by Abbie Lyons
“Are you kidding? Anybody could be a cop. That’s one of the first things you learn if you’re trying to run scams.”
“Ahh, so you were running a scam back there?”
Shit. Not your finest moment, Nova.
“Walked right into that one, didn’t I?” I muttered.
Lattimore—if that was really his name—took a deep breath and looked into my eyes. “I swear to you that I speak nothing but the truth. And I believe you know this in your heart. Do you have any explanation for what happened back there in the alley that is more plausible than what I’m telling you?”
I stood up, ready to walk away from this nonsense and catch that bus back to the hovel I’d call home for the night. “It was probably just an empty stomach getting to my head and making me see things.” And hear things. “Thanks for the sandwich. I’m feeling much better now.”
Just as quickly, he was on his feet and grabbed my arm. He gently pulled me back to the ground, and although every neuron in my brain was firing off and telling me to run, I just couldn’t.
“You are a stubborn one,” Lattimore said. “But perhaps I was foolish to assume this would be easy. Demons, after all...”
He trailed off as if that was all the explanation needed.
“Not as easy as just buying a girl a sandwich,” I shot back. “You show up telling me I’m half-devil or something without any proof and expect me to just nod and agree.” I tried to tug my arm away again. “And I know way better than to let a strange guy take me to a second location, cop or not.”
“Maybe this will help, then,” he said, pulling three playing cards out of his pocket. My playing cards. “Here. Attempt the same thing with me that you attempted to do with that man in the ghastly suit earlier.”
I grabbed the cards and took a look: queen of hearts, jack of spades, jack of clubs. “I really don’t see what the point of this is.”
Lattimore glanced over his shoulder. I followed his gaze. Through the chain-link fence, red-and-blue lights flashed against the side of a brownstone.
Shit. More cops. Or any cops, period.
“I promise you, you have nothing to fear so long as you’re with me,” Lattimore said, and chuckled. “No, no fear at all. Please, if you would?”
I sucked in a breath and held the cards. What’d I have to lose? Either I got jacked by the cops past the fence or I got jacked by this one. And this one had already given me a sandwich. Besides, at this point, I was actually pretty curious about what kind of trick this dude was hoping to pull over on me. I’ve never not copped to a scam when I see one, but whatever was happening now was flying right over my head.
I placed the cards on the ground face up, giving Lattimore a moment to examine each one before I flipped them back over. As usual, when arranging the cards, I covertly swapped the two bottommost cards in such a way that the naked eye could never notice. Placing them facedown on the ground, I knew the queen of hearts was the card sitting furthest to my left.
“Found the lady, sir?”
“That one,” Lattimore said with an embarrassing amount of confidence for a guy pointing to the card furthest to my right.
Wrong.
“Tough luck,” I said out of habit, flipping over the card he chose to reveal the...
Queen of hearts?
But that’s impossible. That is not possible.
“Surprised?” he asked.
I was already rearranging the cards on the ground like some kind of maniac. “One more time. I must’ve fucked something up.”
Lattimore proceeded to pick the queen of hearts again. And again...and again. The thing is, I knew I was good. I didn’t mess up, certainly not four times in a row. You couldn’t afford to screw up like that when you were a girl like me, just barely scraping by. For him to screw me up that bad...well, I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but there was something going on.
“Okay, uh, Professor,” I said, leaning back against the tree and stretching out my legs. A light whoop of a siren sounded from the direction of the lights, and I nodded at the end of the block. “You’ve got about five minutes until those guys pick me up and haul me in for the night. Gimme your pitch.”
“Thank you, kindly,” Lattimore said. “Somebody should have told me the only way to earn your trust would be to beat you at one of your own tricks. You see, at the Hades Academy—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, jumping in. “Hades Academy? Your school for demons is literally called the Hades Academy? A little on the nose there, huh, professor?”
“That has been the institution’s name for millennia. Now may I finish?”
