Paranormal Academy

by Limited Edition Box Set

  "True. Though I never was the kind to sneak out." A wistful note enters her voice as if she wishes she'd done more rebellious things while at school.

  "We can still be the kind to cause trouble," I suggest. "We can sneak out in the middle of the night and go somewhere we're not supposed to..."

  "You mean like the catacombs to search for secret books with spells in?" she teases.

  "Exactly. And all I need for that is a friendly vampire."

  "You have one of those," she points out.

  I sigh. "I suppose so. I don't want him to feel like I'm using him for this."

  "Then just ask him. Do you think he'll deny you anything you want?"

  "I'm too scared to try," I admit. "I keep saying things that should scare him off, but then they don't. How am I supposed to deal with that?"

  We turn a corner. The library feels so far away at this moment. Probably because of the subject of conversation.

  "You mean how you keep implying you can see a future with him?" she checks. "I think you're fine. He hasn't run away yet, which either means he feels the same, or he's a mass murderer planning to make you his next victim."

  "That'd be a lot funnier if he wasn't a vampire," I respond. Not that I'm worried about Heath hurting me. I know he won't. It's just that I don't know much about his past. He might not even be nineteen for all I know. I haven't asked because a little part of me is scared of the answer. Which I know is ridiculous.

  "He's not a mass murderer," she assures me. "I'm pretty sure they do background checks before they let us in here."

  "I know." But that doesn't tame the crazy thoughts spinning around my head.

  "Are you having second thoughts?" There's real concern in her voice. I'm glad I have her on my side, even if she's asking uncomfortable questions I don't want to think about.

  "I don't think so," I admit.

  We pass into the corridor leading to the library. The lights on the walls creating a steady glow around us. Winter makes it so much darker around here. It's not even four in the afternoon and it's dark outside. Which is good in some ways, it means I get to spend more time with Heath because he doesn't have to risk the burning sun. But it also makes the place a little more depressing. If I'm going to stay in a relationship with a vampire, I should probably get used to the darkness though.

  "What about Ryan's plan, are you having doubts about that?" she whispers the question, clearly as aware as I am that we've reached the library and are now at a standstill.

  "Yes," I admit softly. "I don't want to be, because it's cool and he's my brother, but how can I go through with it when it'll hurt Heath?" I rub my hand over my face, pushing my glasses up as I do so, then letting them fall back into place.

  "Then tell Heath," she urges.

  "You think I can go up to him and just tell him?" I can feel myself getting unnecessarily stressed out. "Hi Heath, I have to tell you something. I came to politics class so that I could seduce a vampire because my brother told me to." My voice cracks as I mock myself.

  "That's not quite..." Mona steps forward, clearly coming to hug me and try to snap me out of it.

  The only problem is, she's not the only one who heard me.

  My eyes meet Emma's, and a sense of cold dread fills me. She's smirking, clearly feeling like she's gained an upper hand. And to be fair, she has. She heard the very words which can destroy my fledgeling relationship with Heath.

  I open my mouth, unsure what I want to say to her other than to ask her not to mention this to him. But then, she's not going to listen to that. I don't know what her game is, but she's not my friend. I know that much.

  Mona pauses and turns around, taking in the perfectly blonde vampire woman. "Do you know her?" she asks.

  "It's good to see you, Chambers," Emma says, her smile twisting in a way that is anything but friendly.

  "Likewise," I say back, not believing the word. I'd much rather a hole opens in the ground and swallows her. Or one of the mythical vampire hunters turns up with some holy water, though I don't think that would do my relationship with Heath much good either.

  "I'm just heading back to the dorms now. See you around." She gives me a sarcastic wave. I didn't even realise you can wave sarcastically until now.

  I exchange looks with Mona. Does she mean that, or is she going straight to Heath to tell him what she heard? I don't need to think about that for more than a moment. I know what she'll do, and a little part of me doesn't even blame her. I'd do the same if faced with the same situation.

  "Emma..." I start, not knowing what I want to say.

  "Yes?" She raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

  "It's not what it sounded like," I say, knowing it won't be enough to stop her.

  "Too late." She holds up her other hand to reveal her phone sitting in her palm.

  A stone drops to the pit of my stomach.

  Oh no. This is not good. At all.

  I don't wait for Emma or Mona to say anything else, and turn on my heels. I've never been to Heath's room, but he told me roughly where it is in case I need it.

  And boy do I.

  The need to explain courses through my veins, making me run faster and faster down the corridors. It doesn't take me long to reach the room where we have our politics lesson. It's empty now, which isn't surprising. A lot of the vampire classes start later in the evening to accommodate their sleeping.

  I take a left, then a right. Then another one. I can tell I've hit the dorms as there are more people about. Some of them look like they've just woken up, and some looking like they're just slipping back to their rooms after doing something they shouldn't be.

  I don't care about any of them, and just look at the numbers etched in the doors until I come to ninety-four.

