by Tracy Wolff
She grins. “Welcome to Katmere Academy.” And then, while I’m still eyeing the giant purple monstrosity that is supposed to be my ceremonial robe, she steals the freaking bathroom right out from under me.
70
When the Devil
Comes Up
to Denali
I’ve been in auditoriums before. I mean, I am an American high school student. But nothing could prepare me for what the Katmere Academy auditorium looks like.
Huge, with ceilings that are probably close to thirty or forty feet high and creepy-looking carved spires everywhere, it looks more like a Gothic church than it does a meeting room for students.
Stained-glass windows depicting various paranormal scenes, check.
Carved black lancet arches hovering over every walkway, double check.
Elaborate and semi-creepy engravings on pretty much every available surface, triple check.
Seriously, I’m pretty sure the only thing missing is an altar.
In its place is a round stage in the center of the room, surrounded by hundreds of chairs in the same deep purple as our robes. So as the students filter in and find their seats, the whole front of the room looks like an eggplant exploded—or, more accurately, about a thousand eggplants.
The House of Usher has nothing on this place. Edgar Allan Poe, eat your heart out.
I turn to my left to share the joke with Hudson but realize he didn’t walk in with me.
Uncle Finn is on the stage already, but nobody else is, despite there being eight intricately carved (big surprise) chairs set up in a row directly behind the microphone and sound system that my uncle is currently messing with.
I have to laugh as I watch him, because here in the middle of this auditorium that looks like a horror story waiting to happen, my uncle is doing the same thing that every high school principal or vice principal in the history of high schools does before a schoolwide assembly. The abject normalcy of the whole thing amuses me, but it also makes me just a little homesick.
Not necessarily for the life I used to have but for the girl I used to be. Normal. Human. Average.
I mean, in my head I’m the same old boring Grace I’ve always been, but at Katmere Academy, I’m abnormal. An anomaly. Someone to be stared at and whispered about. Most of the time, I ignore it—I mean, I’m the girl mated to Jaxon Vega while Hudson Vega lives in her head. And, oh yeah, I have a pesky habit of turning to stone whenever I want.
Honestly, who wouldn’t stare?
“Let’s sit over there,” Macy says, pointing to a couple of empty seats near the very front. “I want a good view of this mess.”
I’m not normally a very front-of-the-room kind of girl, but of the things I feel like I might have to argue about today, where I sit doesn’t even blip on the radar. Besides, at least this way I’ll get a good look at Jaxon and Hudson’s parents.
“No!” Hudson’s shout reverberates in my head, so loud and vehement that it actually brings me to a stop, eyes wide, as I look around, wondering what kind of attack I should brace for.
But everything looks normal—or as normal as it gets at Katmere Academy, considering a group of witches is bouncing a ball all around the auditorium using nothing but a few flicks of their fingers.
What’s wrong? I demand, my heart beating out of control.
“Don’t sit up front. Don’t get anywhere near them.”
Near whom? I ask, again looking around for a threat I have yet to recognize.
“My parents. They would love for you to sit that close so they can get a good look at you.”
I feel like that’s normal, under the circumstances, I tell him with a shrug. And I want a good look at them, too.
Macy’s gotten a little bit ahead of me, since Hudson’s shout stopped me in my tracks, and I weave around a couple of groups of students in an effort to catch up to her.
“Damn it, Grace! I said no!”
Excuse me? I ask, shocked and more than a little annoyed. Did you just order me not to do something?
“You can’t trust them,” he tells me. “You can’t just put yourself up there in front of the king and queen and think nothing’s going to happen.”
We’re in the middle of a crowded assembly! I shake my head in amazement. What are they going to do to me?
I wave to Gwen, who is sidling up to Macy, already sitting in the front row. I’m still seven or eight rows back, so I skirt around a few students in an effort to weave my way to them.
“Anything they want! That’s what I’m trying to tell you. My father is the head of the Circle because he has killed, literally, everyone who might possibly be any kind of threat to him. And he has done that continuously for two thousand years. Do you think for one second that he’s going to hesitate to kill you, too?”
In the middle of a school function? Sure, he’s going to try to kill me with my uncle, all the Katmere Academy teachers, and the entire student body looking on. Not likely. So will you please chill out and let me take an effing seat?
I move down a couple more stairs and then freeze, not because I want to but because my feet won’t move. At all.
I start to panic, wondering what on earth can be wrong, but then it hits me. Don’t you dare! Hudson! Let me go right now!
“Grace, stop for a second!” Hudson’s voice is deliberately soothing, which only makes me that much angrier. “Just listen to me.”
No! No, no, no! I’m not going to listen to you when you are controlling my body. What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you?
“I just need you to think for a minute.”
And I just need you to let me go. If you don’t release me right this second, I swear to God, Hudson, when I finally get you out of my head, I will murder you. I will literally make you human and then stab you through your fucking black heart until you die right in front of me! And then I’ll stab you some more.
