Kill or Be Killed: A Reverse Harem Paranormal University Academy Romance (Cain University Book 2)

by Lucy Auburn

  "You're assuming I wouldn't take your life. I'm a killer, remember? We all are. And I killed someone I love."

  "So did I," I tell him, as we walk through the long, dead grass towards something in the distance, past the other three guys, who've slowed down to wait for us. "We both know that if you killed me, the Conduit powers wouldn't work anymore."

  "You sound so sure of that. But last I checked, you haven't gone to a single class."

  "Haven't I? This all feels harder than classes." I shrug, throwing my blonde hair over my power. "It just seems obvious. You'll have to keep me alive if you want my magic hands to work."

  He doesn't say anything, so I quietly add, in a voice that might be carried away by the wind, "When you're ready."

  We join the others.

  His knuckles are white where he holds the cane, so tight he must feel pain in his hand—if it isn't eclipsed by the pain of his bad leg, and the wound to his pride, telling me his other, truer weakness. I understand his long sleeves better now, but if Grayson Hughes thought I'd see him differently because I know he's an addict, he thought wrong.

  He's still an ass.

  Nothing more.

  "That way." Grayson gestures with his cane towards a glowing door in the distance, its light a bright white, unlike the red glow all around us. It's a wide door, big enough for several people or a small vehicle to fit through. "It looks like the way out to me. Unless any of you have better ideas?"

  Levi mutters, "Magic fucking sucks. A lot."

  "If it made sense, we'd call it science." Mason sighs, taking some of his weight off Wyatt's arms. "I get the feeling that we're supposed to go through together. It's a pretty wide door."

  It is—wide enough for five people, one of them broad-shouldered and strong beyond belief, to walk through together hip-to-hip.

  How annoying Lady Fate is.

  Stepping forward, I tell the others, "I'll lead the way."

  "Just don't fart," Levi quips. I glower at him. "What? If I'm standing behind you, it's a concern of mine."

  Rolling my eyes, I saunter over to the door, and wait for four annoying, terrible, sometimes sweet, completely broken, Fuckfaces to join me. Penny twines between my ankles, catching up, making little purring noises.

  Once we're all lined up, the door fits perfectly.

  So I step towards it, four others with me. At the last moment I elbow Levi in the gut and smirk as he lets out a tiny, terribly loud, very bad-smelling fart.

  "Wow, Levi," I mock him as we step through, "that's a fate worse than death."

  Chapter 9

  We're back at Cain University.

  I look up into the sky—no foreboding, terrible red. Down at the ground—Penny has found a lizard and is chomping it right in the middle, severing its head and arms from its body. Up ahead—the gates are normal, intact, and no longer lit with eerie red light.

  "If we saw the future," I observe aloud, "then I think we kinda sorta saw the apocalypse. Does that mean we're supposed to stop it? Because if so, I would like to apply for a change of fate. Or maybe a continuation—six months seems like a pretty short time to stop an apocalypse."

  "Let's focus on passing classes," Levi says. "And that whole deal where we have to kill a Mark who has evaded half a dozen assassins. Oh, and the thing where the serial killer Black Serpent is apparently after you, and maybe we should find—oh, there's Eve. One problem solved, a dozen more to go."

  Relief fills me at the sight of my best friend, who's running down the gravel driveway towards us, a bandage covering her left arm. She throws her arms around me, and I return the hug, glad to be somewhere normal for once.

  "I thought you were dead for sure," she says to me. "Sorry, but it's the truth. I was pretty sure you were never coming back again. How'd you get out of there?"

  "There was a door." I shrug at her incredulous expression. "Grayson found it. Don't ask me why we couldn't have taken you through. Penny fit."

  Grayson dryly says, "I'm pretty sure Penny isn't a real cat. As far as the door goes—I don't think it showed up until after Eve teleported out of there. For some reason that place wanted the five of us to see it and get out. It was a message more than anything."

  "Great. Can't wait to figure out that." The last thing I need is prophetic doom breathing down my neck. Better to worry about other things, like Eve's injury. "How's your arm? You were sliced up pretty bad."

