl of indistinguishable, brown soup. I tentatively sniff. Smells better than it looks; hopefully tastes better too. I tear a piece of the roll and dip
it in.
As I gaze around while I eat, something strikes me. I look down at my pink hair against my grey T-shirt in the sea of grey and black.
Crap.
Everybody else changed into the soulhunter uniform. Not me. Aurelia and another staff member appear to discuss this, heads together as they talk and look at me.
"Uh." I stand. "I forgot to change. I'll change now."
But the metal doors are closed, and a burly man in the same grey and black uniform all academy staff wear stands in front.
"Nobody leaves until the hour is finished," retorts Aurelia. She holds a flat rectangular item in her hands, which she taps with a finger and asks, "What is your name, recruit?"
"Ava."
"Well, Ava, it appears you like to stand out from the crowd." She studies my hair. "However, all recruits must be in uniform when in public."
I nod, mouth drying — not a good start.
She whispers something to the man who accompanied us here, who shakes his head in response.
"Oh? Interesting." She taps the screen for a second time. "Sit, Ava. Eat."
I drop my backside onto the hard bench and pick up a spoon. Half the room stare at me for a reaction. If I were in school, I would've back-chatted, but I'm in no position to argue here. I've no clue what the punishment might be.
"You need to tone yourself down," whispers Sarah as she sips her soup.
"You mean shut up and behave?" I ask with a snort.
"Yes. That's if you know how." Sarah gives me another of her nervous smiles as she waits for my reaction.
I finish my spoonful of soup and whisper, "I know how to behave, but I can't promise I will."
She doesn't laugh, and her eyes are troubled. "Be careful, Ava."
"I will be. I need to learn how to hunt and get the hell away from all this angel bullshit."
Her eyes widen further. "But you're half-angel, and you want to be Free."
"That's what I mean. Free of this control. This place is worse than the Fated world."
She shakes her head and returns to her soup. "You never liked people telling you what to do. I hope it's not too late for you to start."
I look around at the pale faces as most eat in silence. Yes, I need to behave, but I also need to be Ava.
She's the girl who'll survive this place.
4
I yawn and rub my eyes, leaning back in my chair. What the hell is this? School lessons? Sitting in rows with the other new soulhunters, I tap my pen on the desk and gaze around. The room is large, windowless, and painted a stark white. The polished wooden floor is scuffed and squeaked when I walked across in my new boots.
The look on a couple of the guys’ faces when the girls came in wearing the figure hugging, black soulhunter uniform didn’t escape my attention. Morons. Why do we need to dress in uniform already? Sure, close fitting, dark clothing makes sense in a fighting environment, but we’re not fighting yet. Or are we? Shit, I hope not. We don’t have our angel powers back yet—surely we’re “reactivated” before they shove us into the field. However that happens.
If Farmer Boy Muscles looks at me like a piece of ass once more, I’ll kick him in the balls with the heavy boots I wear. I bet he won’t find that part of the uniform so alluring.
A man enters the room and crosses towards a desk at the front. I stop tapping and shift upright. The man from yesterday. As I thought, this is also the room I saw yesterday. I take a closer look at him. He’s definitely older than the other students, but not by many years, and wears the same beaten-up jeans and a black T-shirt, stretched tight and following the curves of his muscled chest. The other guys in the room wear less distressed versions of his uniform but don’t carry it off as well.
Our trainer? But he isn’t wearing the academy staff uniform. I push down the teenage hormones flaring at the sight of a successful and not too shabby looking guy who must be a soulhunter. Seated close enough to the front of the room to inspect him, I’m distracted by the scars on his forearms, including a white semi-circle which looks suspiciously like teeth marks. He surveys the group one by one, as if committing each of us to memory. I’m sure his green eyes rest on me a little longer. I stare back. Confident soulhunter now, remember?
“Right. Demons 101,” he begins.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” I interrupt.
The guy raises an eyebrow at me and folds his arms over his chest. “You don’t need to know each other, Ava.”
“Well, you know my name. Who are you?”
The man pulls himself forward and strolls over. He places both hands on the desk and stares down at me, face so close I can smell mint on his breath. I repeat my new mantra: confident soulhunter, show no weakness. Remaining still, I study the man in return. His spiked dark brown hair and moss-green eyes weren’t what I expected. I’d presumed trainers would be the angels, but I guess that role would be too lowly for them. I suck in a breath; there’s something uncomfortably attractive about this man. Maybe because the male embodiment of everything I dreamed I’d become is standing in front of me.
