Nightborne Academy

by Jessica Morris

  "Very little, but I like the symmetry." I smile at her.

  "Symmetry?" Dad asks, and I gesture toward the phrase.

  "It's a palindrome. It's spelled the same forward and backward."

  She makes a small click with her tongue and smiles wider. "Well done. Most people don't notice that. Would you like to know what it means?"

  I nod and grip the straps on my bag.

  She looks up with me. "We enter the circle at night and are consumed by fire. It's a reminder for people like us to stay in the dark where we belong." She holds out her hand. "My name is Alexandria Nightborne. I'm the headmistress of this Academy."

  I take her hand in mine and let her guide the handshake. "The school is named after your family?"

  Her laughter shocks me, but its soothing sound eases away my tension. "Nightborne is a title that's given to the important members of our society. How much do you know about our Academy?" She grips my hand in both of hers, not allowing me to escape.

  I shake my head.

  "Then we'll start from scratch. You'll have all winter break to cram etiquette, history, and basic magic into that incredible brain of yours." She turns toward the entrance and sets off in a powerful stride, dragging me with her.

  I tug against her hold, waiting for her to either let me go or make me move. "I'm sorry, Ms. Nightborne, but I don't understand."

  "Ah, I thought your father would have explained it by now." She cut a glare at Dad and then smoothed it over with a smile toward me. "We're inviting you to the Nightborne Academy."

  "Why would I want to go to a school where my sister was murdered?" It was a logical question and one I'd been wondering since Dad suggested this decision was out of my hands.

  Ms. Nightborne returns to my side and leans close to my ear. "This isn't a conversation we should have in public. Come inside." Her grip crushes my hand and I cry out as nerves pinch and bones grind together. She’s like a vise, despite the fragile appearance of her dainty little hands.

  "Dad," I cry out, and try to make her release me, but her grip tightens further.

  Instead of helping, Dad walks past us. "We should go with her."

  "We have physicians who specialize in resetting broken bones. Would you like to experience their services?" Her smile widens and I see fangs protruding over her lower lip.

  "I'll go," I gasp, and she releases me with a smirk.

  "You should listen to your father." She turns on her heel and takes the steps in graceful movements, glancing over her shoulder at me.

  I race up the stairs to fall in line behind her, realizing that Lacey is nowhere to be found. Dad and Lacey both abandoned me. Alone, pissed, and confused, I wonder what the hell is going on.

  4

  Dad, where did you go? Why did you leave me with this psycho?

  The throbbing in my hand pulses with my heartbeat. I shake it gently, hoping to get circulation flowing again. Every part of my hand aches. I haven't spent much time in school, but I don't remember this level of abuse from any of the teachers or staff.

  As we walk, everyone makes way for her, stepping to the side and bowing their heads. What the hell kind of power did a headmistress of a school have?

  It wasn’t the first time he’d left me alone, but why now?

  Straighten up. The command forces my spine straight. Stark terror clenches my muscles, but I’m forced to move the way she commands.

  “Stay silent.” She bites out the demand and my mouth forces shut. What is she doing to me?

  Mean-spirited chuckles are tossed my way and I clench my jaw in frustration. Mind control spells. Compulsions to do what you’re told. Dad mentioned them in the past. I wish I would have listened instead of tuning him out.

  She grips my chin and lifts it, turning my face one way and then the other. “No tears. I expected you to bawl your eyes out by now. There’s hope for you yet. Follow me.” It's as though her voice claws into my brain, digging deep into my scalp and scalding me with raw compulsion. Put your hands down and walk with more confidence. The words, spoken once again in my mind, force me to move against my will. I struggle, but nothing works.

  The headmistress cuts a glare at me, and I shudder involuntarily, afraid of her death grip and the power she has over my body and mind.

  From this moment on, you will act, live, and breathe as Lacey Elizabeth Reynolds. She was decisive, bold, and never backed down from a fight. The words didn’t have the same edge of compulsion as her earlier commands, but they destroyed any doubts I had about Dad’s words.

