“How the hell are we at ground level?” I asked as my mind dizzied again. “We just spent the last few minutes walking up a hill.”
“Magic,” Wally said as Ethan veered left, toward the back of the massive mansion hunkering in the distance. Shapes dotted the way, idly walking and occasionally limping. “That’s why we’re so close, too. We don’t need the bus to bring us back.”
Ethan didn’t veer off to the portables or the healer tents. Instead, he kept on straight, unperturbed by the fact that we’d popped out of the ground like daisies. His destination appeared to be one of the grand, well-lit rear entrances of the mansion.
“Where are we going?” I asked, picking up speed to close the distance between Ethan and the group.
“You’ve lost your mind if you think I am going to stay in that hovel for another night.” Ethan didn’t notice the limpid, doe-eyed looks darted at him by a couple of girls. Nor did he notice a group of three guys puff up their chests and attempt to look important as he passed. The whole campus clearly knew Ethan by sight, and they were all trying to get into his good graces.
The whole thing irritated me. Ethan was the last person I wanted on my team.
“We don’t get to choose where we stay.” I followed him closely as we neared the back entrance, not sure if I should just break away now, maybe circle back to the healers, or see where this was going.
“You don’t get to choose where we stay,” he said, yanking the door open and shoving past someone trying to make their way out. He didn’t apologize and the skinny boy with thick-rimmed glasses didn’t seem to expect him to.
“I’d go with it,” Wally whispered. “I’ve heard the portables aren’t very nice. I got lucky and slipped into the twenty percent who get to stay in the mansion. I’d use his connections on this one.”
Wally did have a point. The high, arched ceiling in the foyer stretched up to dizzying height, its gothic design allowing us to see all the way to the top of the building. The dark brown hardwood floor, polished to a high shine, stretched out before us, climbing up the large staircases we passed, of which there were many, and lining the balconies of the four floors above us. Huge paintings in gilded frames adorned the walls. The place was absolutely gorgeous, and just being in it gave me a soft, comfortable feeling.
The smell of something cooking floated on the air and my belly grumbled, reminding me that we hadn’t even had breakfast yet.
Every so often, a crest with a strange symbol etched into metal took up wall space. One we passed gave me a shiver of recognition. The Web of Wyrd.
A series of three triangles interlocked.
A giant, multi-branched tree held within a circle.
A pair of back-to-back ravens, their heads tipped toward one another and holding a bone between them.
Finally, what looked like an unfinished figure eight, the ends of it curling in on itself in tiny flourishes.
My best guess was that the crests were the house symbols. Five houses, five crests.
The Web of Wryd was the only one I knew by name.
I dragged my eyes away from the crests as Ethan hooked a left around an ornate banister and started up a wide staircase with a strip of fake gold on each stair.
I slowed and looked a little closer.
No, not fake gold. This was real.
“How much money does this school have?” I asked in wonder, lagging behind everyone else to stare.
“This place isn’t just used for the Culling Trials,” Wally whispered as we reached the landing and turned onto the next flight of stairs, curving up to the third floor. “The Culling Trials are only once a year for a week. Otherwise it’s a training facility for the elite. It’s like The Farm for the CIA. They’re the very best students from the various academies. That’s why there are portables for half the students—a lot of these rooms are taken. Only those that have graduated left an empty room.”
“So…the elite are still here?” I asked as we hit the third staircase. “I haven’t seen any of them.”
“They get a couple weeks furlough,” Gregory said, “but their stuff’s still in their rooms. Which means someone has to be kicked out for us to get a room in here.”
“It’ll be others in the Culling Trials,” Wally said as we reached the top of the first flight of stairs. After fighting a troll, climbing a tower, and wandering a field of magic haystacks, I was spent even with just one set of stairs. “No way are they kicking out the magical elite. If anyone is going to go, it’ll be the dumb kids.”
“That’ll make us insanely popular,” I stepped aside so Pete could file in. Ethan hit the last landing and headed down a grand hallway lined with an exquisitely designed rug.
