Eight Souls: The Caelum Academy Trilogy: Part TWO

by Akeroyd, Serena

  Eight Souls

  The Caelum Academy Trilogy: Part TWO

  Serena Akeroyd

  Copyright © 2019 by Serena Akeroyd

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  The morning that changed it all…

  1. Eve

  2. Reed

  3. Eve

  4. Eren

  5. Eve

  6. Eren

  7. Eve

  8. Frazer

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by Serena Akeroyd

  The morning that changed it all…

  Samuel

  There was an unspoken rule at Caelum. That rule? Packs were king.

  Packs were groups of students who came together of their own volition, became friends and family, and who studied as a unit before being set out into the world as a team. “Packs were king” was an unspoken rule because the faculty were really in charge, but in the grand scheme of things, nothing worked without the Packs.

  At first, people were lulled into the idea that Caelum was a school, an academy for gifted people, as it were. But the older we became, the more ridiculous we knew that to be.

  That wasn't to say I hated Caelum. I didn't. It had saved my life and the lives of many creatures before me. It also, though they didn't know it, saved the lives of millions of humans from the scourge that were Ghouls. But that didn't mean I always appreciated its Big Brother ways.

  Caelum sold itself as a place of learning, a retreat for those of us with a singular issue—a disorder that came across to humans as schizophrenia. We weren't schizophrenic, however, we simply appeared to be. When we reached a certain age, it seemed as though we had seven personalities to deal with on a daily basis, but those personalities were genuine creatures. Each one was unique, and each had a power that helped them fit in to the army Caelum was building.

  Firstly, there was the Gargoyle. This creature, like the sentinels that stood guard on the corners of buildings, watched over doorways and the like, was a strong guardian. When a Gargoyle or gouille, as we called them, was of age, his or her skin would shift, turning leathery. But this was no kind of leather humans had ever known before.

  The skin morphed into a dull gray, tightening to the point where not even a knife could slice through it. They were walking Kevlar vests, but they made Kevlar look like butter. Nothing could get through their skin while they were shifted. And, if one of their own was attacked, then they also had the ability to produce a set of wings that allowed them to fly to a downed Pack member.

  Gargoyles were protectors, just like Sin Eaters. Unlike gouilles, Sin Eaters didn't shift. They had no physical abilities to transform into something else. Of the seven souls, it would seem as though they were the least gifted, yet in truth, they were the most dangerous of them all.

  My Pack brother, Reed, was a Sin Eater. Sometimes, he appeared to be mellow. But he wasn't. He, too, was a watcher. But unlike a gouille, he wasn't watching to protect, but to attack. Sin Eaters stuck to the shadows, peering out with eyes that were well aware of the harsh realities of this world. They were one of two creatures who could kill our natural enemies, the Ghouls. They did this by sucking the souls from them and annihilating them from the inside out.

  Natural assassins, they were brilliant fighters, capable of hundreds of kills in a battle. While they couldn't shift, couldn't make their skin tougher than Kevlar, their mad skills with any weapon was like watching magic unfold. The shadows were their natural home, and they used them to their advantage. Slipping in between the light and the dark to fulfill the requirements of their nature.

  But Sin Eaters weren't the only creatures who could destroy a Ghoul. There was one more, and the other was an Incubus. Though humans technically knew of this one, they believed them to be sex demons. In part, they weren't wrong. Incubi and Succubi were reenergized with sex, but they didn't live off it. They had the power to entrance, becoming physical magnets to others.

  Unlike the Gargoyle and the Sin Eater, they weren't protectors. They enticed, charmed, and manipulated people into coming to them, into doing their bidding. They did this with their bodies and their sexuality. To them, sex was a weapon, and they used it however and whenever they wanted. Because most people could be led around by their cocks and pussies, this was a distinct and powerful weapon, not unlike the Lorelei.

  The Incubi and Succubi used their bodies along with their dicks or pussies as a weapon, while the Lorelei used their voices instead. Their voices were capable of magnetizing and hypnotizing people, letting them do whatever they wanted to that person. They could lull someone to sleep or coerce them into a rage. Push someone away or draw them closer. In a battle, the Lorelei and Incubi worked hand in hand. Both having their place as they controlled a crowd, using their skills in the midst of a war.

  Then, there were the two shifter creatures. Men and women whose bodies transformed into that of another beast. A Shifter, when of age, would be able to morph into an animal. They were stronger, faster, and deadlier than a natural beast. They could heal almost any wound they suffered, and in a war against the Ghouls, they were the perfect herders—not unlike the Hell Hounds.

  Hell Hounds were a little different. They were wrath-filled beasts, like Cerberus, but with one head. Although these mythological creatures had never guarded the gates of hell, that was just a myth humans had created when they'd seen one of our kind shift into the terrifying creation.