His voice was chilly, and I felt weirdly embarrassed. “Sorry. Go right ahead.”
“Very well, then. At the Hades Academy we teach young demons and half-demons such as yourself not only about your powers, but also about the ways in which we create fear in the world for the sake of all existence itself. You will learn more about that upon your arrival at the school. Attendance is absolutely compulsory for all young adults of demon heritage. It is a place at which you will thrive and grow, and upon completion of your education, you will be prepared for a life fulfilling your ultimate purpose. Again, much more will be explained in short order. Questions?”
“What if I don’t wanna go?”
“Why shouldn’t you want to go, Nova?” His voice softened. “You’ve been told your whole life you’re nothing, haven’t you? That you have no future?”
My heart twisted in my chest. “Yeah.”
“But you aren’t nothing. That’s what I’m here to tell you. You’re special, Nova.”
I peered up at him. I’d been playing with the end of my hair—bad habit. I’d always hated my hair, anyway. It was gigantic—Jersey girl trash hair, to quote one of my former foster sisters. I’d socked her in the face, then locked myself in the bathroom and cried for hours. Of course, I got in all the trouble.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking. “See, that just shows you how full of shit you are. Because if you knew anything about me, anything at all, you’d know that’s not true.”
“It’s absolutely true, Nova. You, and I, and all of your classmates at Hades Academy are some of the rarest creatures that walk this earth.” His eyes flashed. “And even below it.”
I looked at my hands in my lap. Flexed my fingers a bit. I didn’t want to admit it, but I’d always wanted magic powers. I mean, who wouldn’t? Everyone’s life is crappy in some way or another, and magic is literally an instant solution.
Maybe I wasn’t nothing, but there was nothing for me here. Not in Brooklyn. Not anymore.
“That, and...” Lattimore gave a theatrical sigh. “If you choose not to attend, I fear you will end up in a place much worse than the jail you will end up in should you continue your life of crime on the streets.”
As if it had heard him, the cop car crawled alongside the park fence, slowing when it spotted us.
“Oh,” I muttered.
That vibe. I was feeling it. The guy was telling the truth.
“Fine,” I said. “Get me out of here.”
Chapter Three
Boy, had my night taken a turn for the weird.
An hour ago I was hoping to make a quick buck off a loser in a bad suit.
Now I was sitting in the middle of the sky.
Yeah, Lattimore and I were literally riding a carriage through the sky, dragged by flying horses with jet black hair and fiery red eyes that could most kindly be described as the stuff of nightmares. The horses didn’t have wings, leaving me unclear about the mechanics of the whole flying deal, but I was sure if I asked Lattimore about it he’d wave my question away with some vague answer that mostly amounted to “demon magic.”
Like I said: weird.
The time for questions was over for now anyway—no sooner had I finished saying “get me out of here,” than the carriage had landed right smack in front of us, nearly squashing a squirrel who managed to jump out of the way just in the nick of time. For
me, the choice between a demonic carriage and the back of a police car proved to be pretty damn easy.
In spite of myself, my stomach lurched a little. I’d never been in an airplane, let alone a horse-drawn carriage, and the overall effect was more than a little dizzying. Not that the inside wasn’t comfortable: the seats were a plush velvet that sank underneath me, and the sides were some kind of smooth, polished material that was way nicer than the only carriages I’d ever seen before in Central Park.
And also, because it really could not be emphasized enough, this carriage was flying with demon magic.
I dug my nails into the velvet. Lattimore must have noticed, because his expression softened from his seat opposite me.
“I can assure you, it’s quite safe,” he said. “No need to be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” I shot back.
Lattimore pursed his lips. “Of course not,” he said, then muttered “demons.”
Every time I heard that word it sounded weirder. Not weirder than my chest going all Iron Man and my voice going all The Exorcist, but still. How could I be half-demon, or any part demon?
