by Maya Daniels
Copyright © 2019 by Maya Daniels. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references, real places, real events, or real persons names and/or persona are used fictitiously. Everything in this story comes from the author’s imagination and any similarities, whatsoever, with events both past and present, or persons living or dead, are purely coincidental.
Cover design by Jessica Allain, Enchanted Whispers
Edited by Cassandra Fear
If you are unable to order paperback copy of this book from your local bookseller, you may contact the author at [email protected] or visit the website
www.authormayadaniels.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
From the Author
Also by Maya Daniels
Infiltrated
DAYWALKER ACADEMY SERIES BOOK 2
Maya Daniels
“It will have blood, they say;
blood will have blood.”
William Shakespeare
1
The night is beautiful.
There is something calming and reassuring when I am surrounded by shadows, the silvery light of the moon shining down but only occasionally caressing me like gentle fingers. The silence is full of mystery and life if you pay close attention to it.
It speaks.
Tightening my arms around my bent knees, pressing my chin on them, I watch the treetops sway in the forest encircling us. The pregnant moon hangs low in the sky, bathing everything in an enchanted glow like a cloud of glittery dust sprinkled everywhere. It would be serene and dreamlike if we are not talking about nightmares. Red and yellow eyes pop up here and there, shifters and demons patrolling the grounds and destroying the illusion by bringing reality into play—a not so subtle reminder that our lives are in their hands. Well, not my life, but everyone else’s.
One might think this is a prison, not an academy.
The longer I sit on the windowsill, my spine rubbing on the harsh stone at my back, the later in the night it gets. The temperatures are dropping, condensing the glass and blurring my view. Everything seems to move further away, my turbulent thoughts fighting for attention in hopes of dragging me down the slippery slope of despair. I don’t want to be here, but I can’t leave.
I tried.
The moment I came around after losing consciousness at the declaration Soren made, I pushed everyone away from me and bolted out of the building. His words followed me like a curse echoing inside my head. “I tied her life to mine. And mine is tied to all of yours. If you kill her, you will all die.” That wouldn’t have been that bad if he didn’t hit me with, “Welcome to Daywalker Academy, Francesca Drake. Your training and education will begin immediately,” right before it.
So I ran.
My feet barely touched the ground as I fled through the forest, low branches and tall shrubs snagging my skin and clothing as if they wanted to hold me back. I still remember the stinging pain like thousands of papercuts across my skin as my hair streamed behind me, my breaths sharp in my ears. And all that for nothing. The moment I neared the gate, all my strength left me and I crumpled on the forest floor like a marionette with cut-off strings. I can still smell the scent of wilting and decaying leaves and wet soil, as well as the stench of blood soaking the earth under my nose when the skin on my face pressed on the ground by an invisible force holding me down.
I’ve never felt so powerless and weak.
The skin on my arms pebbles with the memory of that night a week ago. Zoltan’s arms wrapping around me and lifting me to his chest is the only pleasant memory, and it only makes me angrier. All of them play gods with my life one way or another, regardless of the motivation behind it. Zoltan, Fenrir, Roberti, Soren…every single one of them think they have a right to make decisions in my name.
A weight settles on my shoulders, pressing me down. I know I shouldn’t let the thoughts depress me, or might as well kill myself now. Feeling sorry for myself is not going to get me out of this shitstorm. The more I think about it that way, the less depressed I feel. I can always depend on myself to get out of whatever crap I’ve gotten myself into. It may not be stealthy or smooth, but it can be done. If there is a body count and blood trail left behind, so be it.
A grin lifts the corners of my mouth.
“You see, that.” From the corner of my eye, Fenrir waves an accusing finger at my face. “That look on your face right there…it tells me trouble is coming. Whatever you are thinking, you should stop now.”
The damn Fae is like a bad smell. I can’t get rid of him no matter how hard I try. Wherever I turn, I see him watching me warily, as if he expects me to grow horns or something. Always watching. Always only a few feet away.
Annoying as fuck!
Dread and fear have me in their clutches, their claws embedding deeply into my very soul. But I’ll never let any of them see how desperate I am to turn back time and never return home the night I found Roberti waiting for me in my apartment. Never let them see your fear, Franky. Reminding myself of that, I allow my grin to grow.
“I don’t like it,” Fenrir grumbles while I do my best to ignore him.
Huffing, he folds his arms across his chest, eyes narrowed on me like he thinks he can read my mind. Standing in the same spot for the last few hours, he is leaning on the wall next to the window, head tilted to the side so he can look at my face. In the darkened hallway, if it isn’t for his platinum hair neatly tied at the base of his neck and the golden glow of his skin, he will blend in with the shadows wearing his long-sleeved black shirt and black pants. The golden emblem—a dragon sitting on top of his left pectoral—is like a hot poker in my eye. I hate it as much as I hate Roberti right now.