  They were ugly motherfuckers, with black skin and spikes so tough they were capable of piercing through bone. There was only one issue with the Hell Hound—their tempers. They were difficult to control and easy to anger. But in a battle, they were a wrecking ball. Shifters and Hell Hounds were the perfect soldiers because they could attack swiftly. The nest of Ghouls a Lorelei had gathered on their Pack’s behalf could quickly be felled by a Hell Hound, who would raze them to the ground, leaving them exposed for the Incubus or Sin Eater’s wrath.

  Finally, there was me. The Vampire. Just like in human lore, I depended on blood for sustenance. Without it, I would be very weak, just like a human without food and water. That wasn't to say I couldn’t eat or drink, but blood was my major food group.

  Unlike the other six creatures, I didn't have a natural pairing. In that, Vampires were naturally solitary, naturally unique. We were a blur of the three traits each pair provided. Vampires were fast and limber, making them great fighters, and when injured, we had the ability to heal ourselves with sustenance. We required less sleep than the others, therefore, in a pinch, we made good sentinels, able to stay awake to guard over our Pack if necessary.

  Our senses were like quicksilver, meaning that, in the darkest of nights, we could see the tiniest of movements. And though we didn't have the voice of a Lorelei or the body of a Succubi or Incubi, with our eyes, we were able, to a certain degree, mesmerize—only weak-willed humans though. That particular power was very limited, and dependent upon the individual Vampire.

  All in all, those seven creatures were what battled it out in my head every day. It was only recently that the Vampire had become more dominant. At the age of eleven, I'd been dealing with seven distinct souls, each with personalities of their own, each with temperaments and physical requirements that were unique to them.

  Was it any wonder humans thought people like me had schizophrenia or borderline personality disord
er?

  My parents had believed that too. Yet they'd loved me, truly loved me, and I had loved them. Most children like me were not loved by their parents. They were abandoned, tossed into mental health facilities or asylums, drugged up to their eyeballs on meds that actually exacerbated our condition, but that didn't matter to a lot of folks. My parents, on the other hand, had tried for me, and that was why I was currently watching them.

  I knew it was creepy. Knew many would see it as beyond weird. But it was my lifeline to them.

  Before I'd left for Caelum, I'd set up the cameras in my parents’ living room. Knowing I was never going to see them again, I'd asked the recruiter who’d discovered me and who would be taking me to the academy, to help stage my death.

  Some days I thought Caelum had more resources than God. Their reach was incredible and because of said reach, my parents thought I was dead. Why? Because the faculty had helped mock my death in a car wreck, giving my family closure from the mess that was my life.

  To this day, my mother would visit my grave every week, my father every two weeks, and even though they had believed me dead for over six years, Mum would still cry when my name was mentioned.

  Every time I saw that, I was hit with the depth of her love for me, and it almost came as a surprise. I was around other children who had been abandoned by their parents, but mine still missed me as if I'd left them yesterday.

  I checked in with them every day, watching over them and listening in on their news to see how well they were doing, and how my siblings were coping with school, exams, and the usual teenage drama. I would never stop watching over them though, inevitably, it put me in a shitty mood. I missed them a fuck ton, and I doubted I’d ever get over what I’d done to protect them.

  Caelum was a retreat, that was for sure, but it was also drafting soldiers from a young age. I didn't know how long I'd be around. We lived long lives, but that didn't mean we couldn't die, so I took every morning I could to appreciate my family.

  “Sammy!”

  I blinked and took my attention away from the screen, where I was watching my parents talk about their upcoming visit to the synagogue today as though I was watching a sitcom, and quickly glanced over the room to where Frazer, my Pack brother, was glowering at me from the doorway.

  “What?” I barked, not appreciating the interruption—my sister was having some trouble with a boy in school, and that was a damn sight more important than whatever hard-on my brother had for something random. Making a mental note to have someone beat the shit out of this ‘boy,’ I remained glued to the footage before me.

  He huffed at my tone, lumbered away from the door, and took a seat beside me on the sofa. He scowled at the screen, making his disapproval known, and I scowled straight back at him, but I did close the laptop lid, and, reluctantly, gave him my full attention.

  “What is it?” I groused. “You know this is when I check in with them.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face, but I knew it was to hide the way he was rolling his eyes. “Do you know where Reed is?” he repeated.

  I frowned at him. “I'm not his keeper. Why should I?”

  Frazer snorted. “Shut up. Of course, you know where he is, dumbass.”

  I squinted at him and dared, “Say that again.”

  Frazer smirked at me, then raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I don't feel like having my nose smashed in. But, seriously, where's Reed?”

  I shrugged, then when he cocked a knowing brow at me—damn him—I grunted, “He went to the beach. Yin time.”

  For whatever reason, I tended to know where the people who mattered to me were. Some would call it obsessive, and they wouldn't be wrong. In my own way, though, I was trying to protect the people who mattered.

  Just like I did with my parents.

  Speaking of which…

  “Now, if you’ll stop pestering me, I have shit to do.” I raised my laptop lid and took a swift glance at my parents, before switching away from that particular screen and pulling up a new one. I remained tuned into their conversation while I went to work.

  Logging into my Forex account, I scanned the markets to see what was going on.

