The Awakening

by H. D. Gordon

  The Awakening

  Academy of Witchcraft: Book 1

  H. D. Gordon

  Copyright © 2019 by H. D. Gordon

  Published by H. D. Gordon Books LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  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.

  Cover design by Melody Simmons

  Story Summary

  When your little sister can speak to the dead, life can get weird.

  We were normal teenagers living that small town high school life… Until all hell broke loose and we ended up running for our lives.

  Now, we’re at the Academy of Witchcraft, a place in a world we never knew existed. As it turns out, witches, vampires, werewolves, and all those other supernatural creatures of myth are real.

  Totally cray cray, I know.

  Add in the fact that there’s a dark witch running around, trying to drain us of our magic, and you’ve got trouble brewing for sure.

  See what I did there?

  Seriously, though, WTAF is a girl to do?

  Magic, I guess.

  For Rey & Roo

  & me & you

  <3

  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

  Chapter 24

  The End…For Now

  Also by H. D. Gordon

  Review, please ;)

  Sneak Peek: Blood Warrior

  Story Summary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Blood Warrior Available Now

  1

  Thirty seconds ago, the cat had been dead.

  Not just dead, but stiff and starting to turn.

  A rancid smell floated off it, its innards splayed over the gravel road that cut through the hills to the main highway. Flies buzzed around it, the heat of the midwest summer speeding the decaying process.

  “Get away from it, Roo,” I said. “It stinks.”

  My little sister paid my command as much attention as usual—none. She peered at the lifeless feline, chocolate hair falling over her shoulder as she did so. I shifted on my feet, swiping some sweat from my forehead as the sun beat down overhead. Rolling my eyes, I turned on my heels.

  “Fine,” I said. “Stay if you want, but I’m heading back to the house. I’m hungry, and you’re making me lose my appetite.”

  I took two steps before a mewling sound stopped me in my tracks. The hair on the back of my neck rose despite the heat. Gut sinking, I swiveled back around toward my little sister.

  And the cat that had been dead just ten seconds ago.

  I drew a sharp breath, mouth falling open, as I watched the black cat lift its head, making that mewling cry once more. I blinked, thinking I must be dehydrated and hallucinating, because now the cat was peeling itself off the road, trying to get to its paws—which was not easy to do considering that its guts were still on the gravel.

  “Get away from it!” I snapped at Roo when I realized that she was still crouched over the undead creature, head tilted as though it were just a routine curiosity.

  She ignored this same as she had my other command. Roo held out her hand, small and tanned from time spent in the sun, and the cat turned toward her. Had I not been in so much shock, I might have yanked her away. Instead, I stood there as the cat sniffed at her fingers, and then moved its head as though it wanted her to pet it.

  Finally, my right mind seized me. I rushed forward and heaved my sister up and away, startling her enough that she almost fell over. The undead cat blinked up at me as though I was the one being unreasonable.

  “What in the…?”

  “Girls!” called a voice in the distance.

  Roo and I stiffened. We’d know the baritone anywhere. A cowbell clanged as the owner of the voice struck it again and again. I tugged my sister toward the calls.

  “Come on,” I said. “We can’t keep him waiting.”

  As I spoke, my eyes remained on the cat. So did Roo’s. I had to tug on her hand before she snapped out of her trance. The cat blinked up at us—listening.

  Finally, Roo nodded, and we turned toward the cornfield we could cut through to reach our house. Before we disappeared into the high golden stalks, I cast one final look back at the feline.

  But the beast was gone.

  Perhaps I’d imagined the undead cat.

  That would certainly make more sense than the creature having come back to life. In fact, I would have been fully content to accept the incident as a matter of my imagination, had it not been for the fact that Roo had been there, too. She had seen it, too.

  My little sister just seemed a lot less freaked out about it than I was.

  As we approached the small farmhouse we’d both spent our entire lives in, she looked as she always did—not at all as though she’d just encountered a zombie cat. Was it possible that the animal had not been dead in the first place?

  No. The thing’s guts had been hanging out, its eyes wide and lifeless when we’d first come across it. If nothing else, I was sure of that.

  “Where you two been?” asked Pa.

  He leaned against the railing of the slanted porch, belly protruding over the buckle of his pants. From the glaze over his eyes, I could tell he’d been drinking. Then again, I couldn’t remember a time when Pa hadn’t been drinking. I think it must’ve been before our mother died.

  “Just playing around the creek,” I answered, careful not to study him too long. Pa was an expert at finding accusations in lingering eyes.

  Pa blinked and took a swig from the beer bottle clutched in his right hand. “Y’all get inside and start supper. I’m hungry.”

