Shadowblade Academy 1: Darkness Calls

by KC Kingmaker

  Charli and I sat on the outskirts so we wouldn’t draw attention. “We’ll stay in the shadows, if you will,” Charli said with a wink.

  My eyes found Sunny Conway in the distance, across the room where he was surrounded by adoring fans. He held court, hands gesticulating, with Genevieve Jade giggling at everything he said. Dax and Venn were nearby, not paying him much attention, their eyes focused on the empty stage.

  It wasn’t long before a robed figure walked out from behind a black curtain that hid the other half of the auditorium from view.

  The man behind the green curtain? I wondered. Everyone went quiet and rushed to their seats. Even Sunny nudged his chin to the stage and sat, cutting his tale to his friends short.

  The robed man wore the regalia of Shadowblade Academy, with the mask-and-dagger symbol etched onto his beautifully embroidered mantle. He was thin, with a long white beard that swept across his chest. He reminded me of an ancient wizard from fantasy books. He hit the stereotype well, complete with weathered skin and an indifferent expression on his face.

  He began without preamble once he reached the center of the stage. His hands folded together and he looked out at the sea of young faces. I wondered if he was reminiscing back on his own time as a Shadowblade Academy student, when he was one of those adoring faces staring up at his own future.

  “I am Headmaster Alaric Cane. Welcome to Shadowblade Academy.” He had a wispy voice, like a breeze blowing through a swampy willow tree. It was exactly what I expected from an ancient mage.

  “The majority of you are Ghosts, which is what we call cadets, or first-year students. The others in attendance simply must like to hear me talk.” A few eyes glanced at faces like Sunny’s and Genevieve’s, and the two of them let out hollow chuckles. Judging by the looks on their faces, they didn’t like being called out.

  Good point, Al. If they’re not first-year students, why the hell are they even here?

  “If you’re in this room, listening to me drone on, it means you’ve passed your initiation trial. Congratulations.” There was a small smattering of whoops and claps among pockets of students, but Headmaster Cane shut them up with a stern glare. “This first semester at Shadowblade Academy is your Ghost-year. If your merits prove you worthy, you’ll become Phantoms. It’s our little way of keeping a hierarchy in order. Your professors will get you up to speed on other terms you’ll hear across the Academy. I’m here to welcome you in a broader sense.”

  I gulped as he paused. He said if our merits prove us worthy, we’ll advance . . . but what if we aren’t proven worthy? What happens to us then? He conveniently left that part out.

  “Supernatural beings are powerful,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Sometimes too powerful. Especially for our human . . . allies.”

  The way he hesitated before saying “allies” made me shiver. The headmaster gave me the creeps. He also hadn’t moved an inch since beginning to talk. He wasn’t a pacer like me.

  “That’s where Shadowblade Academy comes in. We train the people responsible for stopping the dissident, malcontent supernaturals that wish to use their abilities to cause harm. Our philosophy is one of balance: We make sure the scales do not tip in an unfavorable way.”

  Headmaster Cane had everyone in rapt attention. I had no idea how often he’d recited this speech, but it made me feel nervous and enlightened at the same time.

  “We are the last line of defense against dark powers, Ghosts.” He nodded along with himself, his head finally beginning to slowly swivel from left to right across the student sea. “We work in the shadows, and often use dark powers ourselves. Sometimes we must fight fire with fire, you see, to have any chance of maintaining equilibrium among our kind.”

  The headmaster’s head tilted forward, his eyes piercing into the students at the front row, no doubt sending shudders through them. “Many see us as traitors among our own kind. If we are to keep this uneasy truce between humans and supernaturals intact, we take the hard, necessary path. We don’t do it for accolades or rewards, but for fairness and balance. Do you understand?”

  My throat was dry as I answered, my voice a single monotone utterance among the other hundreds of monotone utterances in the room: “Yes, Headmaster.”

  “Good. During your stay at Shadowblade Academy, you will be asked to do things you won’t want to do; things that may go against the grain of your character. You will be pushed in ways you’ve never been pushed before. But the majority of you asked to be here, and we only take the best of the best.”