“It will, actually. Anyone hanging out with Ethan gets preferential treatment,” Wally said. “We’ll be noticed wherever we go.”
I chewed my lip, following Ethan to the last door in the corridor, painted red with a shining gold “1” affixed to the surface. Being noticed was the last thing I needed.
I shouldn’t be in my animal form in here, I heard reverberate through my skull. Naked would still be worse, right?
If he didn’t know, I certainly wouldn’t, so I just shrugged.
Ethan reached the door and knocked twice. The sound, a great, booming noise, ricocheted off the walls and sank into the room beyond before echoing back to us. The effect explained the lack of door knockers.
The handle turned and the door swung open, revealing a burley looking man with a grim set to his mouth, shortly cropped brown hair, and a shiny black suit.
“Yes?” the man said in a deep baritone.
“Ethan Helix to see Director Frost. She should be expecting me.”
“Yes. Of course.” The man glanced behind Ethan, his gaze falling on each of us in turn. When it lingered on me, I felt as though I’d been put on a massive scale, each of my attributes weighed and measured. He stepped back, his gaze on Pete. “I will get you some sweats, shifter.”
“There you go,” I told him quietly as I followed the others into the large and plush waiting room. A few full bookshelves lined the back wall. To our right sat two empty overstuffed chairs. Next to them was a brown leather couch with a cat sitting on one of the cushions, its tail curled around its body, eyes at half-mast, watching us walk in like some sort of disapproving supervisor. “You’re all set.”
“Have a seat. She’ll be with you in a moment,” the man said, gesturing at the furniture.
“Oh look.” Wally pulled out a book in the bookcase. “The latest Jack Reacher novel. I just love fantasy.”
“That’s a thriller,” Orin said, standing in the corner with his hands at his sides and his face blank. The guy looked like he was at a funeral wherever he went.
Wally laughed, taking it to the couch. She gave the watchful cat plenty of space. “However you dress it up, it’s still fantasy.”
The tight-laced guy returned with a neat stack of folded sweats. He handed them off before directing Pete to the restroom where he could change, in both forms of the word. To the rest of us, he said, “Follow me. She’ll see you now.”
He led us down a small hallway ending in what looked like a reception area. A large black desk faced four chairs. A plant stood stationary in one corner, and the plant opposite it moved in a strange breeze I didn’t feel. Next to the desk a door stood open, leading into a much larger office, full of deep oranges, yellows, and pinks, as if a sunset had been poured into the room.
“Ready?” Wally asked, plucking at my sleeve.
The man stood beside a desk, his dark eyes rooted to my face. I had the distinct feeling he didn’t like me. But no warning blared along my skin, so I’d leave it alone for now.
“Yup.” I scurried in past him, uncomfortable and not sure why, until I remembered I was supposed to be a guy, and they probably didn’t scurry. A moment later, however, my fears were put to rest as Pete scurried in behind me.
“Madam Director,” Ethan said, standing in front of a massive oak desk
with two computer monitors on one side, and one of those padded calendar desk toppers on the other. Between them was a solid black box, like a jewelry box. The top of it had been shined to a perfect lustre. Something in me itched to flip it open and see what was inside.
A full-sized couch faced the desk with other chairs positioned in clusters around the room.
A petite woman in her late seventies stood behind the desk, a fitted suit hugging her small frame, thick glasses mostly obscuring her smoky gray eyes with pronounced crow’s feet, and short-cropped gray hair in a style not unlike her assistant’s. Aged, but aged well, she was calm, her demeanor one of faint amusement. The sensation of mirth was there and gone before I could be sure of what I’d sensed.
“Mr. Helix, how can I help you?” she asked tersely. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she wasn’t overly thrilled with Ethan. Clearly, she had more sense than the others if she recognized what a pain in the butt he was.
“My father should’ve touched base with you by now regarding our poor accommodations,” he said without embarrassment. Boy, had we grown up differently.
