by Abby James
Written in Blood
Abby James
Copyright © 2019 by Abby James
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.
Contents
Author’s Note
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
Author’s Note
About the Author
Author’s Note
Hi there
Great to see you back for the next installment. Things go from bad to worse for poor Samara as her struggles are just beginning.
Thank you.
If you would like to keep up to date with what is happening in my author world, which includes new release alerts and giveaway titbits, you can sign up to my newsletter
1
The wind picked up, lashing underneath the hammock, catching on the round swell of my body. The swing increased from sedative to alarming, and I glanced across to Amy, sitting on the steps out the front of Nylph house, chewing on the end of her pencil, a frown marring her brow.
She caught my eye. “I know this one. It’s right on the tip of my tongue.”
Her face creased up in concentration, and I didn’t have the heart to ask her to lessen the wind. We’d hung the hammock between the two oak trees close to the house. It had quickly become the favorite spot for all within Nylph, creating tension we’d not foreseen. Residence such as Malcom, a third year fire elemental, claimed the hammock and bullied the first and second years out of it whenever he was around, exasperating the friction between most of the factions within Nylph. It didn’t take long before faculty learned of the issue and moved in quick. No one wanted to lose the hammock and agreed to abide by a roster system.
As winter loomed the fireplace inside became everyone’s new favorite place leaving Amy and I to dare the chilly wind and take back for ourselves what had originally been our idea.
“1648,” Amy yelled at me. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
I stared at the text book I held in front of me, which was getting harder to read now the hammock swung wildly back and forth. “Close. It was 1646.”
Amy buried her head in her hands, then banged them down onto her knees.
“But I’m sure Mrs Benton will award you marks for being close. That’s only two years off, and quite frankly, it happened so long ago I would question the accuracy of the dates written here.”
Amy sighed and spoke through her hands, muffling her words. “No, no, no,” she moaned, before coming up for air. “The Forkstent Treaty was signed in 1646 right after the conflict. I remember it now. And that is documented, an accuracy you can’t question. God, I’m going to fail my exam.”
I closed the book and let it fall onto my stomach. “Who cares? It’s supernatural history. It’s not going to change your life whether the conflict happened two years prior to when you thought it happened.”
“No, but it will change my grades.”
“Since when did you care about your supernatural history grade?”
“Since I found out Duncan aced all his exams throughout his schooling and that bitch of a woman, Teresa, happens to be topping all her classes.”
I sighed along with Amy. Having a major crush on someone sucked. Amy had not spoken to Duncan since the fateful night at the Draak party one month ago, mostly because he’d disappeared for the last few weeks on another of those mysterious missions that seemed to suck advanced casters into oblivion on a regular basis—something I had pointed out to Amy, but she refused to acknowledge as a solid reason for him avoiding her.
I’d not told her about my conversation with him on the first day of the tournament as I felt it was something those two needed to sort out without me interfering. Okay, I had berated him on his behavior since that night, but after that I decided I needed to step aside and let them both work through the issue. Since I was no expert on how to have a successful relationship, it was best I remained on the sidelines and supported Amy rather than take an active role.
And now Teresa. One week ago Amy discovered she had competition in the form of an attractive third year. She was hanging around the advance caster class, refusing to believe Duncan was legitimately away from the castle, thinking he was hiding out in his house, Zaratan, or in class, when she overheard Teresa and another advanced caster talking about Duncan. She had followed behind, eavesdropping on their conversation. It was then she learned about Teresa’s ambitious designs to land one of the most wealthy and eligible bachelors on both continents. She was gorgeous, smart, wealthy in her own right and a good caster, which made Amy feel the size of a cockroach and not much better than one.
The hammock swung higher, and I gripped the sides in case the whole thing did a loop-to-loop and spat me out. “Amy, do you think you could calm the swings a bit? This isn’t restful in the slightest.”
“Oh, sorry.”
The wind lessened, leaving the hammock to slow of its own accord. We’d struck a deal, she swung me on the hammock while I helped her study, but it wasn’t working out like I had hoped. So far I hung on the verge of developing motion sickness, and Amy discovered how little she’d listened in class.
“Duncan won’t lose interest in you because you can’t remember the exact dates from one conflict to the next. There were so many of them. They meld into one long history of fighting. Who’d remember any of it?”
“Duncan, that’s who. And bitch face. Of course.”
Amy had wasted a whole afternoon in the library stalking Duncan’s performance at his old school, Hinderbrek Academy, in England. A list of top performing students from around the world since the beginning of the academies had been complied in a series of volumes held in each academy library. Amy had made herself sick reading all about Duncan’s achievements and even sicker when she found Teresa’s name amongst her year.
