Academy of Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 1)

by Stacey Brutger

  As she slowly closed the folder, memorizing the drawer numbers, she replaced the files and slammed the cabinet shut with a bang. Something nagged at the back of her mind, and she knew she was missing an important clue.

  Walking down the cool room, she counted out the numbers, a little freaked to see the morgue was so huge. Thankfully, the three girls rested side by side. She inhaled deeply for courage, then pulled open the drawers.

  Instead of decomposing corpses, the girls were perfectly preserved by magic, thank the heavens. But it wasn’t the sight of the dead girls that froze her blood. It was the sight of the runes. Unlike her clean marks, these were crude, carved into the vulnerable flesh of their backs. Even after weeks, the scent of scorched flesh lingered over their bodies, the sour stench of magic gone bad tarnishing the runes and making them unusable.

  Whatever the murderer was trying to accomplish, he hadn’t succeeded.

  Yet.

  Then she saw something that wasn’t in the photos—there were additional runes on the bodies.

  As the markings on her back crawled across her skin, Morgan realized it was her ability to null magic that allowed her to see what someone wanted hidden.

  The newly revealed marks weren’t different from hers as she’d believed.

  They were exactly the same.

  The chill in her body spread to her soul.

  The killer cast a spell to hide the real intent behind the ritual.

  She needed to find out what the runes meant before someone discovered she had the same markings…and lived to tell the tale.

  She had a sinking feeling she wouldn’t enjoy the outcome if it was discovered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Morgan managed to filch a quick sandwich from the kitchen before she hurried to the only place that could offer her answers…the library.

  She spent two hours going through book after book, leaving towering stacks surrounding her, but found nothing. A few times she thought she was being stalked through the shelves, but girlish giggles let her know she wasn’t the intended prey.

  After selecting another five books, she resumed her seat and cracked open the first tome.

  “You’re not even trying to hide.” Draven grabbed the chair across from her, then spun it around to straddle it. He carefully pushed aside a stack of books, which wobbled precariously at being disturbed, so he could have a clear view of her.

  Morgan didn’t even lift her head from the page she was scanning. “You stopped hunting hours ago.”

  “I left the hunt to those better suited to the job.” Draven crossed his arms over the back of his chair, resting his chin on his forearms. “You’re hard to track. I’d swear your scent was everywhere…even in our rooms.”

  Her hand faltered as she turned the page, a slight tell, but enough that he noticed if the narrowing of his eyes was any indication. No way in hell could she pull off innocent, so she kept her face blank and her head down. “Yeah, very odd.”

  He pouted playfully, but curiosity sharpened his eyes. “You’re not the type to quit on a test. So what is so important that you would risk your future?”

  Very reluctantly, Morgan slouched in her chair, debating how much she should say. She couldn’t keep beating around the bush, or the killer will strike again, and that death would be her fault.

  His clothes were practically falling off him, and she realized he had most likely been the cause of the giggling she heard earlier. A twinge went through her at the thought of him with another girl, but knew by the look in his eyes that he’d already forgotten the other girl’s name.

  From the first, he always played straight with her.

  She refused to believe her instinct about him was wrong.

  Mind made up, Morgan flipped the dusty book around so it faced him, and pointed to what she’d found.

  Symbols.

  Some of the same symbols on her body.

  “Pages have recently been ripped out.” She ruffled what remained of a few sheets of paper that had been hacked out of the book. “They took a ritual.”

  The charm she found so riveting drained away as the hunter in him rose. He grabbed the book, pulling it forward to scan the pages. “What do you know about this?”

  There was held no accusation in his tone, but he sounded decidedly less friendly.

  Morgan rubbed a finger across her bottom lip, arguing with herself about how much to share. While the killer might target them, holding back information relevant to an active hunt would almost guarantee it.

  She reluctantly stood, releasing a heavy sigh, nerves jittering at actually sharing her secret with anyone. She turned her back to him, then began to lift up her shirt and cami.

  “Morgan…” Draven’s strangled voice faded as her shirt rose higher. “Shite.”

  “Do these look familiar to you?” She glanced at him over her shoulder.

  “Shite!” Draven stood, staring at the runes as if he’d seen a ghost. “Where did you get those?”

  Morgan dropped her shirt, tugging at the hem until she was sure she was covered. “I have no idea. I suspect it’s why I can’t remember anything before the age of ten.”

  Draven swallowed painfully, his gaze haunting. “Everyone found with those markings is now dead.”

  “No, they died during the process.” She grabbed the book with the symbols and slapped it shut. “I was sent here to investigate their deaths. I think the Academy has summoned me to stop the killer…one way or another.”

  “You’re going to use yourself as bait,” he snarled, then grasped her arm above the elbow and began dragging her after him. “Come.”

  Morgan could have broken his hold, but didn’t.

  He was right.

  She couldn’t do this alone.

  “Can you actually read that book?” He stared at the ancient volume clutched to her chest as if it would sprout legs and walk away.

  “Some. Enough to know it’s a ritual. But I need those missing pages to figure out more.” Draven practically frog-marched her through the Academy and up an endless flight of stairs, until they reached the rooftop. Unwilling to give up his grip on her, he kicked open the door, not even slowing his momentum.

