Crescent Wolves (Supernatural Shifter Academy Book 1)

by G. Bailey

  “Got it,” I say, nodding. “No unsupervised transformation.” Again I’m struck by the absurdity of this whole situation, but at this point I’m too far in to start questioning my sanity again. At least if this is just some crazy hallucination, so far, it’s not a bad one.

  I gape at my surroundings as we go, lagging behind the other women as I try to take in the strange new world around me. Even without levitating bookcases and magic wands, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. After eighteen years of bouncing from one public school to the next, passed from one disinterested foster family to another, I’m overwhelmed by the newness of it all. Briefly, and not for the first time, I wonder about Mollie--what ever happened to her? Is she safe? Will she ever find out what became of me?

  I’m jostled away from this train of thought when the witches come to an abrupt stop in front of an office door marked “Registrar”. Not bothering to knock, Samantha pulls it open and waves us through to an enormous wooden desk. Behind it is an ancient woman with a pair of enormous glasses balanced on the end of her nose.

  She looks up when we enter. “Ms. Goldstein, Ms. Everhart,” she says, pushing aside the stack of files in front of her. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Her eyes settle on me. “A new student?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Fairbanks,” Josie says, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. I follow suit, finding myself between the two witches. “We were alerted to her early last night, and we tracked her down in an abandoned warehouse.”

  “I see,” says Mrs. Fairbanks, scrutinizing me. “A runaway?” I stare at her, feeling like she’s looking right through me. “It’s all right, my dear,” she adds. “You’re not the first. Do you have a family that needs to be notified?”

  “I…” I begin, and the truth of my situation falls on me again. “No. No family. My foster dad was trying to hurt me, so I… I ran away from home. That’s when they found me.” I don’t know what’s compelling me to tell her all this, but I can’t help it. It’s like she’s opening me up just by looking at me.

  “Ah,” Mrs. Fairbanks says, nodding. “Well, it’s a good thing we found you, then. Now, tell me, Miss…”

  “Brix,” I reply. “Millie Brix.”

  “Ms. Brix,” she continues, “what kind of shifter are you, exactly?”

  I stare at her, wondering what on earth I’m supposed to say. A hybrid? Some kind of freakish combination? Again, my mind flashes back to the hideous monster I saw in the reflection of the warehouse window, and I suddenly feel like I want to cry. I can feel that old, familiar worry welling up inside me as I look at this kindly woman with her wrinkled face, that fear that I’ll never properly belong anywhere. It looks a little different now, but at the end of the day, it’s the same old anxiety.

  “I don’t know,” I breathe. “What’s wrong with me?” I’m not sure who the question is directed toward, but it’s out before I can stop it.

  Mrs. Fairbanks’ brow furrows, and the others exchange a look.

  I turn to Samantha. “You said you couldn’t figure out what kind of shifter I am. Does that mean there’s some kind of problem?” A horrible possibility comes to me then, and I touch her arm. “Can you even teach me here?”

  Josie puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right, Millie. It’s all right.” She looks up to address Mrs. Fairbanks. “Her shifter signature was all over the place, and her aura back at the warehouse was… Well, like a rainbow. She showed signs of all five clans.”

  “Really?” Mrs. Fairbanks’ brow furrows, and she leans forward, examining me with her large, inquisitive eyes. “That’s unusual.” She reaches out for me and then hesitates. “May I?” Hesitatingly, I nod, and her eyes suddenly go black, the same way the other witches’ did back at the warehouse.

  I guess we know what kind of shifter she is, I think dryly.

  Taking my chin in her hand, the old woman stares at me, turning my face this way and that. “Mm,” she says, nodding. “Mm-hmm. Very unusual.” She lets me go, and her eyes go back to the watery blue that they were moments before. “You’re certainly right, Ms. Everhart. I have to admit, I've never seen anything like this before, and I've been working at the Academy for fifty years." Seeing the dismayed look on my face, she rushes to add, "But that's no reason to worry! We'll find a place for you here, Ms. Brix." She turns to the others. "I think it might be a good idea to bring President Hawthorne here and get his opinion."