  I raise my fist and bang on it, not giving myself any chances to second guess what I'm doing. I need to explain. I need to talk to him. There are no other options.

  The door creaks open, revealing Heath standing there wearing nothing put pyjama bottoms. I'm momentarily distracted by his chest. He hasn't mentioned enjoying the gym, but he must do to look that good.

  "Daphne," he says coldly.

  "Can I come in?" I ask.

  "No."

  Ah. Problem one.

  "It's not what you think," I start.

  "The moment you say that, it means it's exactly what I think." He does have a point, but I don't want him to know I agree with him.

  "That's not what..." I grunt in frustration. "Yes, it started that way. Ryan wanted me to find a vampire to help us with something and..."

  The door slams shut in my face.

  "Heath?" I call out, knowing he won't answer. Knowing I've ruined everything. "Heath!" I call again.

  There isn't any sound on the other side of the door, though that could be because there's a ringing in my ears.

  "Please, Heath, I didn't..."

  "He's not going to respond," Emma says coolly.

  I turn around to find her leaning against the opposite wall. Unlike me, she doesn't look like she's just run through the whole academy.

  "Why did you do that?" I ask, sniffing slightly as my eyes start to run.

  She shrugs. "Heath is meant to be mine. He has since we were small and you were getting in the way of that. No more."

  "You didn't need to do something so cruel," I protest.

  "Why? Did I lie to him?"

  I don't answer. I can't without getting myself caught further in a web of lies.

  "Just what I thought."

  I want to wipe the smug look off her face, but know it isn't wise. Even if vampires aren't bad people in general, they still have instincts that mean they can rip out throats with ease.

  "Daphne, we should get out of here," Mona's voice comes from down the hall. She's out of breath and red in the face, so it was just Emma who didn't seem to have an issue with running through this place.

  "I..."

  "Now," she suggests.

  "Yes, run along little witches. And watch you
r backs. We don't take kindly to betrayal."

  I want to slap her. Why should I have to listen to the taunts Emma was forcing on me? But Mona's right. It's best if we leave. Then I can regroup and find a way to win Heath back.

  Because I'm going to. I might not know how yet, but I'm going to.

  To be continued…

  *

  I hope you enjoyed Catching A Vampire. Daphne’s story continues in Catching A Wizard. Find out more here:

  https://www.authorlauragreenwood.co.uk/p/catching-vampire.html

  Full Moon High

  KAT PARRISH

  Laine Blackwood was just another California girl until her father shared a family secret with her; she’s a witch, heir to a supernatural tradition going back many generations and growing more powerful every year. What her father didn’t tell Laine is that buried deep in their family history are some very dark deeds that have put them at odds with four equally powerful families or that her arrival in his hometown of Stony Point, Washington will create an alliance that defies previous generations and paves the way for a community to heal. But first…she needs to pass her class in Alchemy 101.

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Truer words were never spoken.

  Copyright © 2019 Kat Parrish

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, incidents, and dialogs are products of the author’s

  imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events is strictly

  coincidental.

  1

  Family Secrets

  It’s such a cliché to say you hate your parents when you’re a teenager. Most of the time you don’t even mean it, you’re just venting, exaggerating for effect. What you really mean is that you wish your parents would quit giving you a hard time about what you wear, who you hang out with, the amount of popular culture you consume, and generally leave you alone to live your life because you’re old enough to know what you’re doing.

  I’ve never had any real complaints about my parents. They’re good people and they love me and as far as I can tell from talking to other people, I won the parent lottery.

  So, when my father abruptly moved us from Los Angeles to his small hometown of Stony Point, Washington (population 6,384), I didn’t go full-on drama queen. For one thing, it was a plot twist in his life and not something he’d been planning to spring on us without warning.

  For another, I knew even with me and both my parents working, we’d been struggling in L.A. The two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment we rented cost almost three thousand dollars a month and in the hot months—and face it, they were all hot—the electric bill could hit four figures as well. And then there was car insurance and the phones and cable service and food and….

  It all added up to a monthly nut just slightly less than our combined family income. Any money leftover went into our emergency kitty, but even with a tiny cushion, we never quite caught up on our bills and we always carried a high credit card balance.

  When my uncle died and left my father his house the same month an opening appeared on the faculty of his old high school, my father considered it a sign from the universe. We packed up our California life and moved to the Pacific Northwest so fast it made my head spin.

  I “got” it, though. A job that paid more money and a free house? It was a no-brainer. And it’s not like I would be stuck in Stony Point forever. I was almost eighteen. After I reached that benchmark, I could leave any time I wanted.

  *

  My father hadn’t been close to his brother, for reasons he’d never really explained, but my mother reacted to my father’s decision to move as if it was the worst thing that had happened to the family since a tree fell on the family car during an earthquake.

  “You got away once,” she said to my father when she thought I wasn’t listening. “If you go back, you’ll die there.”

  I thought she was being kind of melodramatic but she’s Russian-American and all my maternal relatives are divas.

  “It’ll be different this time,” he said. “With Ned out of the picture I’ll be head of the family.”