“You can’t ignore me forever.”
“I can try.” Finally giving in, I pull my gaze from the misty window and lock it on his. “Anyone told you that you are as annoying as a mosquito on a hot summer night?”
“I’ll have you know that females have never complained about my company.” If possible, his eyes narrow further, turning into slits.
“I’m pretty sure none of them had their life ripped from their hands at the time, either.” Okay, so it is a shitty thing to say, but it’s not like he didn’t ask for it.
Flinching like I just physically slapped him, the Fae drops all pretense, his face softening and shoulders slumping in defeat. My own stiffen, knowing what’s coming next.
“Francesca, no matter what I say and how many times I apologize, I can’t change anything that has already happened.” With a sigh, he rubs his fingers over his forehead. “We screwed up. All of us. No one expected for any of this to happen.”
“I don’t want to talk…”
“And instead of pushing all of us away”—He continues talking like I haven’t said a word—“you need to stop for a moment
to hear us out. We can’t change the situation, but we can turn it to our advantage.”
Pressing my lips in a firm line, mostly to keep my mouth shut more than anything else, I glare at him. As if that is me encouraging him, he gets animated, pushing off the wall to face me better, his arms waving around with each word. The silver light of the moon washes over his face, giving him an ethereal look too perfect to be mistaken for anything else but an immortal.
“Think about it.” Reaching for my arm, my scowl deepens, and Fenrir stops an inch before making contact. “As bad as it looks, they played with open cards thinking they had all of us cornered. No one expected Soren to even stir, little less speak. It gave us the upper hand, and now we know who’s behind some of the problems we are facing. Would you rather run, or would you rather take advantage of it, destroy them, and stop whatever it is they are planning on doing?” Dropping his arm limply to his side, his fist clenches and a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Intentionally or not, Soren gave you an opening you can’t just throw away. For all our sakes, you must see this for the opportunity that it is.”
“Don’t you dare lecture me, Fae!” Hissing, I bare my fangs at him, forcing him to take a step back. His eyes widen comically, and I realize I’ve moved, poised on the windowsill on my hands and knees ready to pounce on him. “Who should I look for that is planning something? You? Zoltan, Roberti, the Board, Soren…? There are too many of you and only one of me. What would you have me do?”
I know that I'm not fair to him, or Zoltan for that matter. They did prove whose side they were on the day my life went to shit…well the day my life got more screwed up than it already was anyway. But I can’t help being defensive and bitter.
They all lied.
“You need to let him talk to you.” Shaking off the initial reaction to my aggression, Fenrir squares his shoulders.
And there it is.
The reason the Fae follows me around like a lost puppy through the floors and hallways.
Zoltan.
An unfortunate-for-him side effect of having his blood in my veins is that I can feel the vampire whenever he gets near me. Not a few feet or anything. I can feel him from a few yards away, thankfully. It helps avoid crossing paths with him, even if it makes me look insane when people see me fleeing through the building like it’s on fire. Knowing that he can’t come in the hallway leading to Soren’s room is a perk I take advantage of all the time. I don’t know the reason why he can’t cross whatever invisible barrier exists, but I don’t question it. Maybe the old-as-dirt Soren has a twisted sense of humor and loves torturing Zoltan. I wouldn’t put it past him.
“I have nothing to say, Fenrir.” With a sigh, I settle back down on the windowsill, the scraping of fabric against wood filling up the quiet space around us when I shift my legs to curl them under me. “I still haven’t processed everything. Until a day ago, all I was capable of doing was screaming ‘oh shit’ in my head. I’m sure even an old fart like yourself can understand that.” Smirking at his glare, I lean my head back, looking at him through half-closed lids. “I need time.”
“We don’t have time.” Pushing the words through clenched teeth, the Fae looks ready to drag me kicking and screaming to do what he wants me to do.
“Says the immortal.” I can’t help it when the corners of my lips tilt up at his pissed-off face.
“Long-lived and immortal are two different things. Not all of us have eternity.” His mouth snaps shut audibly, and I see his breath gets caught as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
“What does that mean?” He got my full attention with his slip up, my heartbeat speeding up at the implications of it. “You’re not planning on dying, are you?”
“You won’t get rid of me that easily, I assure you.” Fenrir winks, but I notice his fists clenching when he thinks I can’t see it.
“I know I’m not that lucky. You and that damn vampire are like a curse I’ll never be rid of.” There is no fire in my comment, yet Fenrir stiffens regardless. I watch him for a long moment before deciding to drop it and let him be for now. Judging by the way we are looking at each other, neither one of us is in the mood to go down that rocky road.
