A Hellish Year One: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Bully Romance (Academy of The Devil Book 1)

by Eva Brandt

  Maybe to them, I was an exception because I was powerful—something which I still doubted, by the way. But even if their affection toward me was true, I didn’t think I could ever love a person who despised my entire race.

  “I see.” He let out an unhappy rumble and blew a gust of smoke through his nostrils. “They’ve yet to prove their worth as your mates to your satisfaction. How unfortunate. Do you want me to give them a little lesson?”

  I appreciated the dragon’s offer, but I really didn’t want to see what his idea of a lesson was like. As much as I liked him, I suspected his name was well deserved and had no desire to see him flambé my ‘unworthy mates’.

  Toward the end of the year, the issue was shelved. Exams were approaching, and desperate first years turned to me in a last ditch attempt to save themselves from utter failure. They had yet to learn much in Mundane class, as Computer Science had turned into Fap Time. We hadn’t found an actual teacher, since Professor Faust was supposed to teach that class, but this year, he’d decided he was rebelling or something.

  That meant our syllabus—which covered the most important ways to stay under the radar while feeding on unsuspecting humans and exploiting their technology—was completely neglected. My year mates excelled at finding memes and hentai, but knew next to nothing about credit cards and cameras.

  This was extra hilarious in the case of people like the Voldemort girl. Despite having knowledge of the Rowling books, the information she had on mankind was limited to the nineties. It was still unclear why she’d picked that name for herself, but it appeared she hadn’t even realized the Harry Potter books were fiction written by a human author.

  When I had this realization, I burst into a fit of laughter so uncontrollable it nearly induced a seizure. In the end, I managed to control myself and ended up tutoring my year mates in the basics of how to be a human.

  I still had no idea how it was possible for them to know so little on humanity, when they fed on our sins, but apparently, some demonic species lived sheltered lives and didn’t come into actual contact with human beings that much. If Callum, Stefan, and Mikael were to be believed, things had been different during the times of the Scholomance, but now, ignorance and hostility had become rampant.

  It was why the academy was important, even for demons who didn’t necessarily want to become Satan. If you graduated, you got a free pass to roam around Earth and do whatever the hell you wanted. Demons who didn’t participate were stuck on a leash all the time and weren’t allowed to do much.

  My main concern was not Mundane class, of course, but rather, Demonology. After a whole semester of going to Ammit’s classes, I’d sort of gotten used to her, but I’d never forgotten Jax’s demise and my original dread was making a comeback now that I had to face whatever she’d cooked up for us.

  And so it was that, on the morning of December the fifteenth, I paced in front of the Demonology classroom, biting my lower lip in agitation. “Fuck. I’m going to get eaten. I just know I will. I’ll mess up the correct classification of demons and Ammit will eat me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Alyssa,” Darling replied, rolling her eyes. “The Lioness won’t eat you for something so unimportant. Besides, I’m pretty sure nobody knows the correct classification of demons. We’re contrary bastards that way.”

  “Yeah, cheer up!” Berta said. “I heard Ammit never fails anyone. The questions you need to earn a passing grade are always very easy. The only way you get eaten is if you try to cheat. That never ends well.”

  “People try to cheat in Ammit’s class?” The boundless idiocy of such an action made my nervousness disappear. “Why?”

  “Beats me. I guess they think that she can’t see them because she can’t turn her head really well.”

  “Are they stupid? The teachers don’t have to see you when the school does.” I shook my head in exasperation. “Sometimes, it feels like I’m the only person here with a degree of self-preservation.”

  Shiro woofed, just as disappointed with the life choices of my fellow students as I was. “You know,” Bartholomew drawled, “it’s kind of unfair that you get to bring your familiar. He might tell you the answers.”

  “That doesn’t count, Bones,” L said. He was doing some last minute studying, although I had to wonder how he could even see anything with that damn mask on. “As a familiar, he’s an extension of her. Even if he did tell her the answers, which I doubt he can, it would be perfectly okay.”