The director’s lips pursed, and her eyebrows lowered behind her large glasses. “Yes, he did. I do so apologize for the previous accommodations, Mr. Helix,” she drawled, her tone so dry, a spark would light it on fire. “I would love to make your stay with us as comfortable as possible. I have taken the liberty of swapping your portable for one of our rooms within the manor. I merely had to displace other young people to do so. I’m sure they won’t be put out at all. Hopefully that will be to your liking?”
“That will be fine, thank you,” Ethan said matter-of-factly. He was ignoring her sarcastic tone with great aplomb.
“Fantastic.” The director turned away to her monitors. “If there is anything else, just have your father let me know, and I’ll do everything in my power to assist you. Or you can contact Adam here, and he will always do his best to fit you into my schedule. In the meantime, he’ll show you to your room.”
“Yes, perfect,” Ethan said, still missing the overtones of sarcasm.
A grin worked up my face as I turned and followed Ethan out of the office. “That was some serious shade she was throwing,” I whispered to Wally.
“It was embarrassing,” Pete said softly, huddled next to me in sweats much too large.
“If you want what your station in life has promised, you must ask for it,” Orin said loftily. “Those at your level will expect it. The rest don’t matter, nor does what they think of you.”
“Wow. You sure know your way around being a dickhead,” I said. Wally laughed.
“I am a predator,” Orin returned. “I have a fondness for those who think they are better than me. I will one day enjoy waking them up to the realization that they are not at the top of the food chain.”
Ethan’s back stiffened.
The memory of Orin in the shower, talking about the vein in my neck, dried up all the spit in my mouth. I really hoped I didn’t end up on his bad side. I didn’t want to have to fight him off. If his current speed was any indication of what was to come for him, I knew I’d never beat a full-fledged vampire.
On the second floor, way in the back near a rear stairwell that would be really handy for sneaking in and out without being seen, the director’s assistant—Adam—stopped next to a door numbered 245. He didn’t gesture or make any sound, just waited expectantly for us to disappear from his life.
“Right then. Here we go.” I shooed everyone toward the door.
“Not her,” the assistant said, looking directly at me.
My blood ran cold and a warning crept up my spine. My cover was about to be blown sky high.
Chapter 8
The group of us stood there on the second floor, staring at Adam—the director’s assistant—as he stared right back at us. And the only thing I could think was that I was out—he knew I was a girl. I took a breath to defend myself, to beg if I had to.
“This floor is boys only,” the man continued, his hard gaze cutting right through me. “Girls may visit, but they may not stay. If a girl is caught in a boy’s room after dark, and vice versa, they will be kicked out of the program. Do you understand?”
“Pretty outdated,” Wally said, stepping around me. “I mean, it’s not like we’re underage or anything. I’m eighteen. I can bang a whole room full of guys, and it’s perfectly legal. Although, I have to own that more than half of the hopeful students in the Culling Trials have not yet turned eighteen. I suppose that could be an issue. I mean, it’s not like I would I.D. everyone in the room before I—”
“Oh my God, Wally, stop,” I said with a red face I couldn’t help. Did she have any idea what she was even saying?
She blinked at me for a moment, shrugged, and then waved goodbye. “All right, then. See ya. I’ll check back in tomorrow.”
“That chick is seriously off,” Ethan said as he disappeared into the room. Orin drifted in after him, much too close, with Gregory following at a normal distance.
Pete took a step toward the door and grabbed my arm. “Come on, buddy. Let’s head in with the rest of the guys.”
Adam’s dark gaze rooted me to the spot, daring me to lie. But given he hadn’t said anything direct thus far, I knew he wouldn’t. Maybe not until he had proof, at any rate. Proof I’d make sure he didn’t get.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, making my tone as masculine as possible, and slipped over the door’s threshold.
“Thanks again,” Pete said, pushing the door closed on a still-staring Adam. With the door shut, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Holy cats. That guy is intense.”