  Samantha nods. "I think you're right."

  "Who's President Hawthorne?" I ask, feeling stupid.

  "He's the headmaster of this Shifter Academy," Samantha replies. "Since you've shown signs of multiple shifting abilities, he'll be the best one to decide how to design your schedule."

  "And I don't have to wait for the next term to start?"

  Samantha shakes her head. "Most of our new students are like you. Their powers manifest at random times after they turn eighteen, and they master them at different rates. We've made it easy to integrate new students into our program by dividing classes up based on skill level. You won’t have to worry about getting lost--all of your classmates will be relatively new shifters, like yourself."

  "I'll put a call in to President Hawthorne," Mrs. Fairbanks volunteers, already reaching for the old-fashioned rotary telephone on the desk. Before I can say anything else, she's dialing a number and speaking rapidly into the phone, talking for less than a minute before hanging up. "He'll be down shortly," she informs us. "Feel free to wait here."

  I stare down at my lap as we wait, unsure what to do or say. At least it sounds like they're not going to turn me away for being a freak, but that doesn't do much to put my mind at ease. All I can do now is wait… and hope this President Hawthorne feels the same way as the others.

  A few minutes later, the door to the office opens, and I look up. A guy who looks to be around my age pokes his head into the room. "Mrs. Fairbanks?" he says. His voice is melodic, with a slight Cheshire lilt in the accent. His hair is an ashy shade of blonde, his eyes a bright gray. "Professor Abernathy sent me to ask you about wolfsbane. Tomorrow's a full moon."

  A full moon? I think. Does this mean he’s a wolf shifter?

  I'm once again a little surprised by how nonchalant the students here are about their abilities--will I ever get to that point? Not if you only ever turn into an abomination like you did earlier, sneers a cynical part of me, but I do my best to ignore it.

  "Ah, Mr. Ivis," says Mrs. Fairbanks. "We received a new shipment this morning. Would you be a dear and make sure it got to the nurse's office?"

  "Of course," the guy says, giving her a nod. He glances at Samantha and Josie before his eyes come to rest on me, giving me a curious once-over. I'm not sure whether it's the fact that he's obviously handsome or the fact that I must look a mess, but I duck my head a little. His eyes linger on me for a moment longer before he clears his throat and leaves the office.

  "Good kid," remarks Josie. "That was Shade Ivis, Millie. He's a wolf shifter. Before long you'll learn the names of most of the students here."

  I open my mouth to respond, but then the door opens again, and a tall man enters the office. He's stately, handsome, and well-groomed, with salt-and-pepper hair and a trim goatee. His dark suit is a stark contrast to the white school uniforms. "Good morning, ladies," he says, approaching Mrs. Fairbanks' side of the desk. "May I?" he asks, indicating a free chair. Mrs. Fairbanks nods, and he sits down, leaning back and folding his hands. "I was told we have a bit of an unusual case here," he says, his dark eyes settling on me.

  I listen as Josie and Samantha reiterate the story, from their charm alerting them to a new shifter to bringing me back here. Mrs. Fairbanks chimes in to confirm what they saw in my aura. For a long while after, nobody speaks, and I feel incredibly small under the headmaster's unreadable gaze.

  Finally he speaks up. "Well, you're right that this is an unusual case," he says. "In fact, I've only heard of something like this happening once before. It was centuries ago, when a group of rogue wit
ches tried to create a hybrid shifter using the abilities of the other clans. It was deemed an abomination and destroyed." My heart sinks.

  Samantha's brow furrows. "You're not actually thinking about--"

  "Of course not," Hawthorne replies. "That was a long time ago. We're more civilized now, more evolved. Obviously, we'll want to see how your abilities manifest, Millie, and some research will need to be done into your background and parentage, but you're entitled to an education here, the same as everyone else." He smiles at me.

