Broken Destiny

by Serena Lindahl

  Broken Destiny

  Hidden Academy, Book 1

  Serena Lindahl

  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

  About the Author

  Also By Serena Lindahl

  ©2019 Serena Lindahl

  All Rights Reserved.

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

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying or recording without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Created with Vellum

  This book is dedicated to anyone who’s ever been told they aren’t enough or that there’s something ‘wrong’ with their mind or body.

  You are enough.

  You are strong.

  You are valid.

  You have power.

  No one thing, or label, defines you.

  Chapter One

  Zosia

  It isn’t the bell that summons me. It’s Kodi. He drifts into the room just as I’m getting to the good part in my book. He always seems to know the exact time to infuriate me by interrupting my reading. “Someone’s coming, Zo. Recruiters.”

  The watered-down book about the duke and his attempts to woo the impoverished, desperate heroine automatically disappears from my mind. “Human or otherwise?” I ask carefully, examining Kodi’s form as he hovers above my bed. My room is barely larger than a closet. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have a body or he might not fit.

  At that moment, the bell rings, echoing shrilly in my ears. “Otherwise,” Kodi whispers, echoing my fears.

  I consider just staying in my room. If it were humans, I would have. No one ever picks me. I’m too old, too broken, and too sinful - or so the reverend mother tells me before she doles out my punishment. But supernaturals? Every so often, they come here to check us out. I should have known they would return. Magic manifests at different ages, and they want to be certain their kind isn’t rotting within the human system.

  Not that they should care about me. If I had any magic of consequence, I’d fix my legs. I know I’m not fully human, though. There are too many things that happen to me that I can’t explain, and the memories about how my legs got so messed up bubble with magic. To the magical or human world, I’m still disposable. The magicals might accept me, but I have no guarantee there won’t be horrible reasons behind their motives. Past experience and a decade of hiding urge me to run, but of course I can’t.

  Sharing a resigned look with my only friend, I cuff the special braces that help me walk onto my forearms and stomp into the foyer. Thankfully, I received a room on the first floor, even if it is a closet. Mother Mary grumbled about that but couldn’t come up with a good reason for social services why I kept falling down the stairs. They were a bitch to navigate with my crutches, especially when the young kids raced by me and tripped me just for fun.

  I’m a foot taller than every other child waiting in the row. Most of them have their nicest clothes on and fresh faces, meaning they were actually forewarned. Not like I care. I’m relatively happy here. I do my chores, I read every book I can get my hands on, and I disappear from the world for as long as I can get away with.

  The Reverend Mother Mary walks along the line, her stern face set in permanent lines that portray her disgust with every single thing and person on the earthly plane. Those lines only deepen when her eyes alight on me. I know what she sees - an urchin who is far too old for her home, with a surly face and crooked legs. I know she doesn’t want me here, and I know for a fact that she performs selections without telling me. The people arriving must have directed Mary to ensure every single child in the orphanage was gathered, or the bells wouldn’t have rung and I wouldn’t have had to abandon my book. I’d prefer reading about the duke’s seduction of the clueless debutante to being here. Even a crappy romance novel is better than real life, especially if supernaturals are involved.

  When the front doorbell rings, a shiver trails down my spine and I consider running back to my hole. Ever since the supernaturals came out to the humans, they’ve displayed how infiltrated they are in society, making any sort of retaliation by the humans impossible. Some cults still try, saying they’re not pure creatures of God. Their God, of course. I roll my eyes at the rough, planked floor.

  When the figures sweep into the dreary house like they own it, their robes shimmer, and many of the kids ooh and ahh as if we’re at a circus. I resist the urge to roll my eyes again. It’s just fancy tricks. The cloth is designed to refract light. I can’t deny the three figures cut an impressive image, though. They’re all beautiful: the first older than dirt but elegantly refined, the woman could give every actress on television a run for her money with how curvaceously and ethereally gorgeous she is, and the third is a dignified man with a blank face. My hands tighten around my crutches. Despite their pretty faces, these three individuals are predators and hunters.

  I hunch over my braces, exaggerating the way my legs bow together, and a sweep of hair falls in front of my face. I haven’t washed it in days just because I’ve been busy reading, so it works in my favor to make me look more undesirable. I’m not anti-magic like those cults that try to kill off the newly-outed supernatural community, but I don’t want to be noticed by them either. If they do know about me, if they know what I am, will they continue whatever that monster started when I was just a child?

  I’m worried some of the more dreadful rumors are true; it’s the downside of my overactive imagination. What if they actually take crippled humans and grind their bones down for potions? My legs are mostly useless anyway, so it wouldn’t be murder, which is against the peace treaty. Shivers trails along my spine again as the distinguished gentleman’s eyes travel down the line of eager kids. They talk about it all the time, about being chosen by the magical community, or the OSC - Organization of Supernatural Creatures. Of course it’s every unwanted child’s dream: to be more than an inferior, unwelcomed human.

