by Katie May
my wrists feel as if they had gone through a meat grinder. I know, without
having to look, that the skin will be red and blistered from the cuffs.
My lungs struggle to refill with air as my thoughts race in tandem to my
heart. I may be in a hospital, but the cuffs demote me as a prisoner. I thought
I was free. I thought I had escaped…
The heart monitor reaches a crescendo as my thoughts run unattended.
“You need to calm down,” the nurse instructs, not unkindly. “You’re
safe.”
“I’m a prisoner,” I retort, my voice a breathy whisper. It hurts to speak
any louder, as if sandpaper is rubbing at my vocal cords. My words make her
pause; I no longer hear her hustling above me.
After a pronounced moment of silence, she resumes connecting a tube to
my arm. An IV? I think I recall Kai telling me about one, but all of his
lessons blur together. “I wouldn’t recommend talking until you have a lawyer
present.”
What?
Try as I might, I can’t understand her words. They just don’t make sense
in any context. Why would I need a lawyer? I’m not a complete imbecile. I
know what a lawyer is and what they are used for. What I don’t understand,
however, is why I would need one.
The nurse finishes her thorough checkup before hurrying away, muttering
under her breath.
Alone with only my thoughts, I allow my mind to wander.
I’m...free. Free. That word feels foreign, unnatural, as if I’m describing
the situation of someone else entirely. For as long as I can remember, that
word has never applied to me.
Maybe when I was a child…
A vivid memory of my three year old self being tied down to a table
assaults me.
No, not even then.
I release a semi-hysterical giggle as tears burn my eyes. I want to shout
from the rooftops, scream it to the world, brand it on my skin.
I’m free!
And yet…
I helplessly wiggle in the restraints containing me to the bed. The metal is
cool against my skin, almost uncomfortably so.
If I’m truly free, then why do I still feel like a prisoner?
I try to ignore the nagging voice in the back of my head—a voice that
sounds eerily similar to my main torturer—telling me that I’ll never be free.
That I’ll never escape.
For the longest time, I had relied on someone else to save me. A knight in
shining armor or a handsome prince. Kai frequently told me stories about the
beautiful princess trapped in a tower and how a handsome prince killed the
monster and saved her. When no princes arrived and my knight was taken
from me, I decided I needed to save myself.
My stomach is a tumultuous mixture of dread and anxiety as I wait for the
nurse to arrive again. When the door is pushed open and footsteps pound
against the stark white tiles, I know innately that it isn’t the nurse visiting me.
With great trepidation, I push myself into the newcomer’s head.
Fortunately for me, the direction he’s staring at gives me an unrestricted view
of his reflection in the hospital window.
The man appears to be older—mid-forties if I had to garner a guess—and
he has a thinning hairline freckled with gray. His eyes are chips of obsidian in
a decidedly cold face. He’s immaculately dressed in a black suit with gray
cufflinks and a periwinkle colored tie. Everything about this man screams
wealth and power. Lots and lots of power.
When he moves to stand at the foot of my bed, staring down at me, I
retreat from his mind and embrace the darkness. It consumes my vision like a
dark curtain being drawn closed.
“What is your name, child?” he asks briskly. His voice is as cold as his
features. Unease skates down my spine, unfurling in my stomach like a heavy
ball of lead. My breathing is painfully shallow, sawing in and out. I have
heard that tone of voice. Once, when Kai had beaten one of our guards
because of a leering look directed at me.
That tone? It’s accusing.
“My name?” I repeat meekly. I wish desperately I could fiddle with my
long black hair. It’s a nervous habit I developed when I was younger, and it
drove Kai crazy.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he snaps, and that previously mentioned ball
of lead tangles with the nerves already present.
“Nina,” I reply, voice a hushed murmur. And then, louder, I repeat,
“Nina.”
“Nina.” He speaks my name as if it’s something disgusting, a curse word
spoken in church. The bed dips as his heavy weight settles at the end. “Do
you know a Raphael Turner?”
His question takes me off guard, mainly because I have never heard that
name before in my life. Granted, the guards at the Compound never gave me
their true names (Kai referred to them as Asshole One, Asshole Two, Asshole
Three… and, well, you get the picture), but even then, that name had never
even been mentioned.
“This will be much more difficult if you play dumb,” the man points out
scathingly. I flinch instinctively at his tone of voice. God, when will I never
not cower when someone yells at me? I don’t know how I’m expected to
survive this new world if the slightest noise sends insidious fear snaking
down my spine.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply honestly. He releases a
disgruntled sigh, and I resist the urge to peek into his head one more time. All
I’ll see is myself...pathetic and trapped, like a feral dog taken off the streets
but immediately locked in a cage.
“Councilman Raphael Turner.” His words are spoken succinctly, a no-
nonsense manner used commonly at the Compound.
I stare at him blankly, attempting to calm down my rabbiting heart.
“I’ve never heard of him,” I say slowly, carefully. It feels as if I’m
tiptoeing along a thin rope miles above shark-infested waters. One wrong
move and I’ll tumble over, never to be seen again.
“You had blood on you,” the man announces curtly. At my raised brow,
he elaborates. “When we found you. You had blood on you.”
My own blood, I think somewhat amusedly. Definitely macabre
amusement. I picture a knife descending on the sensitive skin of my
stomach…
“I was tortured,” I admit quietly. The very words hurt to say, as if
confessing them out loud somehow makes them more real. “I’ve been there
since I was two or three—”
“The blood we found on you belonged to Raphael Turner,” he cuts me
off, and I can practically hear the banked anger and frustration lurking just
beneath the surface. His next words take the remaining air from my lungs. I
exhale heavily, my muscles losing strength, as tears prick at my eyes.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Councilman Raphael Turner.”
