Seven Wishes: The Caelum Academy Trilogy: Part ONE

by Akeroyd, Serena

  I wasn’t sure what had perplexed Nestor and me the most—the fact that she understood that shit period or that she’d expected me to know the answer.

  A scientist I most definitely wasn’t.

  But was Eve?

  I figured she’d had a basic education at best, and even though she’d been reading up a storm, her understanding of not only that, but other topics, led me to believe my earlier suppositions were concrete fact.

  Eve was fucking smart.

  While I wouldn’t always be able to answer her questions—that was what Google was for though, right?—this time, I could. “They’re a special kind of cactus.”

  “Why does he grow them?”

  “Back home, he was a jimador. A tequila farmer.” Before she could ask, I carried on, “Tequila is a kind of alcohol.”

  “Like wine?” she queried.

  “You know what that is?”

  Her smile was faint, but evident nonetheless at my surprise. “Yes. We had it for sacrament.”

  I tipped my chin in understanding and watched as she looked at the small rows of blue agave that had a hue of that part where the ocean morphed into the sand. Blue and green, not quite turquoise, but richer somehow.

  There weren’t many plants because each one took up a shit ton of space. The area was around twenty by twenty feet, and the rows of plants were curved in a way that obviously made each square foot count. The spiky leaves were nearly six feet long at some points, and they kissed the sky with a pride that came from Dre’s hard-earned tending. The soil was dusty and close to orange-brown, and whenever I came down here, I always wanted to sneeze from the dust in the air.

  It wasn’t my favorite place in the world even if it was Dre’s. Still…

  “It always amazes me when I come down here,” I told her softly, and though I was trying to color her opinion of Dre, I was being honest. I wouldn’t lie to her. She was Pack. That meant being truthful, even if it would hurt our cause in the long run.

  “Why?” she questioned.

  “Because I remember when Dre first planted these. They were small. Just like him.”

  “How old was he?”

  “He planted them the first year he was here. When he was thirteen. We both got here at the same time.” Nicholas had pulled some strings to get us both in a couple of years ahead of schedule. Me because I wouldn’t have survived another of my brother-in-law’s beatings, and Dre? Because he’d almost killed his grandmother. That was how he’d come to be recruited—a creature had sensed him in the town jail.

  Her mouth fell. “He’s been growing these for nearly seven years?”

  “Yep,” I confirmed.

  “What’s he waiting for?”

  I snickered at that. “Well, it depends on why you’re growing them. He does this because it’s what he was raised doing. It was all he knew, and when he moved here, and he was given his credit card like we all get, the first thing he bought were these tiny one-year shoots. Next, he asked Nicholas for some garden plot, and Nicholas agreed.” I dug my heel into the soil. “This part of the yard isn’t optimal for growing things, so that’s why Nicholas agreed. The soil here is good, but we have to grow as much as we can, you know?”

  “I like the gardens. They smell good.”

  “They don’t when they’re spreading manure on everything,” I groused, my nose wrinkling.

  She snickered at me, but though one of my brothers would have called me a wimp, she didn’t take her amusement out on me and asked, “Who looks after the vegetable gardens?”

  My mouth tightened—I should have anticipated that question. “Staff.” It was a short and brisk answer, but she didn’t seem to think anything of it.

  We weren’t ready to share the whole truth with her. Not when she was still so new to this world.

  How could I tell her that injured soldiers were the ones who did the grunt work at Caelum? That, as part of their recuperation, they worked here. In the kitchens, in the gardens, teaching… It was considered therapy for them. A means of getting them back on track and healing.

  “But Dre looks after this himself?”

  “All by himself and he’s done a damn fine job of it.” I pointed to the large plants. “They’re almost ready to harvest. It normally takes eight years.”

  “So they’ll be ready when it’s time for you to graduate?”

  “Yes. But now, he probably won’t harvest them for a few more years.”

  “Why?”

  I half-smiled at her. “Reasons.”

