Paranormal Academy

by Limited Edition Box Set

  “Miss Nomical,” said the headmaster. “Is everything okay?”

  “Coming, sir.” I stood and smoothed my uniform three times, then ran my hands through my hair the same quantity.

  Time to meet my new team.

  2

  Astra

  Four men waited outside, all taller than me, broad and strong, three with brightly colored hair. One carried a smoking bowl with burning leaves. Each carried a gargoyle on their shoulders. Demonic, ugly looking things.

  Hot damn! They looked like a misfit bunch of superheroes, game, and pop culture characters with vibrant hair, leather outfits, and the physiques to match. I had a moment—one of those awestruck, pee in my pants, drool and fawn kind of moments—as I sized them up, etching every single body line and feature into my memory.

  None of them noticed the headmaster and I ease into the waiting room outside his office. Two a pair on the sofas in the foyer.

  “What are you reading?” A spiky green-haired guy leaned across to the cell phone held by the fiery orange haired man. “You’ve got your head buried in books these days.”

  “None of your business.” Orange hair tucked his phone in his pocket, his cheeks flaring pink.

  “Suit yourself.’ Green hair shrugged.

  I didn’t get a chance to examine the other two when orange hair bolted to his feet as if his chair had suddenly caught on fire.

  “Team,” Venellan announced to four men. “This is Miss Nomical.”

  They all stood to attention.

  “You like comics, huh?” The one with the green hair asked, gesturing to my earrings. His voice was rich and velvety like sticky date pudding, and I became a fly stuck in his honey.

  I touched my earrings, lost for words for once.

  “What’s your first name, Supergirl?” he pressed when I didn’t say anything.

  Dutch by the look of him. Tall, blue eyes and probably blonde underneath that green spiked hair. One look at him and my panties lowered a few inches. His outfit—a body-hugging suit, knee high boots, leather apron and red cape—reminded me of Thor, Norse god and comic book superhero. Even without a magical hammer, this guy made me want to trill.

  This was like going to Supernova and posing with all the Cosplay people that dressed up.

  “Astra,” I advised him, earning a smirk, then a snigger.

  “As in astronomical?” The Thor look-alike asked.

  Two of the others smiled and exchanged a glance. The third, bent his head further, staring at the ground.

  No, Astranomical. Ha-ha. Fricking hilarious. I’d heard all the funny jokes about my name. My mom thought it was cute to call me that because she thought me special. I never told anyone my last name for that reason. For the laughs at my expense. The teasing and bullying.

  You must think you’re pretty good, the bullies used to say. Let’s test how good you really are.

  Then they’d stand around me in a circle so I couldn’t get away and do shit to me. Like throw balls at me and make me dodge them. Or shove me and hit me. Call me a loser when I couldn’t escape. It reduced me to tears. Jerks.

  God, I wished I had my sister’s first name. Jenny Nomical. Standard. Boring. Nothing to see here.

  I held my head high, ignoring the team’s amusement, examining them in greater detail. All much taller than me by at least a foot…but then again, I was only five foot five. Mr. Thor Wannabe. Mr. I Stare At The Walls because I think I’m better than you and his blazing head of orange hair. Captain Glare Pants and his smoking bowl. Mr. Stares at His Shoes and his rich blue hair.

  Shame on me for not thinking of better superhero names. Leave me alone. I was tired after the train ride, plane flight and collection from the airport.

  “This is Knoxe, your group leader.” The headmaster clapped the orange haired hunk beside him on the shoulder.

  Pwahh! That’d be right. The fiercest looking of them all. Smoldering. Broad, superman shoulders and waist. The tallest of the lot, clad in a tight suit. More like a cop than a superhero, with his arms behind his back, stared past me. His orange hair, shaved at the sides above his ears, was pulled back in a long orange ponytail. Hot as hell. Reminded me of Katana, an anime character from my favorite series with his slightly Asian or Polynesian appearance.

  Fuck. He had me purring like a damn kitten even though he hadn’t looked at me but grunted and continued staring at the wall behind me.

  I raised a ‘bitch please’ eyebrow. Nice to meet you too, a-hole.

  Venellan moved onto the next member of the group, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Raze.”

