Wilde Abandon
The Ashcroft Academy Series Book 3
K.M. Charron
Contents
Wilde Abandon
Other Books by Kelly Charron
Dedication
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Author’s Note
20. Acknowledgments
Wilde Abandon
Book Three of
the
Ashcroft Academy
Series
K.M. Charron
Copyright © 2019 Kelly (K.M.) Charron
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system without the prior written consent of the publisher – or in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, license from the Canadian Copyright Licensing agency – is an infringement of the copyright law. The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the internet or via any other means without permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This edition first published in Canada and internationally in 2019 by Dark Arts Publishing.
Charron, Kelly, 1979-, author
Wilde Abandon / Kelly Charron.
(Ashcroft academy series ; 3)
Issued in electronic format.
ISBN _978-1-9992881-1-2 (kindle).--
Cover Art by Dee J. Holmes http://www.djholmes.com/cover-art
Images licensed from DepositPhotos https://depositphotos.com
For more information, visit www.kellycharron.com
Please note: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Other Books by Kelly Charron
The Ashcroft Academy Series
Wilde Magic
Wilde Intent
Wilde Abandon
Wilde Fury
The Pretty Wicked Series
Pretty Wicked
Wicked Fallout
Dedication
For my parents, Chris and Laurie. There are not enough ways to thank you for everything. xo
Chapter 1
Sydney
Mid-November
Sydney stood beneath the powerful glare of Máthair Bello, having just admitted to more than one serious mistake. No, not mistake. That was too insignificant a word. She’d been responsible for a catastrophic error—one that might’ve possibly just ruined her boyfriend’s life forever.
Máthair Bello’s jaw dropped as Sydney continued to explain finding an underground room hidden deep in the forest that surrounded Ashcroft Academy. The admission of finding the room and its intricately bound door made Sydney feel a hundred pounds lighter, despite Máthair Bello’s tightening jaw and narrowing eyes.
The Elder witch clarified, “You found a door to a hidden room on coven property. It was secured by interwoven ropes, which you removed.” She took a short breath. “You then proceeded to open the door, despite the fact that this unknown witch had clearly marked it with a magical rune, one that you did not understand. Have I gotten this correct so far?”
But Máthair Bello wasn’t asking, as much as getting her point across. Sydney managed a nod, seeing that she wouldn’t have been able to find her own voice if she tried.
The Master continued, the fire in her eyes deepening with each passing second. “And then, a mist of some sort flew out at you, making you unconscious and sick afterward.” She paused as if collecting herself. “And you told no one?” Máthair Bello paced the room with her hands behind her back.
Manic energy wafted off her amid waves of blind rage and despair.
Sydney had been right to omit Ainsley’s part in this. Any word of a middling’s involvement would put Sydney in front of the Directive before sunrise. No Elder could protect her there, and why would they? Her mouth slicked with nausea, but luckily her stomach was empty. A day with little food or water was only adding to the throbbing inside her skull, though. The urge to drill holes in it was tempting. She’d consider anything to ease the pressure behind her eyes.
Máthair Bello resumed, “How could you be so careless? Not only with your own safety but the safety of your fellow coven members as well? Are you truly so foolish, girl? Was being raised under our guidance, under your mother’s direction, not enough to instill even the slightest bit of common sense in you?”
She could tell Máthair Bello wanted to say much more, to be much harsher, but was holding back because Sydney was the High Priestess’ daughter. Fuck up, or no fuck up, she was still Andrea Lockwood’s daughter. It was probably the only reason she was still sitting here and not locked up in the small cell reserved for the rare witch awaiting trial for breaking witch law—for which this definitely qualified.
Sydney allowed her gaze to leave Máthair Bello’s irate face and land briefly on Langston and Justin. Langston’s skin remained sweaty and pallid, and Justin nearly looked as ill.
“You never told anyone about this discovery before now?” the Elder asked in an icy, disbelieving tone.
Syd swallowed hard, trying to push the threatening acid back down. “No, I told myself that the mist was just dust blown up from the wind. I had no idea I’d released a supernatural entity. I would go back and change everything if I could.”
“But you cannot.”
Máthair Bello walked toward Justin, who straightened his back and lifted his head at her approach. Sydney could see the fear in him, feel it on top of her own.
“Did you know of this room, this entity?”
Syd tried to get his attention to make sure he denied everything. The least she could do was take the fall for everything and try to protect everyone else.
“No, Máthair, I didn’t.” He didn’t blink or show any guilt. Justin was a much better liar than Sydney realized.
Máthair Bello inhaled sharply, not breaking her gaze on Justin. “Do not lie for her, Mr. Lautner, or I’ll see that you hold equal responsibility for what has happened here.”
