After Darkness Falls: After Darkness Falls Book One

by Sage, May

An Unexpected Bequest

  The Snuggy Snot, the one pub in town, was a three-story building with red bricks and wooden beams—positively charming, like so many things in Oldcrest.

  "Is it your first time here, Cheetah?" Jack asked as they passed the threshold and entered the warm foyer.

  Chloe sighed delightfully, rubbing her poor frozen hands together.

  Scotland in January, to a woman used to Louisiana, felt downright arctic.

  "Yes. Won't be the last," she predicted.

  Jack laughed, gesturing to the bar. "That's old Lewis Campbell, his son Joe, and his daughter Mairi. Lewis left the pack in the Wolvswoods to build this place twenty years ago. Smartest man in town. He's probably a millionaire now. It's the only place we can relax. Most of us come once a day at least."

  "Nice!" She followed Jack, eager to ask her questions now that she had him to herself for a minute. "Hey, what was that about? The race. The wolves think you do it to annoy them. And you're sponsoring it yourself with a wad of cash…"

  "Curiosity killed the cat," he replied.

  Chloe had heard that about a billion times in her life.

  She pointed to her derriere. "No tail. Come on, spill. Are you really just trying to get on their nerves?"

  Jack sighed.

  "Hey, Cheetah!"

  Was that nickname really sticking? She hoped not.

  She turned to the blonde who'd lost the race. The woman didn't seem to mind. Smiling, she asked, "What's your poison?"

  "Anything on tap, please."

  "Good girl!" she replied before moving on to the other runners.

  Chloe redirected her attention to Jack. "Well?"

  "Well," Jack echoed, "I am, believe it or not, not a kid having fun by pulling the wolf's tail, so to speak. I set up races through the entire territory—and yes, mostly close to dangerous sites—because my men need real-life training while we linger here. Sparring in the Institute’s courtyard is too easy, too clear-cut. Pissing off one of the most ancient wolf packs in the world? Running close to the cursed caves up in Coscnoc? That gives them real-life experience."

  "But that's actually dangerous. They could get hurt."

  Or worse.

  Jack shrugged. "They certainly could get hurt raiding a bleeder's den in South London, too. And that's what we do, what we’ll go back to doing after we leave. I came back here because getting my PhD is a requirement in my position—and many huntsmen followed me. Too many. It wouldn’t do to let them go soft."

  It made a lot of sense. Except…

  "What about me?"

  Jack didn't say anything. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms on her chest.

  "What about me?" she repeated. "I could have been in danger."

  Shit, she probably had been. What would have happened if Avani hadn't found her?

  Jack shrugged. "I was curious. Besides, the guys push themselves harder when there's new blood in the race."

  "You put me in danger because you were curious," she repeated.

  "And," Jack added, "fairly certain you could take care of yourself."

  She was speechless for all of ten seconds. Then, the blonde thrust a pint of beer in her hand and Chloe did the only useful thing she could do: she drank half of it in three gulps.

  Jack wasn't entirely an asshole, but he also wasn't the sort of friend she should have. She strongly suspected she didn't want him as an enemy either. Chloe made a mental note to keep a healthy distance in the future, which wouldn’t be easy. He was…magnetic. Charismatic. Maybe even fun. But she’d try.

  Gwen had opted for a gin and tonic—not the best idea after a run. They were all parched and accumulating empty glasses faster than they should. Really, they all should have ordered a bottle of water before even drinking anything alcoholic, but failing that, beer was a better alternative.

  Chloe was halfway through her second pint when Gwen ordered her fourth gin.

  She didn't know the woman very well, but after abandoning her in the woods, Chloe decided not to let her face this trial alone.

  "Do they have snacks here?" she asked the group.

  "Yeah—pork scratching, crisps, olives, that sort of thing. They also cook basic food until nine."

  It was just past eight. Chloe went to the bar and ordered ten cheesy fries, digging into her pocket for the newly acquired wad of cash.