  Dark, silent and brooding, Raze wore jeans and a jacket. He was the only one with without colored hair…a bit of a let-down in the fan girl department…but he had that sexy Captain Victorius glare about him. I couldn’t pick his heritage. His darker skin and wider, flat nose suggested a mixture to him.

  A shiver shot down my spine at the way he stared at me, his piercing cerulean eyes like those of a wolf eyeing his prey.

  He stepped forward, circling the smoking bowl in the air, brushing the smoke my way. He bent down and covered me in smoke, and I coughed, trying to breathe.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I retreated a step or two. Who the hell wanted to smell like burned leaves and herbs?

  “It’s a smoking ceremony.” His voice more of a sexy growl, deep and resonating, stoked my inner fire. “It’s an indigenous welcoming gift. We’re on tribal land, and as Guardians we respect their customs.”

  I didn’t know the first thing about indigenous ceremonies or much about their culture. But I resolved to find out more. Especially if it took a lot of long, alone-time sessions with him…gazing into those predator eyes…oh, yeah, sign me up.

  Before I had a chance to thanks Raze, the Dutch-looking one said. “It also cleanses you of bad juju.”

  “Excuse me?” I cut him a glance. No bad vibes here, pal. Since that last dose of calming magic from my amulet, I was pretty Zen.

  “Surrounded by dark forces.” Raze fanned more smoke toward me, and I glared at him for the implication.

  I brushed it away. “I fought the Serpent Brotherhood for Pete’s sake! So, yeah, I might have absorbed some dark magic or something. But I don’t need a clearing, and I resent the insinuation.”

  The brooding one glared at me as if I’d insulted him, continuing to smother me with his haze.

  Okay. Day one and getting off to a great start here.

  The headmaster cleared his throat, moving on to man number three, the awkward guy at the back. “Pascal,” he said, for some reason not touching this one.

  Blazing blue hair, and equally as handsome as the others, but not built in the same way. This one had the physique of a swimmer rather than a brawler, but he ruined the effect with his hunched stance. He reminded me of Drecken, a dragon prince from Dragon Might, a PlayStation hero. His apprehensive, unsure, and almost distracted manner screamed socially awkward. He flinched at the exchange, fiddling with a tuning fork, tapping it as he if played silent notes on it. A nervous tic. The discomfort with even minor conflict. The inability to meet my gaze. I could spot others like me a mile away.

  Pascal. A nice name…for a unit of pressure. It didn’t seem to match the guy who liked to play music. But I’d reserve my judgment until I knew him better.

  Finally the headmaster came to the last member of the team. “And this is Tor.” His tone tightened, dropping deeper and he scowled. No pats on the shoulder or fond touches for this one either. So Venellan didn’t like Tor.

  Outsiders always peaked my interest considering I was one. I wondered what Tor had done. My gaze scanned the green-haired Thor wannabe up and down once more. God, I wanted to run my fingers along his chin and jaw, feel the prickle of his stubble on my skin.

  He raised a finger to his forehead, saluting me in greeting.

  I smiled, even though he’d made fun of my name. Maybe I’d forgive him later if he turned out to be a nice guy. Big maybe.

  Behind Knox
e and Tor’s backs, Raze encouraged smoke their way, until the leader inhaled a lungful of smoke, coughed and beckoned Raze away.

  They were a mixed bunch. A freaky smoke blowing demon exorcist, a superhero wannabe, a socially awkward guy that played with tuning forks, and a leader who couldn’t be bothered to greet his newest team member with more than a grunt.

  Besides that little fact, I might have actually been in heaven surrounded by four hunks, three of whom were dressed like my wettest wild dream! Seriously? This was too good to be true. Suddenly I felt underdressed in my sweatpants. Heat crawled up my neck and chin. I tugged at the bottom of my t-shirt.

  “Nice to meet you all.” I scuffed my boot and pushed my glasses up my nose.

  “Right.” The headmaster clapped his hands together. “I’ll leave you to your induction and first group exercise. Welcome to the Guild of Guardians, Astra.”

  With a final pat on my shoulder and a parting nod, he returned to his office, easing the door shut behind him.

  Tor stepped forward, his hands behind his back as he circled, studying me. “Well, Miss Astra Nomical. Let’s see what talents this comic book aficionado is hiding.”