  Guess I’m part of the silent minority in that, eh?

  “You wished to be here, which is why you applied after your undergraduate studies at Briarwitch, Banehearth, or any of the other supernatural academies. You didn’t want to become magical accountants or wealthy CEOs. You were chosen because you showed a spark of something different from your kinsfolk. Something . . . less predictable and more malleable. Wicked, even.”

  After he made a few students gasp with how hard he said “wicked,” he paused and unfolded his hands.

  “You will learn to hone that wickedness and turn it into something useful. A weapon for the greater good. If you cannot learn to hone that fire, you will be stopped, just like the very people we are trained to stop. Perhaps by your peers. Perhaps by your best friend.”

  His little spiel put everyone on edge. Suspicious eyes moved left and right from the cadets around me, as if debating which friend would backstab them. If nothing else, Headmaster Alaric was a master of scaring the shit out of people. I was not immune to that—the longer he explained the Academy’s purpose and what we’d be doing, the more I wanted to bail. Every fiber of my being was telling me to get out of Shadowblade Academy while I still had the chance.

  But I don’t have the chance, do I? They’ve already said as much: I can’t leave. I clamped my jaw and steeled myself. No, I came here for a reason. To find Myria. I intend to do that. I can’t let this Gandalf lookalike scare me into submission. I’ll do things my own way.

  The headmaster seemed to be winding down, and thank God for that. His entire audience looked tense as hell, shoulders stiff and postures rigid. Only Sunny, Dax, Venn, Genevieve, and a few others I spotted seemed relaxed and took everything in stride. Then again, they’ve all been through orientation before.

  “As you can undoubtedly see,” Headmaster Alaric said, twisting his hands, “trust is hard to come by here. It is earned. For that reason, you must begin your studies selfishly. In it for yourself. You will learn to trust actions rather than words or intentions. These things might sound counterintuitive to your nature, but in the end, the best of you will become true shadowblades . . .”

  I gulped as he trailed off. He didn’t smile at the students after his solemn proclamation, or give any reassurance whatsoever. He simply glided the way he’d come in, behind the curtain, leaving everyone stunned.

  I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to clap or hoot or boo. No one did anything for a long, extended moment, until Sunny and a few of the older classmen stood and started heading for the aisles.

  “Goddamn,” I said to Charli once we were standing. “That man is intense.”

  She nodded profusely. “I didn’t know what to expect, but I know it wasn’t that.”

  “He painted shadowblades as some kind of supernatural police force. Is that what we’re training to be, Charli? Freaking cops? Because I really don’t like the sound of that.”

  “What if we got magical batons?” she asked, bobbing her eyebrows.

  “Okay, that would be pretty sweet.”

  We reached the main hallway, ducked out into the mass of exiting students, and managed to leave Grimmer Hall without drawing attention from my rivals.

  “It’ll be okay, Coralia,” Charli said once we got outside. Her optimism was as surefire as ever. It felt nice to be out in the sun, away from the darkness of that musty auditorium. I could feel my spirits lifting already.

  No wonder that place is called Grimmer Hall, man. It’
s grim as fuck!

  “We’ll have to stay by each other’s side,” she said, giggling and nudging her shoulder against mine.

  Bruce hissed as he wobbled on his perch—my shoulder—and I laughed. “Sounds like a plan, Charli.”

  She took my hand in hers and started pulling me in a random direction. “Now come on! Let’s get your syllabus, books, and see what classes we have together!”

  Chapter 11

  Coralia

  IT WAS MY FIRST DAY of class and I was more nervous than a bimbo in stilettos strutting over a sewer grate.

  I had my books, a backpack, and a small, furry feline stuffed in said backpack. I didn’t trust Genevieve Jade, which meant I wasn’t about to leave Bruce Kittenson unattended in our dorm room.

  Sure, Genevieve had class also, but who knew when she might pop into the room with the sole intent of terrorizing my tireless protector? I couldn’t leave Brucey to fend for himself while I was at class.