  One of those being that we wouldn’t be going anywhere until she was old enough to graduate too. One of Dre’s major reasons for disliking her—she just didn’t know that yet.

  She huffed.

  “Remind me to show you on YouTube how they make tequila,” I said, changing the subject. “Technically, it can only be called that if it’s made in this little area in Mexico. That’s where Dre is from. Jalisco.”

  She repeated it, using the same intonation I did on the ‘J.’

  “He wants to go back there when he graduates,” I told her.

  “He does?” She winced. “I never want to go back.”

  “You don’t?”

  “My family would never accept me, anyway. When someone leaves, they’re cut from the Order like they died.”

  I wasn’t surprised to hear that, but it didn’t make it any less sad. “Do you wish you could see them?”

  “No. At least, not at the moment. Maybe when I’m older.”

  “Did many people leave?”

  “A few over the years. Leave is the wrong word, though. I should have said escaped.”

  That made sense. “I’m glad you’re free, Eve.”

  Her smile made me feel ten feet tall. “Me too, Eren.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why does Dre want to go back to Mexico? I wouldn’t have said he was homesick. Unless that’s why he’s mean all the time.”

  I snorted. “It’s one of the reasons, but he’s not homesick. He’s angry.”

  “You didn’t have to tell me that.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s angry all the time.”

  “You know what a coyote is?”

  “No. Unless you mean the animal.”

  “I don’t.” My lips pursed. “His parents wanted to live in the US, so they paid a coyote to help them cross the border. They left him with his grandmother and promised to send for him when they could. For a long time, he thought they’d abandoned him, but once, when his grandmother got drunk, she told him that they’d been killed by the coyote. There’d been some kind of problem with a cartel—they’re like a group of bad people who are responsible for a lot of crimes in that area—and Dre’s parents ended up dying.”

  “He wants revenge?” she guessed, and I nodded.

  “Yes. Badly. So badly sometimes I think that’s what makes him so bitter.”

  “He’s patient,” she murmured, her eyes taking in the small garden that had taken years of backbreaking dedication to tend to. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

  “It’s not a bad thing when it’s aimed at doing some good,” I said quietly.

  “Why are you telling me this, Eren?” she asked softly, her gaze cutting to me.

  “Because you’re seeing one side of Dre and not the other. I know you don’t like him—”

  “A mutual feeling, Eren.”

  I nodded. “Yes, but there’s another side to him.”

  “The side that likes to garden,” she stated blandly.

  My lips twitched. “Yes. The green-fingered side.”

  “That doesn’t make him a nice person,” she retorted. “And the fact he wants to kill someone certainly doesn’t.”

  “No. But he’s loyal, and when someone earns his loyalty, there’s nothing he won’t do to protect that person or keep them safe, even if it means doing something that many consider wrong.”

  She gnawed on her bottom lip for a second, stared over the plants again, and nodded. “I’ll take that into consideration.”


  I barely refrained from laughing at her tone, which was like that of a judge working out whether to sentence someone to deathrow, but I managed it. Instead, I held out my hand and asked, “Want to go watch TV?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Nothing with blood, guts, or boobs.”

  I winked. “You jest, right?”

  ❖

  Eve

  The library was a strange room.

  It was large but each wall had a door in it. Even the exterior wall led to French doors that opened onto a beautiful vista of the ocean. From my position at a central table, even though the surface was loaded down with a pile of books I’d been working on steadily, I could see everything from each angle.

  North, south, east, and west.

  No compass direction was safe from my beady eyes.

  I knew why too.

  On a morning, I’d always checked in, tried to figure out which mood I was in and had failed. Before, it hadn’t been rational. It had been more of a half-muttered prayer that I would be able to discern my ‘mood.’ But now that I knew what I was looking for, it was still impossible to discern which was in charge until they did something that answered it for me. The others seemed to have an internal monitor, whereas for me? I learned by reaction.