  The ancient man trails his eyes along almost lazily, stopping on Benny. The little monster is only seven, but even I can feel the spark of magic in him that will manifest someday. Those huge, round eyes spark with something wild every time he loses his temper; it’s a dead giveaway.

  The old man gestures to the woman. She stoops in front of Benny with a little cooing noise that makes me want to throw up in my mouth. My neck tingles again, and I raise my head from the gorgeous woman to see the distinguished guy staring at me. I’m tempted to look behind me to see if there’s anything there that catches his attention, but I know I’m the last in line. Dread worms through me. He’s a good-looking man, especially with those slate-gray eyes focused directly on me, but I can’t muster any appreciation. With the way supernaturals age, he’s probably centuries older than me.

  “This one,” the woman says. Her voice i
s like tinkling bells, so cliché I have to hold back a snort before it gives me away. “What’s your name, child, and how old are you?”

  “Benny, ma’am. I’m seven.” He smiles, revealing canines that are sharper than a human’s. The humans can’t see them, because no one else shies away from them like I do. They all think he’s a cute little button of a kid until he loses his temper and shoves his tiny fist through a brick wall. Then, they forget that he even did it an hour later. He and I share an uneasy truce because he knows I can tell what he is. He avoids me and I avoid him. I don’t need to trip headfirst down the stairs. My neck wouldn’t survive.

  “Of course you are,” the woman coos. “Would you like to come with us today?” At this, I do snort. Benny doesn’t really have a choice, but she makes it sound like he does. A few of the kids grumble, irritated they’re not chosen. But they don’t even have a chance. They’re humans.

  The old man’s eyes finally find me and narrow suspiciously. I carefully drop my head, borrowing the picture of submission even though my nerves are ringing with anxiety. I have a good thing here. I can be lazy, do nothing but read, and avoid humanity, which basically sucks. The occasional punishments are easy enough to get through if I have a book waiting for me at the end of the day.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the sweet little monster says. He shoots me a look from the corner of his eye, almost smirking, and I roll my eyes at him. His mouth tightens, but he looks away before he can react. He wouldn’t want to ruin his chances.

  The warning tingles intensify. I glance under my fall of hair to see not one, but two, sets of shiny shoes standing close in front of me. Those shoes look more expensive than every single object in my closet room, perhaps more valuable than anything I’ve ever seen. I keep my head bowed.

  “And who are you?” The soothing voice is like velvet. I clasp my hands around my braces until I can feel the metal biting into my hands. I’ve already caught their attention because I can’t keep my stupid reactions to myself, so I might as well lose their interest. I look up, narrowing my eyes into a scowl. The older man I almost dismiss. He’s only slightly interested, more curious than anything else.

  “What do you have there?” the woman asks as if I’m some trinket the man is looking to buy. He stoops to see my face. His eyes are like a banked fire, a charcoal gray with flashes of brown that come and go so quickly I wonder if I imagine it. His face is a chiseled masterpiece. Do supernaturals have magical plastic surgery?

  The younger man doesn’t answer the woman, but there’s expectancy in his gaze. Something tells me he expected me, and that scares me even though he gives off an almost comforting vibe. “What’s your name? Age?” he asks me, not unkindly. I consider not answering, but I pick my battles. Those facts could be easily found.

  “Zo,” I answer, making sure to inject hostility and indifference into my tone. “I’m eighteen.” Actually nineteen, but the orphanage thinks I’m a year younger. I admit to fudging my age to milk my stay as long as possible.

  The woman has joined the man. She studies me with a sniff, her elegant face portraying expressions I’m so familiar with, I see them in my dreams. Disgust, dismissiveness, indifference. The shape of my body is the sum of all that she sees. She glances at the other man. “Ansel, honestly? I see nothing in this…human?” She says the last word almost like a question, and it offers me no clues on my humanity or lack thereof.

  The younger supernatural, Ansel, straightens to his full height and rubs an elegant hand along his jaw. A ring on his middle finger flashes in the light. The ring’s symbol makes every muscle in my body stiffen. I’ve seen it before. Fear trickles through me, almost foreign. I don’t usually feel it. I’ve erased threats from my life despite my more vulnerable body, or maybe because of it. An ache spreads through my legs, sparking along damaged nerve pathways.

  “I think she would be perfect for an academy position, actually,” Ansel says evenly. His bland tone seems to suggest he’s no longer interested, but I can still see the curiosity sparking in the back of his eyes. My heart speeds up. Whatever this academy is, I want no part in it.

  The woman, however, assesses me in a new light. “Really? Is she intelligent?” She directs the question to Mother Mary and my caretaker opens her mouth to lie. I can see it sitting on the back of her tongue, ready to be revealed, but the young man answers before she can.