  The whole lot was twenty-five pounds, and she added a fiver of tip on top. When the food arrived, she definitely was popular. Chloe let everyone help themselves but did her best to shove a plate in front of Gwen as often as possible.

  An hour later, they walked back to the edge of Adairford—well, Gwen wobbled—and returned to the dorms.

  "Come this way," she said, herding Gwen to the kitchen.

  She didn't want to mess with the screaming kettle, so she warmed up water in the microwave and, just like Blair had the previous day, made Gwen a hot chocolate, hoping to get some non-alcohol-infused liquid into her.

  "You'll want to put an alarm clock on before crashing," she told her, remembering Levi's advice.

  Gwen's eyes were closing where she stood. She smiled happily and nodded.

  Right. That alarm clock would never be set.

  "Where's your phone?"

  She handed it to Chloe. Remembering that Gwen had professed to want to study art, Chloe decided to set the alarm for seven o'clock, giving her plenty of time to sleep off the drunken stupor if she crashed soon.

  They drank a pleasant hot chocolate—too thin and not as good as Blair’s, but okay—and headed up to the second floor.

  "I'll meet you downstairs at eight, all right?"

  Once in her room, Chloe closed her eyes and sighed. She half-wished she'd drunk a little more in order to avoid what was coming—the usual replay of her day, her week, her month, her life.

  Why was her brain so damn annoying? Anxiety sucked.

  When she opened her eyes again, she gasped and marched straight to her bedside table.

  There, next to a small lamp, was a package, and on top of it, a familiar transparent flask.

  The sleeping draught.

  She hadn't expected it at all tonight. She'd been pretty rude to Levi the previous evening, and he'd seemed rather annoyed with her on the staircase.

  But he'd sent her one anyway.

  Sitting on her mattress, she opened the plain white box underneath the potion. She had zero clue what to expect.

  Chloe felt strange—a little confused, very excited, and rather suspicious all at once.

  When she was done tearing at the sticky tape, she opened the box to find soft dark blue fabric inside.

  She pulled it out and her jaw dropped. It was a coat. Not the sort of coat she could have afforded at any point in her life. A wool and cashmere double-breasted coat with the nicest lining and big gold buttons with a crest. She put it on and moaned in delight. She didn't think she'd ever worn a piece of clothing quite so comfortable, and there was no doubt that she'd remain warm throughout the Scottish winter, even if Gwen made it snow again.

  It was so damn perfect.

  Too bad she couldn't accept it.

  Battle Plan

  "All right, here's the list of requirements to get your MBA," Blair stated, slapping three stapled pieces of paper on top of the breakfast table. "The entire prerequisites and curriculum."

  Chloe swallowed a mouthful of bacon and sausages before beaming at her mentor.

  "Thank you for getting it to me so fast."

  Blair shrugged and slid into a seat at their table, plate in hand. "Of course. That's my job."

  To her right, Gwen groaned as she massaged her temples. "Can you guys just stop being so loud and cheerful?"

  Chloe mouthed, "Hangover" to Blair, who winced on Gwen's behalf.

  "Hang on, I have a cure for it somewhere…" She shuffled through her bag before saying triumphantly, "Ah! There you go."

  Blair handed a small flask of green liquid to Gwen, who grabbed it eagerly and downed it in one go, moaning
in pleasure.

  "Thanks!" She gave them a sunny smile, back to her cheerful self. "That's a great brew. My aunt made something like that, but it didn't taste nearly as good."

  "Oh, I didn't make this." Blair took the empty bottle back from Gwen and pointed at a G and V engraved in small letters on it. "This is from Greer Vespian herself. She's an artist. She's still here, because she wants to study from the best before opening her own store, but anything she spells, hexes, curses, and brews is marvelous. Hell, she makes acne-removal salves smell good."

  Admiration poured out of every word.

  Gwen looked around eagerly. "Is she here?"

  It was eight in the morning, and at least a hundred students were sitting in the cafeteria—a third of the entire student body. Blair shook her head.

  "She's on a night schedule because she's shadowing Alexius Helsing."

  That name certainly rang a bell. How many men named Alexius could there be here?

