When she touched the knob, she expected to be blasted by wards. Instead, the door creaked open. Giving in to temptation, she walked outside into the night, the weight of her blades sitting comfortably within reach if anyone thought to mess with her.
Moonlight illuminated a small garden off in the distance, the slight mist giving the area a haunting feeling…like she had fallen through time. Lured forward, she entered the small hedge maze. Mythical statues of creatures were placed throughout, some so fierce she gave them wide birth, disturbed to feel as if their eyes were following her.
At the center of the maze was a nicely maintained clearing. A number of benches and tables were scattered about the space in clusters, and Morgan took a seat with her back against the hedges. A large gargoyle statue stood sentinel next to the bench.
Crouched, the gargoyle was massive. Standing, he would be close to seven feet tall. Giant wings arched well above his head and wrapped protectively around his back. Claws tipped his hands and feet, while a tail almost as long as he was tall lay coiled around his feet, and his pointed ears were almost covered by his long mane of hair. Carved from stone, the chiseled body was as impressive as it was intimidating—he was all muscle. Only a small loincloth granted him any privacy. One word came to mind as she stared at him—powerful. He had a big forehead, a prominent brow, his face perfectly proportioned, handsome even. His expression was both fierce and intense as he surveyed his domain.
Morgan felt surprisingly comforted, even protected in his shadow. The cool air felt refreshing after such a stuffy day…until she thought about the confrontation in the basement.
Despite her secret hope, the hunters in the school were no different from those at the coven, refusing to allow her to do her job because she was a girl.
To her disgust, they weren’t even going to give her a chance.
Losing her appetite, she set her sandwich aside, and eyed the fearsome gargoyle. She could have sworn the statue had shifted, crouched closer to her, as if hearing her thoughts and offering comfort. After studying him for a full minute and nothing changed, she blamed her overactive imagination on the questionable light.
The statue was so lifelike, his expression so hungry, she reached out and ran a finger over the arched tip of his wings. “You’re welcome to finish the sandwich.”
At the sound of crunching gravel, she whirled, her mind flashing to the escaped prisoner. She grabbed for her blades but didn’t pull them as she scanned the garden. The mist had thickened, the statues keeping her hyper-aware of her surroundings and what could be hiding in the shadows. When she saw nothing alarming, she reluctantly released her hold on her blades.
When Morgan turned, the sandwich was gone.
She stared in disbelief at the spot a moment longer, then glanced at the gargoyle and the slight curve to his lips and reluctantly shook her head. “It must have been an animal.”
Her mind flashed to the textbook she just read. It told of a gorgon who turned paranormal creatures to stone, using them to stand guard. When danger threatened, they would come to life and protect the Academy. After they served their time, they were given their freedom. Many creatures would gladly agree to serve if it meant they didn’t have to return to the primordial realm.
Morgan thought it was nonsense, but as she studied the statues, she wasn’t so sure anymore.
Goosebumps raced along her skin as she imagined being trapped as a statue, frozen for years or even decades, forever watching life pass them by.
Too unnerved to go back to her dorm room and sleep, Morgan decided to search the outside of the school for weaknesses, and investigate how an intruder might enter.
As she rounded the front of the castle, the pristine, lush lawn changed to stone.
After a few more steps, she stopped short.
The Academy was a frickin’ honest-to-goodness castle on a mountain.
The fortress was carved into the mountaintop, the three different levels spread out before her. The wall surrounding the castle was nearly a mile away. The main building where she stood was four stories high, the space massive, while the other levels of the sprawled Academy were only one or two floors. The ground floor appeared to be a garage, and a narrow, single-car, immaculately paved road emerged from the building to wind down the mountain, the trail quickly swallowed by trees. Beyond the wall was a vista of nothing but trees, stretching as far as she could see, and she couldn’t help but be grateful she was sent by a more direct route.
She jogged toward the edge of the first ridge, noting the only thing preventing her from falling twenty feet to the next level was a stone guard rail.
The castle itself was pristine, the brown stones of the outer walls blending almost seamlessly into the surrounding trees. There were no stairs. The only way to reach the lower levels was to jump or head back inside and search for a way down. Morgan took the more direct path, and vaulted over the railing, landing lightly on her feet.
As she circled the school, searching for weaknesses, she discovered the grounds were swathed in wards. The back side of the castle had a large but narrow terrace, the edge slightly overhanging a sheer drop some several hundred feet down the mountainside. The jagged ravine was intimidating as hell, the steep incline strewn with tons of rock and a scraggily tree here or there. She took in the view of the world beyond, the vista breathtaking despite the danger. As the wind whipped and tugged at her clothing and hair, she could almost imagine she was flying.
The school was impregnable.
Either someone had to let the murderer inside…or someone inside was the culprit.
After spending most of her nights hunting, Morgan wasn’t ready to succumb to sleep. It wasn’t even midnight. She wandered around to the front again, searching for stairs, but found nothing. Gauging the distance to the lowest level, she grabbed the stone railing, swung her legs over the side, and dropped thirty feet to the ground, touching grass for the first time since the garden.