MONSTERS (PRODIGIUM ACADEMY
BOOK ONE)
Violet
I just barely dodge the onslaught of bullets.
Heart hammering, I duck behind a rusty, old pick-up truck and chance a
peek over the hood.
There, in the shadows, my target stands, back silhouetted.
The town is quiet, almos
t unnaturally so. The peaceful air belies the
tension ratcheting up a notch.
Because some asshole is trying to kill me. Again.
How did this become my life?
I am a good girl. Promise. I haven’t killed anyone in over two years, and I
always clean up after I eat.
So why try to kill me?
I duck down once more as another round of bullets fire in rapid
succession. Wooden. Of fucking course.
Another glance over the hood confirms what I suspect. Etched into the
side of the literal smoking gun is a golden crest.
The Van Helsings.
Fuck me in the asshole.
Hands clenching, I slowly pull myself upwards, hands denting the poor
car. I’ll have to leave a check for the owner later.
I can feel the telltale sign of my fangs elongating, scraping against my
bottom lip.
With a speed that defies logic, I race towards my attacker.
And promptly trip over an orange construction cone in the street.
Here’s the thing about my speed: you can’t fucking control it. You don’t
have any extra senses or shit like that as the movies display. You can’t know
where each and every obstacle is.
Running through a forest? Damn near impossible. You can bet your sweet
ass I’ll run face first into at least one tree.
So, yeah.
There’s that.
Lying face first on the ground, I groan, using my arms to push myself up.
“Freaking tit,” I curse, brushing dirt and pebbles off my clothes. My knee
stings from where rocks are embedded into the pasty skin my skirt reveals.
Another urban legend. Vampires do get hurt. Quite easily in fact,
especially if you’re like me.
“I’m going to get you!” I call to the Van Helsing who is...nowhere to be
seen.
I spin in a wide circle, arms raised to fend off any attack. There could’ve
been tumbleweeds bouncing about with how still the town is. All of the shops
have their lights off, shutters drawn.
But haven’t you heard? It’s night, and the monsters love to come out and
play.
I finally drop my hands just as a body tackles me from the side. I squeal,
landing once more in the asphalt. Yes, in. As in, my mouth swallows a good
handful and a few loose pebbles get in my eye. I really should put a claim to
this spot of land. My face is getting well acquainted with it.
“Get off of me, you Van Helsing scum. I. Will. Crush. You.” And then I
growl, the sound ominously loud and sending unpleasant goosebumps down
my spine.
The body above me freezes before pushing off.
I blame it on the growl. What person would respect a monster that sounds
like a bat giving anal?
Note to self: don’t ever fucking growl. Actually, don’t even speak.
Speaking and growling are off limits. From now on, I am a nun...of silence.
That’s right, bitches.
“What the fuck was that? Were you trying to growl? ” a familiar voice
says, jumping to his feet and looming over me.
Oh, fuck.
I think I prefer the man trying to kill me.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, still awkwardly sprawled on the ground like the badass
I know I am. I scramble to a sitting position and brush out my blonde locks,
trying to give the impression that I totally meant to be on the ground.
Dracula is a scary son of a gun. Movies and shows fail to depict my
domineering father. Towering at over seven feet, he is the epitome of classy
monster. Bedecked in a business suit with his hair slicked back, you almost
fail to notice the blood dripping from his mouth. A few feet behind him is the
Van Helsing dipshit who dared try to hurt me.
I glare at his dismembered body.
“Take that, bitch,” I say snottily, as if I had any hand in his death. When
Dad glares at me, I remember my new life motto.
No. Fucking. Speaking.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dad reluctantly offers me a hand. I take
it, pulling myself up, when he promptly releases me, and I land on my ass.
Hard.
“You need to practice, Sweet Girl,” Dad says, love emanating from his
eyes. My asscheeks hurt from where they connected with the ground, but I
manage to amble to my feet without his help.
“I’m sorry,” I say earnestly. “But did you see me that time? I almost had
him.”
Even before I finish speaking, he’s shaking his head.
“You almost had him an hour ago when he first started shooting at you.
Your hands were around his neck, and all you needed to do was snap.” His
hand pats my blonde mane placatingly, and I duck my head in shame.
Dammit. The last thing I need is to fucking cry in front of Dracula. So help
me—
“I wanted to play with him first,” I lie, kicking my foot out.
Dad is silent for a moment. So silent I almost think he believes me.
Until he speaks.
“You’re soft, Violet. Too soft to be a monster in today’s world. But we’ll
work on it. I already talked with the headmaster—”
“Wait what?” I interrupt, glancing up at him.
“Prodigium. Otherwise known as Monsters Academy. It will train you.
Harden you. Turn you into a monster worthy of my love.” As he speaks, he
continues to pet my hair like I’m a damn dog instead of his daughter.
“You’re sending me away?” I rasp. I’m a fuckup as a monster...and as a
daughter. You should just have “fuckup” stenciled into my forehead at this
point. I can’t stand to see the disappointed look in my father’s eyes, as if all
his plans never came to fruition.
But dammit! I can conquer the world if he really wants me to.
He just never gives me the chance.
I open my mouth to say all that, to beg him to change his mind, to give
me another chance, when his large hands grasp my neck and abruptly snap it.
Parent of the fucking year.
Document Outline
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Recap of Previous Books
Prologue
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Katie May
Blindly Indicted
Monsters (Prodigium Academy Book One)
p;
Katie May, Gluttony