“Sydney didn’t tell me anything,” he said again, his voice steady.
Máthair Bello turned away from him and sat next to Langston on the sofa.
She couldn’t bear to watch Isme Bello try to soothe him as he shook. Sydney’s eyes moved to the sofa on the other side of the fire where Jake rested. He was the color of freshly bleached sheets, sweat peppering his forehead and soaking his hair so thoroughly that it looked as though he’d come in from the rain.
Máthair wiped her great-nephew’s cheeks with a cold cloth. “Langston, darling, how is the pain?”
“Hurts,” he mumbled through gritted, chattering teeth.
As much as Sydney feared the answer, she feared not knowing even more. “Máthair Bello, what is going to happen next? To me, I mean?”
The Elder suddenly gripped Sydney’s wrist. Sydney’s natural reaction was to pull away, but Máthair only squeezed tighter. Syd’s head jerked up, and she locked eyes with her teacher.
Snarling, Isme Bello pulled her closer. “What’s next is that you will tell me the rest of the story. I know you’ve left much out. Then, and only then, will we see about what happens next, Ms. Lockwood.” She pushed Sydney’s arm away, releasing her in one swift motion. “Start again. From the beginning.”
Chapter 2
Ainsley
Ainsley Davenport was bent over, panting and with a nasty cramp in her left side, on the steps in front of Ashcroft’s main building. The image of Professor Winslow’s reptilian eyes played over and over in her mind.
She tried to catch her breath, but her lungs burned, fighting her. She wasn’t a runner, something she should really work on, considering that there was a malevolent shapeshifting entity on the loose—not to mention the small fact that witches and magic and God-only-knows what other supernatural creatures were also real. What else could be nearby, watching and waiting?
Ainsley had come to Ashcroft for one reason: to find out why her dad had walked off the edge of their apartment building’s rooftop right in front of her. And when Ainsley broke into her dad’s laptop after his funeral, she’d only been able to get into one file, the most recent one. Finally, she’d found out why he’d been going to Danvers, Massachusetts, in the months before his death. He’d been searching for ties to Daphne Whitmore, a local high school girl, missing since January. She was one of several girls that had gone missing or died under mysterious circumstances over two decades. All had ties to Ashcroft Academy, the posh boarding school that Ainsley now called home.
Daphne had dated an Ashcroft student named Darren Angelo, and Ainsley believed she’d found an ally when he agreed to join her investigation. Instead, his body was found crushed under a pile of rocks several weeks ago at Ashcroft’s Halloween dance. Ainsley had seen the horrendous state of his body and the ligature marks on his wrists. It was clearly murder. No one would have gotten under that pressing display and its load of real rocks voluntarily. Darren certainly wouldn’t have, not after everything he, his friends, and his family had gone through with Daphne’s disappearance. Ainsley knew he wouldn't ever mock death, not even victims from centuries ago.
Even though tons of students saw Darren’s crushed body, none of them remembered it now. The headmistress, a powerful witch in the local coven, the Wildes, had Persuaded the student body to misremember the evening's events and deleted all reference to the tragedy online. Ainsley was the only non-witch who knew what had really happened that night. She wasn’t susceptible to Persuasion, and she didn’t know why, but she did know it put her at terrible risk.
Ainsley had expected the intense academics and some exhaustion from her own sleuthing when she moved to Ashcroft. But she’d never bargained on the vicious hierarchy, the school’s creepy atmosphere, a hidden room in the forest floor covered in occult symbols, complete with and with skeleton inside, or accidentally letting out a 386-year-old supernatural shapeshifting entity hell-bent on finding and attacking witches.
No, that was a bit more than she’d bargained for.
Leaning against the cold cement of the main building’s staircase, Ainsley attempted to gain her bearings, but all she saw was the eerie expression on Professor Winslow’s face. What had she been thinking—going for a stroll on campus alone, at night, when there was an angry shapeshifting entity on the loose? One—she was positive—she’d just been face-to-face with.
Not once in her three months of classes at Ashcroft had Professor Winslow’s eyes ever changed color. Why? Because people’s eyes didn’t just change color, and their irises certainly didn’t change shape from round to reptilian! At first, she’d thought it was her mind playing tricks on her, but the second time his blue eyes had morphed into golden slits, she knew the truth.
Ainsley shivered and wrapped her scarf tighter around her.
That hadn’t been professor Winslow. And it wasn’t only the eyes that were wrong. It was the way he looked at, spoke to, and watched her. It had behaved nothing like him. Ainsley was certain it was the shifter, wearing Winslow’s appearance like a costume. She thought about the way he’d reached out to grab her and the black leather gloves he was wearing. Was touch how the shifter took a new form?