  “All these years,” she said, “living like fugitives because you didn’t want anyone to find you. All those years of scrimping and saving and just scraping by. For nothing?”

  Dad probably would have said more, but he saw me out of the corner of his eye and abruptly changed the subject.

  “Hey Lainie, can I interest you in a fro-yo run?”

  My dad knows I love frozen yogurt.

  Mom looked over at me, her face so blank it scared me.

  “Sure,” I said, wondering if the trip to Menchies was a pretext for my father to get me alone so he could explain some things.

  “Your usual?” he said to Mom and after a while she finally nodded.

  “With extra sprinkles,” she said grudgingly.

  “Goes without saying,” my dad said.

  “So, Dad,” I began as soon as we got into the car. “Why’s Mom so upset?”

  “Your mother’s a big city girl and Stony Point is a small town,” he said. Usually my father is pretty honest with me, but for some reason, he was lying now and he’s a terrible liar. I knew my mother’s complaint wasn’t just about “downsizing,” but something told me not to press him on the topic. I changed the topic.

  “Tell me about the new school,” I said. “Wixsted Academy. It sounds snooty.”

  “I still can’t get used to calling it that. Back when I went there, we called it Full Moon High.”

  “Why?”

  “It was a public school named after one of the town’s founders—Fenton Morehouse Harrison High. F. M. H. Full Moon High.”

  That sounded like a stretch to me, but whatever.

  “The school district sold the place to the Wixsted Family in 1980 and it’s been a private school ever since.”

  I’d heard my father mention the Wixsted family over the years and got the impression he didn’t like them very much. I guess he’d decided bygones were bygones if he’d accepted the teaching position at a school they owned.

  “What about the public schools?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I was wondering if there was any possibility he and mom would let me go to public school where I wouldn’t have to be the daughter of the history teacher and under constant scrutiny from both students and faculty.

  “There’s only one,” he said. “Chief Seattle High. You wouldn’t like it there. They don’t offer French classes and…” he gave me a conspiratorial grin, “the cafeteria sucks.”

  When I didn’t smile back, he added, “Seriously Laine, the school’s not that highly rated.”

  That was the kiss of death as far as my father was concerned, so there went my chance to experience normal high school life.

  I was so annoyed, I pumped extra caramel sauce on my bowl of vanilla yogurt when usually I just get a little squirt.

  Still, I was trying to keep an open mind. The Wixsted Academy uniforms weren’t completely awful, and I was used to wearing a uniform to school. I preferred it, in fact. I had friends who were going broke buying fast fashion to stay on-trend. I didn’t have that kind of discretionary income and anyway, I preferred thrifting and buying on Etsy to keep my carbon footprint down.

  When I announced I was moving, and would be leaving within a month, most of my friends at school acted like I was headed off to a developing country without getting my cholera shot. My friend Delia, who’d been born in Seattle, had driven through Stony Point once and had nothing good to say about it. Most of her criticism had to do with the weather. “It rains a lot there, Laine. Like a whole lot. Like rot your fingers off amounts of rain.”

  “I have an umbrella, Delia.”

  “It’s not cool to carry an umbrella,” she sa
id. “You’ll look like a tourist. You’ll need to get a raincoat with a hood.”

  Mikayla, who’s a social media influencer and considers that a valid career choice, was even more vehement in her disapproval. “I give you a month before you start wearing lumberjack plaid shirts and puffer coats,” she predicted.

  “It’s August,” I said. “Probably a little too hot for plaid shirts, even up north.” I will never, ever, ever wear a puffer coat, I promised myself.

  My friends couldn’t believe I was genuinely excited by the prospect of living in a small town. They thought I was just putting on a good face for my parents’ benefit. But I wasn’t. L.A. was starting to close in on me. It was crowded and dirty and mean.

  My parents and I lived in Van Nuys, a city in the San Fernando Valley that was dominated by a whole street full of car dealerships. It’s not one of the hip parts of town, although it has its quotient of coffee shops and mega-grocery stores selling artisanal cheese and assorted imported olives. You know, the basics.

  The streets were congested, the air polluted, and there were so many people that no matter where you went or at what time, you always, always had to wait. There was a city bus stop right in front of our building, which was convenient, but the buses ran nearly all night and the hydraulic hiss of the brakes was the kind of sound that disturbs even a sound sleeper.

  The idea of living in a smaller place appealed to me for many reasons. I had never lived anywhere with a yard or had a bathroom to myself. My parents and I had always rented places so small we lived on top of each other, with precious little privacy thanks to the thin walls between rooms and between ours and the neighboring apartments.

  We’d never really had relationships with those neighbors—they were just people we nodded to in the hall as we came and went, picking up our mail, doing our laundry, taking out our trash.

  I was excited about living in a place that had seasons. I had never seen trees turn color in the fall. I’d never had a pet, and it got harder and harder to walk past the periodic adoption fairs set up outside supermarkets and not leave with a bundle of fluff.