London Academy 2

by Klarissa King

  Desmond was the one to respond. “She’s right.” Piper swerved her stare to him and blanched. He was the last person at the Academy she would expect to defend her. “She should be here,” he said. “Besides, her dullborn is stable, and the procedure is going well.”

  Ash dragged his tongue over her teeth. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded. “Fine,” he said, and pointed at the grey-haired woman. “That’s the Elder healer, Margot. See those restraints?” Piper nodded and eyed the wires. “Aswang have an aversion to copper. It paralyses them.”

  Her gaze flickered to Nigel’s calm face. “Is it hurting him?”

  “No,” he said. “It doesn’t affect the vessel. Think of it as the possession being put on pause. It keeps them still enough that the healers can perform the exorcism without interruption.”

  Piper moved around Ash and wandered to the side of the cubicle. It gave a better view of the procedure, and she could see that all the gunk had been removed from Nigel’s eyes. Elder Margot inserted a metal clamp into his mouth before pulling the handle apart. It parted his lips. Healer Bramos, resident to the Academy, uncorked a phial and poured the sludgy black liquid into Nigel’s mouth.

  “What is that?” asked Piper. The healers unbuttoned Nigel’s shirt and used a copper knife to cut a small incision at the dip in his collarbone.

  “The black potion?” asked Ash. She nodded. “It’s a numbing substance. The rest of the surgery can be painful. Even if paralysed, the pain can be traumatic to the patient. It’s only a precaution.”

  Healer Margot traded the knife for a white jug on the metal table. She unscrewed the lid and carried it over to the chair.

  “That’s bleach,” said Desmond.

  Piper, startled, gaped at him. “Bleach?”

  “Not quite the same as what you understand it to be.” It was Ash. “It’s named bleach because of what it does.”

  “And that is…?”

  “It cleans.” He inclined his head to the cubicle. Piper traced his gaze and saw that the Elder healer poured the clear liquid into the hole at Nigel’s collarbone. Ash laughed at Piper’s horrified expression. “It’s not for floors and countertops. The bleach we use is to purge vessels of parasites. Potion crafters make it themselves.”

  “He’ll be ok, right?” Piper re-joined Desmond and Ash at the other side of the cubicle. She couldn’t watch the surgery anymore. “It’s not going to poison him, is it?”

  Desmond lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “It might.”

  “The procedure will be successful—The Aswang will be forced out of your friend’s body, and expelled back to its own realm.” Ash inched closer to her. Their arms grazed against one another, and the back of their hands touched. Piper wondered if he was attempting to comfort her. “Sometimes,” he said, “the vessels don’t survive after the Aswangs leave their bodies.”

  The chair in the cubicle rattled.

  The healers stepped away and put the instruments back on the table. Nigel shook on the chair. His chest lurched up and his head smacked against the metal.

  Black tar sprayed from his mouth, his wrists twisted and his fingers clenched. He was having a seizure. Piper gasped and slapped her hands to her mouth, just as Ash spun her around and caged her in his arms. Her cries, muffled by her hands, suffocated her.

  “It’s normal,” hushed Ash. He rubbed soothing circles on her shivering back. “That’s just the Aswang leaving his body.”

  Piper wasn’t reassured. The gurgled screams from Nigel reached her through the glass. She heard him cry, a strangled noise, and rattle against the chair. And then it went quiet. Piper could hear her own breaths crash against her hands. She swallowed, and Ash untangled his arms from her body.

  “Look,” said Ash.

  Piper lowered her hands from her mouth and pried her eyes open. She saw the healers first, cleaning up their instruments. Then, she hauled her gaze to the chair. A sob of relief choked in her throat. Nigel lay on the chair, his eyes open and blinking out of a daze, and his chest moved with his even breaths.

  Nigel turned his head.

  His eyelids were heavy, and drooped over his dilated pupils. He looked at her, really looked at her, and Piper’s heart soared with relief.

  It was Nigel.

  He gave a dazed smile through the glass and wiggled his fingers. Piper choked out a laugh and her shoulders slumped.

