Academy of Shifters: Werewolves 101

by Marisa Claire

  Finally, the bear cleared her throat. “This brother of yours, honey… He can’t attend the Academy, of course, but perhaps—”

  “Yes, perhaps,” the black wolf nodded. “If you come willingly…”

  “And work hard,” the white wolf said sternly.

  The black wolf smiled, showing off his glistening fangs. “We could send a team of trackers to look for him.”

  And that was how I, Remi St. James, patron of all things reasonable and sane, voluntarily enrolled in werewolf college.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  We pulled up alongside a five-strand stretch of barbwire fence tacked onto a line of half-rotten wooden posts and draped in a thick layer of kudzu vines. Belhollow—human again—hopped out of the passenger seat. Pressing the side of my head against the window, I could see her up ahead, fiddling with a simple chain and padlock on a rusty metal farm gate. It swung inward with a squeal that sent a sharp pain through my sensitive wolf ears.

  The limo made what seemed like an impossibly sharp right turn through the opening and kept going, leaving Belhollow behind to shut and lock the gate. We didn’t go far. Another sharp right turn and the limo stopped, engine idling, waiting for Belhollow to catch up. I knew we must be parallel to the dirt road we drove in on, but it had vanished behind a thick copse of cedar on our side of the fence.

  Good thing this is all just a dream my mind has cooked up to deal with my family abandonment issues, or this would be getting really spooky.

  I took a deep breath through my nose like the Chancellor taught me, and released it through my mouth, which caused my long pink tongue to flop out and a drop of saliva to splash onto the leather seat.

  Gross, Remi.

  And then the bouquet of aromas my powerful nose had gathered without my conscious effort washed over my brain like a wave on sand, leaving behind the black-and-white image of an enormous wooden barn nestled among the trees. I yelped in surprise—not because it was a brand new experience for me, but because it was most definitely not. Only, I’d never had any context for understanding it before. I had always told myself I was just really good at reading people and situations and making educated guesses based on facts—like when I knew what Hickoree had in her boxes—but now I’d discovered the unsettling truth.

  I can see with my nose. What the actual hell?

  Belhollow smiled and wiggled her fingers at me she passed by the window. But instead of getting back in the car, she walked toward the barn ahead of us. A moment later, she rolled back what sounded like a massive wooden door hung on an ancient metal track, and the limo drove into the dark belly of the barn.

  A whine squeaked out of my throat, and I stamped my paws on the seat, spinning in a tight circle. I scrambled over to the rear door, not caring that the Vice-Chancellor’s legs were in the way. She laid a gentle hand on my head.

  “When I open this door, your instincts may compel you to run into the woods, but you must ignore them and stay with us. Do you think you can do that, or shall I put a leash on you?”

  A leash?! Yeah, that’s not happening.

  I growled and pawed at the door.

  “Very well. But know that if you run, I can shift and catch you faster than you can blink. But I would rather not destroy these clothes, if it’s all the same to you.”

  She cracked the door an inch. I rammed my muzzled into the opening, forcing my way out, and bolted for the square of green-hued light at the front of the barn.

  A strong hand caught the scruff of my neck and hurled me backward. I rolled three times in the dirt and hit my head on the edge of something metal. I let out a sharp yelp.

  “Oberon!” Belhollow exclaimed. “That was a little much!”

  Shaking my head clear, I looked up. The Chancellor seemed a lot larger than he had inside the car. His face softened and he knelt in front of me, holding out the back of his hand like you would to any old dog.

  “I’m sorry, Remi. This old gramps forgets his strength sometimes. Are you okay?”

  Dazed, I touched my nose to his hand. He smiled and ruffled my right ear. Then he stood up with a grunt and walked around me.

  The Vice-Chancellor emerged from the limo with a laptop case slung over one shoulder. She lifted her eyebrows at me. “Rule number one: No shifting between the inner and outer perimeters without written permission from an approved faculty member. You’ll get your chance to explore when you’re assigned to a patrol.”

  Patrol? Is this college or boot camp?