As she roamed the grounds, heading toward the wall surrounding the castle, a howl sounded in the distance.
Inside the walls.
Morgan looked behind her, back to the wall she just dropped from, but even with her enhanced strength, she couldn’t jump thirty feet to safety. The walls were sanded smooth, leaving her with no hand or footholds to scale.
The lack of stairs now made sense.
The perfect trap.
Narrowing her eyes, she whirled and drew the two blades strapped to her thighs, then waited for the creatures to round the corner.
A massive black shadow sped toward her, low to the ground.
Then another.
And another.
Wolves.
Shit.
The mass of undulating fur and muscle charged toward her, their shapes growing impossibly larger, their hunger for the chase swelling in the air, causing her legs to twitch with the need to run.
Morgan crouched low as a tingle of magic danced over the lawn, the hairs on her arms lifting, and she changed her initial opinion.
Not wolves…werewolves.
They began to circle, their fur ruffled, their eyes glowing and fangs flashing, but instead of bloodlust as she expected, she only sensed their curiosity. Very carefully, Morgan sheathed her weapons and lifted her hands. To her surprise, the largest of the wolves detached from the shadows, pushing his way forward, urging the others away with a nip and growl.
It was only then that she understood…they were patrolling the grounds.
She studied them, but didn’t see any collars.
Which meant hired guards.
As the large wolf neared, his fur appeared to be a sandy brown with white undertones, but his brown eyes were what startled her the most…human intelligence and wolf cunning stared boldly back at her.
The wolf’s eyes reminded her of Ascher, and pain rippled through her so strongly, she had trouble swallowing, the loss of him too fresh not to feel as if she was being stabbed in the chest.
She cleared her throat
and shrugged. “I mean you no harm. I was just taking a look around.”
To her surprise, the wolf jerked his head, mock-nipping at her. Morgan stumbled back, thinking he was reprimanding her, but hesitated when he did it again. When he gave her a play bow, butt in the air, his tail waggling, understanding dawned, and she smiled when she realized she was being invited to run with the pack.
“Thank you.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and she lowered her gaze, unable to explain how much the tiny gesture meant to her. Morgan took off, putting on a burst of speed, quickly catching up with the rest of the pack. She could tell which of the werewolves were more human and which were almost completely animal by the strength of the magic wafting off them. After five minutes of proving she could keep up with them, they stopped casting her suspicious looks and simply ran.
Every time she veered too far away from the pack to investigate something, the lead wolf would nip at her leg, going as far as to catch the fabric of her pants to pull her along when she ignored him. She was both exasperated and charmed by his antics.
Accepting that she wouldn’t be allowed to roam on her own, she stayed with the group.
The run was rigorous, grueling to her human body, but she couldn’t remember when she had so much fun.
After an hour, the head wolf led her away from the others. He guided her toward the garage, then pawed at the door. When she reached forward to open it, the wards on the building prickled against her skin, becoming almost painful. To her surprise, the door unlatched, granting them access. The first thing she saw was more than two dozen different types of vehicles, from vans to sports cars.
She expected the area to be pitch black, but the castle appeared to have an ambient glow, giving her enough light to see, but no matter how she searched, she couldn’t find the source of the lights. When the wolf yipped, Morgan reluctantly turned and followed him through the twists and turns of the castle. They passed two more doors when she realized she was in the exact spot where she started…near the entrance to the garden.
When she stopped, the wolf used its shoulder against her leg to nudge her along.
The extra two hundred pounds made her stagger.
To keep upright, she sank her fingers into his fur, and they both froze.
She expected his fur to be wiry, but underneath was warm, silky fluff. When he didn’t protest, her curiosity got the best of her, and she ran her fingers over his shoulders.
Very slowly, as if afraid to scare her, the wolf leaned against her more, tipping his head in silent invitation.
Morgan couldn’t refuse.
She gently traced the tip of her finger over his ear, surprised by the thick, fuzzy fur. When she touched his head, she used her nails to reach his scalp, and the big doofus practically melted into a puddle at her feet.
Morgan was utterly charmed.
Magic tickled along her skin, enticing her closer, tempting her to linger.
After another five minutes, she sighed. “I’d better get inside before I’m missed.”
The wolf grumbled, reluctantly gaining his feet.
When his eyes turned on her, she froze, completely forgetting he wasn’t Ascher, that he was also part human…and she had been rubbing him like some domesticated dog.
He gave her a goofy grin, as if understanding her mortification, silently laughing at her. When he nudged her forward again, she obeyed, wishing she could outrun her chagrin so easily.
By the time she reached her room, her cheeks still burned with embarrassment, but she was pleasantly exhausted.
Morning came all too early, the sun a splash of mauve across the horizon. Training would begin in an hour, giving her time to warm up and get familiar with the school before the rest of the students arrived. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep again, Morgan threw on some clothes, debated over which weapons to bring, and ultimately settled on less was more. After a quick study of the map, she went in search of the gym.