  At least she hadn’t lost him, too.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Stop fussing,” said Nigel. “I’ve told you already, I’m fine.”

  Nigel spread his arms to prove his point. But all Piper saw was a blood-stained tattered shirt and some scattered bruises. They were in the foyer, waiting on Nigel’s taxi to arrive. The healers had discharged him an hour after his recovery. Piper suspected that they wanted humans out of the Academy as fast as possible.

  “I don’t like this,” admitted Piper. “You’re not ready to go home, yet.”

  “Healer’s orders,” said Ash. He sat on the steps behind them. Desmond had gone to report the surgery results to the provost. Piper was still waiting on her meeting with the Academy’s leader. “Besides,” said Ash. “Humans aren’t allowed in the Academy, and I’m not sure it’s going down too well that we’ve had two here in the last twenty-four hours.”

  Piper remembered what he’d said to her the night before: ‘We’re not in the business of saving dullborns.’

  “Pipes.” It was Nigel, leaning against the solid doors that led to the ruins outside. “It’s all right. Believe it or not, but I can’t wait to see my stupid brother and feel normal. I’ll take it easy, I promise.”

  Piper noticed that his voice came out in wisps of stifled moans. But she resisted the urge to the press him any further. Besides, it wasn’t her place to invite anyone to stay at the Academy.

  Desmond came down the steps and joined them. He carried a stack of clipboards and folders in one arm. His body stilled as he eyed Nigel with disdain. “Why are you still here?”

  Piper glowered at him. “We’re waiting on his taxi to arrive.”

  Desmond checked his black watch. “Wait outside,” he said. “The provost isn’t pleased that dullborns were here in the first place. This isn’t an asylum for humans.”

  “Oh, shut up!” Piper rounded on him, her muscles fraught with simmering rage. “You are the most heartless twat I’ve ever met.” Desmond raised his brows as she stomped up the short steps and jabbed him on the chest. “Every word that comes out of your disgusting mouth is liquored in vile bigotry. I’m tired of hearing you whinge like the overgrown toddler you are. My mother taught me to respect others, especially when they’re different to me, but you—” Her nostrils flared as she inhaled. “—obviously never learned the same lesson.”

  The foyer was silent. Piper couldn’t isolate the exact trigger for her outburst, but she suspected it had something to do with Desmond’s constant snide remarks and overall hostility, along with her strained patience, the death of her mother, April’s abandonment of her and—Well, there was a lot that added to it, she supposed.

  Desmond stared down at her, a mixture of surprise and outrage swarming in his grey eyes. Nigel stayed quiet at the doors and picked at his nails, looking down. Ash glanced between Piper and Desmond before he threw his head back and erupted into laughter.

  Desmond sneered down at Ash and his betrayal. “Here,” he spat, and threw the stack of files at him. “Paperwork for the case. Needs to be filed by tomorrow morning.”

  With that, he turned and stormed off. He shoved through a brown door and slammed it shut behind him, so hard that it shook in its hinges. Ash’s laughter died, and he looked down at the files. A grim hardness swept over his face.

  Nigel stopped picking at his nails. “Pipes,” he said. “I’ll wait on the street.”

  “No, you won’t.” She turned on him as he made to open the doors. “You’re not well enough, and I want to make sure you get home safely.”

  “So come outside with me.”
Nigel kicked his oxford shoe against the floorboards. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  Piper looked at Ash. He nodded and said, “I’ll be here.”

  She linked her arm with Nigel’s and led him through the heavy doors. The stone corridor was shrouded in shade from the trees that lined it. They wandered to the dirt patch off the corridor. Patches of rainwater puddled on the soil, but the drizzle had stopped.

  Nigel faltered before she could show him the archway.

  “What is it?” she asked, studying the side of his sweaty face.

  His hand raised and his trembling finger pointed to a thick shrub ahead. A silver tiger crouched underneath the branches and watched them. Piper flinched, her heart skipping a beat, until she realised what the beast was.

  “Oh,” she said. “Don’t mind that, it’s not real.”