  Become Lacey? My heart thunders in my chest. No. I'm myself. Pretending to be Lacey at a place like this is impossible. I fight the compulsion within me, panicking at the thought of being forced to become anything other than me.

  I make a small groan of frustration. Wait. I can speak again? I try to slouch and my spine gives into my demands for a split second.

  Thoughts spin in excitement. Is her influence limited by time or focus? Is it will or magic that casts it? The crowd around us thins out until we reach an ornate door.

  "You will go inside and wait."

  "Wait for what?" The words slip out before I can stop them, but my body locks itself perfectly still, expecting pain.

  She laughs then, a sharp surprising bite of sound that chills me to the soul.

  "You broke my command. You're the second person to do that and the only one crazy enough to ever question my decision after knowing my strength." She turns to me with her smile open and extended canine teeth gleaming. "This is the last chance for most of the people here to live their lives outside of a prison cell. Over half of the student body has been the cause of death of at least one of your kind."

  "My kind?" My voice, raw with use against the spell, croaks out the question. “What happened to our kind?” Was that just because we were outside in front of others?

  "They fight for blood here. Starving wolves doing everything they can to eat, live, and earn their freedom." Her face looms close. Stop. She commands and I can't move away. She touches my cheek with a long fingernail, tracing my jaw. "If they find out who you are, you will be ripped to pieces."

  Her voice drips honey, but her anger-filled gaze lures me in, trapping me with its power. My head throbs and dizziness assaults my senses.

  "Lacey has many enemies from very powerful families. I am opposed to you being here, and if I had my way, you and your family would never step foot on these sacred grounds ever again."

  Is she going to kill me? Panic rips through my chest and I realize I'm not breathing.

  A hand comes over my eyes, blocking the headmistress from my gaze. The scent of earth and stale cigarettes flood in through my nose. "Luckily, you have no say or jurisdiction over this case." A male voice slices through the terror gripping me, releasing the final hold she has over my body.

  I gasp and clench a fist over my stomach, gulping for breath. Her power stopped me from breathing. What else did it do? Coughing tears through my lungs and a warm hand pats me gently on the back as I suck in oxygen again. Hands trembling and body shaking, I feel the last dredges of her command releasing me from its claws.

  "Oh dear. I forgot to tell her to breathe when I told her to stop." She makes a click with her tongue. "Well, now she knows how dangerous things can be. Consider it a lesson, Lacey." She emphasized my sister's name with a sneer in her voice.

  "Is this how the Nightborne Academy treats its students?" He steps in front of me, slightly blocking me from her view. I'm thankful for the block so I can hide the shaking in my limbs. My gaze locks onto his black jacket.

  "Until you lock her in with the rest of them, she’s no student of mine. This is your idea, Detective Cutter. You pushed her into this, now you will deal with the consequences."

  He straightens up, and I notice a few silver hairs on his otherwise immaculate black suit. "Your actions are hindering our investigation. Under statute 8.11.982 of the Nightborne Investigation Bureau, the headmaster of Nightborne Academy is required to comply with�
�"

  "I know the code," she snaps back, interrupting him. I glance up to see her immaculately made-up face twisted in irritation. "When your great-grandmother was a baby, I was writing half the laws you’ve spouted at me. The girl's body is here, as you commanded. This one will take her sister's place, as part of our agreement. I have even provided the best possible assistance to help her assume her sister's identity by the end of winter break. She’ll have three months to acclimate to her new life." She steps into my line of sight and smirks at me. “Don’t disappoint me. This isn’t a vacation. You will have three months to become Lacey or the detective will have another body on his hands.”

  Rage knots inside me, overwhelming the fear enough to make me meet her gaze.

  “Such a bold soul.” She leans forward. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do. Don’t disappoint me and get killed.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder and glares at Detective Cutter. “Do you have the paperwork available?”

