Necromancer Academy: Book 1

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  A set of stairs led to each of the two wings but with no indication of which one I should take.

  I grabbed the elbow of the nearest student to stop and ask, and a pair of green eyes met mine. Their owner's mouth curved into smugness.

  "You must be new here," he said, sweeping his gaze down my front.

  I ducked down so he could find my eyes again. Poor thing had gotten lost at the swell of my chest. "Freshman,” I admitted. “Where's 2B?"

  "Fresh meat goes that way." He pointed right.

  Fresh meat? Really?

  "Thanks." I walked away from him, feeling his eyes follow. "I guess."

  I started toward the right staircase, but a bunch of older girls burst through a door of the left staircase. Of course, separate male and female wings—even though we were all of age—and of course, the guy who couldn't keep his eyeballs to himself wanted to lead me astray. Figured.

  As I started up the correct staircase, dragging my trunk behind me with a loud thunk-thunk, movement fluttered from the high ceiling. Ravens, I thought, used to deliver letters. And not a speck of poo anywhere in this strange school.

  I quickly found room 2B and deposited my trunk next to an empty bed. The other was occupied with a pile of clothes from an open trunk. Colorful ribbons had already been strung above it from the ceiling to make it look like a circus tent. I hoped she wasn't a total flake who asked too many questions or who'd get in my way. I wasn't here to make nice, and soon, I wouldn’t be here at all.

  Wishing I had time to change my wet clothes, I made my way down to the Gathering Room. Inside, my next breath hung in my chest as I stared around at the most darkly beautiful sight I’d ever seen. The rough walls looked like they’d been carved from black mica and glittered with the abundance of torches floating in midair. Four tables stretched the length of the room, and over each one hung three torchlight chandeliers made from skulls and other bones. Some of the skulls were even talking to the students down below. A fifth table sat near the front of the room in front of a wide stage, the only table that was empty. The rest were packed full, maybe thirty or forty students to each one, though I was terrible at guesstimating. While the rest of the school so far had rubbed against my skin like sand, this room was warm and welcoming and magical.

  "Freshmen over there," a man by the door barked and pointed to the far right table.

  The loud chatter wound down while the students stared expectantly at the stage. A woman strode across it, mid-forties maybe, with her brown hair piled high on top of her head and no lips to speak of. She had a mouth, sure, but her lips had disappeared or something, especially when she smiled out at the crowd. She wore a long red dress that made her appear to float like the torches.

  "Welcome, necromancers, to a new school year," she said, her voice carrying loud and clear.

  The students cheered. But not me. As I turned to slide myself onto the end of the freshmen bench, I froze. There he was, all the way across the room at the junior table.

  My brother's killer.

  Chapter Two

  My whole world narrowed in on him. My heart shattered all over again seeing him sitting there, smiling faintly, as if he hadn't killed anyone last spring. But I knew better. He'd stood not ten feet away from me, my brother's dead body bleeding out between us. His throat had been slit, the terrible wound grinning open and spilling my brother's life out all over the floor. The murderer had held the knife, still splatting blood droplets, as he stared at me with steely gray eyes. They’d been empty of all emotion except one: elation. Then he’d turned and run out into the meadow behind our house.

  But I'd already memorized everything about his appearance. The cut of his jaw. The sharp angles of his cheekbones. His messy brown hair. The haughty lift to his right eyebrow. Gray eyes as dark as a thunderstorm. That was him.

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to march up to him and finish what I'd sworn to do four months ago when I first saw him. Fury ripped its burning claws under my skin until it pulsed inside me, a gathering storm about to unleash.

  His gaze skimmed over me for a fleeting second. Not a hint of recognition when there should've been. Because just as I'd seen him clear as day over Leo’s body, he'd seen me too. But then I remembered I still had the hood on my cloak drawn up over my head. He couldn't see me. He would, though, and every begging word he said to me, every plea for forgiveness would fall on deaf ears.

  "Miss," a distant voice said. "Miss, will you please take your seat."