  The whole team was in attendance, jerking to their feet at their abrupt appearance. At the sight of them, her resolve wavered, and she began to doubt the wisdom of involving them. Despite her determination to keep her distance, she’d already committed a grave sin…she’d grown to care for them.

  Before anyone had a chance to speak, a loud horn from Viking times drowned out everything else.

  An emergency.

  Adrenaline jolted through her as the men snatched up their weapons.

  They were ready to move in moments.

  Kincade halted in front of them despite the urgency, his concern gaze tracing her face, sending her heart flapping like the wings of a witless wyvern against her ribs. “Can this wait?”

  Morgan spoke before Draven had a chance. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He sheathed the blade he held, then walked past her. “Go to your room and stay there.”

  Her mouth fell open at his command, and he walked away before she could argue. The rest of the team trailed after him, each casting her a wary look. Some were sympathetic, others relieved, but none protested the order.

  Fuck that.

  She waited for the door to latch behind them, then followed, stashing the book in the stairwell, wedging it into the small ledge above the door, then hurried after them.

  She saw the men split up, Kincade entering the headmistress’s office while the rest stood at attention in the hall. Just when she stepped back to retreat, the headmistress looked up and pinned her to the spot.

  “Come, Miss Moran.” She held open the door to her office. “Since this involves you, you might as well join us.”

  That couldn’t be good.

  The woman was tall but impossibly thin. Not sickly, but dainty. Then it clicked…faerie. Her bones were small to enable her to fly.


  Morgan swallowed hard and joined them with some trepidation. Faeries weren’t the wish-giving, sparkling fairy dust sort from fairy tales. They were carnivorous, with needle-like sharp teeth and a powerful venom strong enough to kill with one bite. When the headmistress smiled, even though her teeth were normal, Morgan flinched.

  “I’ll be in to join you both shortly.” She firmly shut the door behind Morgan, leaving her alone with a furious Kincade. But even faced with the looming threat of being shut in a room with an angry trained assassin, she couldn’t help wondering where the faerie kept her wings.

  Morgan hovered in the doorway, trepidation slithering down her spine, then she grabbed the same daring she used to hunt monsters, ignored Kincade, and plopped into the seat across from the headmistress’s desk.

  Kincade slowly rose to his feet from where he was leaning against the window ledge, his expression thunderous. “I gave you a direct order. What are you doing here?”

  “My job. You?” Morgan knew she shouldn’t be flippant, but his continual animosity was like a sore tooth. His dislike reminded her that she was an outsider and would never be one of them. At the thought, all the fight leached out of her, and she couldn’t stand to look at him. His repeated rejections hurt something deep inside her. “Listen, I was summoned here to find a killer…or maybe I’m the bait…I’m not sure anymore. But once I’ve solve the murders, I’ll either be sent back to the coven or dead, so you won’t have to worry about me anymore one way or another. How about we call a truce until then?”

  Morgan didn’t even hear him move.

  One second she was sitting in her chair, the next she was spun around, the metal feet of the chair screeching across the stone floor. Kincade bent close, placing his hands on either side of her chair, preventing her escape. “No.”

  “No?” She stared at him in disbelief, her anger flaring like a struck match at having her truce thrown back in her face. “To hell with you.”

  Morgan lifted her feet, planting them on his chest and shoving hard.

  Instead of flying across the room as she expected, the stubborn bastard barely budged. She dropped her feet, getting right up into his face, unable to keep the snarl out of her voice. “What are you? Made of stone or something? Back off.”

  At the sound of metal shrieking in protest, she glanced down to see the arms of her chair being twisted into a tangled mess in his grip. Instead of feeling threatened, his strength sent a whirlwind of tiny furies shooting from her gut up to her throat. Very slowly, Morgan tipped her head back, bracing for a blow.

  What she didn’t expect was for his lips to crash down on hers.

  Both froze in shock.

  It was a toss-up which of them was more stunned.

  Morgan had been kissed before. Since she wasn’t a witch, some hunters didn’t think she was due the same respect, and they were usually rewarded with a kick in the balls.

  This was different.

  Kincade tasted different, his lust awakening something inside her that wanted more. The hunger was irresistible…and she couldn’t help wanting something for herself just once.

  Knowing this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Morgan was determined to make it worth it…even if she knew she would regret it later. She sank her fingers into his hair, her hands tingling from the soft strands, and took control of the kiss, biting and nibbling at his lips until he opened his mouth.

  Instead of shoving her away, he hesitated for two seconds, then his mouth grew demanding, taking more, his hands coming up to cup her face, tipping her head back, so he could plunder her mouth. The instant he touched her face, she was sucked under his spell, and left craving more.

  The rest of the world disappeared when he reached down and hauled her out of the chair. Somehow, her legs found their way around his waist, his hands under her ass, and she shivered from the heat of him as it soaked into her skin until the only thing that mattered was more.