Hudson walks “us” off to the side, weaving around students rushing to grab their own seats, then eventually slips us between two panels into a hidden alcove. And I’m not going to lie, having someone else take control of your body, with you stuck in the passenger seat, might be one of the worst experiences of my life. The violation, the fear, the anger swirling inside me right now are all building into a storm of epic proportions.
Once we’re hidden, I can feel him struggling to give up control of my mind. It’s like trying to walk through wet mud, but eventually the resistance gives way with a little pop, and I’m free. I feel myself rush in to fill the emptiness, and I can’t fight the shiver of panic that overtakes my body.
When he moves around to face me, panic gives way to white-hot anger. He holds his hands up. “All right, all right. I’m sorry.”
I take a deep breath, fight for calm. And then say screw it, latching on to the part of me that I’ve pushed down for so long. “Fuck. You.”
“Feel better?” Hudson asks. “Now, can you just listen for a moment?”
Is he for real? I am beyond mad, well into a full-blown rage. “I am never listening to you again. Never!”
My heart is racing like I’ve run down twenty flights of stairs, double-time, my head whirling at the knowledge that Hudson must already have punched through the wall the Bloodletter helped me build. How is it possible for him to be that strong? How can he be knocking it down when it’s been less than a week?
Am I really that weak? Or is he just that strong?
He’s standing there perfectly still, his face pleading as he tries to get me to listen to him. “I’m only trying to help you, Grace. I only want—”
“Help me?” I hurl at him like a berserker, my rage so overwhelming that it’s all I can do not to claw his goddamn smug face off. Only the knowledge that he isn’t actually standing in front of me keeps me from punching him right now.
“By violating my trust and taking my free will? Ho
w can you possibly think that’s helping me?”
“It isn’t like that—”
“Well, that’s what it feels like!” I’m furious, absolutely furious, and I know it shows because Hudson’s eyes are wide with what looks like actual despair. I almost feel bad. Almost. But since Hudson has made it very obvious that not only will he not respect the sanctity of my right to do what I please with my body, he won’t even respect my right not to have five minutes without him yammering in my head.
So instead of heading to where Macy is waiting for me, I grab my phone and text her that I’ll be right back. Then I put my hands on my hips, so I can have this out with Hudson once and for all.
71
Revenge of the
Body Snatched
“Grace, I’m sorry.” Hudson must finally realize the full weight of my fury, because he rushes in to try to calm me down. “I didn’t mean to take your choice away from you—”
“Yeah, well, that’s exactly what you did, and I am not going to put up with it for one more minute. Not from you, not from anyone.”
Rage at everything that happened over the last five months wells up inside me, and I let Hudson have every single bit of it—partly because he deserves it and partly because I can’t hold it in for one second longer. “Ever since I first heard of this ridiculous school, my right to choose how to handle my own life has been almost nonexistent.”
“Grace, please—”
“No! You don’t talk now.” I point my finger in his face. “You don’t pull what you just pulled on me and then think we’re going to go back to the way we were. I’ve had you yammering in my head for nearly a week but you are going to listen to me now.
“I take back what I said before. My control over my life didn’t end when I got here. It ended even before I got to this school—because of you. Because of your psychotic, twisted, fucked-up ex-girlfriend. She was so in love with you that she murdered my parents. She murdered them, just so I would have to come to this school. Just so Jaxon could find his mate. Just so she could use his power to bring you back.
“I know everybody laughs; I know it’s a great big joke in my friend group now that I was almost a fucking human sacrifice, but think about that, will you, please? Just think about it. A regular, human girl from San Diego ends up in fucking Alaska, tied up on an altar so that an evil, heinous bitch could bring back her genocidal asshole of a boyfriend.”
Hudson’s eyes are going wider and wider with each word that I shout at him, and he looks absolutely devastated. But I don’t actually care right now. I’ve been devastated for months. He can handle it for five damn minutes.
“Even before that, things weren’t exactly rosy, were they? People tried to kill me left and right, all because they were afraid of you! So there I am, mated to a vampire—a vampire—when I didn’t even know they existed two weeks before that. And that’s great, actually. He’s wonderful and kind and I love him and yay for us.
“But I don’t even get to enjoy that, do I? No, of course not, because we’re barely recovered from Lia’s attack when you show up out of nowhere and try to murder my mate. So I step in and save him and now I’m locked up with you somewhere for three and a half months. Three and a half months, mind you, that I can’t even fucking remember.”
My hair has fallen in my face, so I pause in my diatribe just long enough to shove my ridiculous, out-of-control curls away and try to ignore this additional thing I can’t tame.
“And then you do what you do. Body snatch me and turn me into an attempted murderer and a thief, leave me to wake up covered in someone’s blood.” I poke his chest with each of those words for emphasis. I will never get over that experience, and he needs to know it. “You live in my head for days without my permission, and then you think I’m crossing the line for freaking out when you take control of my body because you don’t like where I want to sit? Who the hell do you think you are? You may think you’re trying to protect me, but I’ve got to say, every single bad thing that’s happened to me in the last five months can be traced directly back to you.
“So instead of asking me to think for a minute, why don’t you think instead? Why don’t you listen for a minute and figure out why anything you have to say should matter to me at all?”