  Nigel gulped as the tiger crept out of the bushes. It cocked his head, incredulity coating its voice: “I beg your pardon?” the tiger shrilled. “I am quite real, I’ll have you know.”

  Piper’s arm tightened around Nigel’s. She hadn’t expected it to talk. She cleared her throat and ushered Nigel over the boulders and through the archway. Before she climbed after him, she looked over her shoulder and gave the lare an apologetic look. It turned around and pranced back to its favoured bush.

  After she ducked under the archway, the courtyard appeared and all the noise that came with it. The sunny Sunday lured the indies out of their loft homes and they’d migrated to the courtyard of St Dunstan’s in the East. The visitors were too focused on critiquing their chai soy lattes to notice Nigel and Piper climb out of the bushes.

  Nigel offered his hand to her. She took it, and they walked through the courtyard to the road. Once they were out of ear-shot of the others, he said in a shaky whisper, “Have you talked to April? Is she …” He trailed off into a breathy sigh. “I remember,” he said. “I remember eating…”

  “Nigel.” Piper nudged him on the arm. “It wasn’t you. I think she knows that.” Or she would, if she hadn’t run off the moment she’d woken up. Though Piper didn’t think that detail would be helpful to Nigel.

  “I should talk to her.” The shakiness of his voice and taut muscles betrayed his fear. Piper couldn’t blame him. “I need to explain myself. Even if she knows it wasn’t me, I need to hear that from her.”

  “Maybe give her a day.” Piper added as an afterthought, “Or ten.”

  Nigel nodded and reclined against a brick wall. He pulled out his phone and checked the time—taxis were often late on the weekends in London. They were in high demand and traffic clogged up the roads. He twisted his phone in his hands and looked up at Piper. “I’m sorry.”

  Piper frowned. “What for?”

  “Everything.”

  Piper shook her head. Strands of her greasy hair hit her tight jawline and stuck there. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Nigel. It wasn’t you.”

  The blue of his eyes shone. They reminded her of sunrays hitting the clear waters of the Maldives. She could see the lump swell in his throat. “I got to your apartment,” he said. “Your mum let me in. She was by the door. Someone had sent her a gift—the gem. The healer told me about it.” He swallowed and looked down at his glossy oxford shoes. “She, uh, went upstairs to see if you were home. I heard a crash. I went to see if she was ok, and …”

  “She was dead.” Piper’s tone, sharp and indifferent, didn’t match the turmoil in her dim eyes. “I know.”

  “I tried to give her CPR,” he said. “I don’t know how to, but I tried. Then, I felt it.”

  “The Aswang?”

  His head bobbed, and his tousled gelled hair wobbled. “It was like fire. It burned. And then something was inside of me, and I couldn’t control what I did.”

  “I can’t imagine what that would be like.”

  “It was so hungry. I heard April come in. She shouted your name. I tried to scream for her to run, but the words wouldn’t come out. I ran to her. I couldn’t stop, I tried, I swear, but my body wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Nigel. It’s all my fault—”

  “It isn’t.” He looked up at her, and the tears had hardened in a fierce warning. “It wasn’t your fault. Look,” he said, “I don’t know how you ended up involved in this.” He waved his hand, gesturing to the Academy that they couldn’t see. “And maybe you don’t want to tell me. I understand that. But you should know that you’ve always got a home with me. You don’t have to stay here.”

  Piper looked back at the courtyard. The ruins of the church loomed up ahead from the trees and rubble. It wasn’t the Academy, but she sensed it there behind a gateway. She wondered if that’s what drew her to the archway when she first went there—a sense of attachment and belonging, luring her in.

  “I want to stay,” she said. “At least until I know what I’m going to do.”

  He followed her gaze and went to speak. But a black taxi pulled up, tires skidding on the cobblestone road, and honked. “That’s me,” said Nigel. He pushed himself from the wall and pulled Piper into a tight hug.

  Piper’s phone rang in her pocket. They untangled themselves and Piper checked her phone. As soon as she saw the name come up on the screen, she rejected the call and looked up at Nigel.

