by LJ Swallow
Vince may be dead, but the damage is done and the hidden cracks between shifters and the other two races have opened, creating fissures in the alliance as dangerous as the ones we faced in the cavern. Ash saw his parents once, who needed reassurance he’s safe, but he refuses to meet with the council alone. I doubt the pressure will leave any time soon; Clive and Remi died, leaving Ash as one of few older shifters who survived the attack. He’s also the only person who’ll become a dragon when he comes of age, adding more pressure for him to lead.
But Ash’s focus is here.
Us.
Alaric hasn’t reported any sightings of Gabriella, and her last moments with Tobias are something else we avoid talking about. I’m a hundred percent sure nothing suspicious happened, and Tobias won’t tell us any more, apart from that my life is still threatened.
That’s not news to me. My life always will be.
We’re now concentrating on unravelling my carefully hidden past. The Blackwoods lost their younger purebloods and those left are ageing. The family’s focus must be the necromancy, and what that means for the world scares me.
Now the Blackwoods are weakened, I’m the most potent witch in existence, and that places a greater target on my head than when Nikolai and Anastasia searched for me.
Somebody will come.
We will face more.
But we’re not sitting back and waiting. I’ve a legacy to discover and a power to master.
As I pass Jamie’s door, I spot light filtering beneath and sigh. Anybody would think he’s the hemia, the amount of time he spends awake at night. The finished area we live in has six bedrooms, designed for large groups to stay together and enjoy their time in the Lake District. We’re paying to stay, but as we don’t own the place I don’t know how long before we’re asked to move on.
Steve restored the original features and replaced anything damaged with items salvaged from other old buildings. I hate that the place feels like home, because I won’t want to leave.
I knock lightly on the door and when there’s no response, I walk in. Jamie sits at a desk, face lit by the glow of his laptop screen, and I sigh again.
“Jamie. What are you doing?”
He startles and then looks over. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I’d like to ask you the same.”
“An email arrived late today,” he begins.
“And I’ve told you to stop looking at your laptop after eight!” I interrupt in exasperation. “You don’t sleep.”
He chuckles. “Yes, mother.”
Pouting, I walk over and shut the lid before standing between him and the desk, resting my back against the wood. “Ha ha.”
“Is everybody else asleep?” he asks.
“Tobias is walking with Andrei on the estate somewhere, but I think Ash is in his room. Why?”
Jamie leans over to reach out for his laptop and I grab his hand. “Maeve. You want to see this.”
“I’m sure it’ll wait until tomorrow.” I climb onto his lap and straddle him on the chair, ensuring the only thing he can see is me. “You promised we’d go out somewhere tomorrow. I don’t want to spend time with a tired, grumpy Jamie.”
Holding his face, I kiss him. He slides his hands along my back then holds me by the waist. “Maeve. Listen.” He pulls his head away. “I’ve an email from Tomas Devlin.”
“What?” I ask, immediately tensing. “When?”
“Tonight.” He strokes my cheek. “I’m replying.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, voice rising.
“I was going to wait until the morning because I knew you wouldn’t sleep if I did. And that grip you have on my shoulders is hard.” He loosens my tense fingers.
“Sorry.” I turn so I’m on his lap, facing the desk, and with one arm around my waist, he pulls the laptop towards us and opens the lid.
“Tomas hasn’t revealed much, which I understand. He might be suspicious.”
I lean in to read the text on screen. “Surely he knows about the academy and Winterfall witch.”
“Yes, but Tomas hid himself for a reason.” Jamie kisses the back of my neck. “Don’t stress. He’s contacted us. That’s a start.”
I bite my lips, eyes welling as my emotions take control. My aunt disappeared again, which means I’ve nothing else to hold onto. I was upset she’d abandoned me again, until Tobias suggested she may not have chosen to ‘disappear’ and my anger evaporated.
Now I have a new link to my past.
A story.
Perhaps more.
I read the message.
Hi Jamie
I heard you’re looking for Tomas Devlin in connection with your history assignment on the Winterfalls. That’s a cute story, but I’m aware who you are and that your academy isn’t functioning currently.
I can’t help but chuckle at Jamie’s unoriginality.
“Hey! At least I caught his attention!” Jamie protests and pokes me in the side.
I’d like to know if Maeve Foster is with you and is safe. That’s the only reason for my contact, and I would appreciate a response. I don’t need to explain to you the reason I want to know, you’ve no doubt learned why from your work on the history assignment so far.
I can practically hear Tomas chuckling too.
As for any questions you may have, I’m unable to answer them at this time. I value my privacy. I do apologise and hope you understand.
Best,
Tomas.
“He’s the only one of the three I’ve tracked down so far, Maeve. You know I’m trying.” He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Well, he tracked me down.”
“We should be careful, Jamie. I don’t like that someone knows we’re looking for people. Who told Tomas?”
“I’m not sure.” He shifts beneath me.“I promised you I’d find these men, Maeve.”