I struggled to sit up in the hammock once it had slowed to a near stop. “If Duncan cares only for your performance at school, what sort of ability you have and how big your bank balance is, then he is not the sort of guy you should be wasting your fab years on. What about Herley? He’s keen.”
Herley was a second year earth elemental. While not super skilled with his ability, rich or good-looking, he was sweet and earnest in his affection for Amy. She spent a good deal of her time trying to hide from him once he made it known two weeks ago that he fancied her. Apparently he’d kept his obsession with her to himself for the last year, but seeing her fluttering her eyelashes at Duncan during the Draak party—thank god he’d missed the hands down Duncan’s pants stunt—he’d decided it was time to come clean and reveal his secret longing for her.
No surprise Amy had admirers. I thought her fun and attractive. She also happened to have an hourglass figure and large breasts that defied
gravity. She argued that her red hair and freckles turned men off, except Duncan, of course, as he was also a red head with freckles.
Next to Amy’s fabulous figure, I felt and looked like a boy. My boring figure and small breasts were hardly attention worthy. So maybe that’s why Luca had dodged out on our first lesson together, the one he’d scheduled the day after he’d rescued me. I’d not seen or heard from him since. When I had approached Mrs Trouel regarding my lessons with Luca, she’d dismissed me saying she knew of no such thing, and that I was to stick to the schedule she had outlined on my scribe. She then did her favorite thing and threaten to mark me if I turned up in her office again with more complaints about my classes.
“How about we take a break? We’ve been at this for two hours. The exam is this afternoon, and if you don’t know anything now, you’re not going to know it. You’ve got most of the questions right, enough to pass.”
She huffed.
Nylph’s front door creaked open and Harry’s head appeared in the gap. “Samara, you’ve been called to Ms Lane’s room.”
“Thanks Harry.”
That was going to put me in trouble with Mrs Trouel. In thirty minutes I was supposed to be in Looking to the Future, my divination class, which ran alongside supernatural history for tedium since I was not a psychic. But after my scrape with Scullion during the tournament I was making a point of attending each class no matter how bored I felt.
I’d learned nothing helpful in divinations so far since at this level, the basic level, most of class time was spent sitting in meditation to clear the mind. Premonitions would not enter a cluttered mind according to Mrs Harper. They needed a clear space to grow and develop. And since I was shocking at concentrating at the best of times, I had no hope of receiving premonitions, even once I connected with a psychic. Psychics was my least favorite ability.
I climbed out of the hammock and headed over to the steps. “Here.” I handed over her text book. “Don’t study anymore, okay. You know enough already. And my extra bit of advice is to be you. You’re a gorgeous person and only a guy that loves you for the person you are is worthy of you. In other words stop trying to be Teresa.”
She poked her tongue out at me, so I leaned down and kissed her on the head, instantly feeling the ripple of wind that gently vibrated my lips. Amy’s energy always made me feel comfortable and cozy. The familiarity of it made me think of home. I didn’t have a home, never had, but her energy was the way I would think of home. “Good luck.”
“I’m going to need it,” she mumbled as she flipped open her text book.
I left her and wove my way through the forest, then out across the lawn. The gray of the day reflected in the stone work of the castle. The only thing nice about this time of year were the fall leaves with their magical array of setting sun colors. Most were only just turning. I couldn’t wait for their full fall colors. Nylph was surrounded by trees, which meant our path would soon become a bed of red, orange and yellow leaves.
I’d paid a few visits to Ms Lane’s room and knew the way without the aid of the scribe. Normally once a scribe left you, you were on your own, but Dean McGilus had intervened on my behalf when I’d argued with Mrs Trouel to give me another one. My classes had changed too many times, and were too varied for me to yet know where I was supposed to be most of the time. Mrs Trouel grudgedly relented with a heavy scowl. I could see it in her eyes as she labeled me a troublemaker in her mental ledger.
The door to her room opened on my arrival. I step through to hear Ms Lane singing. I’d never heard her sing before. Drawn by the beautiful voice, I stepped silently toward the atrium, her favorite place to be, so I wouldn’t disturb her.
I’d made it halfway to the atrium when movement on the large tree at the center of the atrium caught my eye. Merlin poked his head around a thick branch. His small antenna twitched at the sight of me. He ducked back behind the branch, then fluttered out from underneath and buzzed across to me.
Once on my shoulder, he spoke into my ear. “Now is not a good time.”
“But she asked me to come.”
“Did she?” He sounded surprised. “All the same it is not a good time. She is not in a good mood today.”
