Ex Nihilo Academy

by Jennifer Watts

  “About five hundred or so, though it gets very busy in the summer time with the tourists.”

  Five. Hundred. People. There were over a thousand kids at my last high school alone. I can’t think of any way to respond to that so I just nod. He drives on, pointing out places of interest and waving at people on the street. He seems to know everyone - not that it would be hard in a place this size.

  “Where is the house exactly?” I ask impatiently even though I’m dreading seeing where I’ll be imprisoned until the minute I turn eighteen and can hightail it back to California.

  “We are about a ten minute drive outside of town.”

  Great. I’m not even going to be living in what barely passes for a town; instead I’m going to be living in the country. I shudder at the thought. I’m holding my breath when we finally pull up to the rusty gate of my new home. Niall gets out of the truck and pushes it open and I lean forward to peer out the windshield at the ‘English Tudor Style Manor’ that the lawyers’ notes described. One look at it has me thinking that to call it a manor is an insult to manors the world over. It is long and rectangular with tall narrow windows and a steeply pitched roof that dwarfs the rest of the house. The roof is covered in sickly-looking green moss and has a crumbling red brick chimney dominating its center. The front of it is covered in dingy gray-white stucco that is crisscrossed with chevrons of faded black wood. One of the windows is boarded up, more moss grows at the base of the house and there is a trail of what looks like rust staining one of the far walls.

  “Welcome home, miss.” Niall says almost apologetically. “Wait until you see the inside; she’s truly a beauty but she’s seen a lot of years and she can be a bit of a challenge to keep up with.”

  Understatement of the year I think to myself, while silently wondering if Niall refers to all inanimate objects as females. As the truck rattles up the leaf strewn driveway past the overgrown bushes and tangled thickets of roses I get a glimpse of the rest of the grounds. The house is set back from the road overlooking the loch and there is a weathered boat dock that stretches out into the water. I jump out of the truck and walk across the lawn, my pink flip flops slapping a staccato against the wet grass. The air is damp and it sends a chill right through my denim jacket. Niall takes my bags from the truck bed and trudges toward the house. He opens the front door and I follow him in, watching as he sets my bags down on the gray marble floor. It is bigger than it looks from the outside with a high ceiling and a curved staircase made of mahogany.

  “The living room is to the right through those doors, study and library are beside that and the kitchen is at the back. The bedrooms and facilities are upstairs and your room is at the end of the hall. My son and I live to the left in the servants’ quarters. It‘s a separate wing that was built on to the house some years ago so you needn’t worry about having your privacy.” He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and it almost feels like he’s waiting to be dismissed.

  “You have a son?” I say to break the silence.

  “I do. His name is Rowan and he helps me take care of the place. Is there anything else you need, miss?” He asks, clasping his hands together.

  “Can you call me Lily? Miss just seems a little… Lily would be great.”

  “Of course… Lily.” He tries it out then he does this kind of nod-slash-bow thing that makes me want to die of embarrassment and scurries off down the hall. I stand for a moment in the big empty foyer with a suitcase in each hand, then climb the massive staircase to search for my room at the end of the hall.