  Roo and I scooted around him and hurried inside. Once in the kitchen, we washed our hands and set to work. As Roo peeled potatoes, I went about mixing the ingredients for meatloaf, a recipe I’d known how to make since I was seven, one of the first I’d learned after our mother died. I’d turned twelve three weeks ago, and had added a few dozen other recipes to my repertoire.

  Pa didn’t like to cook, after all, but he loved to eat. And, anyway, every girl should know her way around the kitchen, if you asked him. I also wasn’t a fan of cooking, but I was a fan of staying on Pa’s good side. He didn’t believe in sparing the rod.

  An hour later, we were sitting at the table, mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and steamed asparagus laid out before us. Pa dug in without a word. Roo and I followed suit.

  As if remembering our existence, after his plate was mostly empty, he asked, “Do anything interesting today?”

  Roo and I exchanged a glance. She said nothing, leaving me to answer for both of us.

  “Not really,” I said.

  Satisfied, my father stood from the table, leaving Roo and I to clean up the mess.

  Later, as we crawled under the covers in our shar
ed bedroom, we finally broached the subject of the cat.

  “It was dead,” I said.

  Roo nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

  The darkness of our bedroom seemed to loom heavy around us. Beyond the lone window, a full moon created reaching shadows through the tree branches.

  “What happened?” I asked. “When I turned away… What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Roo replied.

  I knew my little sister better than I knew myself, and she was keeping something from me.

  “Roo,” I warned.

  “I…I didn’t mean to.”

  In the silence, I heard myself swallow. I hardly dared speak above a whisper. “You didn’t mean to what?”

  Before she could answer, there was a scratching at the bedroom window.

  Somehow, I knew what was making the sound before I turned to face it.

  Just beyond the pane, the undead black cat sat staring back at me.

  “Christ on a cracker, Roo,” I said. “Get back in bed! What are you doing?”

  It was a rare occasion that I took the Lord’s name in vain. Not due to any religiosity on my part, but rather, because that was how I’d been raised. I’d done so only once in front of Pa, and had never made that mistake again. But if there was a situation that could elicit such a reaction from me, a zombie cat at my bedroom window was it.

  And Roo was getting ready to let the foul thing inside!

  I jumped out of bed as though the sheets had caught fire, catching her hands before she could raise the window. I looked at her like she was crazy, and to my confusion, she looked at me like I was the same.

  “He wants in,” Roo whispered, shoving my hands away.

  “And I want a million dollars,” I snapped. “You’re not letting that thing in!”

  The cat scratched at the window again, mewling this time to add emphasis. He glanced at me with emerald eyes that seemed to relay that he knew I was the one blocking him from entrance.

  “Move, Rey,” Roo said, giving me a shove. “I’m letting him inside.”

  I was about to snap something back when we heard heavy footsteps in the hallway outside our bedroom. We dared not draw air as the steps paused beyond our door. When they continued down the hall toward the kitchen, we could breathe again.

  “Shoo!” I hissed at the cat. “Get out of here! Bad kitty! Go!”

  Only after I’d said this did I realize how ridiculous it was.

  “He’s not a bad kitty!” Roo said.

  “Keep your voice down,” I snapped. “You know Pa doesn’t like to be disturbed at night.”

  Truth was, Pa never liked to be disturbed. One of his favorite sayings was, Children should be neither seen nor heard.

  “Then get out of my way,” Roo replied, shoving the window up before I could stop her.

  The black cat slipped in quickly, as if aware that I’d lock him out if he didn’t hurry. The smell of death followed him in. I shrank away from the window. If Roo wanted to have her brain eaten by the zombie cat, that was on her. Personally, I liked my brain right where it was.

  I had to suppress a gag when the cat climbed into Roo’s arms, purring as it rubbed against her. My jaw clenched as I noticed that the wound that had spilled its innards on the road was still gaping, but dried around the edges. If it weren’t moving and purring, I would swear the thing was still dead.

  “If Pa finds that thing in here…” I warned.

  “He won’t,” Roo said.

  I was silent for a time because words failed me. I could do little but stare at my sister and the undead cat in her arms.

  Finally, I said, “Roo… This isn’t… normal.”

  Roo said nothing, only continued to stroke the cat as it nuzzled against her.

  “Put him back outside,” I insisted. “The whole room is going to smell like death.”

  Roo sighed, and finally, she set the cat down on the windowsill. When it just stared up at her, she waved her hand in a shooing gesture, and to further my amazement, the feline obeyed. I wasn’t sure what was more unbelievable—a cat that came back to life, or a cat that listened.

  “Neither is talking to ghosts,” Roo said quietly, after I slid the window shut once more.