  "Forget me. Mason, how are you even on your feet? We need to get you to a medic right away. Wyatt, help me carry him—wait, Mason, why haven't you passed out completely?"

  As she fusses at him like a worried aunt, Mason brushes her hands away, drawing a finger down the slash in his chest. "Ellen healed it somehow. Using her powers, or whatever Conduit link we have. I still don't understand it—maybe she can explain it to you."

  Staring at me, Eve puts her hands on her hips and frowns, like I've done something wrong. "Another Affinity? What, like four weren't enough?"

  "Actually, I think it was just my Physical Affinity. It was like I... pushed the wound out of him or something. I healed myself in the arena, and this was kind of the same thing. Also, apparently if I hold their hand, their weaknesses go away. Well—three out of four. Grayson hasn't let me try it on him yet."

  Arching a red-tinted brow, the mind reader says, "Your hands are sweaty."

  I scowl at him. "Really? That's what you're going with?"

  "Yes."

  I don't know what I expected. The Grayson who was briefly vulnerable in front of me was clearly a mirage, or some kind of short-lived psychosis on his part. Obviously he's back to normal now.

  Eve waves our concerns away. "You guys can leave that up to Instructor Abarra to figure out—I'm sure she'll be wanting to train with you five even more, especially if Ellen's powers are developing and strengthening. I'm just glad you're all alive. Well, except you, Levi. You smell like farts."

  He grumbles, "That's Ellen's fault. I was holding it in."

  "It smelled so terrible," Mason complains. "Like rotten eggs mixed with moldy fruit."

  "How do you think I felt?" Grayson glares at Levi. "I was the last through the door, for the obvious reason. If you think the first whiff of it was bad, the second was worse. You should really stop eating so much junk food."

  Sighing, I ignore their bickering and start down the drive towards the front gates, Eve striding next to me. She shoots me a grin, while behind us the guys keep up their conversation, comparing Levi's recent fart to some other fart Wyatt apparently let loose once during a Physical Affinity training class. Penny trots at our heels, the lizard's tail sticking out of her mouth, apparently saving a bite for later.

  "You have so much homework," Eve tells me. "I mean, so much. Apparently being kidnapped is no excuse for missing classes—even if the Black Serpent did it. So get ready to crack open some books."

  "Books?" I stare at her incredulously. "But this is murder school. I was promised no books. Only knives and death."

  "Yeah, well, people write about knives and death in books."

  We laugh together, and I shake my head at the fact that I actually feel like I'm going home as I walk through the front gates at Cain University.

  It's a strange, terrible, killer-filled place, but it's where I rest my head now, for better or for worse.

  I just hope I manage to survive until graduation—and the apparent apocalypse coming beforehand, if what we just saw is to be believed. Hopefully Headmaster Shu, in all her intimidating, foul-mouthed, whisky-drinking glory, can figure that one out.

  I already have enough on my plate.

  "Let's go tell the headmaster you're all back." Eve glances back at the guys and rolls her eyes at their antics. "She'll be wanting a full report. Every detail you can give her. Hopefully with enough information, they'll be able to track down this Black Serpent guy and make sure he's not able to teleport anyone else away. He shouldn't be able to get in here, but still—you can never be too careful. Especially when dealing with psychopat
hs."

  "Can we eat after?" I ask her, stomach grumbling.

  "Immediately after," she promises.

  "Then let the report-giving begin."

  It's as I'm coming back from the dining hall, stomach full, Eve trailing behind me talking to some instructor she remembers fondly from her time in the graduate program, that I see something that sends a shiver down my spine. Stopping in front of the headmaster's office, I stare into the Black Serpent's eyes.

  Only his name obviously wasn't the Black Serpent. And it wasn't Lothario either—that was some kind of joke, or more of his general insanity.

  Beneath the worn photo of his bright, shining face is the name CONNOR O'HARA.

  That's not the name of a tortured soul or the villain in a fairy tale.

  His photo is hung a few columns down from my father's photo, and they look like they were in the same class. Vincent Arizona and Connor O'Hara—they sound like the leads in a romance with a love triangle, where a girl has to choose between two handsome suitors.