  Bartholomew grimaced, but shut up. At that exact moment, the door opened, granting us entrance to Ammit’s classroom.

  Wordlessly, we all made our way inside, unprepared for our fate, but resigned to it. But Berta had been right in telling me not to worry. The exam was a simple written test, like I’d heard, and I knew how to answer every single question.

  Spending at least half the semester terrified that your teacher was going to consume your soul did have its uses. I’d put a lot of effort in Demonology, although technically speaking, it wasn’t just because of Ammit. The class involved the study of demons as a whole, which meant I needed to learn it to survive in this new world I’d been thrust into. My housemates often spoke about topics they undoubtedly considered trivial, but were actually quite complicated for a mortal who’d had no experience with demons until now. From time to time, it could be helpful, but more often than not, if I didn’t have at least some prior knowledge, it just made me feel badly out of place. I’d spent hours on end doing extra reading and now, the results were starting to show.

  The only thing that gave me trouble was the essay. In your own words, explain the relationship between angels and demons, its importance to the world, as well as its effects on the mortal realm.

  To this day, I didn’t really understand a demon’s perception of an angel. When we’d first met, Callum had told me it was a crime to be associated with celestial beings, and I’d since learned that in my second term, we’d go to a class called Angelic Defense Arts. It would presumably teach us to fight angels.

  Everyone still seemed to be ignoring that the original Satan, Lucifer, had been an angel. But he wasn’t the only one who’d left behind his divine brethren. There had been countless other angels who’d fallen with him. That just made me wonder why people were avoiding the topic so much. Were angels and demons that different? Didn’t a person’s value depend on the choices that individual made, no matter what background he or she had?

  Considering my options, I went with my gut and decided to express my mild confusion in my essay. Ammit was a deity of balance. She likely wasn’t someone who’d be as anti-angel as Callum. Besides, I was at least eighty-percent sure she wasn’t going to devour my soul for having an opinion that didn’t match hers. If anything, being dishonest about what I thought might be worse.

  By the time I finished the essay, I had begun to have serious doubts about my approach. But there was no time to restart it. A little disgruntled, I added my conclusion, did a basic spell-check, and handed my test in.

  “How did you do?” Darling asked me as we left the classroom.

  “Pretty sure I nailed the first half. Not sure about the essay.”

  “As long as you didn’t write angels are amazing and demons are awful, you’ll be fine.” Darling narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously. “You didn’t write that, did you?”

  “No, of course not!” I replied. “The world is rarely so black and white.”

  I might not be crazy about being dragged here and might have my issues with three-quarters of the people who lived at the school, but even so, I wouldn’t necessarily say they were awful. They were people, with good things and bad things. I had limited experience with angels, but I still believed they couldn’t be that different.

  “Well, there you have it,” Darling said. “You’ll pass for sure. You don’t have to worry about Mundane or Creature Control, and you love Herbalism, so you’re practically in the clear.”

  “You’re probably right,” I answered, feeling a little more
cheerful.

  In hindsight, I should’ve known better than to tempt fate. I didn’t believe in things like ‘jinxing someone’, but maybe I should have. I hadn’t believed in demons and magic either, and yet here I was.

  But maybe a part of me had preserved the bright-eyed optimism of mortality, because I didn’t see the disaster coming until it was too late.

  Professor Jones had been great all throughout the term. We’d studied both theory and practical lessons, and it had been far more interesting than the biology I’d done in high school. I doubted I’d ever get to use half the information we were taught, because as a human, I was immune to herbs of purification. But it could be useful anyway, and secretly, I’d always found learning Herbalism from a guy who looked like a drowned victim hilarious.

  I’d been so busy enjoying myself I’d forgotten about one very important fact. Plants tended to be dangerous for humans too, and I was more vulnerable to them than others.