  Why did the Thor-wannabe want to know straight away? To compare? Suss out his competition? I sensed a pissing competition coming on. Game time. Let’s see how long I could make him wait.

  Now that the headmaster was gone, I glanced over my shoulder.

  “Are you guys for real?” I shifted my weight to my right hip. “Is this a joke? Only comic heroes hunt in leather. It’s not flexible or comfortable. I’ve worn it to conventions. Gives you bad wedgies.”

  They stared at me, Tor amused, Knoxe annoyed, Raze like he wanted to tear my throat out and Pascal like he didn’t know what to say.

  At the Guild of Shadows we wore a standard cotton uniform, nothing complex like this. “Venellan’s having me on, right? This is like a funny welcome prank.” I cocked my finger like a gun. “Good one, guys.”

  Tor’s cobalt eyes slanted into a smile. “What are you talking about? I dress like this everyday.” He paraded around me with his arms spread wide.

  Yep, definitely mocking me. Stupid stunt. I wasn’t wearing this crap.

  I opened my mouth to say something smart back when Pascal said, “He does, you know.” He lifted his gaze for a split second to look at me then continued tapping his tuning fork with his fingers as if playing musical notes.

  “See?” Tor said. “Thanks, Pascal my man.”

  “Why do you dress like Thor then?” I asked Tor.

  “No, Astranomical.” He waved his hands at me. “I don’t copy anyone. This is my own distinct look.”

  Uh-huh. Sure. And I was The Silver Strand, my favorite comic book heroine. With a hot pink outfit and a silver streak through my hair.

  “Tor,” Knoxe barked, and Tor stepped back.

  Fitting that Tor’s name sounded like Thor but he “wasn’t copying.” I let him revel in his delusion if that’s what he thought.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I mean, I like your outfits a lot. They suit you, and you have the asses for it.”

  “Now that’s sexual harassment, Supergirl.” Tor waggled a finger and turned around, showing off his ass on purpose. “Big no no in this academy. But big yes yes with me.”

  Something about him reminded me of Redpool one of my favorite smart ass comic anti-heroes. I cracked a smile, still unsure if the joke was on me, enjoying it so far regardless.

  Even Obsidian snickered at that one from his position atop my shoulder. And yes, the gargoyles understood everything and could speak, but only rarely.

  “Listen,” I said. “I meant that I don’t imagine it’s very easy running, fighting, or catching vamps in that getup.”

  “The uniforms are custom made,” Knoxe growled, prompting his gargoyle’s features to sharpen like knives and reveal its teeth. “Made from the Atlatian Spider. Hardest silk known in all the gantii verse. They’re light as hell but protect us from claws and teeth. Not even a bullet can get through.”

  “It’s why we’re called an elite team, Supergirl,” Tor said, huffing, and I let him get away with the nickname…because, well, I liked it. “Real men wear silk.”

  He pulled his collar tighter, then flexed his biceps, showing off. I half expected him to stick out his ass again.

  Whatever dude. I eye rolled him, wanting to laugh at the statement alone.

  He winked and grabbed a box from one of the chairs lined up outside the headmaster’s office. “I bet you’ll look sexy in this outfit I got made for you.” He handed me the box. “Hope it fits.”

  How did he even know my size? I groaned as I opened it. Black silk body suit that looked like leather. An insignia with a double G back to back. Matching boots with little fiery curls along it. Totally sexy. Though it looked hot to wear and uncomfortable as hell. After one Cosplay convention from hell—where some dick spilled a frozen coke down my collar, and I’d spent the day sticky and glued to my outfit—I’d sworn off the costumes for life.

  Obsidian sniffed it and squawked as if he liked it. Traitor!

  “I’m not wearing that,” I told Tor, shoving the box at his chest, earning a chuckle from him and a growl from his gargoyle.

  “Oh, yes, you are, kitten.” He flicked his fingers, gesturing for me to put it on. “I can’t be the only sexy one in this team!”

  I’m sure I’d look as sexy as hell. Like The Silver Strand in a tight, figure hugging outfit. But I needed to move, to breathe to perform my magic. I doubted I’d do much of that in a full-length body suit.

  “Put it on,” Knoxe growled again with enough force to slice through my suit. “And meet us here in five minutes.”