“Hey, Ainsley.”
Ainsley jumped and flailed about defensively.
Helen stood wide-eyed in front of her. “Whoa, are you okay?”
Forcing a smile, Ainsley said, “Sorry, I was daydreaming. You startled me.”
“Seriously, you look really freaked out. Are you sure you’re okay?” Helen reached out to pat Ainsley’s arm.
Yanking herself away, Ainsley noted the shock in Helen’s face but ignored it, looking to see if she was wearing gloves. Good, bare hands. She stared into Helen’s eyes; nothing flitted or changed. She scanned the area behind Helen for anyone suspicious—anyone who could be the shifter in its newest form. God, she felt paranoid. Would she ever feel safe around anyone again?
“Can I get you something? Peppermint tea?” Helen laughed, “Maybe an Ativan?” Her breath billowed into a small puff that hung in the air.
“Sorry, I’m a bit jumpy tonight. Anyway, how are you?” Ainsley asked with so much inflection, she could have been a Valley Girl in one of the eighties movies that her mom loved so much.
Helen tucked a chunk of blonde hair behind her perfect, tiny ears. “I'm fine. Looking forward to this weekend. Some of the guys are throwing a party in the woods tomorrow.” Her eyes brightened. “You should totally come.”
The woods? Really. Between stumbling across the increasing number of animal corpses and the possibility of a furious supernatural entity that could look like anyone, the forest was the last place anyone should be. “Um, do you think that’s the best idea? I mean, it’s cold, and there are… bugs.” Ugh, she fought the impulse to roll her eyes at her own lameness.
Helen laughed and playfully slapped her arm. “You’re hilarious. I wish we could do it inside, but we’re not allowed to have more than five people in any dorm room, not to mention the fact that girls and boys aren’t allowed above the first floor in each other’s dorms. An all-girl or all-guy party isn’t what anyone has in mind if you know what I mean. Plus, no one wants to risk expulsion for having liquor on school grounds.” She challenged Ainsley with a subtle side-eye glance. “You can’t tell me you have better plans for a Saturday night.”
“No, I don’t,” Ainsley admitted, unable to think of anything that would stop hundreds of teenagers from wanting to get drunk in the woods.
Helen hoisted her bag’s strap back over her shoulder to redistribute its weight. It looked like it could bowl her little body over with one wrong move. “Great! So, you’ll come.” She beamed like it was a done deal.
Ainsley thought about the entity attacking Langston. If most of the student body were going to be at this party, maybe it would be safer than sitting in her dorm alone all night. Who knew when the coven leaders would release Justin and the others from the Nest. “Maybe,”Ainsley vacillated. “I have a ton of work to catch up on. I feel like I’m always behind.”
“You should come!” Helen insisted, rolling her eyes playfully. “We all feel like that. Welcome to Ashcroft. If you’re not close to a breakdown, you’re not doing it right.” She tilted her head, as though their little exchange had been more than satisfying. “Well, see you tomorrow then.” Helen sauntered off without a care in the world, leaving Ainsley to wonder if she’d ever feel that way again.
There was nothing she could do tonight. She needed to distract herself from the news about Langston and the fact that the shifter was loose and no longer harmless. It had finally attacked—and not just one witch. It went after the pair of them. It was angry enough to risk attacking two witches at once, or it knew that it had become powerful enough to win an outright attack. What else, she wondered, did it have planned?<
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Trying to break into the rest of her dad’s locked files seemed like the best use of Ainsley's nervous energy. She berated herself for letting it go this long. With everything that was happening, she’d all but dropped her investigation. He’d expect her to add Darren’s murder to the list now, she knew. It must be linked to Daphne’s in some way. But she was no closer tonight to uncovering any real connection than she had been in September. She knew she couldn’t link the room to the missing girls now, though, and that threw her back to square one with no idea about where to re-start her search.
Ainsley hadn’t wanted to think about Darren, she admitted, because if she did, she had to face the fact that someone had most likely murdered him because he wouldn’t stop looking into Daphne’s disappearance. That meant she could be next. If someone knew that Darren was digging around for clues, did they know that she was too?
To top it all off, she had no one to talk to about Darren because no one at Ashcroft remembered. Except for Sydney and the other frenemies, but they also had their hands full at the moment. She doubted they’d help her anyway. That wasn’t true, Justin would, but she still didn’t fully trust him. She barely knew him.
He had trusted her with his biggest secret, though, to the rest of his friends’ dismay. He’d put himself completely on the line for her by telling her they were witches, knowing she couldn’t be brainwashed to forget. Maybe he really was on her side.
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