  I stood on wobbly feet and looked around. The limo rested in the center aisle behind a heavy-duty farm truck streaked with mud. To the right, a towering block of square hay bales filled the area where the stalls would have once been, and to the left waited a small convoy of UTVs.

  Belhollow moved our luggage from the limo’s trunk to the small open bed of the closest UTV. Then she patted its tiny tailgate and motioned at me. “Up! It’s a bumpy road and the seat belts aren’t made for animals.”

  I growled to indicate I did not appreciate being treated like a pet, but I also really didn’t want to get tossed around again, so I obeyed.

  Ugh. Who’s a good girl, Remi?

  The Gladwells slid onto the UTV’s front bench, and Belhollow took the second. Turning in a few circles as the engine revved up, I tried to get comfortable among the hard edges of our suitcases. So far, the prestigious Gladwell Academy of Shifters was not looking quite like the elite lifestyle advertised in the promo video.

  ***

  After a harrowing fifteen minutes weaving between trees that grew so close together I didn’t see how a rabbit could squeeze through, much less a speeding vehicle shaped like a box, we emerged at the foot of a brilliant green meadow gently sloping up to a gray stone wall coated with emerald green moss. Four spires reached for the sky from somewhere behind the wall, shining like dark fangs against the blue-tinged mountains rising in at least three layers behind the campus.

  Now that’s more like it.

  As we began our slow, rattling ascent, Belhollow pressed her face against the grate between us and shouted over the engine, “Listen, sweetie, I just want to warn you. The atmosphere at Gladwell is competitive, to say the least. Most freshmen can’t hold a shift longer than an hour or two, so your condition may cause a ruckus. But there’s no way for us to force an un-shift, so you’ll just have to grin and bear it until it wears off on its own. In the meantime, be prepared to deal with some jealousy.”

  Jealousy? Am I back in high-school?

  The wooden gates swung open when we reached the top of the hill, and suddenly our tires were rolling quietly over smooth cobblestone. The driveway cut through a vast manicured lawn and looped around a cascading fountain topped with three bronze statues—a wolf, a cougar, and a bear.

  The three-story building from the promo video loomed over everything, looking less like a posh British manor up close and more like an Ivy League dorm had a half-evil baby with a haunted mansion from a Gothic horror story. Neat hedges lined the sidewalk, and a couple of guys played Frisbee on the lawn, soaked in the eerie shadow of the spired tower rising one floor above the rest.

  “Therian Hall!” Belhollow announced, and then lowered her voice as the engine cut off and we parked. She hopped down and opened the tail gate, pulling out my suitcase and her own. “Here we go!”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the Gladwells, who were deep in conversation in the front seat.

  “Oh, they don’t live here, honey.” Belhollow leaned into my ear and muttered, “They’ve got their own little mansion between the perimeters.”

  Hmm. Maybe she’s not so immune to jealousy herself.

  I jumped down to the cobblestone, and the Gladwells drove off without so much as a backward glance. My tail drooped.

  No parting words of wisdom?

  And then I heard the first snicker.

  You know that dream where it’s the first day of class and you’ve showed up naked? Well, that’s what kind of dream this abruptly turned into, except instead o
f being naked, I was the only one wearing a fur coat. Belhollow had tried to warn me, I supposed, but still, I’d expected at least a few other students to be in their animal skins.

  Nope, turned out I was the only one standing on all fours with her tail between her legs. And the only one everyone else was suddenly staring at. Laughing at.

  Belhollow waved her arms at the onlookers. “None of that! Let us through.”

  The crowd parted, but then most of them followed us under the arch into the covered porch before the true entrance. Off to the side, two steps led up to a glass door with words my wolf eyes couldn’t decipher, but the shelves stuffed with books gave me a clue.

  “That’s the bookstore,” Belhollow told me, looking like a crazy lady talking to a pet. “Closed now, but there’ll be time before class tomorrow to get what you need.”

  She led me up a wider set of steps where three pairs of doors stood wide open. We went through the center pair and emerged into an enormous space full of round tables draped in pristine white tablecloths, each one bearing an elaborate centerpiece made from antlers and flowers.

