Academy of Assassins

by Stacey Brutger

  He waved a hand at her. “No worries, lass. A…” Color filled his cheeks, his tone a bit gruff as he tugged at his shirt collar. “…friend from long ago crafted this mirror. It leads directly to the Academy.”

  Morgan could only nod. Taking a deep breath, she hesitated, not sure how to say goodbye to the old man who meant so much to her. Before she could turn, rough hand settled on her back, helping her along by shoving her through the portal.

  “Goodbye, lassie, and good luck.”

  Stifling her sudden scream, she instinctively brought up her arms and braced for impact. And fell right through the mirror instead. The world around her shifted and spun, shadows darkened her vision, and she realized she was standing inside the void. Clouds drifted in the distance like a school of fish, resembling tiny flecks of shimmering metal. As the shadows began to thicken, she could almost swear something shifted inside the gloom. Before she could investigate further, the runes on her back dug into her skin, the necklace warmed around her throat, and she felt herself tugged toward a bright light.

  She expected her skin to burn as the light engulfed her.

  Instead, she was unceremoniously spit out on the other end of the portal. She tripped, then caught herself, her heavy bag nearly overbalancing her. When she whirled, the giant wall mirror was already fading, giving her one last image of MacGregor standing alone in his study before he vanished. The sigils on the frame went cold as the magic powering the spell drained away, leaving behind nothing more than a giant mirror, her image reflected back at her, her small body almost lost in the gigantic room.

  Turning slowly, she saw a series of steps leading up three stories, the stairs stretching nearly as wide as the room. Ten-foot-wide arched openings were on either side of the room on each level. She couldn’t see the top floor.

  The place was a weird combination of a castle and a school. Despite being deserted, the Academy smelled of teenagers, sweat and hope, hormones and anxiety, and a healthy dose of unrepentant lust. The humidity made her feel like she was breathing in more than air. Even simply standing in the entryway made her skin tingle with the magic imbued into the very stones.

  A light breeze swept through the room, wrapping around her in welcome. She bowed her head as a sense of belonging settled into her bones. The runes relaxed their hold, and tension eased out of her shoulders.

  The peace was shattered when the massive door to her left creaked open. Morgan reflexively stepped into the shadows, hefting her bag higher on her shoulders, not sure what to expect when a group of people entered.

  The kids were obviously students, chatting and laughing animatedly. They walked past her, none of them even acknowledging her existence, allowing her to study them freely.

  Four girls stood out, obviously the leaders of the pack, their pink pastel outfits custom designed. Unable to help herself, her lips curled in disgust. How were they supposed to fight and defend themselves in skirts so short their girly parts were almost showing? Not to mention the material was so thin, it offered no protection from claws and teeth.

  Behind them, the only two guys in the group were hauling at least ten bags of luggage each, struggling to juggle everything and still keep up with the group. One girl noticed the commotion and waved her hand. The two guys carefully set everything down by the door before hurrying to catch up with the others.

  As they began to climb the stairs, a lanky young kid hurried into the room after them, tripping over the luggage left by the door, and sending the baggage flying like bowling pins. The loud clatter caused everyone to turn, and the four girls in the group scowled.

  The kid was beyond skinny, about Morgan’s height, but all arms and legs. As he straightened and looked around the room, his eyes landed on her and he blushed a deep red. “Sorry. Sorry.”

  He jumped and lurched around the scattered bags, nearly tripping again in the process.

  One of the witches whirled to face him. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, wizard? Or can’t you manage even that much control?”

  The kid went white, turning his skin splotchy, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t want trouble.”

  “Of course you don’t. You know you won’t win.” The snide comment was full of malice, spite sparkling in her eyes as the lead girl began to advance on him.

  Morgan waited for the others to protest, someone to stand up for the kid, but they all appeared to be enjoying the show. The two guys stood behind the girls, their attention locked on the floor, and Morgan surmised they were often subjected to the same treatment.

  Morgan waited for the kid to grow a pair, but he shrunk into himself when the four main girls began to circle him like birds of prey.

  “Why do you persist in coming to a school where you don’t belong?”

  Magic built in the air, static dancing along her skin, and the runes began to warm.

  Even as she watched, a red glow engulfed the tips of their fingers.

  When the girls reached out, a spark leapt from their hands.

  The guy flinched, a whimper escaping him. He squirmed, trying to get away, but another girl reached out, shocking him again.

  “Why don’t you defend yourself?” The lead girl smirked. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t have magic. You’re nothing but a wizard. You can only play with spells.”

  Rage burned in Morgan’s gut, her lips curling in dislike, the girls reminding her too much like the witches at the coven.

  She’d put up with it for years before learning to fight back.

  No more.

  “Leave the kid alone.”

  The lead girl paused, her eyes sweeping the room, then locked on her. The rest followed her example. She scowled, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulders, a sneer twisting her face. “Or what?”

  Morgan shrugged out from under the strap of her bag, letting it thunk to the floor, and placed her hands on her hips. “Or I’ll make you.”

  She scanned the group of students to gauge the threat.

  None of them were pure, so it gave her a slight advantage.