Glancing down the empty hallway as if expecting someone, Fenrir locks gazes with me before breathing out a deep sigh. “I have a class to teach.”
“Hurry along then.” Flicking my fingers in a shooing motion, I grin at his frown. “Go annoy someone else. I could use five minutes of peace.”
“Please don’t get in trouble while I’m gone.” Looking down his nose at me, he transforms in front of my eyes. From Fenrir, the guy following at my heels, to the royal Fae that expects all of us to bow at his feet. “I’ll find you when I’m done.”
With that, he spins on his heel and saunters down the hallway, leaving the scent of forests and rain in his wake. I watch him walk away, his broad shoulders swinging with each firm step he takes, his clothing molding to his body like a second skin. Thanks to a certain vampire, it does nothing for me, but it still should be illegal for any man to look the way Fenrir does. Good thing they keep him here away from human women. Can a female go insane from seeing perfection? I hope we never have to find out.
“You can come out now.” Still looking in the direction Fenrir disappeared, I blow out a slow breath. “He won’t be back for at least an hour.”
“You knew I was here.” Astara comes out of the shadows as if she’s stepping through a portal from another realm. “How? Not even the Fae was aware of my presence.”
Shrugging a shoulder, I turn to look out the window, my eyes following a drop of condensation trickling down the glass. “I don’t know…” my voice trails off, and Astara slides on the windowsill opposite me, curling her legs underneath her just as I have mine, our knees touching slightly.
“You want to talk about it?” Her voice is soft, and I see from the corner of my eye that she’s looking out the window too, her hair falling over her shoulder covering most of her face.
“No.”
“You want me to leave?” Her body shifts slightly, telling me that if I say yes, she will honor my wishes and disappear as fast as she appeared at my side.
“No.”
“Okay.” Leaning her head on the wall behind her, she gets more comfortable. “If we get interrupted in pretending we don’t see each other, I got it. I’ll rip their throat out.”
“You’re angry?” Feeling bad that I’ve ignored her for no other reason than the fact that she is related to Zoltan, I almost continue talking, but her laughter snaps my mouth shut.
“Angry?” Still chuckling, Astara bumps her knee to mine in a weird nudge. “No, I’m just hungry.”
A burst of laughter comes from me, echoing and bouncing off the walls around us. Shaking my head, I finally relax my shoulders, the tense muscles of my back loosening the knots that were giving me a headache. Leave it to a vampire to disperse tension by mentioning violence.
2
My fists clench when I push my hands further into the pockets of my pants. Pressing my elbows close to my sides so I can avoid any contact, I wade through the throng of people rushing to get to wherever their next class should be.
Studying is the last thing on my mind.
After Soren’s declaration that I’m a student here,- student …what a strange word to use when all of us are very much adults here, some even centuries old- clothing magically appears in my room, filling up a closet the size of my apartment back in Sienna. Mostly the same black ensemble everyone else is wearing, but there are a few colorful pieces that scream Fenrir from a mile away. The Fae thinks he is sneaky as shit, but I’m onto him and his antics.
Not that I’ll tell him that.
Also, every second day, there is a cup of fresh blood waiting for me, one I’m yet to summon enough self-control to refuse. I can smell Zoltan’s essence in it as soon as I open my eyes, making my mouth water and fangs descend until they are throbbing in my gums. Like a feral animal in bloodlust, I attack it each time
, slurping and licking the walls of the glass. It should be freaky knowing he can enter my room even though the door is always locked while I sleep, but surprisingly it doesn’t bother me as much as it should.
I won’t tell the damn vampire that I’m onto him, either.
Astara, on the other hand, just hangs around me the second I’m alone, not saying a word. Apparently it’s our thing now, sitting next to each other in utter silence. It’s strangely comforting, so I welcome it. I did tell her as much before resuming our mute get-togethers.
“Which class?” A familiar male voice pulls me from my thoughts, my head snapping sharply in his direction. Jerking back, he lifts both hands palms up in surrender, but a huge grin blossoms on his face. “Just asking because it seems we are going in the same direction.”
I narrow my eyes at the wolf shifter I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting at the gates when I took on the stupid mission that got me in this mess. His hair flops messily over his high forehead, almost dropping over his yellow eyes. I can see his animal lurking in the depth of his gaze, as if it doesn’t want to miss anything. The prickly shadow that seems permanent over his square jaw gives him a roguish appearance.
We tried to kill each other then.
Nothing has changed now. I still want to kill him, despite his handsome face.
“Half of these people are walking in the same direction.” Grinding my teeth, I turn away, staring ahead at nothing in particular. “Go away.”
“I think we started off on the wrong foot.” Undeterred, he falls in step with me, even when I try my best to leave him behind by walking as fast as I can without running. “I was only doing my job.”