Now it was my heart that lurched. Mom? She’d disappeared, but I’d been so little that it barely registered, and by the time I was properly aware of my surroundings, I was tucked up in Foster Home #1. Still, I think I would’ve noticed if my own mother was a demon. If my experience in the alleyway was any indication, it wasn’t the sort of thing that you could hide very easily.
And she’d always kept my dad a secret. Or just never talked about him. Same diff. Which maybe told me more than I’d realized as a kid.
Who am I, really?
Shaking my head, I dared to peek through the carriage window at the dark blanket of fields and pinpricks of light as it swooped past beneath us, and I realized I had no idea where we were going.
“So, where is this place?” I asked, speaking with my aggressively loud New Yorker voice turned up to full volume so Lattimore could hear me over the whoosh of the wind sweeping past us.
“This will no doubt sound silly to you, but...” Lattimore gulped. “Not far. Hades Academy is located in upstate New York.”
Of course. Hell is upstate.
“You’re telling me demons from all around the world come to learn at a school in upstate New York? Like, really?”
That one got a laugh out of him. Maybe the old guy had a sense of humor in there somewhere.
“Yes, really.”
After that, I tried my best to keep my mouth shut and just enjoy the ride, so to speak. The experience of seeing New York City and all the little towns outside of it whirring by was thrilling. Even a girl like me had a hard time being sarcastic about something as amazing as that.
It was the happiest I’d ever felt.
Don’t get too comfortable, Nova, I chastised myself immediately. Remember anything good can go to shit at the drop of a hat.
“Nearly there,” said Lattimore.
I felt a tinge of disappointment. Sure, I was curious to see what exactly a boarding school for living, breathing demons was like—even though I hadn’t even believed in magical mumbo jumbo like demons until about an hour before—but I was shocked by how at peace simply being in the sky far from all my problems made me feel.
Yeah, but once you’re back on solid ground, all that peace might vanish. Keep your guard up.
As the carriage descended, I felt it in my stomach. Lattimore looked to the window, and I followed suit, unable to contain my curiosity.
Hades Academy was unmistakable. Nestled into the side of a tree-covered hill stood a gothic castle with beautiful towers and spires that looked straight out of medieval Europe, or at least the cliché version of medieval Europe that lives in the brains of those who’ve read too many books or watched too many movies.
“Shit,” I whispered.
Even in the darkness of night—it had to be close to midnight by now—the school was basked in a mysterious orange glow that made it visible from way up in the sky. I thought about asking Lattimore how non-demon-y types have somehow failed to notice a giant gothic castle just sitting there, but, again, I knew all I’d get was an unsatisfying “demon magic” answer.
Our carriage navigated the rest of the way to the ground and, aside from feeling like I might vomit my meatball sandwich on to one of those scary-looking horses, it was a smooth landing.
Lattimore gave me a fatherly smile. “Welcome to Hades Academy,” he said with pride.
I looked up at the castle, admiring all the beautiful stained-glass windows and freaky-looking gargoyles. In front of us rose a giant pair of spindly iron gates between two massive stone pillars—I guess as extra protection against any non-demons who got lost on a hike or something—lit by nothing but the blaze of twin braziers on either side.
Oh, and the flames were bright blue. Of course.
“Home sweet home,” I whispered, astonished in spite of myself.
Lattimore led me through the gates that surrounded the school grounds, across an honest-to-God drawbridge, and through a pair of huge wooden doors into what must have been the school’s main hall. My eyes were immediately drawn to the giant staircase. With marble handrails and gorgeous red carpeting, it was possibly the single most decadent thing I’d ever seen in my life, like something out of one of those swanky New York City hotels that rich assholes spend a thousand bucks a night to stay in.
“This way,” Lattimore said, and ushered me down a corridor to one side.
Something about having my feet on solid ground made reality come rushing back. Demons or no, this school was Fancy with a capital F, and I had exactly ten bucks in my pocket and the clothes on my back. Did demons take out student loans? My palms started to sweat. Scamming regular suckers out of a few bucks at a time was one thing, but conning my way through a private school where everyone had death-dealing powers was entirely different.
