Academy of Assassins

by Stacey Brutger

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, but, much to her surprise, his lips curved slightly, and he nodded. “Lead the way.”

  Without hesitation, Morgan headed toward the exit, her blades in her hands before she was aware of drawing them.

  The door hung drunkenly from its hinges. She touched the wood, but the once-friendly magic had been completely drained. “Whoever attacked was organized and strong enough to take down a mansion imbued with magic, their sheer numbers overrunning the hunters.”

  Kincade nodded in acknowledgment.

  Taking his nod as approval, she shoved against the door, her blood whooshing in her ears as she slipped out of the study, terrified of what she would find.

  As she crept into the foyer, the first thing she noticed was the powerful double doors had been ripped clear off the mansion, red dust exploding into the room, as if whatever managed the feat had torn the magic right out of it. The granite should have been indestructible, but cracks ran up to the ceiling, while sections of the floor were shattered. Scorch marks marred the once-pristine walls, evidence that the witches hadn’t given up without a fight.

  The guys spread out behind her, Ryder and Kincade remaining close, the silence deafening as she processed what she was seeing.

  Blood and guts stained the walls and ceilings, bits of human body parts strewn across the entryway. Following the trail, she saw the twisted bodies of the hunters littering the lawn like discarded toys, with their limbs missing and heads lopped clear off.

  Then it clicked what she was seeing.

  Only hunters.

  “The witches are gone.”

  The men glanced at each other, and she waved away their concern. “No, I mean all the bodies are men.”

  Kincade cast a swift look at the remains, then swung around sharply. “Ryder?”

  Without further prompting, Ryder closed his eyes and lifted his face to the air and inhaled, his large chest expanding, his muscles stretching impressively. “Whatever was here is gone. I smell blood and death, but nothing else in the immediate vicinity.” When he opened his eyes, the whisky color glowed as his wolf stared out at them. “I don’t sense any magic.”

  Meaning the witches had escaped.

  Possibly MacGregor as well.

  “Spread out. Pair off. Keep each other in sight at all times.”

  Morgan hurried toward the stairs, pausing at the bottom step when she saw Atlas disregard the order and head toward the basement alone. “Be careful. They have a lab down there where they run their experiments. If the creatures were set free from their cells, they may attack.” Morgan unconsciously rubbed her wrists. “Not all of them are exactly sane anymore.”

  Kincade gave a jerk of his head, and Ryder quickly accompanied the elf.

  With another hand signal, she watched Draven peel away and stand guard at the main door.

  Then Kincade turned toward her and waited.

  She took it as permission and leapt up the stairs two at a time. The damage upstairs wasn’t as thorough. At the top of the stairs, she headed straight toward the double doors. “This room was originally intended as a ballroom. The coven mimicked the original designs, but converted it to a gym and armory.” She gestured down the hallway. “There are two entrances, and this corridor wraps around the entire second floor. There are only about a dozen rooms along the way. The third floor has more.”

  Kincade grimaced and reluctantly nodded. “I’ll take the third floor.”

  She watched in amazement as he left, surprised that he actually accepted her assessment.

  While Ryder might have confirmed no one inside remained alive, that didn’t mean there were no nasty surprises left behind.

  Morgan opened the first door and began her own search.

  Room after room, she found the same…nothing.

  No bodies. No surprises. As she searched the last room on her floor, Morgan headed down the stairs, and walked toward Draven. “Nothing.”

  She went to peer out the door, and Draven blocked her with his shoulder. “Don’t.”

  Morgan swallowed hard, the brief glimpse she had of outside flashing in her mind. “That bad?”

  He nodded, his face grim, his pale blue eyes dead.

  Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and Atlas and Ryder charged into the room. Both men were breathing heavily. Ryder’s eyes were a little wild, while Atlas’s usually hard eyes were soulless.

  As Atlas came toward her, she gripped her weapons harder. “What the hell were they doing down there?”