“I’m Daniel. I’m your instructor. And you just earned yourself a reputation you don’t want.”
The guy next to me snickers, and Daniel shoots him a look. “Do you want one too, Tom?”
For someone who told us we don’t need to know names, Daniel is making a great job of telling everyone.
He returns to his desk. “So, Ava, what do you know about demons?”
The patronising tone in his voice reminds me of a teacher from school. School and teachers did not equal a calm and happy Ava. Didn’t I escape this when school ended?
“That I should be killing them?”
“You think you can simply step outside and kill a demon with no training?”
“No. That’s not what I meant. Obviously.”
Daniel regards me, running his tongue along his teeth, and I squirm. Sarah sits beside me and shakes her head in warning. This is one girl who’d never step out of line. She’s right—I need to rein in my personality. I have to attempt a balance between confident and cocky. This isn’t school; however much Daniel behaves like my teacher. School had punishments for disrespect, who knows what the punishment would be here? Watching just long enough to keep me on edge, Daniel continues.
“There are four kinds of demons. You can kill three types, and as many of them as you like. One kind you are only to approach if instructed.” He flicks a switch and pushes a button on a laptop in front of him. A human face appears, projected onto a screen on the wall. “These are the ones you kill.”
I blink. I can’t see any difference between the demon in the picture and the other people sitting around the room with me. Opening my mouth to say something, I think better of it. Someone asks the question for me.
“How can we tell they’re demons? They look exactly like humans and us,” asks a voice from behind.
“Once we activate the angel powers in your blood, you’ll know. You won’t need to be close—their presence will be obvious.”
This is interesting: the prospect of my angel powers and the ability to kick some demon backside. Before anyone else can speak, Daniel hits another key. A yellow-eyed version of the same person appears with pupils a black slit like an animal’s.
“When you’re close, this is how the most powerful demons will look. Newer demons have amber eyes. We’re not sure why their eyes are changing from yellow, but they’re attempting to blend with humans more. Perhaps it’s a side effect.” He narrows his eyes. “Demons can’t disguise their form as easily once angered, and when they’re angry, they hit. Hard.”
Tom snorts. “Then we’ll hit back.”
Daniel arches a brow. “Unfortunately, not all the angel powers reactivated in your angel blood will work when on assignment in the human world. Even though you can track demons, and physically you’re stronger, there’s no ability to blast magic force from your hands to wipe them out.”
I shift uncomfortably, heart rate picking up.
What the fuck? My imagined role as a powerful human-angel, zapping demons and stealing the human souls back isn’t reality. I swear under my breath and look to Tom. His face is impassive.
Before anyone can speak, Daniel clicks onto the next picture. A group of people sit together in a place I don’t recognise. Dressed in a variety of clothes, different shapes and sizes, they’re definitely human.
But it’s not the people who catch my eye. I’m transfixed by the world around them. Sunshine. Trees. Strange looking buildings. This doesn’t look like the high angel’s heavenly world—there aren’t any buildings with tall silver spires, and I can only see one sun.
“Which of these is a demon?” asks Daniel. Silence answers him. “Exactly. This is how well-blended they are, and how integrated you will need to be in the human world.”
“What the hell for?” I say. He flicks me a stern look. Crap, I need to control my mouth. “Why do we need to integrate? We only go to the human world for a few hours before we return.”
“Not always a few hours. Some demons need tracking, and you’ll live a human life for a few days until you find them.”
“Seriously?” My skin crawls. Mingle with humans as well as the soul-stealing demon scum… ugh.
Daniel laughs. “You may find you like being there for a few days.”
“I doubt it,” I mutter.
“So, can anyone hazard a guess which person in this image is a demon?” Daniel sits on the desk and waits.
“The guy? The tall one?” suggests another girl.
“Nope.”
“The girl? The pretty one…?” asks Sarah meekly.
I attempt to read his face for the answer, but Daniel is inscrutable. He holds himself with an importance that silences many in the room. His arms crossed over his chest accentuate the muscled strength, and his outstretched long legs are perfectly gripped by his scruffy jeans. The power he has over everybody in here draws some of us in the wrong way, because I’m not the only distracted girl here.
Paranormal Academy Page 2