  My room is painted my favorite shade of powder blue; a color that I love because it reminds me of the California sky. It is spacious with a canopied queen-sized bed, a tall dresser and a desk all painted in an antique white. There is a large window flanked by two smaller diamond-patterned glass windows looking out on to the backyard and loch. The attached bathroom contains a simple white pedestal sink and claw foot tub, though it has been updated with a new-looking standup shower. That has to be courtesy of mom and just thinking about her starts the dull ache in my chest again. Taking a deep breath I walk into the bathroom to check myself in the mirror and I see that my long blond hair is in one huge tangle from sleeping on it on the plane. I have the kind of unruly hair that no matter how many flat irons I take to it always ends up falling into the same loose waves. I study the girl in the mirror critically. She has the same slightly hooded sea green eyes and the same cupids bow mouth with dark pink lips that make lipstick unnecessary. She has the same narrow nose and high cheekbones and the same heart-shaped face. She looks like me but somehow different. She looks tired. Something has changed in her eyes and it’s almost as if a light has gone out. I sigh and make a half-hearted attempt at getting a brush through my hair before deciding that I need a shower in a major way. After ten minutes under the hot spray I feel marginally better, so I slip on cropped cotton pants and a fitted tank and roll out my yoga mat, happy to be doing something familiar to me. I love yoga. Mom and I used to do it together on the back patio every morning before school. I loved watching her tall, willowy frame as she executed each move so gracefully; nothing like my five-foot-six frame that is all legs and more angles than curves. I stretch out into downward dog and breathe deeply to center myself, reflecting back on today. It’s hard not to feel like I’ve been transported to another planet. And while I’m used to being independent, as an only child with parents who travel for work it’s kind of inevitable, I’m not used to being all alone - and there’s a big difference. A loud bang snaps me from my meditation and I run to the window to see what it is. That’s when I see him. He is lifting large pieces of lumber from the garden and tossing them into a pile. He is broad shouldered and wearing a ratty Iron Maiden t-shirt that reveals a set of muscular arms. When he turns toward the window I can see that one of his arms is fully covered in tattoos down to his wrist and the other arm has scrolling black ink that peeks out from just beneath his short sleeve. It surprises me since he seems close to my age and most parents wouldn‘t go for such a permanent fashion statement. Though I can’t tell exactly from where I stand he looks tall, definitely over six feet, and his skin is fair which is in stark contrast to his curly dark hair. He is handsome in a rugged and not overly obvious kind of way. I slide open the window and the mingled scents of salt and fresh cut grass assault my nose just as he bends down to lift another piece of wood. I’m not sure how to introduce myself or what to say so I just yell down to him.

  “Hello?”

  He looks up suddenly and when he sees me in the window his neutral expression turns into a frown. He nods curtly then turns back to his work.

  “Are you Rowan?” I try again.

  “I am.” He replies, keeping his back to me.

  “I’m Lily Hughes. It’s nice to meet you.” I can see his shoulders lift and drop as he exhales. “I’m kind of busy right now.” He yells over his shoulder then stalks off in the direction of the shed that’s sitting at the edge of the property.

  My throat constricts. Okay, he’s obviously not happy that I’m here, but why? Does he think I’m spoiled watching in the window while he has to work? Or maybe he resents having me move in. Maybe he took one look at me and decided that I wasn’t worth his time. When Niall said he had a son I had a flash of hope that he might be someone I could get to know to make this place a little more bearable. I stalk away from the window and close my eyes against the rush of tears building. Despite my best efforts they slip down my nose and off my chin. I cry hard then, the kind of awful shaking sobs that leave my body limp. I cry for all the things that I’ve lost and for all the things I‘ve left behind.

  Chapter 3: Not your Average Boarding School

  I’m waiting at the edge of the dock the next morning for the ferry to arrive to take me to school. I asked Niall if there was a public dock or something but he just shrugged and said the boat would come directly to me. I don’t know why a whole ferry would stop at my house just to pick up one person but he didn’t stick around lo
ng enough for me to ask that question. The air is cold but the sky is a muted blue and it looks like the sun is trying to fight its way through the clouds. I’m silently watching the pelicans dive into the calm water in search of food when the rumbling starts. It grows louder as it approaches, cutting the water around it into choppy waves and it turns out not to be a ferry at all but a sleek midnight black speed boat that pulls up to the dock. A tall, stick-thin man with pale skin and white hair comes around the side of the boat.

