Nightworld Academy: Term One, Term Two and Term Three
A box set containing the first three books in the Nightworld Academy series
L J Swallow
Contents
Important Note About This Box Set
NIGHTWORLD ACADEMY: TERM ONE
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Acknowledgments
NIGHTWORLD ACADEMY: TERM TWO
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
NIGHTWORLD ACADEMY: TERM THREE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Other Books By LJ Swallow
Books by Lisa Swallow
About the Author
Important Note About This Box Set
This box set includes Terms One - Three in the Nightworld Academy Series.
This is not the entire series.
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Copyright © 2019 by L J Swallow
Cover design by Najla Qamber Designs
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.
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NIGHTWORLD ACADEMY: TERM ONE
Prologue
MAEVE
"Tyler told one blonde joke too many, and my hand slipped."
"Into his nose?" Mrs. Peel's frosty blue eyes remain on mine as my explanation for my behaviour falls flat. I'm not affected by her hypnotic stare and refuse to crumble into apologies for my behaviour.
Especially not for punching Tyler.
"He needed hospital treatment," she continues.
"I am sick of him bullying me, and his jokes aren’t funny." I push my long, blonde hair over my shoulder and wrinkle my nose. A floral scent always overpowers anybody summoned to Mrs. Peel's room. The smell isn't from the fake lilies in the corner, but rather her perfume. Maybe the student counsellor wears the scent to get information out of troublemakers quickly. Those who'll tell her anything to get out of the room and stop choking on the perfume.
I fiddle with my jacket zip. "Okay, I hit him harder than I should."
"You shouldn’t hit people at all. Don't you have any remorse?" The famous glare continues.
I bite back the "not really" about to spill from my mouth and turn on my filter instead. I have no remorse, because I knew what Tyler planned to do tonight. How? This isn't a case of my spider senses tingling, but the increasingly accurate and annoying visions that crack across my skull at unfortunate moments. They hurt and they blind me.
As a kid, I was diagnosed with migraines. Then tested for epilepsy. A couple of years ago, I was carted off to the psychiatrist to seek treatment for my hallucinations.
After that fun stay in the clinic, I kept my mouth shut and put up with the attacks.
Recently, they've been clearer and more frequent. In my last vision, I saw Tyler attack the chief geek from our science class. I hate a bully, but bullies who choose the weakest to make themselves feel powerful piss me off more. In my vision, Tyler punched him, and I saw Denny hit his head on the pavement curb, around the corner from the school playground. I watched as Tyler panicked when the kid wouldn't move or speak. Then I bristled with anger when the Tyler in my vision ran, leaving the boy to die in the rain.
I don't usually act on my visions—the world operates as it does for a reason, right? I’ve seen movies where people dabble with time and that never ends well.
But this is different.
The Denny in my vision died, and I decided to stop Tyler leaving school today. I had a chance to save a life.
Fortunately for me, Tyler also dislikes the scrawny blonde girl who sits in front of him in most classes. He goads me regularly, but I've never been brave enough to confront him. Until yesterday. I needed to stop him attacking Denny, so I stood up to him when he made a snide comment.
Unfortunately, smacking one of the school's most popular kids in the face isn't helpful behaviour when attacking other students leads to instant expulsion from the local high school.
To be honest, Tyler
should be thanking me, because if I hadn't spread his nose across his face, he'd be in bigger trouble than I am now.
The sun shines through the window overlooking the playground, picking up dust particles that dance around the room, and the beam spreads across the counsellor's cluttered desk.
"You haven't changed your calendar." I point at the scenic image of Switzerland's wild flowers. She blinks in confusion. My mind jumps around a lot, especially when I’m stressed. "It's September. Not July." I point at the calendar and she glares harder.
Mrs. Peel reaches out and flicks over the desk calendar and the paper tears with the ferocity. "I am calling your parents."
Crap. No. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. I'm just stressed about exams and trying to block out yesterday's trauma."
"What trauma?"
"Tyler. "
"The trauma you caused?"
Oh hell, this isn't going well. "Please don't call my parents. I'll do anything. Put me on litter duty for a month. I'll even take on gum-scraping duty too." Checking under every chair in every classroom for disgusting second-hand gum is the worst, but better than the alternative. If I'm expelled, my already shaky relationship with my parents will go south.
Mrs. Peel's lips twitch and a look of triumph crosses her face at my sweaty-palmed fear. "I'm sorry, Maeve, but you know the school policy on violent behaviour. Perhaps this is for the best, considering your other issues."
In the words of the great philosopher: FML
Chapter One
TWO WEEKS LATER
MAEVE
The pink and white roses growing around the gates to Ravenwood Academy do little to take away the institutional look of the building. There's no barbed wire, but there are strategically placed "you're being watched" security signs along the perimeter fence. I don't doubt that applies to both students and intruders.
Dad’s car rolls along the long driveway leading up to the main building. The weathered grey brick blends with the cloudy sky, and the academy looms over the grounds, casting shadows across the surroundings.
"This was once an asylum," I announce from the backseat as I stare at the rows of tiny windows. "I looked at the history."
My parents look at each other and say nothing.
"But I guess you knew that. I bet it's haunted." I hit the button to lower the window and stick my head out. The smell of freshly mowed grass from the lawns closer to the gates mingles with the petrol fumes from the car, but I can’t see or hear anything. Or anyone.