  He slammed her up against the wall, seeking more, waking a ravenous hunger in her she hadn’t known was possible. She dragged him closer, arching against him, shivering at the feel of heat and hard muscle. The tingling in her hands turned into a burn that spread under her skin, dragging her reluctantly out of the haze of pleasure. She tore her lips from his, struggling to catch her breath, resting her forehead against his shoulder to curb the impulse to lick her way up his neck. “What the hell was that?”

  “You will not place yourself in danger.” At the growled words, she jerked her head up. His fingers tightened possessively on her hips, hard enough to leave bruises, the heat in his eyes burning brighter, and she shivered at his complete loss of control.

  While part of her loved it, the other part of her rebelled at his demand.

  Self-preservation won, and her lust cooled. She jerked her hands from where she’d been absently brushing the back of his neck and shoved away from his chest. When it looked as if he wasn’t going to let her go, she grabbed his ear, gave it a vicious twist, and wrenched it backward. A growl rumbled in his chest, and she gulped when it looked like he would devour her.

  Much to her surprise, he obeyed and released her.

  Slowly.

  Almost…reluctantly.

  She slid down his chest, conscious of his hands running up her sides, and she nearly changed her mind and climbed back up.

  It took all her concentration to remember what they were even arguing about. Right. He wanted to swaddle her in bubble wrap, treat her like she didn’t know which end of the knife to use, and she hated it. “That’s not your decision to make.”

  “Like hell.” He grabbed her arm, swinging her around to face him. He looked torn, both confused and furious, as he stared down at her. “What do you mean you were summoned here?”

  Morgan raised a brow at his tone. “The Academy sent for me. Didn’t you find it odd that I joined the Academy at my age? With my skills?”

  He released her like she’d burned him, then standing stock-still. Instead of feeling good about pushing him away, she felt sick to her stomach.

  “Why don’t you stick to your investigation of missing artifacts while I search for the killer? Then I will get out of your hair, and you won’t have to worry about protecting me anymore.” The hoarse, scratchy words shredded her throat. And her heart. “You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. Deal?”

  She held out her hand, craving his touch one more time before she had to give him up.

  He looked like she’d offered him a dead rat to eat, his hands fisted at his side as if he wanted to strangle her or yank her over his knee and spank her.

  “I could hear you two bickering all the way out in the hall.” The headmistress entered the room, briskly circling the desk and bracing her hands on top, giving them both a disapproving look.

  Kincade flush at the rebuke, but Morgan just crossed her arms, going cold as she wondered what else the woman might have heard.

  “Please have a seat.” Without waiting for them, she settled behind her desk.

  Kincade held out her chair, and Morgan gingerly sat, very aware of his hulking presence lingering where she couldn’t see him. She didn’t like having him there, uncomfortable not knowing what he was doing. As he circled her, his fingertips brushed across the nape of her neck, before commandeering the seat next to hers as if nothing happened.

  Goose bumps marched across her shoulders and down her arms at the unexpected touch. One by one, the markings warmed in the wake of his fingertips, reacting to his touch much the way she did…they wanted more.

  The thought of the runes, with their deadly magic, anywhere near Kincade turned her skin cold and clammy.

  Death followed everyone with those marks.

  She wouldn’t have him be one of them.

  “Kincade already came to me with his concerns that the two cases might possibly being connected. Our duty is to keep the students safe.” The headmistress pinned them both under her stare. “Bearing that in mind, you will work together.”

  “But
—”

  When the headmistress focused on her, Morgan saw her pupils swell until her eyes went completely black. No whites at all. Morgan nearly swallowed her tongue and quickly bit back what she was going to say. The strength of the woman’s magic filled the room until every breath was a struggle.

  In reaction to the magic, the runes along her spine burned like acid as her own magic struggled to escape her. It wanted to destroy the threat. The torque on her neck warmed, twisted, and bent, the metal crawling up her collarbone, until it encircled her throat like a choker. She almost snorted when she looked down and saw tiny metal faeries dangling around her neck.

  Morgan took them as a symbol of faith, and tried to swallow the festering rage living in the magic. It hurt. Hurt like her bones were melting inside her body. What she wasn’t able to smother, the metal managed to absorb. As the ringing in her ears faded, voices rushed back.

  “You’ve been given a lot of latitude because of MacGregor’s belief in you. He’s never thought anyone good enough to sponsor before.” Her musings might be contemplative, but the look in her eyes was more assessing. While she might trust MacGregor, she was reserving her judgment on Morgan.

  That, Morgan could understand. “What do you mean—sponsor?”

  The headmistress’s brows furrowed, then smoothed out, quickly hiding her surprise. Her irises returned to normal as an eerie, blue-green color swirled back into the center. “The Academy only allows a select few within its walls. Students must be sponsored by previous graduates. They stake their reputation on the candidates they nominate.”

  The blood drained from her head, shock knocking the breath out of her. She had no clue MacGregor believed in her so completely.

  “I hope you live up to his praise, or you won’t last long.”

  Those ominous words tingled along her spine, and Morgan knew if she failed she wouldn’t be kicked out of the Academy—she would be dead.

  Kincade stiffened, ready to defend her, but Morgan didn’t bat an eyelash. Tougher people than the headmistress had tried to kill her and failed. “Yes, ma’am.”