  I blinked and my surroundings flooded back into place around Leo’s murderer and me. All eyes from the four tables aimed right at me, the only person frozen into a block of ice instead of sitting down with the others. Laughter erupted from several of them.

  My whole body flushed as I quickly sat down with my head bowed. I hadn't meant to draw attention to myself. The plan was to melt with the shadows, not stand there staring in front of the whole school like a lunatic.

  "Now, then." The woman smiled, warm as the torchlights hovering overhead even though she had no lips. I had a feeling I was going to obsess over that, and it couldn’t be helped. "As I was saying, I'm Headmistress Millington, and I wanted to go over a few things before you head back to your rooms for the night. Classes start tomorrow—"

  Several of the older students groaned.

  "I'm not sure why that's news to some of you," she continued without looking the least bit fazed. "You'll find your schedule parchments outside your room doors. Usually I introduce your professors to you the night before classes begin, but they're busy with other things at the moment."

  "Torture," someone from the sophomore table muttered, and several people laughed.

  "We do have a few new rules this year."

  The laughter turned to grumbles.

  Headmistress Millington held up her hands. "I know, I know, but you might thank me later that we have rules in a university such as this. Number one: no wandering by yourself after the dark hour."

  Louder groans this time. The dark hour meant midnight. I'd learned that this summer when I'd devoured every dark magic book I could find, though really, it was obvious since the light hour was noon. Pretty easy to keep up with the basics. It was the rest of it that had a steep learning curve.

  "Number two,” the headmistress continued. “No going outside after the dark hour."

  Gasps swept through the room.

  A blonde at the head of the senior table shot to her feet, her cheeks stained a rosy pink. "But Headmistress, Advanced Necromancy doesn't even start until the dark hour, and it's in the cemetery out back, so—"

  "Not anymore, Beatrice," Headmistress Millington said gently.

  "But...why?" Beatrice asked.

  "That’s the way of it for all of your safety. As necromancers, it's important to readily adapt to change since what we do isn't always straightforward." She nodded at Beatrice who didn't seem all that convinced as she sank back into her seat. "Rule number three, which isn't new at all: no bringing physical or emotional harm to anyone."

  "After the dark hour," several students chanted and then snickered.

  But the others still seemed hung up on the first two rules as they frowned and muttered to their friends. What had changed from last year to this one to bring about these rules?

  "If you feel that the rules don't apply to you and break them anyway, you'll be swiftly dealt with and expelled." The headmistress cast her gaze around the room to drive that point home.

  And I got the point, sharp as the blade that had ended my brother's life. I'd just have to not get caught sneaking around by myself after the dark hour to bring physical and emotional harm to Leo’s murderer. Permanently.

  "The responsibility of necromancers is serious,” Headmistress Millington went on, “which some of you know and some of you will learn. It's the darkest of dark magic, and only those who have an iron will can make it through this academy. With that said, my door is always open should you find yourself slipping or in need of anything whatsoever."


  A disembodied arm poked from the backstage area and waved at her enthusiastically.

  She turned to it, and then back toward us stiffly. Even from this far away, I could see the tension lining her forehead.

  She smoothed her hands along her red dress as if to compose herself. “Now, go to your rooms and be ready for an exciting new year ahead of you." She led us in a round of applause, and before it ended, she’d already bustled off the stage, her skirts swinging behind her.

  The applause quickly petered out as students stared after her. This wasn't how the back-to-school Gathering Room event normally went, then. What had happened?

  The students wondered the same thing as they filed out.

  "Don't go outside,” one was saying. “Don't be alone. Why does it sound like we're under attack?"

  "It's probably nothing,” a girl with short blonde hair said. “She’d reschedule the start of classes if it was something we needed to be worried about."

  “But what about homecoming and Samhain?” a guy asked. “Are we just going to pretend those things don’t exist?”

  Their voices faded out into the entryway. So I could keep an eye on Ramsey—that was his name though I hated to think it since it humanized him—I stayed put and pretended there was a problem with the laces on my boot. I wanted to know who his closest friends were, how he interacted with others, his habits, even his class schedule. I would follow him like a shadow until he was no more.