  The majority of the females were witches with minor powers. The exceptions were the main four. The rest appeared content to watch.

  She could work with that.

  The blonde snorted, her annoyance clear. “You’re only a soldier, nothing special. You should watch yourself. Your kind are a dime a dozen here, and easy to make disappear.”

  Exactly like the witches at the coven, they saw soldiers as beneath them. And they disliked her even more for confronting them about their bad behavior and ruining their fun.

  It wasn’t her place.

  The blonde lifted a brow in challenge, then shoved the guy so hard he landed on his ass on the floor.

  Something inside Morgan snapped.

  Before she even registered she was moving, she pulled her blades and leapt the distance between them, standing protectively in front of the poor kid.

  The girl stumbled back, her eyes bulging in fear, before quickly regaining her composure. Then her pale blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You’re going to pay for that, bitch.”

  Magic bloomed in the air.

  Morgan dodged the first blow, tightening her grip on her weapons and slowly advancing.

  The group mumbled uneasily and fell back.

  The next spell slammed into her so hard, it stole her breath. Frost skated across her skin, and the runes burned and stretched in reaction. Instead of shattering the spell as they had in the past, the symbols swirled, changed shapes and consumed the magic nipping along her skin.

  When she didn’t freeze solid, the blonde gave a squeak, tripping over her own feet as she scrambled backwards. “Impossible.”

  Morgan was a foot away when the witch screeched one word. “Protect!”

  One of the guys leapt down a flight of stairs, coming to a stop between them.

  A shifter.

  Aggression filled the air, his vicious growl echoing against the stone. His eyes turned a feral shade of yellow, the human in
him completely submerged. Claws tipped his fingers, his fangs were bared, while his predatory eyes tracked her every move.

  “Break her legs.” The blonde straightened, her chin lifted high so she could glare down at Morgan. “Let’s see how well you can hunt when you can’t walk.”

  Morgan automatically dropped into a fighting stance, refusing to retreat, knowing running would only make her look like prey. She met his gaze, refusing to back down, and braced herself for attack, but the small wolf didn’t move.

  To her shock, he lowered his head in submission.

  “What the hell is going on?” the blonde snipped in fury at having her command denied.

  The young guy at her back inched forward, nervously clearing his throat. “The school hires shifters to patrol the grounds. For those who can afford them, they can be contracted as personal bodyguards. Unfortunately, while shifters are dangerous, they can easily lose control. To protect themselves from retaliation, the witches collar them. They have no choice but to obey their masters…unless they meet someone more dominant.” He gazed at her in awe. “Like you. He can’t touch you.”

  Unnerved by his awed reaction, Morgan glanced at the emotionless kid before her, appalled to see his personality completely wiped away, and her lips flattened at the barbaric practice. “They’re nothing more than slaves.”

  She put away her blades and approached the wolf. “I can remove the collar and offer you freedom.”

  Something flickered in his eyes, and the wolf melted down to a young guy once more. Instead of answering, she was completely mystified when he returned to his mistress’s side.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t.” The blonde glared at the wolf, who ducked his head and scurried up the stairs. If he had a tail, it would be tucked between his legs. “What the hell kind of freak are you?”

  Morgan barely resisted flinching. “A mutt.”

  Everyone fell silent and gawked at her.

  “I very much doubt that. No mutt can control a shifter the way you just did.” The guy Morgan rescued stepped to her side, and lifted his chin to indicate the wolves. “The collars are a mark of ownership. It offers protection to the less dominant shifters. They see it as mark of pride.”

  Morgan was appalled. “You’re joking.”

  He shook his head, quickly stepping back when the blonde strutted forward like a ruffled hen, tugging at the bottom of her skirt. “You’re going to regret this. When the headmistress learns you’ve attacked us, you will be kicked out faster than you can draw your weapons.”

  Morgan raised a brow, not intimidated in the least. “She’ll know you’re lying.”

  She appeared generally confused. “It will be my word, along with my friends’, against yours.”

  “She’ll know you’re lying, because if I had attacked, you would be dead.”

  That seemed to take the school’s princess aback, but she quickly recovered and raised her perfectly penciled brow. “You’ll be kicked out of school even before it starts. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “You can try.”

  Blondie scowled, clearly displeased that Morgan wasn’t quaking in her boots. “What do you mean?”

  Morgan pulled out her invitation.

  The girl’s shock made being sent to the Academy almost worth it.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me. They must be desperate if they are dredging the bottom of the barrel for your kind. You’re just another wannabe hunter.” The witch scanned her from head to foot, dismissing her as a persona non grata.

  Morgan nearly laughed at the insult. Her faded and scarred leathers saved her life more than once, and would again. They were stupid if they thought their opinion mattered.

  After spending years trapped at the coven, these girls were minnows compared to the piranha who had tormented her throughout her teenage years.

  She was there for a job, not to make friends.

  She wasn’t a hopeful youth, wishing to be assigned to the best covens. She’d been there, done that, and had the scars to prove it.

  She wasn’t a newbie to be swayed by the fear of being shunned.

  Life outside these walls was not glorious.

  It was blood and guts and death.