  Ryder’s attention snapped toward Atlas, and he took a step forward, ready to intervene, when she waved him off. The wolf studied her from head to toe, leaving her feeling exposed.

  He saw too much.

  He knew what it was like to be targeted by witches, how far they would go, and what little protection people like them had. She turned away from the promise of retribution in his eyes, refusing to allow herself to feel anything. It was a weakness she couldn’t afford.

  Morgan narrowed her eyes at Atlas’s accusation, her heart going dead in her chest. “I don’t know. My guess, based on the time I spent chained down there as one of their experiments, is they were trying to find a way to harvest the magic from the creatures who escaped from the rifts—me included.”

  He flinched, a telling sign when he normally revealed nothing.

  Harvesting magic from a creature was a death sentence, a slow, agonizing way to die, much like having one’s soul ripped out.

  “When I proved troublesome to them, resistant to their torture, MacGregor became curious and investigated.” Morgan’s smile was all teeth. “They lied and explained they were studying the creatures, cataloging their strengths and weaknesses. He, of course, didn’t believe their shit, and took me into his custody. Not everyone was so lucky.”

  Morgan sheathed her blades, pulling her thick black hair off her back and trying it into a messy knot. “When a rift would open, I helped as many as I could escape, sending them back through the void. It only served to annoy the witches more.” She smiled up at Atlas. “You might say I was a pain in their asses. It was only a matter of time before they collected more. Rescuing them became trickier. More dangerous.”

  “Jesus.” Draven’s voice was hoarse. “They could’ve killed you.”

  Morgan shrugged. “Believe me, the witches tried. Good thing I proved to be hard to kill.”

  Atlas blinked at her, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “He meant the creatures.”

  Morgan paused, then placed her hands on her hips. “So, let me get this straight. Are you mad because I allowed the creatures to be held captive, or because I helped them escape? I’m confused.”

  Draven edged between them, pushing a loose piece of her hair behind her ear. “Morgan…”

  She sighed the way his husky voice drew out her name, his affection melting her anger better than any siren magic. “I wasn’t in much danger. I had help. He wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.”

  Her eyes burned as she remembered how Ascher had protected her, and how he ultimately suffered the consequences for it. She couldn’t allow these men to suffer the same fate. “MacGregor offered me what protection he could, but I’m a hunter. Your stupid rules make the witches untouchable. Don’t you think the others knew what was happening?” She pulled away and paced. “No one cares, not if it means they can access magic from the void. It’s pure. Undiluted.”

  “That makes no sense.” Atlas frowned at her. “The magic in the void is too powerful. It would rip them apart.”

  “Unless they can extract it from others—think of the subjects of the experiments like a filter. They take the abuse while the witches get the byproduct.”

  Atlas glanced around the room, then peered out the door. “If what you say is true, it would be war. No one from the primordial realm would allow what the witches were doing to stand. This is retaliation.”

  Morgan wanted to agree with him, but couldn’t speak the lie. “That’s one possibility.”

&nb
sp; “What do you know?” Kincade’s deadly voice cut through the room, and the men parted to let him through.

  It took conscious thought not to shift nervously under his hard stare. “I think they came for me.”

  Kincade stopped only a foot from her, gripping his hair as if he would rip it out, his eyes on his feet. “You came here—insisted on coming—knowing they were hunting you?”

  A tremor jolted through her at his ominous, rough voice. “I had no choice.”

  His head snapped up as if he’d been jabbed with a cattle prod, a vein throbbing in his neck. “You put us all in danger with your selfish behavior.”

  Her insides crumbled at his accusation, the words shattering her fragile hope for a future with them. The back of her throat aching that he would believe her capable of doing such a thing.

  She thought they’d accepted her as one of them.

  Ryder edged forward to come to her aid, but halted when Kincade snarled at him. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

  “I came to keep you safe. I couldn’t let you walk into a trap.”

  He snorted dismissively. “All you had to do was tell us.”