  Did they ever tell him my name? I wonder. They must have, right? I honestly can't remember. Before I can consider this further, he’s standing up, straightening his suit. “You said she showed signatures of all five clans. We’ll have to start her in introductory courses for each of them. As for her last period…” He considers for a moment. “Coexisting with Humankind. That will give you plenty to do this semester, I think.” Once again, he gives me that toothy grin. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, Ms. Brix. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

  With that, President Hawthorne excuses himself.

  “See?” says Mrs. Fairbanks, turning back to me. “Nothing to worry about. Our headmaster is very progressive.”

  “I can see that,” I say, nodding. “What kind of shifter is he, anyway?”

  Mrs. Fairbanks blinks. “Why, he’s not a shifter at all, Millie. President Hawthorne is a human.”

  Chapter 8

  The dormitory was an equally ornate building on the other side of the drive from the academy itself. “You’ll be on the fifth floor,” Josie says as she leads me down the cobblestone path. Samantha stayed with Mrs. Fairbanks to do my intake paperwork, and with President Hawthorne having gone back to his offices, that only left bringing my stuff to my new living quarters, which I can only hope won’t be too difficult to find. “Everyone has a single room, so privacy won’t be an issue. Lights out is at ten PM, after the last bell rings.” She glances at me, frowning. “Are you okay? You look… I don’t know, worried.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, shaking myself. “I’m still just trying to process everything. Yesterday I was going to regular high school and walking home in the rain, and now… It’s just all so surreal.” A beat passes, and I add sheepishly, “Come to think of it, I’m also pretty tired.”

  Josie laughs. “You’ve had a long twenty-four hours. Well, don’t worry--you won’t be expected in classes tomorrow, so you can spend the rest of the day decompressing.”

  “Maybe this is a stupid question,” I say as the road levels out beneath our feet, “but do I need to bring anything tomorrow?”

  “There should be notebooks and pencils in your dorm room,” Josie replies, “but other than that… Oh, wait! That reminds me: what’s your clothing size?”

  I purse my lips. “Medium, I suppose.”

  She nods. “Okay. I’ll run down to the laundry and have them drop you off a uniform later today. Do you prefer skirts or pants?”

  Glancing down at my dirty, torn jeans, I can’t help but chuckle. “Pants. Definitely pants.”

  By now we’ve reached the front of the dormitory. The circular drive is lined with trees and hedges, reminding me of some kind of Victorian manor, and all around me are students going to and from classes. Josie turns to me and fumbles in her pocket before pulling out an old-fashioned skeleton key. “Here’s your room key. Quaint, I know. Yours is number 12-B. Fifth floor, remember.”

  “You’re not coming with me?”

  She shakes her head. “I have to get back to my office and check my charms. There may be others like you out there who need to be picked up. But the dormitory is pretty straightforward--you won’t have any trouble. Here’s a copy of your schedule, as well,” she adds, producing a printed sheet of paper. “The breakfast bell rings at seven every morning. If you’re worried that won’t wake you up, set an alarm on your phone. Just follow the other students to the dining hall, and if you get lost, you can ask the faculty for help getting to your classes.”

  “Got it,” I say, nodding. “Thank you, Josie.”

  “You’re welcome, Millie,” she replies, giving me a long look. “And listen,” she adds, “if you ever need anything, or even if you just want to talk, my door is always open. I know how it feels to be new to all this--I was in your shoes too, once.”

  I can’t help but wonder if she knows anything about being in my shoes, considering what the headmaster said. An abomination, he had called it. If he’s to be believed, then I’m only the second shifter like me in history. Still, I appreciate her kindness, and when she extends her hand, I shake it. “I’ll take you up on that, I’m sure,” I tell her, smiling. She takes a step away, giving me a professional nod, and then begins to make her way back towards the academy building.

  On my own now, I turn and walk the rest of the way down the drive until I find myself facing the dormitory doors. I probably look pathetic, standing there in dirty clothes, all my possessions on my back, clutching my schedule like a lost puppy. The fact that I don’t have a uniform yet only makes me feel like more of an outsider as I glance over my shoulder at the campus around me.