  “Very, actually. She seems to have a well-developed sixth sense.”

  “Really?” the woman doesn’t sound impressed. She points at the line of humans. “Okay, child, which one of these kids isn’t human?”

  I fidget with my crutch, wishing I could sit down and ease the ache that’s building in my legs. I usually don’t have to stand in one place for so long at a time. It’s a trick question. She’s already singled Benny out; he’s grinning ferally from beside the beautiful woman. All he needs is a leash. The oldest man appears entirely uninterested, but I can still feel his attention. He’s an expert at masking his feelings.

  “Besides your new pet?” I ask in a surly tone, gesturing to Benny with my brace. The kid snarls, his lip lifting.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” she replies with the right amount of annoyance. When she waves her hand, a different ring winks. A glance toward the older man tells me he wears one too. The symbols are all different. Do supernaturals have a jewelry fetish? Are they branded or marked for a reason?

  My eyes drift down the line. I’ve only seen a couple glimpses, but I’m either wrong or right. Although my wiser self cautions me, I’ll answer truthfully. I have grown bored here. An academy might have a larger library, one with books that I don’t have to sneak in with my dirty laundry.

  I flick my fingers at the girl next to me, an unassuming thirteen-year-old with eyes that are usually glazed like she’s high. I suspect it's because she doesn’t belong in this world. Her body is frail and delicate, breakable.

  “This one.” Rene jumps when I point at her. “Some kind of fairy, maybe? She’s dying here. She needs to go somewhere else.”

  The woman takes a step closer and sniffs the girl next to me. Her eyebrows rise, a deep burgundy that doesn’t appear natural or dyed but matches the perfect hair on her head. “Huh, she’s right. This one needs to be reconnected to the ether. If she’d made it past sixteen, it might have been too late.” She seems to speak almost to herself, and I’m surprised she’s giving away supernatural secrets. Judging by the looks on the other kids’ faces, I’m not sure they can hear.

  “What’s your name, child?” the woman asks the frail being next to me.

  “Rene,” she responds with a delicate, high voice.

  “Rene, we’ll help you feel better. Okay?” The sickly girl looks at me and then back at the woman, who actually speaks with compassion. The girl nods. I’ve only spoken to her once or twice. The wrongness about her is different than Benny’s…unthreatening. But her pain speaks to me, recognizing a kindred spirit. She’s hard to be around, so close to death; I can almost smell it on her.

  “Any others?” Ansel asks, his eyes soft and almost approving.

  I shrug, my hands still around my crutches as I shift my feet to give my muscles a break. “There’s a ghost, too. Other than that, no, unless you think Eldred is a troll. He certainly stinks bad enough to be one.”

  Ansel throws his head back and laughs, and I’m intensely irritated that it makes him more handsome. How is that fair? If I’m not human, couldn’t I at least have gotten the beauty that seems to be the gift of every other supernatural? The kid I motion to sticks out his tongue at me. “Nope, just a dirty human,” Ansel says with a sniff once his laughter fades. He flicks a look at the older man.

  The elegant creature sighs as if he’s irritated with the entire proceedings, but he mumbles a few words under his breath, and the ghost that loves tormenting me drifts through the ceiling and sneers in my direction.

  “Just had to sell me out, huh?” Kodi growls at me. I shrug. I know he isn’t happy here and he likes me. He’ll be bore
d if I leave. No one else can see him.

  “That’s for all the times you woke me up when I was in the middle of a very pleasant dream.” The kids could hear me, but their eyes drift back and forth. They can’t see who I’m speaking to. It’s earned me a reputation - that my mind is as ruined as my legs.

  Kodi isn’t unattractive if I overlook the pasty whiteness of non-corporeal plasma. His hair is just a shade darker than his skin, more gray than white, but his eyes are eerily silver. He’d died when he was about my age, and his muscles are still impressive. I guess ghosts don’t waste away. He’s been my only friend here, and I’m selfish. If I have to go, I want him with me.

  The older man flings a hand into the air and a strange item settles around Kodi’s neck. The ghost floats slowly to the floor, and he almost seems halfway solid as his feet land on the planks instead of sinking through. He looks at the wood underneath him and then at the old man. “Can you make me into a real boy?” Sarcasm colors his tone.

  The old man shakes his head. “Unfortunately not, but I’ve bound you to come with us.”

  The ghost whines. “But I like haunting these humans. They’re all so riddled with pain and despair. It only takes a second to turn them into sniveling messes.”

  I almost laugh at Kodi’s teasing. He rarely turns any of the other orphans into a sniveling mess. He’s actually kind of sweet to the kids that can’t see him, but he’s scared the shit out of Benny on multiple occasions. Benny snarls at him, spit flying from his lips. The woman frowns at the kid and places a hand on his head as if he’s a dog that needs taming.