London Academy 2

by Klarissa King

  Ash curled his arm around her back and tugged her closer. She buried her face into the dip of his neck.

  “If I don’t go to school,” she whispered, “they’ll contact my mum. But they won’t reach her, because she’s dead. She’s dead, Ash.”

  A strangled sob was muffled by his neck. Piper’s body jolted and she curled up against him.

  “They’ll come looking for us. And then what? I just tell the police that she was killed by a cursed stone and that the curse turned my best friend into a flesh-eating zombie, but he’s cured now? And that my dad is after me, killing everyone I love, because I won’t join him in his crusade to take over the world?”

  Ash rested his forehead against the top of her head. He spoke into her hair; “How do you know he wants to take over the world?”

  A wet laugh shook her body. “I’ve read enough books to know that the villain always wants to take over the world.”

  Ash snorted and rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “It’s Sunday.” She heard him flip his watch on his wrist. “4.30pm. We can dispatch a clean-up team to care of everything. That’s what they’re for. They can deal with your transfer records. Maybe you just want to disappear—you can, if that’s what you want.”

  Ash lifted his head from hers and peeled her away from his body. Something had changed. His aura shifted, and she felt a wall shoot up between them.

  Piper wiped her snotty nose with the back of her hand and snivelled.

  Ash smiled. It seemed forced, she thought, and rather tight on his features “In the meantime,” he said, “we can track down this Tracer who cursed your mother and hopefully that will lead us to the cult.” His eyes drank in her sullied garments before he added, “But not like that. Elsa will lend you some of her clothes. Not to be rude, but you smell like a sewer.”

  Piper gaped. She lifted her arm and sniffed her pit. He was right. Dropping her arm to her side, she said, “Fine, but on one condition.”

  “If it’s within my power, I will give you what you want.”

  “I want revenge.” Her bloodshot eyes pierced into his mercurial ones. “I need it. I want to find the person responsible.”

  “That would be Colt.”

  “I can’t get to him right now,” she said. “So I’ll take the next best thing. I want them to feel what my mother and friends felt. I want them to suffer, Ash.”

  Ash tucked his finger under her chin. “I knew it,” he said, his voice a distant whisper, as if he was speaking to himself.

  Piper swallowed back the tears she’d already shed. “Knew what?”

  He thinned his lips and shook his head. “Never mind. Come on, we need to get you cleaned up before we track this Tracer.”

  Piper took his hand, and he helped her up. “I might eat first. I’m starving.”

  “I’ll see what I can steal from the kitchens. Dinner isn’t served for another two hours.”

  “I’ll take anything,” she said, and they climbed the stairs. “As long as it’s not that putrid soup from earlier.”

  Ash laughed, but there was a stiffness in it—the laugh didn’t hold the same sincerity it normally did. “I told you it was foul. Chef Killian’s signature dish.”

  Piper stopped and glared at him. “You gave me Deadly Nightshade soup?”

  He grinned and looked at her from beneath his lashes. “Was that bad?”

  Piper scoffed and stomped up the stairs. She made it halfway before she spun around and looked down at him. Ash jolted to a halted behind her.

  “What did you know?” she asked.

  Ash’s lips quirked into his signature lopsided grin. Piper’s stomach stirred, but she dismissed it as brewing hunger.

  “I knew,” he said, “that I’d like you from the moment I saw you.”

  The taco shop sprang to her mind. Piper licked her lips at the thought of the crisp Mexican food.

  Ash seemed to read her mind. He climbed up the other steps and stopped beside her. “I remember, too.”

  “You remember what?”

  “You,” he said. “In the shop, ogling me.”

  The blood rushed to her cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

  “Yes, you were.” He tilted his head, and his hair fell to the side, brushing against his temple. Dimples dipped in his cheeks as a smug smirk twisted at his lips. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “I am quite the dashing chap.”

  Piper arched her brow before she hiked up the staircase. Ash chuckled as he followed her.

  CHAPTER 9

  Piper’s inner fashionista paid homage to Elsa.