  Whoa. Is this what geek girls like Hickoree mean when they describe something as a Great Hall?

  Sunlight streamed through three stories’ worth of windows spanning the entire width of the cavernous room. At either end, balconies on the second and third floors allowed students to gaze down on the activity below. Above it all a gold and crystal chandelier dangled from a vaulted ceiling painted to look like a blue-green night sky.

  Beyond the bank of windows, an impeccably landscaped courtyard lay nestled between the two wings of the building that extended backward from either side. Each wing was dotted with smaller windows overlooking the gravel paths and strands of warm yellow lights that snaked between the small trees.

  “This way, baby girl.” Belhollow jerked her head to the right, and I stayed close to her heels, trying to ignore dozens of whispering mouths and wandering eyes. “Women over here, men over there,” she went on. “You’ll be on the second floor with all the other freshman and sophomores. Juniors and senior are on the third. Classrooms are on the first.”

  “New pet, Dean?” a meaty jock with a full beard asked as we walked by.

  “New student, and I would appreciate it—” she spun around then to snarl at the entire room “—if you would all show her some respect and go back to whatever it was you were doing before you all started acting like you’ve never walked on four legs before.”

  The crowd behind us shrank back under the force of her glare. She eyed every single person in the room before pointing at a gorgeous, curvy, blond girl attached to a preppy but not particularly handsome guy.

  Money talks, Remi. Even to animals.

  “You there. Come here,” Belhollow ordered.

  The girl pointed at her chest and looked around innocently.

  “Yes, you. I want you to show Miss St. James to her room. 2G, I believe.” She held out my suitcase. “Help her with this, too.”

  The guy next to the girl laughed, and she elbowed him in the ribs. Her lip curled in disgust. “What am I? A bellboy?”

  “You’re a guest receiving an all-expense paid education, so chop chop, little lady. Do as you’re told.”

  The girl huffed and flounced over. She ripped my suitcase from Belhollow’s hand, dropping it in the process. I winced, thinking of the framed photos inside.

  “Oops. I’m sorry, Miss James.” She feigned a curtsy in my direction.

  “What’s your name, girl?” Belhollow demanded.

  “Winter Davenport,” she replied, like it meant a lot wherever she was from.

  “Well, Miss Davenport…” Belhollow smiled. “I look forward to seeing you in Health and P.E. Thursday. Twenty laps should take you down a few notches.”

  Winter’s pale face turned blood red as she snatched my suitcase off the ground and spun away. Looking up at Belhollow, I turned on the saddest puppy eyes I could muster. Please don’t make me.

  Belhollow shooed me away. “Go on. I’ve got my own freshening up to do before the feast.”

  “Are you coming, James?” Winter snarled over her shoulder.

  I barked sharply. No one leaves out the Saint.

  Belhollow waved like she was sending me off to kindergarten, and then disappeared through a sturdy door to the left of the arched entrance to the stairwell. The moment the door closed, the entire student body erupted into howls of laughter. I rotated in a tight circle, wondering if this was how dogs and cats felt all the time, surrounded by towering two-legged creatures with bald faces and gaping maws emitting nonsensical sounds.

  Winter dropped my suitcase for a second time and strutted away. She glowered down at me with the sort of petty hatred I hadn’t felt from another girl since that time I spilled fruit juice on Patricia Serrano’s white jeans and everyone called her Period Patty for the remainder of freshman year.

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t so petty of Patty.

  “I don’t take orders from ugly bears,” Winter sneered, tossing her blond locks over her shoulder as she passed by.

  Rage boiled over in my animal brain. I lunged, teeth snapping at Winter’s perfect posterior. The room tilted suddenly, and bile rose in my throat. For a split second, the world went black, and then my human nose slammed into the hardwood floor.

  Pandemonium broke out. Girls were screaming, guys were whooping. I lifted my sore face off the floor just in time to see Winter’s guy high five his far more attractive buddy. Winter punched him in the chest, but probably not out of any sense of sisterhood.