  "The blond vampire?" Chloe asked.

  "The one and only. His kind aren't typically into magic the way witches are, but Alexius is an alchemist. That's a bridge between magic and science, in a way. Greer is learning everything she can from various branches of theurgy."

  The two witches began babbling about different magics, so Chloe redirected her attention to the documents in front of her.

  Blair had handwritten the three pages in blue ink, and she'd made liberal use of colorful pens to underline and circle certain points.

  The contents of the first page were simple enough to understand: every course required to receive an MBA.

  Prerequisites: Undergrad degree including completed courses in accounting, economics, management, and statistics.

  Chloe had all that.

  Post-grad courses required: advanced accounting, human resources, system information, managerial finances, operations management, legal business issues, global strategy, planning and decision-making.

  That was…some list.

  The witches were still talking, so she continued reading rather than asking questions. Next, Blair had written down the courses taught at the Institute that would help her meet the requirements.

  "Leadership, nine weeks, Mr. Crane."

  "Advanced Business, twenty-four weeks, Mr. Silver."

  "Law: an Introduction, six weeks, Mrs. Wade."

  "Business Administration, twelve weeks, one internship, Miss Paxton."

  "Advanced Management, nine weeks, one internship, Mr. Everett."

  The list went on and on over most of the three pages. At the very end, Blair had added the names and contact details of alumni who'd graduated from the Institute with an MBA.

  Chloe had truly struck gold with her mentor.

  "Ready to run the other way screaming yet?" Blair asked when Chloe put down the papers.

  She smiled, shaking her head. "No way. This is so helpful, Blair. How can I repay you?"

  "How about you send me a text next time you're hanging out at the pub with arm candy? The phones do work in Adairford, you know."

  "I know, sorry, I didn't want to bother you."

  Blair rolled her eyes. "I live here. Bothering me is doing me a favor."

  Chloe loved this place, but she supposed that after years, one could get used to it.

  "How many courses can I take at once? I want to see how long the degree is going to take me."

  "That depends on various factors. How much you like your sanity, how many extra classes you're taking just for fun, stuff like that. The average MBA takes about three years full time, but…Margaret Lowell, here," she said, pointing to one of the alumni, "finished it in one. She was doing sixty hours of classes per week, fulfilled the requirements in nine months, and took her internship the last three."

  Chloe grimaced. She did love studying, but that sounded like a recipe for a one-way trip to the madhouse.

  "Right. And if I don't want to extinguish my desire to exist?"

  Blair laughed. "I'd say only take one problematic teacher at a time. It's impossible to avoid Silver. You need Advanced Business, and that's his jam—but the guy is a massive a-hole. Paxton is severe, but fair. However, Silver and Paxton at the same time? You'd get gray hair."

  She'd met Miss Paxton before—she'd seemed nice enough.

  "I have to take Paranormal Introduction this semester so I stop feeling quite so out of my depth," she said. "And maybe Advanced Immortal History, too."

  Everything here seemed to revolve around the vampires, and if the last couple of days had taught her anything, it was that she knew nothing at all about their kind. Hell, she hadn't even known the history of their creation before Blair shared it.

  "Ah. Well, Paranormal Introduction is just an hour per week for eight weeks, and there's, like, no homework, so that's not a problem, but AIH…let's just say it would add to your workload. There are a bunch of names and dates you have to memorize." Blair grimaced. "Between the fae, the scions, the dragons, the vamps, the gods, and everything else, that's a whole lot of work for something that won't really help your MBA."

  Chloe frowned. Blair was right, of course, but her MBA wasn't the only thing that mattered. She wanted to know the world she'd be part of for three years. If she wanted to belong here, she couldn't forever stay the newbie who asked a billion stupid questions.

  "How many hours? How long does it last?"

  "Two hours twice a week for two semesters."

  She bit her lip.

  Blair sighed. "Hey, if you want to do it, I'm not here to stop you, girl. So many people come here with a clear idea of what they want to do and then change their mind one or two years in. Taking a few courses outside of your schedule is smart—it leaves the door open for other things. I was just going to advise you to take a language and at least one irrelevant, fun course per semester. AIH just isn't all that fun."