  He spun away, as if unable to stand the sight of her, and her chest hollowed out at his rejection. “I was on my way to tell you when we were summoned. Then it was too late. I couldn’t tell you, because you would’ve left me behind.”

  “Damned straight. You will stay here.” Kincade then proceeded to act like she didn’t exist. “Atlas, give the others the all-clear to bring the second team through. Ryder and Draven, scout the yard. We’ll move out in five.”

  When he made to follow the others, Morgan stepped into his path, unable to escape the conviction that if she allowed him to leave without her, she would never see them again. “You need me to show you where the rift is located. If anyone survived, they would be there, trying to close the gate, and stemming the flow of creatures entering this realm.”

  Morgan flinched when he lifted his head and looked at her.

  His eyes were dead, devoid of all emotions. “No.”

  “The longer you search for the rift, the more creatures will escape to wreak havoc.” She shoved away her foolish emotions, locking them down so she could do what she must, even if everyone on the team came to hate her. “If anyone survived, they are out there, waiting for help.”

  “She’s right. Anyway, if we leave her, she will only figure out a way to follow us. She’ll be safer with us.” Atlas came to her rescue as he emerged from the office. “The others are on their way. We need to move.”

  Kincade didn’t curse, didn’t react in any way as he studied her.

  His skin rippled as something shifted beneath the surface, reminding her that he was something other as well. “You will remain at my side at all times. If you disobey, I won’t hesitate to knock you out, drag you back here, and shove you through the mirror back to the Academy myself. Understood?”

  Morgan would have cheered if it didn’t feel like her heart was breaking. “Yes.”

  She watched him walk out the door, but the distance between them was much greater.

  “Give him time.”

  Morgan gave a start when Atlas spoke from right in her ear. “What?”

  “He’s worried about you and doesn’t know how to handle his protective instincts. Bringing you along goes against everything he holds dear, against how he was raised. He lost someone close to him, and it nearly destroyed him. You terrify him.”

  Morgan snorted. “You’re wrong. I’m nothing more than a hunter, not one of his precious witches to be worshipped. It’s better he accept that now.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Morgan took off into the forest, hyper-aware of the men spread out in her wake. Each moved silently through the trees, the moonlight illuminating their path. Instead of shutting out the runes on her back, she concentrated on the connection and welcomed the magic. As if aware of her attention, the runes stretched and settled more heavily under her skin, and she felt the pull deep in her gut, guiding her toward the rift.

  They had covered half the distance when a furious growl split the air.

  She would recognize that snarl anywhere.

  “Ascher!”

  Without hesitation, Morgan altered course, yelling at the others over her shoulders. “Keep straight. The rift is only a little farther ahead.”

  Cursing erupted behind her. To her surprise, the whole team followed her trail. It almost made her stop. Duty fought loyalty for a long second, but Morgan didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow.

  Ascher was in trouble.

  A few meters ahead was the small cave system she had used to store supplies.

  It would make sense for Ascher to take shelter there.

  Then thinking was over when shadows on her right shifted. Something solid slammed into her and sent her catapulting into the trees. Ryder’s roar of rage filled her ears. Her shoulder glanced off a tree, instantly numbing her arm and sending her spinning through the air. Before she could halt her momentum, her back smacked into a large oak. She thumped heavily to the ground, the breath knocked out of her, a jarring pain shooting down her spine.

  Only training kept her moving. She straightened in time to lift her arm, blocking the blow meant to cave in her skull. It wouldn’t kill her, but it would hurt like a bitch and incapacitate her. That’s when she got her first look at what had attacked her.

  A ghoul.

  Wearing only a loincloth.

  She blinked, thinking the blow must have scrambled her wits.

  Ghouls never crossed Earthside. Once they did, their death was guaranteed. Whatever animated and kept them alive in the void rapidly deteriorated on Earth. Until then, they were vicious and unrelenting killers, only stopping when they eventually rotted and fell apart, but not without first wreaking havoc and destruction everywhere they went.