  If she’s telling the truth, she is really old. Over one hundred, at least, if she wasn’t joking about his great-grandmother. Math wasn't really my favorite subject, but one hundred years was impossible for humans.

  Well, most humans, anyway.

  I put a hand on my forehead and slid further behind him, avoiding her disdainful and amused gaze.

  The man next to me bows. "Of course. It’s sitting on your desk as we speak. I delivered it personally before coming here."

  She huffs out a sigh and waves a hand. "You are such a pain in the ass. Make sure she knows the rules." The headmistress turns on her heel and strides down another hall, every step of her stilettos echoing around us.

  "You okay?" He opens the ornate door and gestures for me to follow him as he steps inside.

  I glance back toward the headmistress and realize she's no longer there. Panic eats at me and I chase the man through the door, willing to go anywhere to get away from her. "Is she really that old?”

  He chuckles as I pass by him. “I wouldn’t call her old to her face.”

  I cradle my hand against my chest. “I don't know what happened back there."

  “I’ll explain as soon as we sit down.”

  The scent hits me full in the face. Roses. Lilies. Even sunflowers. My sister’s favorites. I close my eyes to brace myself, forcing my feet to walk one in front of the other.

  We reach a broad room with jet black pews lining what looks to be a cathedral. My gaze slides over the benches and red carpet, the spill of stained glass reflecting over the marble floor. I see them and don't process, focused only on one thing. A casket lays out in front of us, shiny white and covered in red roses.

  The detective passes me as the door clicks closed, leaving us alone in the room with my sister’s body.

  As he walks into the light, I finally get a chance to see the man who rescued me earlier. He watches me with a cold expression. Messy dark hair and eyes that stare into my soul, this guy is not the savior I thought. No, he's something far different than human. He has the same wavelength as Lacey does, though he's obviously not a ghost.

  He tilts his head and smirks at me. "Is there something on my face?"

  "Who are you?" I ask. The headmistress is powerful. This guy, though, has a depth I can't see.

  "My name is Adrian Cutter. I'm the detective in charge of your sister's homicide." He didn't hold out his hand and I was thankful. My right hand still needs to recover, and this man seems like one I don't want to irritate.”

  A detective. "Nice to meet you, detective."

  “It’s rare to hear that. Thank you.”

  "Is it normal to be strong-armed into helping you with homicide investigations?"

  He smiles, but it's gone in a flash. "Why don't we have a seat?" He gestures toward the ebony benches. "This may take a while."

  The bench is icy and uncomfortable. My gaze is drawn to his. They reflect oddly in the light like an animal's.

  His smile returns and he sinks down beside me, unbuttoning his jacket. I don't dare look away. He crosses his arms and settles against the bench. "What do they call you?"

  "Lizzie."

  "Your sister's middle name—" He freezes and jerks his attention toward the front of the room.

  A familiar chill slides across my skin. Lacey. With a sigh of relief, I sink against the bench and follow his gaze to the front of the room. My sister’s casket sits alone in the dim light.

  She didn’t abandon me after all. My gaze slides over the flower arrangements. A nonexistent breeze ruffles the petals of the roses. I don't have to get up to know it's Lacey’s influence. Her ghost is already waiting for me to approach the stage.

  "My dad thought it would be cute to name my sister Lacey Elizabeth and me Elizabeth Lacey."

  "That's unusual." His attention is on me again and I ignore the pressure of his stare.

  "Yeah."

  "Do you want to go up there?"

  Tension shoots through me. "Is that Lacey's..." The word casket sticks in my throat and I stare down at my hands. What a stupid question. I already know the answer.

  "It is." The silence lengthens until a cold sweat dampens the back of my neck. "You seem nervous."

  "You seem dangerous," I reply as I look up at him. This is why Dad always does the talking during our cases.

  "I am dangerous." He stretches his arm across the back of the bench, looking far more relaxed than I could ever be. "So is the person who killed your sister. Have they told you anything about the investigation yet?"