  The forger had given Ash bags of old clothes she didn’t wear anymore for Piper to borrow. Piper had been surprised when she’d unzipped the bags after her shower to find soft denim jeans of all colours, harem pants, plain tank tops, and silk blouses.

  She settled on a pair of shiny leggings and a white shirt that fell past her bottom. The chiffon material was light against her skin, and protected her from late evening heat in the chaos of Chinatown.

  Gerrard Street was a home away from home to Chinese Londoners. Even as night settled over the city, the street was buzzing with people.

  Piper’s mouth watered at the smell of dumplings and yum cha that wafted out of the restaurants, and her fingers itched for the purse she’d left back at the Academy as they passed a jewellery store. Her mother had always loved the yellow gold.

  Piper shopped in Chinatown often, given that her grandparents had come from Hong Kong to the streets of London fifty years ago. She tried to stay in touch with the culture when she could.

  Piper’s fishtail braid tapped against her back as she power-walked beside Ash. “You’re going too fast,” she said. The soles of her feet still ached from yesterday. Ash slowed down and tugged at the hem of his black t-shirt. She suspected he was concealing the guns in his belt.

  They curved through the crowd, side-by-side. Ash clasped his phone in his left hand, following a tracking system that guided them deeper into the arena.

  “Why didn’t Desmond come?” she asked.

  Ash didn’t look up from the phone as he said, “Do you miss him already?”

  Piper snorted. “About as much as I miss menstrual cramps.” Ash’s eyebrows arched and he shot her a startled side-glance. Piper shrugged. “It’s true.”

  Ash’s lips quivered as he resisted a smile. “Desmond had other engagements.”

  “Is it because of what I said?” Piper dodged a running toddler, and banged into Ash. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her out of the way just as a woman with a pram chased after the child. “He’s quite sensitive for someone who has a habit of picking on others.”

  Ash’s dimples appeared as he tightened his jaw. “It’s more than that,” he said. His hand stayed clasped around her wrist.

  Piper rolled her eyes. “Is it? Because to me, it seems as if he jumped into a snowflake strop after I called him out on his constant bigotry.”

  Ash scanned the map on his phone. “You’ve only been in our world for two days.” His voice was neutral; he was preoccupied with tracking. “There’s a lot you don’t understand.”

  “Don’t patronise me, Ash.” Piper’s tone had slipped on a sternness. “I mightn’t know your world, but I know prejudice. I’ve faced it before, and I won’t stand for it.”

  Ash frowned and lifted his gaze to her. He stopped, fingers still coiled around her wrist, on the pavement. There was a question in his shimmery eyes, and he voiced it. “What prejudice?”

  Piper smirked and waved her hand toward her face. “Racial, for a start. Not everyone wants half-Chinese people in England. And then there’s the whole vagina thing.”

  Ash’s cheeks flushed, but the curiosity was maintained in his creased forehead.

  Piper sighed. “In this world—the human world—I’ve been confronted with xenophobia, racism and sexism. I know how it feels, so I won’t let some arrogant prat do it to others because he’s high on some false sense of superiority.”

  “We’re only against those
who threaten the peace and the order.”

  “Explain Desmond’s beliefs, then.”

  “Humans threaten the world.” Ash licked his lips and looked around to make sure they weren’t overheard. He stepped closer and said, in a low tone, “There are some of us—those who belong to the Beyond World—who see humans as a threat. Not because they’re different or can be thought inferior, but because of what they do. Humans build bombs that destroy the land they need to survive, they cut down forests and steal their own oxygen, they poison the oceans that they have no right to touch, and they’re killing the planet that belong to more than just them.” Ash ran the pad of his thumb along the edge of the phone. “There was a time that humans and those in the Beyond World interacted.” Piper’s lips parted. He added, “But humans … They take the gifts we give them, and use it against the world we live in. The aversion to humans is not unfounded, Piper—it’s not a species issue. They are destroying the world.”

  Piper said, “Not all of us are like that.”