  Luckily, Genevieve hadn’t stayed in the room the night before—probably bumping uglies with Sunny again—so I managed to get some good sleep. I’d have no complaints if those two buttholes kept each other company all semester long, because it meant their attention wasn’t focused on me.

  I left the top of my backpack unzipped as I hiked down a winding, stone footpath to my first class. Brucey had his little head popped out of the backpack hole, inspecting everything around us with the pure indifference God only gifted cats.

  My first class was called Alchemy. Pretty self-explanatory. We’ll probably be dealing with chemistry and potions and math. I’m game. After that, if I survived, was Physical Intent, whatever that meant. Then Shadow Manipulation. Shadowwalking rounded off my schedule.

  I couldn’t wait for the last two. I wanted to dive into the nitty-gritty of what it meant to become a shadowblade.

  Headmaster Cane’s school-wide speech from the day before had rattled me. It played rent-free in my head. I figured the ominous lecture had been intentional, so he could separate the wheat from the chaff. That didn’t make his words any less foreboding.

  The stone path led through the lush, green park, which was filled with willow trees and ponds. A few students schmoozed around the romantic, secluded spots, apparently deciding that ditching their first day of class in favor of trying to get laid was sensible.

  The park dragged on forever. When I finally emerged out of the foliage, the sun made its first appearance of the day, cutting through the clouds overhead. It was a brisk day and the sun’s rays added some much-needed warmth to my bones.

  I checked my academy-provided map and walked into a clearing filled with the same nondescript white buildings I’d seen my first night. When I thought I pinpointed the correct building, I held the map over my shoulder and said, “What do you think, Mr. Kittenson?”

  He purred in my ear.

  I nodded firmly. “Right. Agreed.”

  I watched from afar as students funneled into the various buildings. We were in the southern quadrant of the school, where the first-year classrooms were located. I knew I was in the right place because other students looked pale, tired, and generally as anxious as me when they entered the buildings.

  I took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing, Brucey. Keep a low profile, okay?” Stuffing the map away in a side pocket of my bag, I instinctively pulled my black-and-red checkered skirt down to my knees and flattened it to make myself presentable, then clutched the straps of my backpack for dear life.

  I shouldered into a couple students as I entered the building. Jeez, does no one here have any concept of personal space? I thought, irritated. Headmaster Cane’s words from the day before replayed in my head: “Begin your studies selfishly. In it for yourself.”

  I continued to my class and stood outside, mentally preparing myself. Charli had the same class, which gave me comfort. What I didn’t know was whether bullies like Genevieve or Sunny were in there, and that gave me pause.

  Eventually, I put on my big girl panties and pushed my way into the room. I can’t let them dictate my life or scare me. Momma didn’t raise no bitch. I mean . . . momma didn’t raise me at all, really, but the sentiment stands.

  A wave of welcomed heat washed over me as my eyes took in the room. Tables were set up for standing, with scarcely any chairs. Students stood around the tables, two to a table. Test tubes and measuring equipment littered every surface.

  Ah, yes. Alchemy. It looked exactly like a high school chemistry class, which had me letting out a sigh of relief. At least it’s something I’ve seen before. I’d been worried I’d be met with severed wolf’s paws or dragon heads or some morbid shit.

  My eyes scoured the room until I found Charli near the center of class. She waved at me enthusiastically, a big grin on her face. It was physically impossible not to smile back. My smile fled when I noticed a few students giving me grueling stares, and I thought of Headmaster Cane’s speech again. I really hope Charli’s innocence and sweetness don’t screw her. I don’t think she has the word “selfish” in her vocabulary. Honestly, she looked and acted like a bully’s perfect prey. If the high-school-looking classroom was anything like high school itself, I knew she would probably be in for a world of hurt.

  I’ll protect her as best as I can, I vowed right then and there. Then I moved to the empty spot at her table and stood behind a myriad of tubes and equipment.

  Charli winked. “Glad you found it, Cor Cor. I was starting to get worried.”

  I raised a single brow, smirking with amusement. “Cor Cor, huh?”

  She blanched, eyes widening. “Oh no, is that not okay?”