"Do I have to stay long at the Academy for Bad Girls?" I ask. "Do I get time off for good behaviour?"
My parents are used to my sarcasm barrier and the light tone won’t fool them. I spent the last few days wavering between tears and anger. Yes, I was expelled, but this isn't fair. I'm uprooted from my home and stuck in an ex-mental hospital to finish my education.
"Maeve, that isn't what Ravenwood is," says Mum. She turns in her seat and her green eyes are filled with worry. "We've wanted you to attend for years and could never afford the fees. You’re lucky that your aunt decided to gift you with this education—this is a prestigious academy. We all know gaining your A levels and a place in university is important to you, and here, you’ll receive excellent teaching."
I sigh at her little speech.
"And we’d like you to finish your education without distractions," adds Dad, peering at me through the rear mirror.
Distractions? "Omigod, is this an all-girls academy?"
"No. Co-ed." My mother smiles but gives my father a wary glance.
I sink back in my seat. Good. I don’t have dreams of boyfriends and clandestine trysts, but an academy full of girls isolated on the Yorkshire moors is likely to become Mean Girls meets Lord of the Flies.
Still, I could use said distraction.
We park, and I clamber from the car. The gravel crunches under my heavy boots, one earbud still playing music in my ear while the other loops across my dark jacket shoulder.
As I stare at the open double doors into the uninviting darkened hallway, Dad casually says, "And there's better pastoral care here. Professionals."
I pull the other earbud out, in case the music is interfering with his undertones. "Professional what?"
Mum touches my hand with soft, warm fingers and the tears I've fought almost start again. "Your grades have always been higher than average and being a gifted child comes with added... difficulties. This could be part of the problem and why your grades have dropped. I heard that—"
"You mean there are psychs here, don't you?"
I walk forward into the shadow. Rectangular windows line the brickwork, four storeys high, and the front of the academy juts out and upwards to form a turret. The doorway looks like a mouth ready to swallow me whole. Do not cry.
Dad places a hand on my shoulder. "Extra support, Maeve."
I shrug him off. "You could've told me this was the Academy for Bad Girls Who Also Aren't Right In The Head." I pause. "But I guess that's a bit of a mouthful."
"Maeve. We discussed this. We haven't forced you to come here."
I don’t get a chance to reply as a tall, male figure appears at the top of the stone steps, emerging from the dark hallway behind.
"Oh. Look. I wonder if he's insane too?" I ask.
"Maeve Foster?" The guy squints into the sunlight and then shades his face with a hand. His ring catches the sunlight and dazzles me as he crosses towards us.
I blink faster when his face comes into view, in case I'm hallucinating again.
No.
He can't be.
I saw him in a vision — a snapshot of a horrific death that haunts me. The images usually fade with time, but he's scorched across my mind and I recognise him the moment his face becomes clear. His startling blue eyes and lean, muscular figure would make the guy memorable to most, but I want to forget the last time I saw him.
There was blood. So much blood.
This guy died in front of my eyes.
"Are you Maeve?" he asks again. Voice lost, I nod. "I'm Jamie, and I've been looking for you."
I’ve been looking for you. I shiver at the words I’ve heard him say before.
Jamie offers me a reassuring smile. "You look nervous. Don't be. We're mostly friendly here."
"Have I met you before?" I blurt and he frowns again. "I mean, you look familiar."
"No, but I'm looking forward to getting to know you." I purse my lips at the hint of flirtation in his voice. "Mr. Foster, should I carry Maeve's bag?"
My father hands over the rucksack and he effortlessly throws it over his shoulder. Jamie's eyes widen for a second and he grips the handle harder, avoiding my eyes.
"Is it too heavy?" I ask.
"No. And don't worry, I'm sure you'll enjoy this school more than your last."
"I did enjoy my last school," I lie and flash a look at my parents. I didn't, but it's preferable over whatever the hell this place is.
"I get the feeling you didn't." Jamie pulls the bag further up his shoulder, and his cryptic phrase puzzles me.
He accompanies me to the steps leading into the building, and I chuckle to myself as I hear the Star Wars 'Imperial Death March' in my head. There's nothing space-age about the great brick building ahead. I glance up to the highest window. I'm more likely to find a Victorian madwoman in the attic, or a heart beating under the floorboards.
"...would you agree, Maeve?"
I snap out of studying the architecture and look to Mum. "Agree with what?"
"How lucky you are that Aunt Marie is paying for you to attend."
"Not to sound ungrateful, but I'd rather she'd bought me a car."
Jamie laughs but my parents aren't amused. My aunt's offer to pay tuition at an exclusive academy was a bolt from the blue. I'd finished my GCSEs and started A levels before the Tyler incident, destined for university. I heard Mum crying at my wasted opportunity, and the guilt burrowed so far into me that I didn't argue with the decision to send me to a boarding school.<
br />
Who cares that Ravenwood Academy is only for students my age and older? It’s still a boarding school.
I met my aunt a few times when I was younger, but not recently. My only memories are the tension in the room between her and mum and the large charm bracelet she wore that jangled every time she moved. Her white-blonde hair matches mine, much different to mum's auburn curls.
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