  “You say ‘us’ like you’re one of them,” he said, disappointment lacing his tone. “But you’re a daywalker. Besides, not all of us hate humans.” He paused and looked up at the red clock tower in the middle of the road. “It’s getting late. We should move.”

  Ash towed her forward. They walked in silence for three blocks, the GPS guiding them.

  “The map,” she said. “It tracks Tracers?”

  “It tracks energy,” he said. “We took a sample of the magic from your mother and the gem. That kind of magic is connected to the place it was crafted.” Ash’s fingers loosened around her wrist and lowered to hover at her hand. Piper licked her lips as he clasped his fingers around hers. She wondered if he was just making sure that they stuck close together in the crowd.

  “Over there.” Ash dragged her through the mob to the opposite side of the street. A lane forked off from the main street, lined with smaller shops. Ash tapped the screen of his phone. “We’re here.” He looked up and swerved his stare from door to door.

  “Which one is it?”

  Ash tucked his phone into his back pocket and shrugged. “Could be any of those.” He gestured to the row of blue shops on the right, huddled together between alleyways. Ash released her hand and strode down the lane.

  Piper scurried after him. “Doesn’t the map tell you?”

  “It led us here, didn’t it?” There was a sting to his tone, and Piper wondered if she was pestering him. They stopped at the blue shops and Ash turned to look at her. “This is precise as the tracking gets. We have the general area, because magic spreads—traces of it are littered all over this block.”

  Piper read the Chinese symbols crammed into the corners of the signs. “You said that Tracers were psychics, right?”

  “Most of them.”

  Piper had learned the little Cantonese she knew from her grandmother, when she was alive. “It might be that one.” She pointed at the shop sign on the far right: Suànmìng Yùn.

  Ash furrowed his brows. “How do you know?”

  “It’s Cantonese for ‘the tellers of fortune’.”

  “That’s enough for me,” he said, and marched to the door. He held it open for Piper, and she ducked inside. The chime above jingled as the door rattled shut.

  Posters of palms were stuck to the wall, and the two shelves in the middle of the room held sticks of incense and bamboo cylinders filled with twigs of qian. Piper wandered between the shelves to the counter, draped in a satin red sheet. The curtains behind the counter peeled apart, and an elderly woman waddled out. She clasped her hands together and bowed her head.

  Piper imitated the gesture and approached. Ash went to speak, but Piper interrupted him. “Do you have time for a psychic reading?” The round woman stuck out her hand, reaching for Piper’s palm. Piper shook her head and said, “I was hoping for a Bazi reading, actually.”

  The shop keeper smiled and inclined her head. “My son will help.” She lifted the swing bench from the counter, and waved them toward her. “Come.”

  Piper smirked at Ash as she strutted past him. He ducked behind her and whispered, “You know your fortune telling.”

  Piper and Ash followed the woman through the curtains. The backroom was clouded in a fog of incense and steam from dim sims. A red screen blocked the way to cracked concrete stairs that led up to a door, and a round table sat in the centre of the room, riddled with tarot cards, bamboo sticks, and unfilled birth charts.

  A boy stood at a table by the window, his back to them. He was rummaging through a wooden box with Chinese symbols etched into the oak. His mother shouted at him and he slammed the lid shut.

  “Take a seat.” His voice was cold and indifferent. The boy waved his hand, and his mother went back out into the shop. He slipped the box into a drawer and locked it, tucking the keys into his pocket.

  Ash pulled out a chair for Piper. She dropped into it, and Ash stood beside her, his arm curving around his back. He was reaching for his gun, she thought, waiting for the Tracer to tempt him to use it.

  “I am Chen Wu,” said the boy. He struck a match against the rough wall and lit candles at the table he stood at. Piper frowned at the back of his head. The name echoed in her mind, and she tried to grasp onto it, as though it was a distant memory she wanted to pull to the surface. “Who am I reading for?”

  “Me,” she said. “Pi—” Her throat tightened and blocked her voice. If he was the Tracer they were looking for, he would know her name. “Polly,” she said.

  Ash scoffed, a quiet noise too soft for Chen Wu to hear. Piper looked up at him and shrugged. It was the only word she could think of on the spot.