  “Are you my ride?” I ask. He nods and tips his black chauffeurs cap but doesn’t speak. He tosses a rope on to the deck then jumps down to secure it. “I get my own boat?” I ask, scanning his face and focusing on his strange colorless eyes. He remains quiet and points his gloved hand toward the boat so I carefully step on to the deck. My flip flops slip on the slick surface and he grabs my arm to steady me. Once I am on the boat he releases the rope and climbs back in. He heads toward the front, leaving me alone at the back. As the boat races away from the dock I look over my shoulder at the house and see Rowan in the garden. He is staring at us with a very peculiar expression on his face; one which is part curiosity and part disgust. But I decide I’m not going to let him get to me today, especially not on my first day at a new school. The boat skims across the water and in minutes we arrive at an isolated island. The boat steers us easily into the wharf which looks much sturdier than the one back at the house. The strange looking boatman doesn’t come out to say goodbye so I just hop off and walk up the stone stairwell to the top of the hill. The school itself is perched on a rocky crag that juts right out of the water. The island stretches wide but it is so narrow that you can see the other side of it from where I am standing by the gatehouse. A smooth stone driveway leads to a rotunda and beyond that to an oversized arched wooden doorway.

  “It’s literally a castle.” I mutter under my breath. The school is tall and made of motley gray stones that are half-covered in creeping ivy. There are bay windows with freshly painted white frames that line the lower floor and smaller sash windows dotting the upper level. The school is set against a backdrop of green so vibrant that it almost hurts my eyes to look at. It is imposing and seems to stretch upward into oblivion and is so unlike my old school with its open air courtyards, potted palm trees and floor to ceiling glass windows that I am at a loss for words. Another thing strikes me at the same time; there is no one outside. No students on the grass or strolling in through the doors.

  “Am I late?” I say out loud to myself. I never wear a watch but I would assume the boatman has instructions to deliver me on time. I push through the heavy wooden doors into the main hall where I find someone waiting for me.

  “You must be Lily.” He raises his eyebrows and I nod. “Welcome to Ex Nihilo Academy. I’m Tristan Powers, your tour guide for the day.” He winks and I notice that his eyes are a startling shade of emerald. He is only a head taller than me but he’s built like a football player - stocky and thick.

  “You don’t have an accent.” I say.

  “Is that a question?” He runs a hand through his closely-cropped sandy blond hair. “I’m from Ohio so no, I don’t have an accent. I do however have strict orders to take you straight to the headmaster so she can introduce herself. Though if it were up to me I’d turn you around and take you into town for pizza to save you from all of this craziness.” His dimples cave in when he smiles and I instantly feel a kinship with him. Maybe it’s the American thing but more than that it seems like he’s going out of his way to make me feel comfortable.

  “Then lead on tour guide.” I smile back. He takes me down a long wide hall, pointing out rooms to the left and the right. I doubt I’ll remember much of what he is saying because all I am thinking about is the headmaster. The letter mentioned that she would be the one with all of the answers.

  She is seated behind a massive desk that’s been carved out of a solid piece of wood. The rest of the office is totally bare; the stark white walls in sharp contrast to the polished concrete floor. The only decoration in the room is a strange-looking picture of a bunch of stone bodies that look like they are trapped under water.

  “It’s a rendition of Fredrick Hart’s Ex Nihilo sculpture. Ex Nihilo is the Latin for ‘out of nothing’. Do you know what the motto of Ex Nihilo Academy is?” She asks, raising her severe-looking eyebrows at me. Her black hair is wound into a tight bun that pulls back her eyes and stretches out the deep lines etched into her face. She is pale, with watery eyes that scrutinize me as I take the seat in front of her desk.

  “Up until a few weeks ago I didn’t even know that this academy existed.” I answer honestly.

  “Nosce Te Ipsum. Do you speak any Latin?” She asks and I shake my head no. I’m quickly getting frustrated because it feels like she’s baiting me. “Then I suggest you learn it quickly.” I suddenly wish Tristan was with me but he was told to wait in the hall. “It means ‘know thyself’ which could not be a truer statement for the gifted students of this school. And by ‘gifted’ I don’t mean skilled at tennis or excellent at calculus, though those may be accurate as well. This is an academy for the supernatural races.” Her eyes bore into mine, daring me to speak.

  “Supernaturals.” I say flatly and she gives me a patronizing smile.