  I chuckled. “No, no, it’s fine. I just haven’t heard that one before. It’s cute.”

  Pink flushed her freckled cheeks and her terrified expression morphed into a shy, happy one. I suspected she couldn’t hide her emotions even if she had a gun to her head. My cynical ass pegged it as an immediate weakness in a place like this. Then again, I only have a dickbag and a twatwaffle to go off of. Maybe the other students aren’t all bad here. The looks I’d been getting so far didn’t give me much hope.

  “Why do you look unhappy, Cee Cee?” Charli asked with a tinge of sadness.

  I realized I was frowning and got rid of it. “Oh, it’s nothing. Let’s stick with Cor Cor, yeah?”

  She giggled. “Okay, chief, my bad. Thought I’d give other ones a try.”

  Her expressive eyes grew large in her head as she faced the front of the class. I followed her gaze. A woman entered from the side door and swept in, stealing all the oxygen in the room. The quiet chatter shut down immediately as she took her spot at the front of the class.

  She strutted with utter confidence, her long black overcoat swishing against the backs of her knees. Her dark hair was tied in a ponytail over one shoulder, and she was tall as hell with an impressive physique. The clicking heels she wore made her calves look like they’d been carved by Ancient Greek sculptors.

  I was impressed before she even opened her mouth. She was attractive and maybe in her thirties—at least in human years. You could never accurately guess in a place like this.

  I had expected the professor of a science class to be a bespectacled old hag or stuffy, tweed-sweater-wearing dude with a combover. I had not expected Serena freaking Williams.

  “Welcome, Ghosts. I’m Frilly Hawkins. Professor Hawkins to you. I’ll let you know if you’re doing well enough in class to start calling me Frilly. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  The fast-talking professor stood behind a raised table similar to ours. I was getting a no-nonsense vibe out of her, mixed with a hint of sass from the way she called us out right from the get-go.

  “This is Alchemy,” she said, then flipped her ponytail over the opposite shoulder. “If you don’t recognize that word, you’re in the wrong class. Even if you do recognize that word, you still might be in the wrong class.”

  No one said a thing. We all just blinked.

  “That was a joke.”

  Stude
nts chuckled nervously. There were about thirty of us, which made the wave of staccato laughter sound choked, like we were being tortured by our least favorite uncle’s Thanksgiving jokes.

  “Hm. Tough crowd.” Professor Hawkins slid to the side of her table with the beakers and test tubes neatly arranged. “Once my TA gets here, we can begin.” She glared at the door as if its very sight offended her. “She’s late.”

  She glanced up to the sea of rigid students. If all of us had come in here feeling nervous, Frilly Hawkins wasn’t doing a damn thing to alleviate those nerves.

  “Can anyone tell me why alchemy might be important to a shadowblade?” she asked.

  No one responded, everyone’s eyes veering to the student to their right or left.

  “A raised hand will suffice. I won’t bite.”

  Charli hesitantly raised her shaky hand, and I nearly gasped aloud. Maybe I was wrong—she’s got bigger balls than me!

  “Yes?” Professor Hawkins said. Every eye in the room swung in our direction and I felt my cheeks burning, which meant Charli’s were probably volcanic.

  “Um . . . poison?” Charli squeaked.

  “Excellent. Among other things, like healing, recovery, salves. But first and foremost? Poison. Shadowblades don’t do a lot of healing, but they do a fair amount of incapacitating and killing.” Hawkins nodded firmly. “Your name?”

  “Charli, ma’am. Um, Charli Fairfax.”

  The professor cocked her head slightly. “Charli Fairfax. I like it. Sounds like an Old Western name.” She gave herself a humorless chuckle. “Charli Fairfax, you’re my new favorite student. You can call me Frilly.”

  A few gasps filled the air, probably from the more scholarly ass-kissing bunch in the room who had hoped to be the teacher’s pet.

  “Yay! Really?” Charli squeaked.

  “Yes.” The professor clicked her tongue. “Until someone else tops you and steals the accolade. Do you understand, Charli Fairfax?”

  Charli gulped. “I think so, Professor, erm . . . Frilly.”