My heart squeezes at his earnestness. “But not look for them twenty-four-seven, Jamie.”
He traces a finger around my lips. “But you’re smiling, and you’ve light in your eyes. That’s why I do this.”
I rest my forehead on his. “You have other ways to make me smile. How about trying that?”
Although I hold onto our moment as I kiss Jamie, the words in the email run through my head. If I allow myself, I will spend all night thinking about the possibilities and maybe finding false hope.
If we’ve found one of the men in the photograph, we could find them all. I glance at where the Winterfall book rests beside the laptop too. Not only can they fill in my history, but they could have the power to help me learn. To strengthen me against whatever I’ll face next. I’ve discovered who I am, and I saved lives at the academy, but I also learned that I’m weaker than I should be. Lives were lost too and, until I find and stop those responsible, this isn’t over.
And until I truly become Maeve Winterfall, I can’t stop them.
I’ll never be able to find another Winterfall to guide me, but I could find the next best thing.
My father.
Maeve’s story continues in Winterfall Magic.
I felt there was more story to tell as Maeve discovers her past and the group move forward after the events at the end of Term Six.
Preorder Winterfall Magic here
The book has a very long preorder. The book WILL publish earlier. I have two delayed books and I need to write those first as I’ve promised readers I’ll finish them. As life has thrown me curveballs recently, I like to build in extra time.
Have you read Ravenhold: Witch Born?
This reform academy book looks at the darker side of their society and is more adult than the Nightworld Academy books. The characters are completely different but two have been mentioned in the Nightworld Academy books.
Download Ravenhold: Witch Born here
Read on for a sample!
And don’t forget about Matt and Amelia’s story in Blackwood Magic
Download Blackwood Magic here
RAVENHOLD: WITCH BORN SAMPL
E
CHAPTER ONE
Parents frighten their kids into submission with stories about Ravenhold. Rumours and folk tales fill the supernatural world: Ravenhold, a castle on a distant Scottish island surrounded by an impassable sea and ruled over by the half-human, half-beast mids.
Good kids go to Nightworld academies; bad kids go to Ravenhold supernatural reform academy. The worst stories claim the juvenile offenders are subject to trials where they fight to the death or are pulled apart and tortured by mids.
I have a friend—one of few—who told me a family friend returned from Ravenhold and that half the stories are bullshit.
Only half?
The ruling Confederacy authorities want the supernatural world to believe there's no coming back from the island; they encourage the stories but keep the truth a secret. But the question remains: are students reformed, or are they too dangerous to release?
I'm about to discover if the rumours are true.
As the island comes into view, so does Ravenhold reform academy. The grey building juts from the rocks in the centre and matches the gothic reputation the place has. Several turrets push into the stormy sky the building silhouettes against.
Everything is grey and lost in the bleak surroundings.
Seasickness threatens as the boat bounces across the North Sea, but my stomach already churns with anxiety. I moisten my dry lips, and my stomach twists into knots at the reality facing me. I hoped this wouldn't happen; that my family would intervene before things reached this stage.
Wrong.
The speedboat carrying me to my unknown future hits the rocky beach, and the silent, muscular guy who brought me here climbs out to moor the boat. Gruffly, he tells me to get out and tugs my arm when I'm too slow.
I catch my long, dark hair as the wind whips it across my face and push the strands away before they blind me.
A hulking figure in dark clothes steps from the shadows and looms over me. He has squashed features; his flat nose almost non-existent. Scales shine in places on his arms, but don't completely cover the skin. My heart leaps with fear as one rumour is proved true—this is a 'mid’, a shifter stuck between his two forms and unable to transform back to human. They're ostracised by their race, too dangerous and too conspicuous. Mids stay in this form for life and remain hidden.
Perfect for guarding magical juvenile delinquents.
"Eloise. Come with me," he commands in a booming voice.
Leaving the man and boat, I slog my way up the sandy path behind the mid, squinting through the dark as the burning torches skewered into the ground barely light the way. I expected the Scottish island to be cold, but not this severe. The wind burns my skin raw, and my hands are frozen to the point I can't feel the rucksack I grip onto.
The mid guy doesn't address me again until we're close to the academy building. "You're a witch, but you're different."
His gravelly voice states a fact without questioning the situation.
"I am."
"Thought you were a vamp at first. But I can hear your heartbeat." He lifts his head and wrinkles his half-nose. "Smell you."
Gross. Some would take the vamp comment as a compliment since the race is known for their rare beauty and flawlessness, but I hate them.
The mid appraises me and his tongue slides across his bottom lip like a slug. My long dark hair and delicate features likely made him think I'm a vampire, along with my height and slenderness. I'm wearing skinny jeans and two jumpers beneath a thick jacket in an attempt to keep warm, but they're not working.
"You be careful, looking like you do. You'll attract attention. Guys like a good-looking girl."
I tense. "If anybody touches me, I'll tear his dick off. A spell would be too kind."
He laughs, a rasping sound. "The harmless-looking ones are always the most dangerous."