  If they wanted to survive, they needed both strength and skills earned through hard work and sacrifice. It wasn’t something they could acquire by bowing and scraping at the feet of snobs.

  To taunt them, Morgan smiled and raised a brow.

  The blonde growled under her breath. She whirled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Come. She’s not worth the effort. Leave her to the hunters. They will eat her alive soon enough.”

  They sauntered off, clearly thinking they won the round.

  Morgan only smiled mockingly at the dismissal, watching the witches scurry after the lead bitch. Morgan wasn’t bothered by the threat. Hunters always thought she was easy prey…until they learned she wasn’t so easy to beat into submission.

  “You’ve made a powerful enemy. She’s going to make your life hell.”

  The kid was painfully lean, and a touch of burnt anger rose from him, along with the sour stench of fear. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. No sense waiting for it.”

  The kid blinked repeatedly as he stared at her. Concerned, Morgan snapped her fingers in front of his face. “You all right? Should I get someone for you?”

  He came back to himself, a blush darkening his cheeks. “No, I’m fine. I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Oh?” Not really curious, Morgan turned away and picked up her bag, intending to get settled in her room and begin her investigation. The sooner she found the killer, the sooner she could get out of there and on with her life.

  “Yes, I’m waiting for a new student.” He pulled a crumpled sheet out of his pants. “Morgan.”

  She stifled a sigh and turned to face him. “You found her.”

  “What?” The word was a squeak, and the girls who reached the top level turned to peer down at them. “That’s not possible. You’re supposed to be a guy. My new roommate.”

  The girls burst out laughing. “Maybe you’ll get lucky having her as a roommate and lose your virginity, Neil.”

  Clearly pleased about getting in one last taunt, they turned away, once again chattering and tittering like a witless flock of birds, their good mood restored as they disappeared down the hall.

  The kid blushed furiously, glancing at his feet, clearly miserable.

  “Why don’t you show me where to store my things, then give me a tour?”

  His head snapped up. “But there’s clearly been a mistake.”

  Morgan wanted to be gone, already missing her solitude at the coven, but stifled her feelings. “From what I heard, the Academy assigns rooms.”

  Neil nodded miserably. “I’ll let the headmistress know about the mistake, and—”

  “But the Academy doesn’t make mistakes.”

  The guy blinked owlishly, his glasses crooked on his face, a lopsided smile quirked his lips. “You’ll stay.”

  She reluctantly gave a nod and watched him race up the stairs, glancing repeatedly over his shoulder to see if she was following, nearly tripping over his feet in the process. “When the others find out that you stood up to Harper, you’ll be a legend. You’re going to love it here.”

  “Great.” Her sarcasm bounced right off him, and Morgan sighed heavily.

  She very much doubted it.

  Chapter Seven

  As they travelled down one hallway after another, Morgan’s curiosity got the better of her. “Where is everyone?”

  Despite herself, she was curious to encounter other hunters. Memories of the soldiers who fought so well at the coven flashed in her mind, and she quickly squashed the spark of excitement. After the confrontation with the witches, she was no longer eager to meet them.

  They would be no different from every other hunter she’d met over the years, very much a product of their upbringing.

  She
would always be considered an outsider.

  The students at the school had been training together for years, the bonds of friendship and loyalty cemented between them, and would not be extended to someone like her.

  Neil peeked at her over his shoulder, possibly sensing her foul mood, then quickly turned around when he found her looking at him. “It’s Sunday, but school doesn’t officially begin for most students until next week. New students and hunters are the exception. You’ll probably need to meet with advisors all week so they can gauge your level of skill.” He smiled brightly. “Students will go through orientation and assessments this week, while hunters start their trials, so the teachers can decide who will be cut and who they will train. The majority of the students will arrive in stages during the week, so it’s not all chaos. A few of the older students will show up early…those who want to get a head start, those who don’t have anywhere else to be, while others come early so no one can usurp their rule.”

  The way his shoulders hunched, she didn’t have to guess the category in which he fell.

  “Are you really here to train as a hunter?”

  Morgan pretended she didn’t see him studying her out of the corner of his eye. She was used to the disbelief. “Yes.”

  He skidded to a stop outside a plain wood door, similar to dozens of others all down the hall. “Then you should know, even if you’re a girl, it’s not acceptable to harm a witch…it doesn’t matter the provocation.”

  Morgan grinned, not caring if her smile wasn’t friendly. “Oh, I’m well aware of the rules. Whatever punishment they want to hand down will be worth it.”

  He shook his head, his voice softening in warning. “No witch will ever hunt with you if you don’t obey them.”

  Realizing he was trying to be helpful, she gentled her smile. “I have no intention of hunting with witches. I don’t trust them to have my back, since they see us as cannon fodder.”

  He gaped like a fish, and she pointed to the door. “Is this my room?”

  He nodded mutely.

  Ignoring him, she pushed open the door. The room was utilitarian—a bed, a wardrobe and a matching desk and chair. An assortment of books was stacked at the edge. Everything was bland, no decorations of any kind. A doorway to the right led to a bathroom, connecting her room to the one next door. “Yours?”