  From underneath the top of my hood, I spied him strolling out with a large group of male and female students. He was laughing and talking, with no cares in the world, it seemed. How could a murderer act so casual? I hadn't even avenged my brother yet, and already, I was withdrawn, seeking comfort in thoughts of murder rather than people. Dead inside. It was strange, but maybe I needed to take notes from him on how he conducted himself so no one would suspect me.

  And that made me hate him even more. Sonofabitch.

  I followed him out the double doors of the Gathering Room, close but not too close, and slipped my hand into my pocket. My fingertips brushed the dead man’s hand, its skin like rubber. It was closed in a loose fist. When it decided to open—something I couldn’t make it do—I would grab hold, and it would lead me into the darkness its owner had once inhabited. This was also known as shadow-walking or literally becoming a shadow. Because the hand belonged to an actual murderer, this was really, really dark magic.

  His friends parted ways in the middle of the entryway, the guys to one set of stairs and the girls to the other. I climbed up behind the girls, keeping my gaze locked on Ramsey on the other side and matching his steps like the perfect shadow.

  "Every year we come back, he gets hotter and hotter," one of the girls with bright red curls in front of me said.

  Another groaned. "He's the only good thing about coming back."

  The door to the second floor opened, which must've caused a massive slow-down in our ascent because I smashed face first into the rear of the redhead in front of me. I bounced back a step hard enough for the hood on my cloak to fall back. Had he seen? Did he recognize me now? I skated my gaze across the entryway toward him, but he was already climbing toward the third floor, completely oblivious.

  Maybe I should've been paying more attention to the rage pummeling the air right in front of me. The redhead I'd run into had already whirled around, her fists clenched at her sides.

  "And every year, the freshmen get more and more shit between their ears," she spat. "You have eyes, necromancer. Use them."

  The old me would have apologized profusely, throwing smiles and light around for forgiveness, but the new me had nothing to be sorry for.

  I stared up at her towering over me, attempting to make my expression as cold and fathomless as possible. "And you have girth, necromancer. Lose it." It was a terrible thing to say, especially since she was gorgeous because of her curves and despite the ugly scowl marring her flawless, almost translucent-looking face. Even I knew never to say that to someone, but I couldn’t snatch it back. Still, my stomach bottomed out as heat crept into my cheeks.

  Her nostrils flared, and she took a step closer, and I had the sudden image of me flying off this staircase. "What did you say?" Her tone was as deadly as a snake’s hiss.

  I lowered my voice and tried to placate her spiked nerves so she didn't kill me. "I ran into you because you stopped suddenly, not because I was trying to. I just want to get to my room."

  She raked her gaze down my front with a disgusted sneer and then spun around. When she marched past the second-floor door, she turned to give me one more death glare. "Freshman freak."

  Yeah, good thing I wasn't here to make friends because it seemed like I’d forgotten how to. I used to have many. A pang speared through my heart at the memory of Lisa, my best friend, whom I’d completely shunned to seek revenge. She knew about Leo’s death, had tried to contact me afterward, but...I wasn’t the same person. I didn’t even know if I could be around someone who radiated sunlight and positive energy without withering like molded fruit. I missed her though. I sometimes even missed myself.

  Shaking my head to rattle those thoughts away, I strode toward 2B and found my class schedule on a roll of parchment tied with a black ribbon outside my door. After unrolling it, I groaned inwardly.

  Dawn Cleohold’s Monday through Friday Schedule:

  Breakfast – 7:00, The Gathering Room

  Death, Dying, and Reliving: A History of Cautionary Tales – 8:00 – 9:30, Room 210

  Symbology – 9:30 – 11:00, Room 111

  Psycho-Physical Education – 11:00 – 12:00, Gym

  Lunch – 12:00 – 1:00, The Gathering Room

  Divination – 1:00 – 2:00, Room 104

  Undead Botany – 2:00 – 3:00, Green Floor

  Latin 101 – 3:00 – 5:00, Room 133

  Dinner – 6:00, The Gathering Room

  All those classes five days a week... That would cut into my Ramsey-shadowing time, yet if I didn't go, I would draw attention to myself. That was something I didn't need, so I’d have to blend in and stalk him in my spare time. Between classes, the weekends...past the dark hour every night until it was done. Smiling, I touched my pocket to seek the dead man’s hand for comfort. I wouldn’t get caught.