“She’s singing. How is that not a good mood?”
“Precisely, have you ever heard her sing before?”
I shook my head. “Haven’t you?”
“Never. That is the peculiar thing about it all.”
“When humans sing it means they are in a good mood.”
“You mustn’t upset her.”
“Me? Since when have I upset Ms Lane. If you need to point the finger at someone, how about starting with yourself?”
Our whispering disturbed Ms Lane. She spun, breaking off mid-song, a smile spreading across her lips. “Oh, Samara, wonderful.” She clasped her hands in front of her.
“See, she’s very happy to see me,” I mumbled, trying not to move my lips.
“Please tell me I didn’t miss a scheduled visit. I’m struggling to keep up with all my new classes, even with my scribe.”
“Oh no, darling. I wanted to see you on an urgent matter that has come to light. Please sit down.” She turned side on and swept a hand in the direction of the couches.
“I’m supposed to be in Mrs Harper’s class in twenty minutes.” I didn’t want to be marked.
Amy had spent a whole week with Mr Laudman, the gardener, on her knees weeding pinapus from the forest floor. It was a noxious weed that kept escaping into our world from the fae realm every time the portal was opened. In fae land it was a slow growing ground creeper with a magnificent fragrant blue flower, or so we were told by Emrol, but once on our side of the divide, it grew thorns and ugly, small shriveled looking gray flowers, which trapped insects. Any bug eating animals or birds attracted to the impaled insects were pricked by the poisonous thorns and died. Apparently it was hard to weed the stuff wearing the inch thick leather gloves needed to protect your hands from the sting. Mr Laudman used magical means of controlling the weed, but Amy had to learn her lesson.
“I won’t take long, my dear. Sit,” she reiterated. Then smiled, “please.” Taking a seat herself, less than graceful. Ms Lane was the most graceful person I had ever met. She reminded me of a ballerina, but right now she was moving like an automaton.
Merlin was right. There was an edge to her voice and smile, not to mention her jerky movements. Something was bothering her enough to feed the rest of the room with her subtle tension. And this was perhaps not something I would feel if not for Merlin imparting his little shright ability into me, since he remained sitting on my shoulder.
Ms Lane arched an eyebrow when she spied Merlin perched next to my ear. He took flight and headed back to his tree, where he blended with the bark.
Hmm…and that was not like Ms Lane to kick him out of our discussion. Merlin was her secret friend. She loved him like anyone would their favorite pet. And since that day in the castle larder, he regularly appeared to sit either on Ms Lane’s shoulder or the back of the seat where I sat whenever I came to her room.
Even though he’d departed I still felt the residue of his ability, and hence the tensive vibes emanating from her. Something was off with Ms Lane and no doubt it was the reason I was here.
“Is everything alright?” I decided to break through the thin shard of ice I felt had formed in the last few minutes.
All the students had a familiar relationship with Ms Lane. She was that sort of person, so I did not feel awkward in starting the conversation like this.
“Good gracious, my dear, why would you ask that? Everything is just perfect. In fact it couldn’t be anymore perfect.”
Right, strange. It looked as though she was about to burst into a screaming fit despite the smile on her face. Her cheeks flushed ruby red and her eyes darted about as if she was nervous. I’d never seen her this uptight. I’d never held another’s ability for long inside of me without contact with them, which meant everything I felt now was real an
d present in this room. Ms Lane was wound like a coil, enough to strum the energy taut like stretched elastic.
“And how are you finding all your classes?”
“Good, okay and boring.”
“Yes, it’s perplexing why your timetable should be so busy. After all an empath is not a telekinetic or a caster.”
She’d never questioned McGilus’s directives before. She knew why McGilus wanted me to attend all the different classes available.
“I believe there is a much better way of bringing your ability forth. It is within my power to help you. You must understand that. McGilus knows this but he has chosen to make things hard for you.”
Merlin was right, Ms Lane was not herself. Never had I heard her speak out against any of faculty. If she didn’t agree with something she spoke quietly to the person in question, never did she gossip and bitch her thoughts to any who happened to be around.
“It’s not hard really. It’s kind of interesting learning about other abilities.”
“Yes, but when would you ever have a need to know any of these things. It’s as though the Dean expects you to use your gained knowledge.”
And she’d never been so formal as to call McGilus Dean. Along with her intensive stare, this visit was giving me the creeps. Something I thought I would never feel with Ms Lane.
She slid to the edge of her seat. “But that is only my opinion. And who am I to say how Darkwells should be run?”
That was too weird a comment for me to respond.
“Now, take my hands, dear. I wish to get a read on your emotional state and how you are copying with your workload.”