  As soon as we entered the greenhouses, Professor Jones gave us our assignment. “For the purpose of this exam, we will be creating the Angel Shield Potion. Everyone, get to your work stations and find your materials. You have five minutes before we begin.”

  The plants in question were already waiting for us on the counter, Professor Jones having prepared beforehand, obviously aware that if he let us try to get this stuff from the greenhouse ourselves, we’d end up killing one another. The basic herbs needed for the potion were sandalwood, belladonna and mugwort, but we’d also need to add a chunk of dragon blood resin later, as well as demonic seeds originating from those weird, man-eating symbiote plants on the island.

  I felt nervousness swirling through my gut. I wasn’t familiar with this particular potion. I knew what it did and how to make it, in theory, but we’d never gone through the actual process.

  The other students didn’t have the same problem. “We’re in such luck!” Darling said, cheering. “This will be easy! Isn’t that right, Alyssa?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered under my breath. “Easy.” Most of the potions we’d done so far in Herbalism had been easy, because the class was only meant to provide a basic introduction to the process. I hadn’t expected to get a potion for the exam at all. To top it off, I’d never had to defend myself from an angel, so a potion created for the specific purpose of fighting one off was completely new to me.

  Well, I might not have any experience at this, but that had never stopped me before, as evidenced by my long stay at The Academy of the Devil. I pulled on my gloves, readied my knife, as well as my mortar and pestle. I double-checked that my purified water was in good condition—you never knew here, since the energies of the academy tended to pollute it very quickly—and cleaned the work counter one more time. Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for the moment when Professor Jones would give us the cue to start. He might not be as harsh as Ammit, but if someone tried to break his rules, he’d undoubtedly turn into a version of The Godfather and make that person sleep with the fishes.

  “Begin!” he shouted, his voice echoing almost ominously over the greenhouse.

  At first, the exam went well. I found the slicing and dicing involved in the preliminary process quite simple, not unlike what I’d done back at home, when I’d helped my mother with the cooking. I was still slower than my year mates, but that didn’t worry me.

  My main concern came from a different direction. All the substances we’d created so far in Herbalism class had been simple and hadn’t involved fire. They were herbal mixes more than anything else, raw bases we’d have to use later for more complex potions. The Angel Shield Potion was different, in that it did require the use of fire and a cauldron.

  As we worked, Professor Jones produced a set of golden cauldrons and lined them up in front of us. Some of the other students had already managed to complete their preliminary potions, so they headed toward the cauldrons and started to pour them in. Within seconds, the substance in each respective cauldron started to emit clouds of thick, cloying smoke.

  Uh-oh.

  Like most epileptics, I didn’t deal well with smoke. I couldn’t stay too long in churches since the burnt incense made me dizzy. Cigarette smoke was in its whole separate category. Even being in the company of a smoker could induce a seizure if I wasn’t careful.

  The substance in the cauldron contained something far more dangerous than tobacco. The demonic seeds meant to act as a catalyst for the secondary process of the potion creation were, by their nature, incredibly dark, which made the fumes even more toxic.

  Instinctively, I covered my nose and mouth, my own work forgotten. By my side, Shiro started to fidget in anxiety. I looked around wildly, trying to figure out a way to escape the greenhouse. For some reason, the doors seemed to have disappeared.

  The smoke coming from the cauldrons grew even thicker, as black as the walls of The Academy of the Devil. In the dark fog in front of me, I heard Darling laugh. The sound reached me as if through a thick veil. “No angel would ever bypass this shield. We’re unstoppable.”

  “Stop talking, Ms. Masters, and let your fellow students work,” Professor Jones reprimanded her. I likely would’ve found it funny if I didn’t feel like I was about to collapse any moment now.

  Shiro barked in agitation, pawing at my gown. I knew what that meant. He might not be able to speak, but he had his ways to communicate with me, to tell me “you’d better sit your ass down now, Alyssa, so you don’t brain yourself when you unavoidable crash.”