  “Who was that?”

  “April,” she said.

  “And you ignored it?”

  “She left, Nigel.” Piper rolled her jaw until it clicked. “She woke up and left without telling me.”

  “Pipes,” he said. “Her best friend tried to eat her alive. She’s been through a lot.”

  “So have I.” The venom in her own voice surprised her. Piper had known that she was hurt at what April did, but the anger itself startled her. “My mother was murdered,” she said. “My friend turned into a monster, and another friend almost died. It’s … I don’t even know who or what I am anymore, and April couldn’t be bothered to spare me a minute of her time.”

  Nigel held up his hand to the taxi driver, gesturing for him to wait. He turned to Piper and said in a stern tone, “This isn’t a competition, Pipes. It’s not a rivalry of whoever hurt the most wins. This is life and death. And April—”

  “Abandoned us.”

  The taxi driver smacked the horn again and shouted through the window, “Oi! You comin’ or what, kid?”

  Nigel shook his head stepped away. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  Piper watched him duck into the taxi. It sped up the road and swerved around a bend.

  CHAPTER 8

  Piper returned to the Academy, avoiding eye contact with the lare as she passed it, and found Ash where he’d said he would be.

  Ash leaned against the banister, files tucked under his arm. “What would you say if I had more revelations for you?”

  She slumped against the opposite wall. “Good or bad?”

  “Both, maybe, depending on your mood.” He crossed his legs at the ankles, and his tousled hair fell over his forehead in luscious, loose tresses. Piper tucked her own limp hair behind her ear, as if trying to shield its oiliness from him. “Your mother’s autopsy results are in,” he said.

  A blow of nausea punched her gut. Piper turned her head and looked at the wall. “I wasn’t aware that an autopsy was needed.”

  “It is if we want to find the Tracer.”

  Piper ran her hands over her face. Her skin was still warm from the heat outside. “I don’t want to know, but I have to. What’s a Tracer?”

  “A human. One with traces of daywalker blood in them. Not enough to be halfbreeds, but enough to draw them into witchcraft and clairvoyance.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides, falling as limp as her unwashed hair, and she sighed. “Witches and psychics are real?”

  Ash’s forehead creased. “Not in the way dullborns understand them. Most tracers don’t even know what they are. But the ones who do know are the ones with power great enough to summon entities onto this plane.”


  “Entities like the Aswang.” Her voice was a breathy sigh, and she trudged over to the stairs. She dropped onto the bottom step and Ash slid down beside her. “It was a Tracer who cursed the gems.”

  “A powerful one. It looks like the cult recruited Tracers to do some of their bidding. They can come in handy when you don’t have access to all beings of our kind. The cult’s resources are limited, but they’re making do with Tracers.”

  Piper wiped stray tears from her cheeks. She didn’t know when she’d started crying. It was too much, she thought, and her resilience was weakening with each hour.

  Ash’s hand reached out for hers. Before his fingers touched hers, he paused, as if waiting for her to swat him away. But she lifted her hand and clasped it around his. The comfort trickled up her arm the moment they touched, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Before I met you,” said Ash, “I always thought that humans were weak.” Electric jolts zapped her skin as his fingertips grazed over her knuckles. “You might be one of us,” he said, “but you are human, too. Your strength these past few days has surprised me.”

  Lazy tears leaked from her eyes as she gazed ahead at the wall. There wasn’t enough energy within her to have a sobbing fit, to scream and shout about how unfair her life had become. It was as though she’d just deflated.

  “But grief catches up to even the strongest of our kind.” Ash lowered his voice. “It doesn’t make you weak to let it out. Facing your pain is the bravest thing you can do, Piper. And you are one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

  Her eyes closed as she melted into his shoulder. His t-shirt dampened from her tears, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “I should be doing something,” she said. “Call the police, tell them about my mum.” Her voice hitched as a sob threatened to break through. She swallowed before she said, “I need to plan a funeral. The hospital will expect her to be there tomorrow, too. And I start school on Monday. I don’t even know where to begin.”