  “There are five supernatural races that have existed since the dawn of time and who live undetected among humans. They are fairies, witches, vampires, werewolves and trolls. This school has existed for hundreds of years with the goal of helping our young supernatural’s understand themselves. We teach students how to harness their powers and how to wield them in a mature and responsible way. In addition to standard curriculum like sciences and humanities we teach supernatural curriculum. We have a stellar reputation internationally and many of our students continue on to Ivy League universities.” I grip the arms of my chair to keep from screaming and wonder what I did wrong along the way to have my parents to send me to a mental institution.

  “So what about the human students? Don’t they get suspicious when everyone is turning into bats and wolves and riding around on brooms?” I say, a little hysterically and she shoots me a level look.

  “Ms. Hughes, I understand what a great loss you have recently experienced and that this must be a lot to take in. I never agreed with your parents’ choice to keep you in the dark for as long as they did but I must honor their wishes now in helping you through this. To answer your question, with the exception of a few trusted individuals who work for us there are no humans on campus.”

  “What about me?” I challenge.

  “While you may feel human right now I can assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. Your mother and father were fairies and the truth is that you are a fairy as well.”

  “Excuse me, but you must be joking.” I shake my head from side to side, willing my brain to catch up but she just smiles thinly.

  “I can assure you that I am not. Tristan will take you to your first class and tomorrow morning after you’ve had some time to digest everything you will report to the training room. That is all I have to say for now, though I’m sure you must have questions for me?” For a moment I am frozen in place, then I stand on shaky legs and make my way to the door. “The only question I have is what my parents were thinking by sending me here. You, lady, are officially nuts!” I throw open the door and run down the hall past Tristan, who jogs after me.

  “Lily?” I can hear the question in his voice and I turn on him.

  “Tristan, I don’t know what you think you know about me but it’s not true. I realize that I haven’t been acting like myself since my parent’s accident but if you think for a second that I need to be locked up with you people then guess again.”

  “I see. You think that this is a mental hospital.” A smile pulls at his lips.

  “Don’t laugh at me! Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you’re a hobbit or a leprechaun or something.” I shout.

  “Don’t be weird, there’s no such thing as leprechauns.
I’m clearly a fairy.” He laughs and my eyes widen.

  “Did you seriously just tell me not to be weird? How am I weird when you are the one who thinks he’s a fairy?”

  “Look, California, you need to calm down so we can talk about this.” He moves toward me and I step back. “I don’t think so. Look, I don’t mean to be insensitive to whatever you are going through but there’s obviously been a mistake. I’m getting out of here and don’t even think about following me!” I move away from him and sprint toward front doors, then out on to the lawn. I can see the outline of the black speedboat in the distance so I keep running until I reach it. The boatman is waiting on the dock with his hands folded stiffly in front of him.

  “Take me home.” I say, bracing my hands on my knees while I catch my breath. I can see that he’s debating as his eyes flick back and forth from me to the school.

  “Take me home or I swear to God I will swim there by myself!” I shout and he relents, his cold hand slipping around my arm as he helps me up on to the deck of the boat.

  * *

  I’m beat by the time the boat drops me off at the house. All I want to do is take a shower, listen to some tunes and crawl into bed to work through what just happened but when I step off the dock I see Rowan and immediately cringe. I don’t think that I can handle another confrontation today. He stops digging in the garden when he sees me.

  “Good first day?” He asks and I hate myself for finding his Irish accent so completely sexy.

  “I’ve had better.” I sigh and I wonder if I should tell him, then decide against it. He will definitely think I’m nuts. Maybe I am nuts and I’m the only one who doesn’t know it. Why else would my loving and supportive parents send me to a place like this? I sigh again and he hoists the shovel he’s holding over his shoulder and turns toward me.

  “I’ve heard about your school before. They say that it’s a pretty exclusive place.” “That’s not the word I’d choose.” I say as his eyes skirt over mine. His gaze is unwavering and up close I can see that his eyes are a deep shade of navy. His messy, dark curls fall across his forehead and shine a rich auburn color in the sun.