  There were two watchful souls.

  The gouille and the Sin Eater. Both watched, both protected, and both could kill. I’d never killed, of course, but I’d been reading about famous battles where the difference between life and death had been a Sin Eater’s attack.

  The gouille was more patient than the Sin Eater, but both liked to monitor situations. One would stir into action, leaping to the front of the fray to whoop butt. The other? Well, he’d keep to the shadows, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

  As I watched a girl flirt with Stefan, if I’d had any doubt about today’s soul, I had it confirmed then and there.

  The Sin Eater was in control, and both the woman and the beast, as it were, were getting pissed off at how the girl, Becky, kept on trying to touch him.

  I wasn’t sure why it irritated me, but every laugh he bestowed on her made me want to smack her. Then I felt horrible because they weren’t doing anything wrong, and it wasn’t their fault that I was acting like a crazy person.

  As I gnawed on my bottom lip, staring straight ahead into a common room where Stefan was hanging out with Nestor, I shifted in my seat when someone murmured, “You should just leave them alone.”

  I frowned, turning around to stare up at the intruder. “Excuse me?”

  I’d seen the girl before. She hung around with Becky. Her hair was a rich, vibrant red and her face, though very pretty, was scrunched with disgust as she looked at me. As though I was too gross to behold. “They love each other and you’re just getting in their way.”

  My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. “What?”

  “You heard me. They’ve been going out for months, and then you showed up and everything changed.” Her top lip curled in a sneer. “Seriously, just back off. You’re a freak show anyway. What the fuck would Stefan see in you? He’s going to be the Alpha head. Why would he want anything to do with you?”

  The hits kept on coming as I tried to understand everything she said and ultimately failed.

  “Back off, Louisa.”

  The low growl had my eyes widening, and when I saw it was Reed, Frazer’s friend and Stefan’s arch-nemesis, I smiled at him, grateful that he’d interrupted Louisa’s tirade.

  Louisa sniffed. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Can’t I?” He cocked a brow at her. “How about I tell Nathan about that little scene I walked in on the other day?”

  She growled. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Wouldn’t I?” He just smirked at her until she released another growl, this time it was more exasperated than furious, and stalked off. When he turned to look at me, he murmured, “You should have stood up to her.”

  I blinked. “What was there to stand up against?”

  “You’re so literal. I forgot that.” His lips curved. “Stefan isn’t into Becky.”

  The reassurance had me frowning down at the book in my hand. I had a notepad in front of me, and I was making notes about the various things that happened in Aboh. Where the guys were heading to… I wanted to know why they were going to a small town on a delta river, and as far as I could tell, there was no reason why they should.

  Reed snorted. “Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are that I’m speaking up for him, but Becky is Becky.”

  “What does that mean? She’s not an adjective,” I argued.

  “She’s certainly something.” Reed pulled a face. “She’s popular with the guys. Let’s just say that.”

  “I thought slut-shaming wasn’t allowed.”

  He whistled under his breath. “See? So you can stick up for yourself.”

  Confused, I gnawed on my bottom lip. “I can with guys.”

  “Not with girls?” he questioned, then hummed under his breath. “You don’t hang out with them enough to be accustomed to their bitchy ways.”

  I thought about that a second and shook my head. “Had no alternative but to be around women where I’m from.”

  “And did you like that?”

  “No.” I snorted. “Just because they were pious, didn’t mean they weren’t cows too.”

  He laughed at that, then told me, “I wasn’t shaming Becky. Just trying to explain the difference between you and her, that’s all.”

  “You were doing a bad job of it then.”

  Reed grinned. “Burn.”

  I frowned at that, wondering what his statement had to do with our conversation. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

  “Apart from saving you from bitchy females?” He shook his head. “Nope.” Then he cut a look at Stefan and Becky who, irritatingly enough, had moved closer to Stefan. “You should put a stop to that. Stake a claim.”