  I wanted to listen to him, but at the same time, I felt the desperate urge to get out of here. A voice at the back of my mind insisted I wasn’t safe in the greenhouse, and not just because of the smoke. The demons at the school might have been nice enough so far, but they still despised my species, and I could never allow myself to forget that.

  Once again, I remembered Callum’s words, the sentences that had stuck with me all throughout my time at the academy. “There’s only one rule at the academy. Don’t show weakness. There’s no mercy for the weak.”

  It was a rule I’d been trying to follow with all my might. I was not aware of the moment when I finally broke it.

  * * *

  Waking up after an epilepsy seizure was always the same. I always tended to be in a hospital, with a doctor leaning over me, asking me questions, checking my condition. There were always other people showing concern.

  Not at The Academy of the Devil. Here, I woke up in an almost empty, dark infirmary, with a demon by my side—more specifically, Dean Mephistopheles.

  But maybe he wasn’t that different from everyone I’d known in the past, because the very first thing he said was, “Welcome back, Ms. Michaelis. How do you feel?”

  At that exact moment, of course, I didn’t understand the similarity. I was too lost and confused to understand much of anything.

  “What happened?” I asked, groaning. The last thing I remembered was entering Ammit’s exam room. Had I messed up my Demonology test, leading her to attack me? “Did Ammit try to consume my soul?”

  The dean shook his head, a shadow sweeping over his crimson, lined face. “No, Ms. Michaelis, although that would’ve perhaps been better.”

  I gaped at him in disbelief. “What could possibly be worse than my Demonology teacher attempting to eat me?”

  “You had an epileptic seizure in your Herbalism exam,” he replied, frowning in a way that made him look more demonic than ever. “I’m afraid that might not have been wise.”

  A seizure. Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck. And I’d been doing so well. My medication had been keeping it under control. I’d been seizure-free for years. And for it to happen here, at the academy, and in the presence of all my year mates... Christ, I was in a lot of trouble, wasn’t I?

  “How bad is it?” I asked the dean.

  “I’ve already received a petition to expel you,” he replied. “It was authored by Lady Lilith. As for the students... I’m afraid you’re going to have to face them on your own. Can you walk? I don’t have much ex
perience with human afflictions, and Professor Faust has refused to assist you. Neurological disorders are not his areas of expertise.”

  “Of course not,” I shot back bitingly. “He’s too busy making contracts with demons to fulfill the Hippocratic Oath. Fucking asshole.”

  It wasn’t a good idea for me to say that, especially since I was now pretty sure the dean had been the one to bind Faust to the academy. But I had a headache, I still felt dazed, and I couldn’t understand why Lilith, who’d seemed to like me in the past, was acting this way. My brain felt fuzzy, like I was swimming through cotton. Simply focusing on the face of the dean was an effort, and for a few seconds there, I could’ve sworn his leathery wings had feathers.

  Dean Mephistopheles didn’t seem angry with me for my comment, but he didn’t let me get away with it either. “What did you think would happen if you came here as an epileptic, Ms. Michaelis? Did you believe you could conceal this from everyone?”

  “With respect, Dean Mephistopheles, do you really expect me to think you didn’t know about this?” Granted, I’d tried to be discreet, but the school had eyes. Literally. And even leaving that aside, when I’d been at home, my medical history hadn’t been a secret. I had trouble believing that someone who’d shown so much interest in me hadn’t known something so important about my life.

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about. If I’d been aware of the problem, you wouldn’t have been allowed to come here at all.” He smiled, an unpleasant expression that displayed sharp, fang-like teeth. “But that doesn’t matter right now, does it?”

  No, it didn’t, because it was a huge lie and we both realized it. We also knew it didn’t matter. Demons ignored things that were uncomfortable as long as they weren’t blatant, but if an issue was out in the open, they reacted badly. Mephistopheles was one of the most powerful lords of hell. As such, everyone would pretend he hadn’t been aware of my affliction, even if, as the dean of the school, he couldn’t have missed it.