  As if to confirm my fears, the sound of a female voice over my shoulder makes me turn back around. “You don’t look like you’ve been here more than five minutes.” I look to see a svelte girl with freckles and a mess of blonde curls that bounce around her face when she moves. She has her book bag over her shoulder and her arms are full of school supplies, having just emerged out of the building through the double doors. Her expression is curious but not unkind. “Yikes,” she says, in an accent that might be American, or maybe Canadian, stopping beside me and giving me a once-over with her jade green eyes. “You’ve certainly had a bit of a rough go of it, haven’t you?”

  Shrinking a little under her gaze, I reply, “You could say that.”

  “So what was it?” she asks, either oblivious to my embarrassment or too brazen to care. “Did you set your house on fire? Attack one of your classmates? One of the girls on my floor nearly drained her sister dry when she first shifted. You know--vampire.” She makes a face and shakes her head. “I’m more into chocolate than blood, personally, but to each their own, I guess.”

  “Uh…” I begin, caught off-guard by her willingness to talk to me.

  The blonde girl laughs, a tinkling, girlish sound that probably makes every guy she meets fall head over heels for her. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “This is probably all pretty new to you, right? Let me guess: you didn’t even know shifters existed until, like… now.”

  She’s really on my wavelength, I think, and reply, “Damn. You’re reading me like a book.”

  The girl waves a dismissive hand at me. “Hardly. I’ve just been there before, that’s all. Just two months ago, actually. When the recruiters tracked me down, I thought I’d completely lost my mind. Thought it was all bullshit.”

  “Really?” I raise my eyebrows. “Are you… I mean, do you have parents?” It comes out sounding more insensitive than I intended, and I wince, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Oh, I have parents,” the girl replies, “but they’re human, both of them.”

  My curiosity is getting the better of me, and I ask, “How is that possible?”

  She shrugs. “I think being a shifter is more like a genetic mutation than something hereditary. That’s what they say, anyway… whoever “they” are. It sounds like they still don’t know what causes some people to be born with shifter magic. But I guess that’s why we’re here, right? Sorry,” she adds, going a little red, “I’m rambling. My name’s Hazel, by the way.”

  She sticks out her hand, and I shake it. “Millie,” I reply. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too, Millie. Listen, I’ve got to get to class--I’m already on thin ice with Professor Freemantle. But I’ll catch you later, yeah? Got dinner plans? Of course you don’t. We can eat together, if you want.”

  “Okay,” I say, my smile gro
wing. I’m already starting to like this girl. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later.” She nods, grinning, and starts away. “Good luck with that professor,” I call after her, and she raises a hand in acknowledgement.

  Feeling a little better after my interaction with this bubbly classmate, I push open the heavy wooden door to the dormitory. I find myself in what looks like a parlor, with couches and ottomans all around. On the opposite side is a fireplace, but given the weather, there’s no fire burning in the hearth. To the left and right are two narrow spiral staircases, disappearing into the upper levels. Aside from hallways leading to washrooms and what looks like a study area in the distance, there’s nowhere else to go. There are a few students around, and some of them shoot me curious glances from their seats around the common area.

  There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach when I look around and realize that I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here. Why the hell didn’t I ask Hazel for directions? The others in the room don’t seem nearly as friendly at first glance, and by now Josie is long gone. Sighing, I take a few steps forward, realizing that there’s nothing for it but to try. The left and right wings of the dormitory aren’t marked, so I pick the left one at random and head for the stairs, not wanting to waste any more time. I need a shower and a nap.

  If I was expecting the stairs to move or somehow teleport me to the fifth floor, I was sorely mistaken. By the time I’m two flights up, I’m already breathing hard, and I’m just glad nobody is around to see me struggling. Have I always been this out of shape? Gritting my teeth, I power up a few more levels, finally arriving at the fifth floor landing and turning into a long hallway. Nondescript wooden doors line either side, along with windows that let in a great deal of the daytime light. I start to hurry down the hallway, keeping my eyes peeled for my room, and I’m so distracted that I don’t see the guy heading my way until it’s too late.