By the time I’m done, Hudson’s face is ashen. And now that I’ve gotten out all the bitterness and rage and pain inside me, I know that mine is, too. I hate losing my temper, hate yelling at people, because nothing good ever comes of it. And I’ve never in my whole life lost my temper like I just did. Is it any wonder my head now hurts like I’ve been on a week-long crying jag?
But at the same time, being nice wasn’t cutting it with him. He was going to keep rolling right over my objections like the steamroller he is, and I’m not about to let that happen. I won’t let him take control of my body ever again, and he needs to understand that.
“I don’t—” He breaks off. “I didn’t mean—” He breaks off again. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean anything to you and it probably shouldn’t, but I am sorry, Grace.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I answer with a sigh. “Or be sorry, it doesn’t really matter anymore. But don’t ever do that again. Ever.”
He starts to say something else, but I’m done listening. The assembly is about to start, and I don’t have any time or interest in listening to him say he’s sorry again or offer platitudes about why he did what he did…or worse, start back on me again about where I sit or who I should be afraid of.
I’m not naive, either, even though Hudson doesn’t seem to believe that. So I turn away from him and head back into the auditorium, but as I walk toward the center aisle, instead of turning left, I turn right…and walk up to the third-from-the-last row and sit down behind two huge dragon males. I can still see the stage, a little, and can still hear everything that’s being said, but I’m pretty sure it will be hard for anyone to see me.
With that thought in mind, I pull out my phone and text Jaxon a quick note, telling him I’m sitting alone near the back because I have a headache and might need to leave early.
It’s not a lie, considering my head is killing me, but I don’t want to get into everything in text right now, either. Plus, I don’t want him to come looking for me. I figure I can stay inconspicuous only if I’m not actually sitting next to their son.
“Thank you,” Hudson tells me as he slides into the seat next to me, but I don’t answer him. Not because I’m still angry but because I don’t have anything else to say to him. Not right now, and maybe not ever if he doesn’t get his act together.
I wait for him to say something obnoxious or try to argue with me, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe he’s learning after all. I guess time will tell.
Jaxon texts back, asking if I need anything. When I tell him no, he explains that he’s backstage right now—a command performance with the king and queen.
Maybe I should be disappointed, but I’m not. Him being away from me is that one extra layer of anonymity I was looking for.
And as the king and queen and the rest of the Circle file onto the stage, my palms begin to sweat. I’m not ready to forgive Hudson yet, but I can’t lie that there’s a part of me very grateful I am very, very far away from his parents as I watch both of them scan the audience while they take their seats.
It’s obvious they’re looking for someone…and it’s not their son, as he was just with them backstage. But the longer they search, the more convinced I become that they really are looking for me. And after seeing Hudson’s memory of his parents last night, I’m more than happy to make sure they don’t find me. At least not until I’m ready for them.
72
Welcome to the
Paranormal Jungle
I start to text Jaxon again, but before I can figure out what to say, Uncle Finn turns on the microphone. He talks for a few minutes about the Ludares tournament, laying down
the rules, talking about how many teams have signed up (twelve) and how the brackets are going to be run.
When he gets to the prize for winning the tournament, he turns toward the dignitaries seated behind him in ornate chairs—I snort; who am I kidding? Those are thrones and they want everyone to know it—and announces, “To discuss the prize for this very special Ludares tournament, we are incredibly lucky to have none other than King Cyrus and Queen Delilah from the Vampire Court here to announce the very special prize. Please join me in welcoming them and several other members of the Circle.” He starts off the applause, but soon the auditorium is filled with the sound of respectful clapping, which amuses me because in my experience, so few things at this school have ever engendered such a tepid response.
Apparently, there are very few members of my generation who actually have any interest in the Circle—and especially the vampire king and queen—at all. Not that I blame them, but it’s still interesting to see. And even more interesting to watch as that knowledge hits Cyrus full-on.
He tries to hide it, but I’m watching closely from a little spot between my two shields, and he. Looks. Pissed.
He doesn’t say anything, though, as his eyes scan the crowd. He’s smiling and waving as the queen moves to the microphone, but he’s not missing one face. I slink down lower in my seat and all but feel Hudson’s relief.
The queen introduces herself in a melodic British accent and with a smile that looks surprisingly sincere as she thanks everyone for such a warm, warm welcome. Even as her gaze—like her husband’s—moves from face to face in the crowd, I can feel people opening up, see their shoulders relaxing and their bodies leaning forward as if they’re suddenly afraid of missing even one word that falls from her bloodred-painted lips.
Her eyes are the same near-black as Jaxon’s, and her skin has the same unique—and slightly odd—olive and alabaster tint to it. Her features are sharp, angled, and it’s suddenly obvious just where the Vega cheekbones and jawline that I love so much come from. The long, lithe build and dark hair, too, though the queen wears hers in a long braid wrapped around the crown of her head—and then balances her gold-and-jewel-encrusted crown on top of it, just in case someone at Katmere doesn’t know who she is.