  Morgan lashed out with her foot, but the ghoul easily caught her ankle in hands that hung well past his knees, and wrenched her forward.

  “Come.” He grunted the command, his tongue so black and swollen, it made speaking difficult. His lips had rotted off, leaving his teeth exposed in a macabre smile, revealing upper and lower inch-long fangs. His jaw came forward a few inches, reminding her of a crocodile waiting to snap shut on its unsuspecting prey.

  All that remained of his hair were a few straggly scraps, his scalp looking like patches had fallen out in clumps. The body was a walking skeleton, his frame caring no extra fat, each of his ribs clearly defined, the skin so thin she could see the cords of muscles underneath. Even from the distance, she could see the ghoul’s skin was slick, almost slimy with decay, a rotten, grayish-green color.

  Everything about him was primitive.

  Primordial.

  Something dragged out of nightmares before humans even crawled out of the ooze.

  As she was hauled behind him, the stench of rot was so strong, breathing became difficult. The smell crept into her mouth until she could taste it, leaving her with the urge to scrape her tongue.

  He walked on his toes, his feet similar to dinosaurs of old, his heels more of a joint than part of his foot. His hands and feet were tipped with claws, the limbs stretched out, almost skeletal, barely covered with skin. When he went to take another step, she rolled, kicking the back of his leg out from under him. As he began to fall, she used her momentum and rolled, breaking his grip.

  They ended up crouched, facing each other.

  His eyes were a milky white and green, and she could have sworn she saw little maggots swimming inside his eyeballs, and her stomach lurched alarmingly. The ears were stretched, sprouting hair so thick little critters were crawling in them. It brought a whole new meaning to brain-rot.

  Then she noticed there were three other ghouls in the clearing, keeping the team busy.

  She was on her own.

  When the ghoul sprang forward, Morgan flung herself backwards, grabbing her blades and gutting him as he flew over her head. Bile sprayed her, and he gave a bellow of r
age.

  While the creature frantically shoved his blackened intestines back inside, Morgan sprang to her feet. She shot forward to finish him until she noticed one of the creatures had Kincade pinned, and he was barely blocking the slashing claws trying to whittle him down.

  They wanted her alive, but the men weren’t so lucky.

  Morgan ran forward, leapt toward a tree, stepping up the trunk to gain the height she needed, then kicked off. She pulled her knives, allowing her momentum to carry her, and planted the blades deep into the creature’s neck, then crossed her arms, using brute strength to decapitate the ghoul.

  Gunk covered the front of her as the body crumbled and began to decay, turning into a pile of slimy ooze, leaving her facing a bleeding Kincade. A nasty cut ran across his temple and a dozen or so more marred his arms and torso.

  “You okay?”

  Instead of answering, Kincade grabbed her shoulders, and threw them both sideways. They hit the ground with a thump that vibrated heavily through her, Kincade’s bigger form completely covering her, landing on her like a pile of bricks. Over his shoulder, Morgan saw a ghoul reach down for them, his claws aimed for Kincade’s unprotected back.

  “Roll.”

  He didn’t hesitate.

  Morgan jackknifed into sitting position while thrusting up, her weapon catching the ghoul under the jaw, the blade piercing through the top of the skull. The same movement impaled her on the tips of the ghoul’s claws. They speared her shoulder, the nails so sharp they sank in without resistance and scarcely a burst of pain.

  The skeletal, greenish face began to dissolve around the blade, part of his flesh falling in glops on her hand. She barely pulled her legs out of the way when the ghoul collapsed in on itself, the decaying stench so strong, her eyes watered.

  The claws in her shoulder oozed out of her injuries, and the wounds sealed themselves, leaving only a few drops of blood dribbling down her front. She shook out her hand much like a large dog shaking his head, and thick strings of slime went flying. If possible, the gunk smelled even worse. “I’ll never be able to get the stink out.”