  Five minutes! I doubted I could get into that thing without a pound of talcum powder and a team of assistants to zip me up.

  “Fine.”

  The way Tor gleamed, like he’d won a bet, made my lip curl. I’d kill him for this!

  3

  Astra

  As I made my way through the empty halls of the Guild of Guardians building, I examined the place. Modern, stylish, very different from the gothic house of the Guild of Shadows. My Sketchers squeaked on the marble tiles. Renaissance style portraits of guardians slaying gantii lined the hall. Lamps on the wall illuminated our way. Tall clocks and statues decorated the place. Not my style, but nice in a mansion at the end of a private road kind of way, secluded by trees and tall hedges with a garden in the rear. A private place, but not nearly as daunting as where I’d come from. But then again, the Guild of Guardians was a very different kind of body than the Shadows, with a very different purpose.

  At last, I found the ladies, and inside, I’d never dressed so fast in my life, stripping like damn Clarke Kent in a telephone booth. Underneath my suit, I’d left my bra and underwear on. I just hoped no vamp planned on shredding my gear, because I’d be showing some serious flesh otherwise.

  All of the guys’ eyes widened when I trudged back, Tor’s cobalt ones the largest. Even Pascal glanced up and quickly looked away.

  Great. I looked like a dickhead, waddling with a wide stance, grabbing at my tight crotch, feeling uncomfortable. My new get up rustled with every movement, the fresh material rubbing between my thighs.

  Tor stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

  Knoxe thumped him on the chest, and he stopped.

  “You look good, Supergirl.” Tor grabbed my collar and yanked, nearly lifting me off the ground. “I’m glad it fits.”

  “Not as good as Sable Assassin,” Pascal added, not in a mean way, but truthful and tactless, typical of someone on the autism scale.

  “A person can hear me walking a mile away,” I grumbled, adjusting the collar. “How the heck are we going to sneak up on a vamp when I’ll scare them off?”

  “Give it time,” Tor said. “The material’s stiff. It’ll relax with your body warmth.”

  The way he said the last two words sent a shiver of delight charging through me. I d
idn’t know why. Maybe it was the idea of his heat, me snuggling up to him. Damn, I wouldn’t pass that up. God, I was a sucker for those cobalt eyes and emerald hair.

  “Maybe do some yoga moves,” Tor suggested, bending over, sticking out his ass again, groping it. “Stretch the material a bit.”

  Raze revealed a brilliant smile and I lost my breath.

  I laughed as well. “I’m not doing that.”

  “Quit being a dickhead, Tor,” Knoxe barked again. “We’re a professional unit, not clowns.”

  “Professional assclowns,” Tor muttered and retreated, leaning against the wall.

  Honestly, what was I getting myself into?

  I glanced around, not sure where to leave my clothes. The headmaster hadn’t shown me to my room yet… Oh well. I’d take them with me I guess.

  “Team you’re dismissed,” Knoxe said with a clipped warning to his words. “Meet us at the practice room in an hour. Then tomorrow, we’re hunting.”

  Hunting. Yes! I’d been on a few field trips with the Shadows. Encountered a few gantii to apprehend, even shoved a Shaitan—an air djinn—back through a veil rupture.

  Pascal scattered faster than a spooked cat.

  Raze glared at me, dusting smoke throughout the corridor as he departed. How the hell was he allowed to do that anyway with all the fire alarms?

  Tor waited for god knows what. Maybe for me to leave.

  “This way Nomical, you’re with me,” Knoxe ordered, letting his impatience show in his voice, like I was a child who’s nappy he had to clean.

  “Nomical?” I asked, trying to make light of it, maybe cheer the guy up a little. “Is that like a guy last name thing? Does that mean I’m one of the guys?”

  He sneered at me before storming off. It was bad enough that I’d gotten no “welcome” or a “nice to meet you” from the leader. The way he greeted me, I might as well be a piece of baggage he’d rather leave on the curb.

  Don’t get me started on the greeting with the team. It hadn’t exactly filled me with the warm and fuzzies. I couldn’t say I was excited or enthused for my first exercise. More like confused, longing for home and wishing I’d never been sent here. Here at the Guardians I felt as welcome as a flea in Knoxe’s pants as I trailed behind him, dragging my suitcase, my original clothes in my arms.