  Again, Blair was the voice of wisdom.

  Chloe quietly stated, "I'm good with dates. They just stick in my head without much effort. I mean, it could be fun."

  "It won't be," said Blair, grimacing. "But you quite obviously want to do it. Besides, you can always drop it later."

  “Right.”

  She’d never dropped anything in her life and wasn’t going to start now.

  One Notable Professor

  All right, she might drop AIH before even officially taking it up.

  This week, they were supposed to sample the casual intro classes before deciding on their courses. Chloe had been fairly certain that AIH would be on her final selection, until attending the class at four that afternoon.

  Blair had talked about numerous dates and names, neither of which had frightened Chloe. She hadn't said that the professor was an asshole.

  Chloe and Gwen, who'd tagged along, arrived early and sat in the second row. As more students arrived, they frowned in confusion, because all of them were bundled together at the back of the classroom like a flock of sheep.

  "Should we…"

  Gwen didn't finish the question. A door opened, and a stunning creature with long ears and piercing moss-green eyes walked in. The man wore a long black skirt that floated on the floor like a bride's veil. His torso was bare, and Chloe thanked the gods for it. His body was delicious—golden skin, defined muscles, and a black ring through one of his nipples.

  "You. You," he said, pointing to both of them.

  His voice was honey and poison, impossible to tune out, so very beautiful that hearing it was almost painful.

  They stiffened in their seats.

  "I don't know you."

  Gwen was stunned into silence. Chloe, who recovered faster, cleared her throat.

  "We're new."

  "Evidently. What are you?"

  She blinked.

  "Witch," Gwen whispered. "I'm a witch."

  "Mh. You."

  His eyes were narrowed and set on Chloe.

  "I'm…I'm—"

  The words were stuck in her throat. Why couldn't she just tell him she was no one, a random regula
r accepted here? Then they'd just move on.

  "I'm Chloe. Twenty-five. Gemini. I like chocolate and don't see the point in coffee."

  Word vomit spewed out of her mouth uncontrollably. She couldn't stop herself. But as hard as she tried, she couldn't tell him what he'd actually asked: what was she?

  "Mh. Confused, I see. Or powerful. Well, whether one or the other, know that no power can affect me. None. Not the kiss of a succubus, the whisper of a siren, the bite of a vampire, or the howl of the First Wolf himself, for I am Aos Si."

  Oh, right. She blinked. "Cool name."

  The class giggled behind her. The teacher's shoulders sagged, and he rolled his eyes.

  "Silly little girl."

  "Aos Si, as in one of the fae of Sidhe," Gwen whispered, watching him half-fearfully, half in awe.

  Awesome. She'd made herself sound foolish again.

  "I didn't think your kind lived in this world," the witch added.

  Her eyes dropped to her nails, as if she regretted speaking.

  "My kind doesn't," said the creature, almost threateningly. "The name is Fin Varra, and as you know nothing of consequence, you will attend this class for a year and a day, fledgling."

  He turned away and sat directly in front of them on an imposing gold chair with red velvet cushions that hadn't been there a moment ago.

  "We will resume the lesson where we ended it last Monday, after one of you reminds us of the precise point where I stopped."

  Behind her, Chloe glanced to see twenty-four hands lift in the air as one. There were twenty-four students in the room.

  "Armand."

  "Yes, sir. We were talking of the human revolt of 1476, sir. Against the Drakes of Transylvania. We stopped at the matriarch's death, sir."

  "Very well. I see you were paying some attention. And so, Prince Dracul's wife was brutally assassinated in his own keep. Works of fiction have broached the subject, but none have been quite fair to his immortal grief. In his sorrow, the prince took his life, leaving two sons and one daughter behind…"

  Being a tyrant didn't change the fact that Fin Varra was the very best narrator to ever tell a story—she had to give him that. In no time, they were engrossed, practically seeing the events he recounted in front of their eyes.