  My father Vincent Arizona would win the leading lady's affections, no contest. Everything I've heard about him makes his charm and affability into something of a legend—if they wanted a party to get going, his friends called him first, because he always brightened up a room. Lothario-slash-Connor, on the other hand, has flop sweat and the inability to understand why a kidnapped woman would be interested in his affections.

  I don't know how I missed his photograph before, except that I must not have been paying attention to the wall, since I had other worries. Now that I've seen it, his face draws my eyes no matter where I go.

  "What's up?" Eve stops next to me, staring at the photo wall. "Professor Vervaine went to teach her class, but you should really talk to her sometime. Or start showing up to your classes. Don't you have one or two on your afternoon schedule?"

  "Tomorrow," I tell her, still distracted. "I just got kidnapped."

  "Half the students in your classes have been kidnapped or stabbed, and all of them have killed people. A little light emotional torture is nothing—unless that asshole did other things to you?" She narrows her eyes at me. "Tell me what he did, if so. I'll rip off the requisite body parts and feed them to the nearest carnivorous animal."

  I snort in amusement at her theatrics. "He didn't touch me. Well, he touched me, but only to dance with me like we were in some kind of play. It was marriage he was obsessed with—and the resulting post-coitus that happens only when you're married, of course."

  "Of course," Eve echoes dryly, "I remember that, how we're all supposed to wait until we've found our Prince Charming. So if you're not emotionally scarred by your time in—oh my god, that's him."

  "Yeah." We're both staring at the portrait. "He said he was a student here, but I didn't think he'd be on the wall. I assumed he was some kind of dropout or something."

  "Connor O'Hara." There's wonder in her voice. "He was a legend. One of the top in the Shadow Fold, a killer like no other. Then he disappeared... but the guy we saw didn't look a day over this guy's age."

  "Whatever happened to him, he's stuck in time. Ageless, except maybe when he's venturing out into the world to murder people." I shake the thoughts off, frowning. "He's not top of my concerns right now."

  "He isn't?"

  "No. I still want to find my mother's killer, and I'm pretty sure he didn't kill my mother. If he had the ability to turn into fog, he would've shown us. What I want is to find her killer, and I have to get access to Shadow Fold files to do it." I slide my eyes over to her, and ask, "Got any clue where I might find those?"

  "Sorry, I'm no council member. I'm not even that highly ranked—promotions take time or blood spilled, and I'm almost there, but not quite. If you want access to the Shadow Fold's files on known Affinities and identities, you'll have to become a member yourself, or ask for help from them. Which is an option, you know. The Shadow Fold tends to frown on cold-blooded killers like the one who took out your mom and stepdad, plus apparently now your stepbrother."

  If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that I don't want to go to the Shadow Fold for help finding my mother's killer. Putting that to Eve delicately is tough, though, so I struggle for the words. "If the killer turns out to be a member of the Shadow Fold—"

  "Your parents weren't Marked." She crosses her arms, frowning at me. "I'm sure of it. No Shadow Fold member would kill outside the rules."

  "Really? That's what you're going with? The secret society of assassins has zero villains who break the rules? Seems unlikely."

  I raise my brows at her, and she grabs my elbow, pulling me away from Headmaster Shu's office. Her voice is low and urgent as she tells me, "Don't talk like that."

  "Why? Just because you're a member and I trust you doesn't mean I have to trust the secret society of underground killers you're a part of. No offense and all that."

  "I just mean... you don't want anyone to overhear." Eve jerks her chin in the direction of Shu's office. "But I think you're wrong. If the Shadow Fold had rogue killers in it, I would know. Someone would know. They would be... found out. And exiled."

  But as she says the words, even Eve sounds doubtful of the truth of them. I think a little part of her knows I have a point, though she doesn't want to admit it. No one likes to admit that the shadowy organization they're a part of might be corrupt.

  "Are you sure? Really, really sure?" I stare into her eyes, pressing her, knowing that she can't lie—not when confronted like this. "Look at me and say the words: 'I'm sure your mother's killer couldn't possibly be a member of the Shadow Fold.'"