  “What kind of a claim? A friendship one? Surely people have seen me hanging out with the guys enough to realize we’re friends—”

  “Duh,” he grumbled. “I meant a different kind of claim. You obviously have the hots for him. You should take the bull by the balls and make sure Becky knows there’s no room for her where Stefan is concerned.”

  “I understood about half of that,” I said on a deep sigh. Then my nose crinkled. “Why would I want to touch a bull’s balls?”

  “Metaphor.” He tapped his temple. “Don’t tell me your printer-like memory doesn’t know what it is.”

  “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

  Reed chuckled. “Bit of both? That has to come in handy.”

  “I suppose.” I wasn’t sure whether it was a blessing or a curse. Of course, the good things were great to remember, but so were the bad, in a way, because they were a reminder I needed. And it wasn’t like I could just remember things that were to do with books or literature. Most bad memories? They were at the forefront of my mind in any given situation.

  The faculty and my friends were insistent that I was safe here, for example. That this was my new home. It would be easy to forget. Too easy. But because I didn’t, couldn’t, I knew that all of this was temporary.

  And yes, it hurt.

  It hurt so badly that it was worse than the stitch I sometimes got in the gym.

  Reed cut me a look, then, as he glanced over at Stefan and Becky who had, yet again, moved closer to him, advised, “In this world, if you don’t take, you don’t get. Trust me on that.” He smiled at me, and though it was a beautiful smile, there was something in its depths that reminded me he was a Hell Hound.

  No matter what soul was in control today, the Hell Hound was in charge.

  It surprised me to recognize that I wasn’t frightened of him. I had expected I would be, but I wasn’t. I could sense the heat simmering away under the surface, but it didn’t scare me.

  If anything, it warmed me. Like it was a cold day outside, and he was a fire in the hearth set to burn the chill a
way.

  That notion, more than what he made me feel, put me on edge. “What do you want from me, Reed?” It was an intense question, but it was a surprisingly intense moment.

  He hadn’t just come here to warn Louisa off.

  Was it because of my conversation with Frazer the other day?

  I wasn’t about to complain or to knock the chance to make new friends, but neither was I going to put Stefan, Nestor, Eren, or even Dre, the jerk, in danger. That might have sounded extreme, but there was danger here.

  I recognized that just as much as I recognized the fact I wasn’t frightened of him.

  The latter was because I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

  My friends?

  I didn’t have that assurance.

  “Just to be friends,” he answered simply, but I didn’t trust him. Didn’t trust that banked heat that was, once again, warming me from the inside out. He tilted his head and turned away from me, toward the wall of windows and the door that led to the extended patio. “Do you ever wish you were back at the compound?”

  “There’s no point in wishing,” I said sharply, then softening my tone, mumbled, “And if there was a point, I wouldn’t waste it on going back there.”

  “No? What would you wish for… if you believed in them,” he conceded.

  “To understand this world better. To know why people say the things they do.”

  “Give it time. We’ve been around for close to two decades—half in and half out of the outside world. You haven’t.” His smile was gentle, sympathetic. “And in between then and now, I’ll help whenever I can. If you need a slang tutor, that is.”

  His grin was contagious, and I found myself sharing one with him. Because his words had helped me relax, I found myself strangely curious as I asked, “What would you wish for?”

  “It’s a stupid wish,” he stated drily.

  “So? And mine isn’t? Learning a language that’s already my own?”

  His mouth quirked to the right, and a dimple popped up. “When I was twelve, my mum took me to the Gold Coast. I’d just had my first real attack with my souls. They’d diagnosed me as schizophrenic, but she wouldn’t believe it. She refused. Said I needed some R&R, rest and relaxation,” he clarified when I stared at him blankly. “I love surfing. I’m a stereotypical Australian in that, and she took me to Coolangatta Beach for a week.” He whistled under his breath. “I loved it. It was great to get away from my dad—they’d started arguing a lot. Stress from my diagnosis, I figure.