  She fiddled with the cuff of her shirt and shifted her stare back to the fortune teller. He’d finished lighting the candles, and flicked the match for the flame to go out. But it wouldn’t extinguish. Chen huffed and flourished his arm, the flame whooshing through the air. It only flickered under the assault, but it didn’t go out.

  “Stop that.” It was Ash. He’d crouched down and whispered into her ear.

  Piper bit her lip and glanced at him. “I can’t. I don’t even know how I’m doing it.”

  Chen grew impatient and dunked the stubborn matchstick into a glass of water. It sizzled before it floated at the top of the water, a wisp of smoke flittering upward.

  Ash straightened up and slipped the gun out from his waistband. He held it behind him, and focused his cool eyes on the fortune teller.

  “For a Bazi reading it is twenty pounds paid up front.” Chen turned around and wiped his hands together. He approached the table, sparing a glance at Ash, then looked at Piper sitting at the table.

  Piper gasped. Chen stopped. They stared at each other, both frozen.

  Ash swerved his glower between them.

  “You,” breathed Piper. She placed her hands on the table and rose from the chair. “I know you.”

  Chen snapped out of his daze. His eyes widened and darted from Piper to Ash, before settling on Ash’s arm that curved around his back.

  Ash acted first. He whipped out his gun and pointed it at Chen. But Chen was fast. He’d already dove behind the red screen at the bottom of the stairs.

  Piper scrambled back from the table, her legs tangled in the chair, as Ash’s gun fired. The blasts boomed, causing a ringing sound to hum in her eardrums. Bullets tore through the air like wisps of silver and gold and pierced through the fabric of the screen.

  A shriek tore from the front of the shop. Piper whirled around as the chubby woman barged out of the curtains, a machete in her hand. She lifted it high above her head and ran at Ash’s back.

  “Ash!” shouted Piper. “WATCH OUT!”

  Ash swung himself around and pulled the trigger. Piper stumbled back into the table, and gaped at the woman—the force of the gunshot threw her back, and she crashed onto the floor.

  Blood ran down her arm from the hole in her shoulder. She groaned and clutched the wound, shouting for her son to flee.

&nbs
p; “You shot her,” whispered Piper. Ash didn’t hear her. He was firing at Chen Wu again. Piper blinked and looked over at the screen. The fabric was almost gone from bullet holes. Ash stopped firing. He was out of ammo. He rammed the gun into his belt and pulled out a forked dagger.

  Piper grabbed the machete from the floor, and avoided looking at the sobbing woman. She had only been trying to protect her son, thought Piper. But she tossed the thought from her mind as Ash sprinted through the room.

  She raced behind him, the machete clasped in her shaky hands. He stopped at the screen and lowered the dagger.

  “Damnit!” he bellowed, and kicked the screen. It hurled to the staircase and smashed against the concrete steps. Piper looked down at the floor. Chen wasn’t there. There was only a rug, burnt in the middle.

  “Where did he go?”

  Ash paced up and down, combing his fingers through his sandy hair, and swore under his breath.

  Piper nudged a tassel from the edge of the rug. It pulsed against her canvas shoe and zapped her toe like an electric shock.

  “Ash,” she said, and crouched down. “This tassel—It stung me.”

  Ash stopped pacing. He whirled around and approached her in two strides. He knelt beside her, and prodded the tassel. “A runner rug.”

  Piper looked at him, a peculiar glint in her hooded green eyes. “No, it isn’t,” she said. “A runner rug is long and narrow. This is a round rug.”

  Ash glanced at her from beneath his dark lashes. “A runner rug,” he said, “is enchanted. It connects to one other, an exact replica, and transports a person there.” He ran his finger over the tassel. “Only daywalker can perform the enchantment.”

  Piper nodded. “So he is working with them. And this rug, it transported him to Colt?”

  “Or someone else in the cult.”

  “What are we waiting for?” She climbed onto the rug. “Let’s go!”

  Ash shook his head. “We can’t. It can only be used once.”