  I shake my head.

  "I track down murderers, serial killers, and other violent offenders who have abilities much worse than your sister's. There are a lot of very powerful families in our world and I've offended almost all of them. That means I have to be more dangerous than they are."

  I cross my arms and watch Lacey materialize. She moves around the casket, observing the flowers and reaching out to touch them. I expected sadness or anger, but she seems more amused than anything.

  Even as a ghost, my sister is weird.

  I heard that. Her voice slips into my mind and I wonder if it’s real or if it’s wishful thinking on my part.

  "Dad said you want me to become Lacey and help you find this guy." I'm trembling, of course, since the thought of something more dangerous than my sister fills me with real, terrible fear. My sister was called a monster by everyone around her, but aside from a few terrible moments in our childhood, she was a good kid. I can't imagine what a murderer with worse powers would be like. Actually, I could, and that was the scariest part.

  "Unfortunately, that's the case."

  "I'm not like you guys. I don't have abilities." I hold up my injured hand for him to see where bruises are already forming. "She nearly broke my bones."

  "She's new to the Academy, but not dangerous to you. Once you become a student, that is."

  I snort. "I'm supposed to believe you?"

  "She's compelled to protect you while you're on school grounds. It's part of the rules."

  "Rules are broken every day."

  "Okay, think of it as an unbreakable spell, like the way she manipulated your body earlier when she stole your ability to breathe."

  I gently massage my bruised hand. "How do I stop something like that from happening again?"

  "You learn to defend yourself." He sits forward and puts his elbows on his knees. Nimble fingers fidget with something small and metallic. "The best place to do that is here."

  "She doesn't want me here."

  He laughs and focuses on the object in his hand. "Once you officially become a student of this Academy, she is bound by sorcery and blood to protect you with her life."

  My sister's gaze locks onto mine and I smirk. "That didn't do a lot of good for my sister."

  He sits back again and drops the metal object on the bench between us. It bounces on the wood and then rolls toward my hand. It's a small medallion. A tree of life is the focus with delicate wire branches in precious metals twisting around a jeweled moon. T
he border of the piece is charred black and pitted, as though it had been in fire, or worse. I rubbed my thumb against it, noting the sharp edges. "What is this?"

  "I think this is what got your sister killed.”

  5

  I take the necklace in my hand. "Wasn't she stabbed to death?"

  "She actually died from a spell backlash caused by the interference between this amulet and the power restriction bands on her wrists and neck. The lacerations were superficial."

  Lacey moves along her casket as light glimmers off the wounds still prominent on her body. They may have faded, but I can still see them. They don't look superficial. I stare down at the amulet. It doesn't look like something my sister would wear. Too cumbersome to be dainty, too obviously magical to not draw attention. Then again, what do I know about style? My favorite outfit is a comfortable hoodie and worn out jeans, shoes optional, fuzzy socks preferred. "Where did she get this?"

  "We're not sure. None of her friends recognize it. We were hoping you'd be able to shed some light on the subject."

  I shake my head and hand it back. "I don't know anything about magic, spells, or even my sister's power. Sorry." Okay, slightly lying here. I do know some, but not enough to understand what I’m looking at.

  "Where did you hear that she was stabbed?"

  I freeze and jerk my attention back onto the stage. "Don't know. Maybe Dad mentioned it."

  "We haven't told anyone."

  "Weird," I mutter, cursing my own idiocy. This is why I wish Dad was here. He'd handle the conversation and I wouldn't make mistakes like this.

  "It is weird." He dangles the amulet in front of me. "How did you know about it?"

  Dad's right. Telling these people anything about my power would lead to more trouble. The last thing I want is to end up helping a homicide detective track down more dead bodies. I look him in the eye and hide away everything else going through my mind. "We're twins. I always know when she’s hurt."

  "Ahh," he says. He takes my uninjured hand in his and turns it over, dropping the amulet in my palm. "This belongs with you."