  Her mouth turns down unhappily at the corners, and she sighs heavily. "You know I can't say that. Literally." There's resentment in her voice. "Fine, it's possible. I just... I don't know that it's likely. I mean, the Fold kills rogue assassins."

  "I killed someone and they didn't do anything." Her eyes widen as I add, "And I don't mean Jack. This guy was an asshole, and sure he attacked me, but they Marked him after death. You can't tell me that's not shady."

  She shakes her head. "It is, but... it's not like killing your mom would be. Taking out the non-Marked is one thing when they're scummy or turn out to be evil, but the innocent are off limits. Especially if you're caught." I frown at her, and she gives me a helpless shrug. "Killers slip up. An underground fighting ring, a boxing match gone wrong, maybe a car accident that could've been avoided. People die. Sometimes other people are responsible. But that's nothing like cold-blooded murder of an innocent person."

  "Maybe Mom and Herb weren't so innocent," I say aloud, but the second the words leave my mouth I know they're not true. "No, even Bernard didn't deserve to die, and he was a gross, messy college bro who played too much Dungeons and Dragons. Whoever killed them, he had an Affinity, and he knew how to use it. He went here—I'm certain of it. And if there's any chance he's inside the Shadow Fold..."

  "Then you can't risk him seeing you coming," Eve agrees unhappily. "Fine, I won't go to them for help, and neither should you. But if you want to get inside the Shadow Fold, you're going to have to start studying and training, stat. With the Fuckfaces, probably. Four Marks won't kill themselves."

  She has a point, as much as I'm loathe to admit it.

  Time to woman up and apply myself to my Master's in the Killing Arts.

  Tomorrow morning will be a good time to start. Tonight I plan on washing the smell of the Black Serpent's musty castle off me, burning the clothes he kidnapped me in, and practicing my combat skills with Eve.

  The next time a man tries to Beast my Beauty, he'll be disemboweled before you can say what a beautiful gown.

  Chapter 10

  10:30 AM Physical Class with Professor Pete

  With a name like Professor Pete on my class schedule, I knew what I was in for, but this particular professor takes it to the next level. He's like the Cool Mom of professors: relaxed clothing, messy hair, a laid-back attitude, and young enough that for all I know he graduated from here last year.

  In
fact, I'm pretty sure I've seen him in the hallway, wearing Hawaiian-themed shirts and chatting with other students, or smoking pot out in the courtyard. If he's a killer, it's probably because he gave someone a tab of laced ecstasy, because there's nothing about Professor Pete that says, I'm an assassin, yes I am!

  Wyatt glances over at me as I walk into my first class of the day and stare at the professor in the front of the class. The Physical classroom is much like the general training area: wide-open, high ceilings, weapons racks on either wall, and targets at the far wall, looking battered and bruised. There are low benches for us to sit on, cushions on the benches looking like they've seen plenty of ass imprints in their life.

  Spotting a free cushion next to Wyatt, I head over towards his bench and take a seat. It's already five minutes into class, making me thoroughly late, but Pete doesn't seem to have started his lecture or training or whatever happens here yet. He's talking to two students at the front of the class, expression animated; if it weren't for the fact that he's the one standing behind the desk, I'd think he was a TA or even another student.

  "So, what's the deal with this class? Are we gonna punch walls with our powers or what?"

  Wyatt looks over at my hand before speaking. "So-sometimes. Mostly theory. Some combat."

  "You can take it if you need to."

  I reach out, feeling a little stupid for offering him a part of my body that's still attached to me. Maybe Grayson was right—maybe one of the four killers made stronger by holding my hand will decide they'd rather not have the farting woman attached to it anymore. I can't see Wyatt turning out to be that killer, though.

  "I'm okay." He sends me a tremulous smile. "Class w-will start... soon."

  Biting my lower lip, I nod and withdraw my hand. I get it—just like Grayson, he probably doesn't want to become dependent on me. After all, no one wants to be the guy who can only carry on a conversation while holding Killer Ellen's hand.