I tip my chin. I've spent the last two years wishing I could tear a certain witch's dick off to stop it ever coming near me—my unwanted fiancé, Ivan. We were rarely alone unsupervised, but in snatched moments, he'd grab me and whisper perverse things in my ear.
Once, he held me down and tried to rape me. At that point, he realised he was playing with fire—literally, because I conjured a flame that was close to singeing his pathetic appendage long before he assaulted me.
I earned a black eye for that; he was too quick for me to block the shocking blow. My family, and his, never commented on my screaming and the injury.
But my family never gave a crap about anything but their success in creating me. I spent my childhood dragged around the covens forced to perform every school of magic. 'Look at Eloise, the clever elemental witch who can control minds too'.
I have a rare ability to wield both elemental magic and spirit magic, but I have a third skill that's rarer still.
One that's landed me with an unknown future in a living hell.
CHAPTER TWO
The walk to the building continues in silence, and I'm out of breath when we reach the crest of the hill. The sea batters the rocks below, a constant reminder to all inmates about the power the water holds. Water repulses vamps; they could never cross the sea if they attempted to leave the island.
The long swim to the Scottish mainland in ice waters would cause hypothermia and death for most others. If the stronger elemental witches bonded together, they could probably create a bridge of ice to cut a path through the sea. Unfortunately for them, that's impossible, because Ravenhold neutralises their magic.
This means the shifters have no chance either, even those with aquatic forms. Powerful magic surrounds the small island, and nobody can set foot on or leave without permission, or until rehabilitated.
I'm resigned to my fate, but why hasn't anybody given me a timescale for rehabilitation, or how I’m judged as safe to release. Is anybody? The stone walls hold the irredeemable inside. These 'students' were unable to control the destructive or violent behaviour that places them here, or didn't care if they did.
I swallow down my nerves as I stare at the open doors to the building. I can't discount the rumours. Will I leave here or die at Ravenhold?
Two other mids stand either side of the doorway at the top of the stone stairs and watch with a bored air as the basilisk mid leads me inside.
The chequered black and white tiled floor is fractured, and the painted walls are cracked in places revealing grey stone beneath, as if the island is trying to consume the building that's a scar on its back.
A chandelier hangs above me at an unusual angle, half-connected to the ceiling, and the teardrop glass is jagged but missing in places. I sidestep in case the thing lands on my head.
A squat man sits at a table tucked beneath the large staircase. More security? To my right, stairs lead upwards, and an ornate stair rail also covered in chipped white paint leads to a small balcony where people could slip through the gaps in the balustrade.
Ahead there are two closed doors, opposite the entrance.
The dread that's followed me from London to Edinburgh, and then in a blacked-out van further north and onto the boat, threatens to freeze me in place, but I push on. How many people here have killed, and do deaths occur inside the walls? The constant questions about death churn over and over with every step I take—ironic, as death is what brought me here.
Once I'm shown my room, I can drop my facade and allow out the terrified girl I am. I need to belong where I never will.
A tall man dressed in black jeans and a loose blue shirt leans against the wall and watches me walk in. A chain hangs from his belt and into a bulging pocket. Keys? His brown hair is close-cropped, and he's young-looking, but his features scream 'vamp'.
He sizes me up, head cocked, and the scrutiny sends a shiver through. He isn't checking me out—he's sizing me up for danger.
Pulling himself from the wall, the man takes a step towards me. "I'm, Luca and—"
A yell interrupts him, and I spin around. A guy launches himself from the rails at the top of the stairs and lands on his f
eet with feline effortlessness, one palm on the floor in front of him as he looks up.
A second man charges down the stairs two at a time. "Get back here," he snarls.
The guy who jumped pulls himself upright and to full height. He's dressed in scruffy blue jeans that hug his long legs and sit low on his hips. His black shirt is torn and hangs open. I take an appreciative look at the sculpted muscle on display, from his toned pecs down to the hard abs. This guy may be lean, but his body is powerful.
He catches sight of me, and I stare back into eyes the colour of the sea. This guy’s beauty was created to break hearts—or rip them out. The guy grazes his teeth across his bottom lip as he slowly rakes a gaze from my feet to my face, and I shiver as if he's touching me.
He could mesmerise with a glance, but despite the perfection in his features, I don't sense a lamia vampire.
The guy's mouth pulls up at one corner as he senses my breathless reaction to him—one he's undoubtedly used to from girls. My breathlessness is from the walk up the hill. Mostly.
"Get your arse back upstairs. Now." The guard's heavy footsteps cross the floor, and I blink at the size of him. He must be seven feet tall, at least, and his arms twice as thick as a normal man. I can barely see a neck beneath his small head and squashed face. If someone who looked like him yelled at me, I'd do what he said in a heartbeat—in case he stopped mine.
The guy breaks away from our mutual appreciation and dodges the guard as he reaches him. He grins and ducks behind the guard, who spins around. The arrogant guy dances out of his way, his torn shirt slipping from one shoulder as he does.