  I couldn’t move. For one thing, every inch of my body felt like jelly, and for another, every inch of my body was stark naked. I could live with everyone seeing my ass, but the up-front stuff was between me and my mirror.

  “Oh, you think you’re really something, don’t you, James?” Winter called, face contorted with a level of rage that told me she had some deep issues I shouldn’t take too personally.

  Tossing tendrils of hair out of my eyes, I snarled back, “Saint James.”

  She scoffed. “Did you hear that, Derek? She thinks she’s a saint! But would a saint do a strip tease for half the guys on campus?”

  A cool breeze whisked by me and then a soft cloth settled over my body. A hand reached down to me, and a female voice said, “Ignore her. She’s just mad because she can’t do a flying shift either way.”

  I let the hand lift me off the floor, clutching the tablecloth tightly around me as I stood on shaky legs. The girl in front of me had flawless light brown skin and glossy black hair pulled into a pony tail. If the muscles bulging in her arms had belonged to a guy, I would have been very attracted to them.

  “Victoria Manuel. And you’re Remi St. James, I know. Nice to finally catch you.” My face must have shown my confusion because she grinned and said, “I spent half my summer vacation trying to bring you in, but you were not having it.”

  “Oh. Um. Sorry?” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

  She shrugged. “Got me out of going to my sister’s fourth baby gender reveal party, so you and I are totally cool. I mean, once you’ve found out you’re a shifter, it’s hard to feign shock and awe over the color of a cake. Did I mention it was the fourth time?” She picked up my suitcase. “Where are we going?”

  I laughed politely at her story. “Um, 2G maybe? I can carry that.”

  “It’s cool, I’ve got it. You’re probably feeling a little unbalanced, yeah?”

  I nodded. She slid her arm around my shoulders as we made our way up the stairs to the second floor, and that was honestly the only thing keeping me from tumbling backward down the steps.

  “Good news is private rooms. Bad news is public restrooms.” She jerked a thumb at a door as we walked by just in time to hear a toilet flush.

  “At least there’s something normal about this college.”

  Victoria laughed. “You’ll get used to everything else. Promise. It’s pretty cool.”

  “What year are you
?”

  “Senior, so you probably won’t see too much of me.”

  Damn it. Now I have to try to make another friend in this circus?

  “But,” she went on, “if you want, you can sit with me and Laith at the feast tonight. No one will give you any trouble with us.”

  “Laith?” I asked, wondering what the hell kind of name that was.

  “Yeah, my boyfriend,” she said quickly, dropping her arm. “You might like him. He’s an acquired taste.”

  “I’ll like anyone who isn’t named after a season at this point.”

  “You’re funny, Saint James.” Victoria stopped in front of a wide wooden door bearing a little golden plaque that read 2G. “See you at the feast.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Therian Hall’s 2G was three times the size of the concrete cube I should’ve been in with Hickoree, but every luxurious inch belonged to me. A queen-sized canopy bed took up the center of the room, with royal blue drapes tied to each of its four posters, framing a mountain of pillows at the top of an absurdly thick duvet. Matching blue curtains framed the view of the actual mountains rising up like blue-green waves ready to crash over the stone wall.

  I dropped my suitcase next to the enormous wooden armoire to the right of the door and gawked at the tiny kitchenette on my left. A granite counter-top held a stainless steel sink and a toaster oven, with a mini fridge built in underneath. Two chairs waited on either side of a small table set with two full place settings. I opened the fridge and found an army of designer water bottles standing at attention.

  The floor shone with a recent re-finishing, but there were still faint scratches visible in the smooth wooden planks. I crossed to the living area under the window, running my fingers along the foot of the bed as I went. The room’s right corner contained a plush sofa and sleek coffee table, both angled toward the flat-screen television hanging on the wall directly across from the bed. In the left corner, a heavy, roll-top desk sat between two ornate bookcases. The shelves were empty, but when I opened the desk, I found a shiny white laptop like Vice-Chancellor Gladwell’s.