She entered the lit gymnasium cautiously, but found the room empty. A little more at ease, she scanned the area, immediately drawn to the wall full of weapons. While some of the lower weapons were clearly practice pieces, those higher on the wall, while well cared for, had been used for battle.
Though she would have love to study them more, none called to her. After another search of the room, Morgan set herself up in a corner near a radio. Turning it to a rock station, she stripped herself of weapons, closed her eyes and began her morning routine of stretching and warming her muscles. The blasting music helped her focus and organize her thoughts.
Forty minutes into her workout, students began to filter into the room. She studied them for a few minutes, then closed her eyes again, blocking out the stares, and began to pick up her pace. Only when she heard them begin practice did she forget about them. An hour later, two words broke her concentration.
“Holy shit.”
Morgan’s eyes popped open, and her gaze immediately locked on the same hunter she confronted last night, the same hunter who took out the minotaur with such ease.
Also the same hunter who banished her from the hunt.
He stood twenty feet away, facing her, mimicking her so effortlessly they were mirror images of each other, the flex and release of his muscles so smooth, it was almost mesmerizing. He was studying her face so intently, her skin began to prickle under the attention, and she faltered.
He stared at her as if he knew her and had waited a lifetime to find her.
The speaker stepped forward until he stood between them, his eyes flicking back and forth. “He’s been unbeatable for years, developing moves I’ve never seen before…until now.”
Morgan recognized the guy from the forest hunt—the archer.
He had longish black hair, wavy enough for her to imagine running her fingers through the strands, his blue eyes mischievous as he began to circle her. He came to a stop in front of her, a playful smirk on his face. “I’m Draven.”
“Knock it off.”
The leader scowled at his friend, looking seconds away from decking him, when he thought better of it and veered away, marching to the middle of the room. “Fall in.”
Morgan jumped at the bark.
The students immediately snapped into line like soldiers, and she toweled away the light sweat gleaming on her skin.
“Best hurry, or he’ll single you out.” Draven rubbed his thumb over his mouth, as if to hide that he was speaking, and strolled away.
That’s when she saw the other two hunters she recognized from the woods standing by the door, their relaxed poses belying their alert eyes.
And they were all watching her in varying degrees of fascination.
You could always tell a hunter by the way they carried themselves—all relaxed and ready for action at the least hint of trouble.
Deciding to play along, Morgan spared a remorseful glance at her weapons, but fell into line as ordered, distancing herself slightly from the others, not fully trusting them so close. She preferred to have room to move in case she needed to defend herself. Out of the thirty people in the room, there was only one other girl.
“I am your instructor. You will call me Kincade.”
Morgan snapped her head around in shock and studied the guy who was not much older than her own age.
“You’re here because you want to become hunters. You have all passed the first trials, which means we have already cut a third of you from the ranks. If you pass this class, you will get your wish. You will be here at dawn. Training will be held for three hours.”
Kincade walked down the line, gazing and assessing each kid as he passed. Some students stood straighter, while others almost cowered. “You will fit your other classes around your hunting schedule. After lunch, you will report back and practice until supper. Those who are deemed worthy, who excel, will then be allowed out on assignment with us.”
As he neared her end of the line, Morgan stiffened, unable to tear her eyes away from the way he prowled toward her.
“You will be judged on your skill. If, by the end of the next week, you are found worthy, you will be assigned to an elite team, where you will then train until you are one cohesive group.” He came to stop in front of her, and slowly lifted his gaze, dragging his eyes up from her feet, over her legs, along her torso, not missing a detail, stopping to stare into her eyes.
The pale green of his gaze struck her like a blow.
They were hard.
Judgmental.
Clear he didn’t want her there.
And her spirits plummeted, her chest aching, as if she’d lost something important, which only served to piss her off.
Morgan stiffened, and lifted her chin. She would not allow the likes of him to drum her out. Catalina hadn’t been able to destroy her, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction either.
He scowled when she didn’t cower, then turned sharply on his heel. “You will learn how to fight, as well as practice offensive driving, and rotate guard duty. You will be graded on your every move. When you are not here, I expect to see you in the library researching how to capture and kill the many different species who come through the rifts. This knowledge is what will ultimately save your life and that of your team.”
Kincade strode away from the group, stopping in the center of the room and crossing his arms. “Everything you’ve learned over the last few years at the Academy will be put to use, but it’s your wits that will keep you and your team alive. All your hard work, everything you worked for since you entered the Academy, will either pay off, or you will start over next year…if you think you can hack it.”
Draven stepped forward, the other two guys following suit, lining up side by side with Kincade.
They were obviously a team.
The elite.
Perfect assassins.
They were all in their early twenties and battle-hardened, evident by the scars littering their bodies.
Any warmth in Draven’s blue eyes turned frosty as he surveyed the students, assessing them with a practiced look. “Each elite team will sponsor anywhere from one to three trainees, which means that even if you pass the class, you might not be selected. We want the best of the best. We need to be able to trust you with our lives. Not everyone will fit into the dynamics of existing teams. You might have to wait for the right group to have an opening.”
Academy of Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 1) Page 8