Hades Academy- First Semester

by Abbie Lyons

  Instantly, I felt my pulse skitter under his touch. His palm was cool and steady in a way that was as reassuring as it was totally unnerving. I wanted to yank away, and at the same time, I wanted him to tighten his grip and hold me there.

  With a single, deft movement, he flipped my hand out flat, and I splayed my fingers almost obediently.

  He studied my hand, almost the same way as Wilder had, but not as gently or patiently, like he was looking for something specific.

  The door creaked, and Collum stuck his head out. “Raines—”

  Raines almost shoved my wrist back towards my chest.

  “What the hell?” I said.

  “Sun line,” Raines said simply, as if I was going to understand that. I balled my fist up against the front of my school blouse. “Did Harlowe—” His eyes flashed back to the door. “Col, I’ll be right there.”

  Collum disappeared, and Raines wheeled on me.

  “Look, Harlowe’s lying to you. Or she’s not telling you the whole truth.” The ember ignited in his gaze. “So just...don’t do anything stupid.”

  “What?”

  “Just promise me you won’t.”

  Before I could think or say anything further, the smoke enveloped me, and I was gone. The last thing I saw was a pair of red eyes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “God, I love shopping.”

  Morgan was practically bouncing as we walked. It was a crisp, clear day, close to mid-November now, and we were headed down a pathway that led from the school building proper to what I’d learned was the demonic town hub, a little village called Westrock.

  “It’s been featured in a few Washington Irving stories,” Teddy had told me. “The Catskills are a long-acknowledged location for mystery. Even humans recognize it.”

  “And here I was thinking it was just a hot vacation destination for old people,” I’d muttered.

  We walked slowly—strolled, really—and breathed in the fall air with its hints of smoke and pine. It occurred to me that I hadn’t left the campus since I’d arrived. Sure, we’d gone outside to study or hang out in the cloister, and there were outdoor hallways connecting some of the classrooms, and even a small patio off the giant refectory window arcade heated by a small wall of golden fire that kept it at a balmy sixty-eight degrees regardless of season, but I hadn’t been OUT out. And now, ordinary nature felt weirder than anything I’d seen in the semester so far.

  “Ordinarily, I would’ve packed something for the ball from home,” Morgan went on. “But then I figured, why tie myself down to an outfit before I can get a read on what everyone else will be wearing?”

  “So you can blend in?” Teddy said.

  “So I can be as extra as possible.” Morgan rolled her eyes. “Honestly. Men.”

  I snorted into the thick uniform scarf that was wrapped around my neck. It was a Saturday, so casual wear was permitted, and I’d gone back to my trusty combo of long-sleeved thermal, jeans, and my Docs. That, plus a slim but warm black peacoat that magically appeared in our dorm armoire, made for a pretty decent fall outfit.

  I still didn’t know what to make of Raines’s warning. If Dean Harlowe was lying to me about some kind of danger, there wasn’t really any way I could find out anything more. After my run-in with the Infernal Three—well, the Infernal Two-Thirds—during Latin, I wasn’t about to try to sneak out of class and do sleuthing on my own. I half-wanted to bring it up with Morgan and Teddy, but I was almost positive they wouldn’t know any more than I would.

  Besides, nothing was getting worse. Yes, the kyrioi were still stationed throughout the school, and had even saluted us as we passed through the gates on our way to Westrock, but they were quickly becoming just another weird thing about demon school that I had to take in stride.

  So I decided to let myself be distracted.

  “What do people wear to this ball, anyway?” I could picture anything from Ren Faire–style getups to prom dresses to badass tailored suits for all genders. “Are there special demon, like...outfits?”

  “Nothing too different from human formalwear,” Morgan said, leaves crunching under her Chuck Taylors. “Suits for the guys, and dresses for the girls—maybe a jumpsuit if you’re feeling really daring. The big requirement is the colors. We all wear black or red. Maroon, maybe. Burgundy, eh, you’re pushing it. Pink, don’t even try it. Ditto gray—don’t get too light.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What’s with the coordination? Are we all going to be bridesmaids or something?”