  One of the ways in which I cared for my family was through a trust they believed they'd inherited from a great uncle, who had passed away twenty years ago, and whose lawyers had only contacted them five years before. The trust meant my mother no longer had to work and neither did my father, but he was too proud not to.

  “How are the accounts?” he asked under his breath.

  I shot him a look. “Good.”

  Fraze, whose parents made Bond villains look poor, had given me a starting capital two years ago. From that, I’d created a separate fund that was for our Pack and that was totally unattached to his family. We were now sitting on more than Goldfinger would have had a wet dream about.

  What could I say? I had the knack.

  “Why?” I questioned, keeping my eyes on the screen.

  He gnawed on his bottom lip. “No reason.”

  Grunting, because there definitely was a reason, I ignored him and continued scanning the graphs before me. When he sighed and relaxed back into the sofa, I made no move to change what I was doing. He’d talk when he was ready, and I wasn’t about to fuss over him.

  He was a big boy, and even though it wasn’t that easy to discern when you looked at him, he was a dangerous motherfucker.

  With coal black hair, bright blue eyes, a face that had been graced by the angels, and a body that was beyond stacked? Dude was hot. Even I thought that, and I was so straight I made rulers look bendy. But that masculine grace and beauty? That whole ‘all-American’ look? It hid one sinful truth—Frazer’s ability to kill.

  It was his knack.

  His handy tool in life. And it wasn’t just because he was a Sin Eater. My brother had spent all his time at the Academy honing his body into a tool, and it had stuck. Only a moron would want to face him in a dark alley late at night.

  “Do you ever think about escaping Caelum?” he murmured.

  I froze at the question, half certain I'd misheard. Eyes bulging, I switched my attention from the developing currency markets, and blurted out, “What the fuck?” I didn’t have to watch my volume or my words in my room, but still… “What in the actual fuck, Frazer?”

  I gaped at him and saw his unease blossom further as he ducked his gaze away from mine.

  “What is it, Frazer? Escape? Why?” He’d never talked like this before, had never had a reason to as he was pretty much top dog here, and that he was, concerned the shit out of me.

  Apprehension rippled through Frazer, but this was like nothing I'd seen before in my best friend.

  When I said ripple, I literally meant fucking ripple.

  It took ten years for a dominant soul to push forward, to eat and overtake the other six. We were only twenty, not twenty-one. So, seeing his skin move? It freaked me out, and it took a lot to freak me out after all the stuff I'd seen in the past few years.

  Sin Eaters didn’t shift. Not until the moment came to grant a Ghoul his death, and as far as I was bloody concerned, there were no Ghouls around here!

  I reached out, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and squeezing, trying to ground him, to connect him with his Pack. We’d been declared an official Pack a few months ago, and ever since, I knew it had helped bind us together. But the fact Frazer had apparently been keeping secrets? And knowing Reed had as well?

  It worried me.

  This was totally out of character, and it didn’t bode well for the strength of our brotherhood if we couldn’t speak freely or share the hardest and harshest of truths.

  “Frazer? Talk to me.”

  His sea blue eyes were stormy as his gaze bounced off me, my sofa, the coffee table in front of us, and the TV screen that was showing BBC News. In my bedroom, I only ever watched British television, as it was a link to home I missed dearly. As he watched one of the newscasters report on yet another mind-boggling headline, I didn
't bother pressing him for more. Not when I'd just seen his skin ripple the way it had.

  But…

  “Frazer,” I murmured after a good five minutes had passed. I knew the time precisely because the clock on the TV had flickered five minutes forward. I hoped the break let him calm down some. “How can I help if you don't tell me?”

  I was the fixer.

  We both knew that, and it was why he’d come here today. Sure, he probably wanted to know where Reed was too, but this, whatever this was, was the major reason why.

  His hand balled into tighter fists, then in an explosive moment, he surged upwards. Just as I was sure he was about to storm off, he didn't. Instead, he raised his T-shirt, turned his back to me, and showed me his spine.

  “What the hell?” I grunted as I took in the huge ink on his back.

  We weren't allowed tattoos as a rule until our souls had battled it out among each other, declaring the dominant one in power. But this was no regular ink. I’d only ever seen it once before…

  “You’ve been Chosen?” I blurted out.

  I didn't wait for him to respond, because I knew the answer. This ink was far too precise to have been drafted by a human hand. It was an endless scroll, pure italics, like calligraphy from a feather plume. Each letter was a work of art, and as a whole, it was beyond beautiful so much so that I was speechless, not just from what this meant and what the mark represented, but from the glory of it too.

  Just like mine, Frazer's back was a play of muscles. Some bulkier than others, but half of his spine was now loaded with the proof he’d met his mate. There were two distinct lines like a ruler had been placed against his skin to demarcate where the tattoo began and end.

  One line was at the top of his shoulders, running down to his arm like a drawn-on sleeve. The second ran down the length of his spinal column, and over those bumps, it would be impossible to stay straight unless this mark was from an unearthly tattoo artist.