  “What?”

  “You said this isn’t normal. Neither is talking to ghosts.”

  My teeth clenched. “Roo, we’ve talked about this.”

  “No, I’ve tried to talk about this. A thousand times, but you never listen.” She gestured to the window, where the cat had disappeared back into the shadows. “Now do you believe me?”

  “What does this have to do with your imaginary friends?” I snapped.

  “They’re not imaginary friends,” Roo replied through tight teeth. “They’re spirits. I talk to the dead, Rey, and now, apparently, I can bring them back to life, too.”

  My mouth fell open, but nothing came out. Fear spiraled in my gut, along with grief and anger and sadness. I couldn’t decide which emotion to run with, so I just stood there shaking my head. Rather than yell at her, I climbed under my covers and turned my back to my little sister.

  Though some part of me knew she was telling the truth, even back then, I was not ready to accept it. To accept it meant that I would have to come to terms with other things as well, and a person could only take so much excitement in one day.

  “Rey—”

  “Go to sleep, Roo.”

  “But—”

  “Go to sleep.”

  My little sister sighed, but remained silent.

  “And Roo?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Whatever you did to that cat, don’t do it again.”

  “I told you, it was an accident.”

  “I don’t care. Just don’t do it again. Not ever. Promise me.”

  I thought I’d have to repeat myself, but Roo finally agreed. “I promise,” she said.

  That was the first time my sister raised the dead, and it had indeed been an accident.

  The next time she did it, several years later, was on purpose.

  2

  “I don’t think we should be here,” Roo said, shifting on her feet as she eyed the markers and gravestones. “Let’s just go home, Rey.”

  “You go home if you want,” I replied. “I already told Sam I was coming, so I’m going in.”

  “Why does it have to be here? What kind of weirdos hang out at the cemetery?”

  I rolled my eyes as I pulled on the iron gates, creating a space between the chains closing them just wide enough to slip through. Roo stood on the other side, her expression wary.

  “Where else is there to hang out in this crappy little town? And what are you so worried about, anyway?”

  Roo hesitated. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I shouldn’t have to answer that,” she said, mouth tight.

  I swallowed. We didn’t speak about her “abilities” anymore, hadn’t for years. Not since the thing with the cat. We were older now. Wiser in the ways of the world. Sometimes I would hear her whispering under her breath when no one was around, and I knew that she wasn’t talking to herself, but other than that, nothing.

  “Just an hour,” I said. “We’ll stay an hour and then go home, I promise. Come on, Roo. Don’t make me go alone.”

  From the way her shoulders slumped, I knew that she’d given in even before she slipped through the slot in the gates that I was still holding open. I pretended not to notice the shudder that ran through her as she stepped over the threshold. A small part of me felt bad about convincing her to come to the graveyard with me, but the rest of me was really excited to see Sam.

  With bright blue eyes and thick golden hair, Samuel Prescott was the finest boy the tiny town of Peculiar had to offer—not that there was much in way of competition. Still, I’d had a crush on him since the seventh grade, and the fact that he even knew my name blew me away. Puberty had been kind to me though. I’d gone from being skinny and awkward to not bad looking. My body had filled out, and my hair had gotten longer and dark
er. Seventeen was a good year for me, it seemed.

  So when Sam had asked me if I’d like to come out on Friday, I’d been both shocked and super pleased. I knew that all the cool kids hung out at the Peculiar Cemetery on Friday nights, but I’d never been invited. Though I’d pined after Sam for some time, I wasn’t really the type he usually went after. While other girls were busy figuring out what to wear to homecoming, I had my head buried in dark fantasy novels.

  Poor Roo fit in even less. Though puberty had been kind to her, too, she’d taken to wearing all black clothing, combat boots, and lining her big hazel eyes with thick onyx. A silver pendant hung around her neck that had once belonged to our mother, and rings adorned every one of her fingers.

  While Peculiar was a small town, it was mostly white. White and uptight, Roo and I liked to joke. Our quarter of Indonesian lineage we’d inherited from our mother made up the extent of Peculiar’s diversity.

  In other words, the people of Peculiar didn’t exactly appreciate “different.”

  “Just so you know, I think Samuel Prescott is as much a douche as the ass clowns he hangs out with,” Roo commented as we started down the path that wound through the tombstones. “I never understood why you liked him.”

  “Sam’s not so bad,” I said, “once you get to know him.”

  Roo snorted, flicking some of her chocolate hair over her shoulder, rings flashing in the moonlight. “You don’t know him, Rey. He’s barely said two words to you, and you’ve been in the same class since seventh grade. Now, you grow a couple boobs and he’s all interested.” Another snort. “Spare me.”