  As soon as I stepped inside my room, an immediate buzzing voice overshadowed all thought. My new roommate leapt at me and did a little twirl in the middle of the room, already talking several miles per minute. Her skin was a luminous ebony color, and she didn’t have a trace of hair on her head. Not like she needed it. She was stunning without it, in part because of the delicate swirls tattooed in white and red all over her face and scalp that sort of resembled a skull.

  She wore silver bracelets and rings and large hoop earrings that jiggled every time her jaw flapped. Her dress was unlike anything I'd ever seen, made from several different kinds and colors of fabrics sewn together in long, fluttery pieces that made her look like she was constantly moving. Which she was. Then she finally stopped and looked at me with expressive brown eyes framed by gorgeous lashes.

  "Eh, hello?" she said.

  I blinked. "What?"

  She threw back her head and laughed, a belly-shaking one that brought tears to her eyes. I found myself smiling in spite of myself. Her huge grin reminded me a lot of Lisa. Her bright energy reminded me a lot of me. The old me, when every day was new and fresh so long as I had my older brother hero close by.

  "I'm Sepharalotta." She thrust out her hand. “But you can call me Seph.”

  I reached for it tentatively and shook it. "Dawn."

  "Hi, Dawn." She grinned, lighting up the whole room. No windows needed.

  Something about her was infectious, and her joy came as a complete surprise in a place like this. It almost made me forget why I was here. But not quite.

  "Can you believe this?” She waved her arms around our room. “Necromancer Academy? I never believed I’d be here."

  The more she spoke, the more of an accent I picked up,
but I couldn't place it. More singsong rather than clipped like we sounded in Maraday.

  "Yeah, it's... It's something else." No matter what I said, I could never match her enthusiasm since I wouldn’t be staying.

  "Let's not get too excited, Dawn." She snorted, but it was light and not at all mocking.

  Nodding, I made my way over to my bed and plunked down on it, suddenly exhausted. "I'll try my best."

  "I like a girl who can keep up with my sarcasm." She gestured to the parchment in my hand. "Is your schedule the very definition of insanity like mine is? I mean Psycho-Physical Education? It’s supposed to be like P.E., but with more psycho tossed in to make it a literal nightmare, I guess."

  "So P.P.E. Why am I picturing balls being thrown at my head like in high school?" I’d loved everything at White Magic High in Maraday except that. I’d been too soft, an easy target.

  Seph gave a sympathetic frown. “You too, huh?”

  “Yeah.” My stomach growled low, a reminder I hadn't eaten in several hours. "Did they serve supper earlier?"

  She batted that question away like a pesky fly. "That was ages ago.”

  It looked like I'd be eating wet bread and cheese tonight, slowly, to make my only food last until it turned moldy. As appetizing as that sounded, now I didn't feel nearly as hungry as I had.

  "So tell me how you got into the academy." Seph bounced down onto her bed across from mine. "Are your family necromancers?"

  "Uh, no. My parents are healers back in Maraday, and my brother..." I almost started to say was, but then that would bring about too many unwanted questions. "My brother is a professor at Graystone Academy."

  Or he was supposed to be anyway. Graystone Academy was located in Plosh, just outside Maraday, and before he was hired as a teacher there, he'd graduated from the college with honors. Graystone was where black and white magic mixed, where the two sides of the coin balanced on a single edge. Growing up, he was one of those strange types of people who knew exactly who and what they wanted to be. He had a passion for teaching, and he would beam every time he was explaining a new spell to me while sitting on our favorite bench on the rim of the meadow in the back of our house, or a new herb I’d never heard of. I absorbed all of it because the knowledge came from him. He was my idol, my hero in every way possible. He was other people's idol, too, especially the girls, but he'd often ignore them to spend time with me. I'd thought I was the luckiest little sister alive.