  Now it was Morgan’s turn to snort. “Hardly. It’s to distinguish us from the precious angels of Elysium.”

  That’s right. We were going to be hanging out with our goody-two-shoes compatriots from Elysium Academy. I had to admit, I was pretty intrigued. I’d never met a guardian angel before, and after weeks of demons, I was dying to know the difference. For starters: wings or no wings?

  “We’ve been over this, they prefer to be called guardians,” Teddy said, his breath fogging the lenses of his glasses.

  “Well, I prefer to call them whatever I want,” Morgan sassed back, giving me a look. “Trust me, Nova, once you meet them, you’ll feel the bloody same.”

  I said nothing, remembering how Teddy mentioned he was nearly sent there. And even if that hadn’t been the case for one of my friends, it felt weird to slag on what were effectively our colleagues in this whole fight against Chaos thing. I decided to change the subject.

  “How’re you feeling, Teddy?” He still looked pretty pale—but then again, that wasn’t super different from his normal state of being.

  Teddy gave a broad smile. “Oh, much better. It’s weird, I felt like I was at death’s door, and now I’m like, super energized.”

  Morgan nodded smartly. “You go to the sick ward for thistle tea? Toldja.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “—and once we get you in a fancy suit, you’ll look like a million bucks.” Morgan grinned.

  That made me realize something. “Wait, what do we use for money?”

  “Nova Donovan,” Morgan chastised me, “I love you, but your obsession with money is so human. The demon world isn’t nearly as concerned with such things.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Hades Academy will cover everything for the ball, dear. The shopkeepers know the deal. They’re used to getting this rush of students every year.”

  “They take this whole thing very seriously,” Teddy chimed in. “Harmony between Hades and Elysium is important.”

  “You mean showing off,” Morgan said with a sniff. “Which is fine by me. If school pride dictates wearing a bomb-ass gown that Hades is underwriting, then consider me extremely full of school spirit.”

  We reached the edge of the village, which looked like something out of a fairy tale or a Disney movie. Just a quaint little town, with adorable cottages, cobblestone streets, and people smiling and going about their days: shopping bags, balancing various packages, even a guy with a long loaf of bread under his arm. You could practically hear the song Belle sings at the beginning of Beauty and the Beast.

  I was still a city girl through and through, but I had to admit, this looked pretty damn ideal. It seemed like the kind of place a rich demon family might go for a relaxing vacation. There was even an earthy smell I couldn’t quite put my finger on that made the whole place seem even more inviting.

  “Well, ain’t this just the most pleasant looking damn place in the universe,” I said as we walked into the town square.

  There were plenty of other Hades students already milling about the town as we walked down the first block. Some were hanging out by a giant ebony fountain (shaped, rather jarringly, like a pentagram), eating a variety of demon delicacies that I still didn’t quite have the taste for (sorry not sorry if mouth-twistingly sour tarts with a bitter nightshade aftertaste weren’t my thing), while others were going from store to store carrying loads of bags.

  “Is there any reason we don’t just come here all the time?” I asked.
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  “The townies don’t...love the Hades students,” Teddy said. “They don’t dislike us necessarily, but they wouldn’t like it if we were here all the time.”

  Something told me he spoke from experience. “Did you get in trouble, Ted? Does one of the shops have a photo of your face up with DO NOT SERVE THIS MAN underneath?”

  Teddy blushed, but Morgan cackled. “It’s true. Hades and Westrock have a bit of a strange relationship. Sort of like a human college town—sure, the kids can spend all their school dollars here, but we can also make a right heap of things.”

  “I didn’t make a heap of anything,” Teddy muttered. “It was one antique mirror—”

  “I’m sure it was fine,” I reassured him, a breeze gusting its way through the threads of my scarf, which I pulled tighter. Honestly, it was hard to imagine Teddy doing any kind of serious damage to anything. He just didn’t have it in him.