I might be totally screwed.
As we wound through the corridor through the slivers of moonlight shining through the narrow windows, the sound of voices echoed against the stone walls. Male voices. The voices got closer, and as Lattimore rounded a corner and I followed suit, I saw them.
I’d run into my fair share of attractive guys in my life. Having a decently pretty face and figure meant that I got attention—sometimes whether I wanted it or not. But the truth was, I was still pretty inexperienced. After all, I didn’t have a permanent “my place” to go back to, and like hell would I follow a strange guy back to his apartment. Still, I wasn’t one for clichés, and I always thought that crap about “taking my breath away” was total fiction.
But then I saw these guys.
There were three of them: tall, broad-shouldered, wearing the sweaters and ties that must have been the uniform, and...God, Nova, get a grip. The one on the right caught my eye first: auburn hair, green eyes, and a dimpled smile that actually made my knees wobble on the flagstone floor. Walking beside him was a guy slightly taller, with wickedly blonde hair and the ice-blue eyes to match. When he spoke, his voice was low, and I caught a bit of an accent. Then, on the left, the side closest to me and Lattimore, was a guy with messy, dark hair, some kind of pendant around his neck, and—holy shit—
Red eyes.
No sooner had I caught his gaze than he blinked, and his eyes went golden. Still bright, but definitely not red. Was I officially losing it?
“Nova?”
Lattimore’s voice brought me back to reality. I snapped my gaze back to where he’d gained a couple steps on him. The guys passed us by, just their footsteps and voices lingering, but my heart was pounding. I could feel someone’s eyes on me, clichés be damned.
Someone’s red eyes.
I gave my head a little shake and followed Lattimore through a wooden door he was holding open. Inside was a spiraling staircase that looked way too narrow to be navigated by a regular human...but then again, I guess no one here was a regular human. I followed him up to a huge, circular room—a tower, I guess—li
ned with bookshelves and headed up by a massive desk that gleamed black in the moonlight, like it was made of polished stone. Which, I realized, it probably was.
“Ah, you’ve returned.” A smartly-dressed woman with her iron-gray hair in a tight bun rose from behind the desk. She looked totally no-bullshit from head to toe, her skirt suit in a pure, almost shimmering black, and her heels dagger-thin against the flagstones (which, having struggled up the stairs in the relative comfort of my Doc Martens, I had to admit was a total power move). “Nova Donovan, I presume?”
“Uh...present.” I briefly wondered if I needed to produce some kind of ID, which I totally didn’t have on me in case I did get picked up during my three-card monte.
God, that feels like a lifetime ago.
“Pleasure to meet you at last. I trust your journey was smooth?”
I glanced at Lattimore, as I needed backup for this. He gave his fatherly smile. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Excellent.” The corners of her mouth flickered. “I am Dean Harlowe, and let me be the first—well, after my colleague here—to officially welcome you to our grounds.”
“Thanks,” I said. “They’re, um...they’re really something.”
What was it about being in the presence of actual demons that turned me into a blabbering idiot? I shook my head. Red Eyes in the hallway had really thrown me for a loop.
“Have a seat,” Dean Harlowe said, and before I could respond, a chair materialized by my side, crawling into shape like a cluster of black vines forming themselves into a place to sit. “Professor Lattimore, thank you. You are dismissed.”
Lattimore nodded at her, then at me. “I’ll see you in class, Nova. Welcome again.”
“Professor Lattimore teaches our Human History survey course,” Dean Harlowe explained. “Which...you may find a bit repetitive. But all in due time.” She waved a hand.
I shifted in my vine-chair. All these new people were overwhelming, and I was, I realized, totally exhausted.
Dean Harlowe settled behind her desk again. “Now, I’m sure you have lots of questions, Nova.”