Unlike the hovel from the night before, this room was spacious with six separate beds, each wrapped in a canopy that could be closed for privacy. Each bed had its own nightstand, plus a trunk situated at the foot. I had a sneaking suspicion that we’d have perfectly fitting sweats in whichever setup we chose. A door between two of the beds led to a bathroom, and I barely stopped a sigh of relief when I realized it was a normal bathroom, with one toilet, no urinal, and one shower with a curtain. This setup would be much easier to navigate.
Without warning, Ethan rushed at me, grabbing my shirt at the chest, and slammed me against the wall. Without thinking, I lashed out, clipping his jaw with my right fist, following it up with a slam of my left fist into his stomach.
The breath gushed out of him and he bent double, ripping the neck of my shirt and tearing it down my side at the shoulder. He pushed forward, his thick shoulder hitting me center mass. I curled in on myself with the shock of pain before pushing through it. I drove three successive punches into his ribs, fast and furious, before angling my body, stepping into him, and throwing him over my hip, a move I’d learned from Rory.
Ethan grunted as his back hit the ground. I rammed a knee down on top of him, popped up, kicked his flailing hands out of the way, and rammed my knee down again, pounding his chest. That spot hurt, I knew from previous experience.
“Damn you,” he shouted, reaching for his wand. I kicked, connecting with his wrist, which sent his hand flying above his head.
“Dude, sh-he’s a Shade, you’re physically outmatched,” Pete hollered, dancing around us with his hands out. I couldn’t tell if it was nervousness, a desire to join in, or he just didn’t know how to break up a fight. “Just let it go, man.”
Ethan shoved at my leg as I was coming down a third time, knocking my body to the side. I went with it, bringing my elbow down instead and smacking him across the face. He thrust a knee up between my legs, and it hit my thighs and just barely my crotch—a dull pain at best.
“Low blow, dude,” Pete shouted. “That is a low blow.”
“He’s a coward. What did you expect?” Orin casually commented from the corner. “He’ll probably have daddy sue for damages.”
I flattened my forearm against Ethan’s jaw and pinned his arms to his sides with my knees, a move that had worked on my brother and Rory countless times—until Rory grew to the size of a ho
rse and could buck me off, which wouldn’t be a problem here. Ethan was big, but not as big as Rory. With his upper body secured, I paused, waiting to see if he would use his lower half.
“Get the hell off of me,” Ethan spat, tense but immobile.
“Are you going to throw another punch?” I asked.
He didn’t say anything, so I held my position.
“Silence means no, usually,” Pete said out of the side of his mouth.
Guy speak. Oops.
I gave a last little shove and pushed up off of him. I backed away, pulling at my shirt to make sure it still mostly covered my chest, and picked the closest bed.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I asked, flipping open the trunk and snatching out a shirt at random. I needed something to fling over my shoulder to cover the strap of my sports bra.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed before his gaze drifted down my body. “What the hell do you think? You shoved me down at the end of that trial. That was a dick move, Johnson. But you…you don’t have a dick, do you?”
My stomach clenched, and I schooled my face into an incredulous expression. “And you have balls the size of raisins. You constantly skirt by the danger, didn’t do a damn thing yourself, and you thought I was going to let you claim our victory? You’ve lost your mind.”
“If someone kneed me in the balls, I would’ve reacted,” Ethan said with a glint to his eyes. “And you’re not wearing a wife beater, are you? No, the straps are too thick for that.” A grin curled his lips and he took a slinky step toward me, like he’d regained the role as predator even after getting his ass handed to him.
“Man boobs, thick strap, no dick—just look at that face. Awfully pretty, aren’t you, Johnson? Awfully pretty. I’d thought maybe you were just waiting for your balls to drop—you’re a big kid for fifteen, though that’s not unusual in the House of Shade. But you haven’t got any balls at all. What are you, a failure from a past year? A has-been who wants another chance?” He laughed. “Weird, choosing a young guy’s identity to steal, but whatever. Regardless, the jig is up. Say goodbye to your share of the gold.”
Shadowspell Academy: The Culling Trials, Book 2 Page 6