  “Point is, ultimately it’s better to just come here for necessities every once in a while rather than make a habit of it. Plus, humans do come here on occasion, believe it or not, completely unaware that most of the residents are supernatural. The residents here actually kind of like having them around, and they’d prefer that immature demon students don’t scare them off.”

  For a little village, there looked to be at least three different boutiques and vintage stores to explore.

  “So I’m thinking we’ll start the shopping trip over at Prodigialis,” decided Morgan, tapping a finger against her chin. “I’ve heard lots about them, and it sounds like they have just the most decadent stuff. And I want—no, need—my dress to be something those Elysium students will remember.”

  Teddy and I just nodded and agreed, resigned to the fact that Morgan was the one dictating this little adventure in retail. Which I was fine with. I hadn’t a literal clue about what I’d wear to the ball, and I couldn’t imagine Teddy was much of a fashionista either. In fact, I made a mental note to make sure that we wouldn’t let Teddy return to Hades having bought a suit too big for him.

  When we walked into Prodigialis, I was taken aback by the sheer variety of wild-ass clothes on the racks. I remember one time walking by Bryant Park in Manhattan when it must have been Fashion Week, when giant white tents were up everywhere and flashbulbs firing like crazy, and passing a flock of models in bold silk dresses that swirled around their bodies like corkscrews, floor-sweeping sleeves that were easily longer than the dress itself, and full-face masks that smoothed their head out into a pelt of sequins. But the stuff in Prodigialis was beyond even the most outlandish Alexander McQueen. They had everything from dresses made of peacock feathers to suits tailored in sleek black fur to a woman’s evening wrap that I swear to God was made of nothing but gray smoke. Even for Morgan’s taste, some of this stuff was a few steps beyond extra. And it was packed to the brim, with hardly an inch of space not taken up by one thing or another.

  “Just look at all of this!” exclaimed Morgan. “Absolutely brilliant!”

  As we browsed the aisles, Morgan made her opinion on everything known: “too big,” “too small,” “too slutty,” “not slutty enough,” “a little basic,” “a touch too garish,” and on and on.

  The truth was that fashion wasn’t something I’d ever thought much about. I wouldn’t even have known that one show was Alexander McQueen if the guy’s name hadn’t been splashed all over the step-and-repeats. I did always care about looking good and dressing nicely, but the harsh reality was that I didn’t have much of a choice about what I wore. Usually I was just stuck with hand-me-downs from one of the foster families, including, memorably, a nightgown that Foster Sister #3 claimed was a sundress and earned me a week’s worth of taunts when I wore it to school. My trusted pair of Docs were the only item of clothing that I actually had any real affection for, and I’d been lucky to score them in a thrift shop.

  “Sounds like you hate everything here,” Teddy observed, hands in his pockets.

  “Oh no!” Morgan corrected him. “I love all of it! This is just how ladies shop, isn’t that right, Nova?”

  “I’m with Teddy on this one,” I said. “Not much of a shopper myself.”

  She ignored us and continued flipping through rack after rack, while Teddy and I stared at her as if we were observing some sort of wild animal in its natural habitat.

  “How long do you think this is going to take?” Teddy whispered.

  “There’s really no telling,” I said. “But it feels like asking her that question might not be a great idea for either of us. She’d be liable to tear our heads off.”

  Teddy looked around. “There’s no way I’m buying anything from this place. No way at all.”

  “It’s not really my scene either. I’m gonna give her another twenty minutes, and if she still hasn’t made any decisions before that then I say we both head to another one of these stores.”

  “Deal.”

  “You sure you don’t like that fur suit?” I joked. “I think the bear look could work for you.”

  We continued to mind our own business, until Morgan suddenly exclaimed, “this is the one!”

  She was holding a ballgown. A jet-black skirt poured from the waist in soft, shining folds that moved so gently they looked like they were made of oil. But that wasn’t even the most impressive part: the straps were individual gems—black, of course—but not, you know, attached to anything. They were just a thin row of gleaming stones, suspending one above another, and curtaining out into an elaborate similarly suspended web that covered the back.

  Teddy let out a low whistle.

  “Well,” I said. “You’re definitely gonna make an impression, that’s for damn sure.”

  “That’s the idea,” Morgan said, whirling around with the dress.

  “What is that, illusion lace?” I squinted. Morgan let go of the bodice, and the dress just...stood there, next to her, because of course it did.

  I blinked. “So are you gonna try it on?”

  “Are you crazy?” she asked, genuinely taken aback. “I just know this is the right one. What’s the use of trying it on? It’s perfect. Besides, if somebody spotted me in it, the surprise would be ruined.”

  Even the woman at the front counter seemed taken aback by Morgan’s choice, which was saying a lot given her own personal style—she was wearing a blouse that lay across her torso in giant slashes of fabric that shifted from leopard print to green polka dots as she moved. No idea how.

  “Remember,” the saleslady told Morgan, “we don’t accept returns on any items selected for the ball.”

  “I would never return this,” Morgan assured her. “I want to die in this dress.”

  Tasting fresh air again after far too much time spent in that cramped little shop was nicer than I could’ve imagined.

  “Let’s head somewhere a bit more...simple,” I suggested.

  Morgan sighed. “And here I was thinking you were edgy!

  “Oh, I’m totally edgy,” I said. “But I’m afraid I have to tell you that most of the stuff back there was only edgy if you think that means the same thing as ugly.”

  She didn’t have a comeback for that one. And I have to admit, there was something kind of enjoyable about bickering with Morgan when she was in her full-on that bitch mode. It was all in good fun.

  Most of the other students were coming in and out of a much larger store with a big modern-looking sign that said FIERY LEWKS. It was obvious this was the more mainstream shop as compared to the oddball weirdness of Prodigialis. But mainstream was relative, of course—the clothes in the window weren’t screaming “nice normal homecoming queen.”

  Much to Morgan’s chagrin, we made that our next destination. My gametime strategy was to find something simple and elegant, but obviously also a touch sexy. Morgan was right—my personal style probably was a bit more “edgy,” however you want to define that, but I’d never truly gotten the chance to play dress up before, and as cheesy as it was, I wanted to look pretty. Not for Wilder or Raines—or, hel
l, any half-decent dude angels who might be at the ball—but for myself.

  I fucking deserved that much.

  Even if I knew telling myself I deserved something made me pathetic.

  As if to drive that point home, no sooner had we entered the store than I caught sight of a flash of blonde hair.

  “Shit,” I whispered.

  Camilla and the bitch squad didn’t seem to see us at first. I yanked a clueless Teddy by the elbow and managed to hide him behind a rack of spiky black heels. Morgan had already drifted off to look at accessories. Teddy gave me a bug-eyed look, and I shot visual daggers in the direction of Camilla.

  “Oh, no,” Teddy said—loudly. That was enough to get Camilla’s attention. I mentally smacked my forehead.

  “Well, well, well, look who we have here.”

  Was there something in the mean-girl playbook that mandated she talk like a bad movie character? I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

  “Yes, Camilla. It’s absolutely shocking that on our school’s day off, we end up at one of three stores in the only town everyone goes to.”

  Camilla’s mouth puckered. “There’s no need to be a bitch, Nova.”

  “Say that in the mirror,” I said, gesturing to an oval-shaped frame that shone on the wall behind her.

  Camilla opened her mouth, but instead of wheeling on me, she flicked her gaze to Teddy.

  “Well, if it isn’t our charming Theodore. You here to peep on the girls in the dressing rooms, Teddy?”

  “I...” Teddy, visibly sweating, cowered. Camilla, clearly enjoying every second, leaned in. I swear, her teeth looked pointed.

  “You what, Teddy?” Her voice was a low, cool poison. “I heard you were just a hair away from being a little angel over at Elysium. Is that true? You don’t even belong here, Teddy?”

  At that, she traced a finger along his cheek. Teddy’s skin flushed violently red.

  “Hey, back off,” I said. “Personal boundaries, much?” I wedged myself between her and him. “I don’t see you getting any consent for that.”

  Teddy made a low, gurgling sound.