Moonstone Academy: Year One: A Mayhem of Magic World Story

by Nicole Zoltack

  I’m the only Aline here, and that’s fine. I’ll survive for as long as I can.

  That’s all anyone can expect from me.

  That’s all I expect from me.

  For whatever that’s worth.

  Chapter 4

  Robb

  I start to head back toward the tiny castle where I live with who knows how many other students when a group of four werewolves start to head my way. I grit my teeth, ready for a rumble, but as they clearly come toward me, they stop to shout and beat up and bully a few of the others.

  Clearly, they think they’re some kind of tough crowd or something, but I’m not impressed. Not at all. They can pretend that beating others up makes them tough, but that’s not the case. If you want to be tough, just be tough. It’s as simple as that.

  The ringleader is tall, maybe six feet, but that means I still have four inches on him. I eye him, and he stares back at me.

  “You seem to know how to carry yourself,” he says, lifting his chin.

  “You care why?” I ask, cutting right to the chase.

  He laughs, and when he glances at his friends, they all laugh too. Pathetic.

  “You were able to hang with Professor Rockhound from what we hear.”

  "So I'm not the only one to face that particular brand of punishment from him, huh?" I ask.

  “No, you aren’t special,” the leader spits out, his gray eyes turning dark, almost as dark as his black hair, “but maybe you can be. You’re the only Aline here, aren’t you?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  He juts his thumb toward his chest. “I’m Jagger. Roald Jagger.” He pauses like that should mean something to me.

  It doesn’t.

  “I’m the only Jagger here,” he growls. He points to a guy with brown hair and eyes. “That there is Decker Winds. Only Winds here.”

  It seems Roald is determined for me to learn all of their names, and I cross my arms and wait for him to finish.

  “I’m Elliot Snowblood,” pipes up the blond-haired, brown-eyed werewolf.

  “Let me guess?” I ask dryly. “You’re the only… No.” I narrow my eyes. “You aren’t the only Snowblood here.”

  Elliot blinked a few times. “I’m not the only one,” he admits. “How…”

  “And you?” I direct my question to the only female in the group.

  “Nia Forge.”

  When she nods, her short brown hair falls forward, some strands sticking to the corner of her tight mouth. Her eyes are a cold blue, and if anyone should be the leader of the group, I think it should be her because there’s a haunting deadness in her eyes that Roald lacks. The others aren’t as rough as they like to think they are, as they pretend to be, but Nia? She’s the real deal. She’s either seen something or experienced it. Maybe her scar isn’t visible like mine, but I’m willing to bet she has at least one.

  “Only one?” I ask her, wondering if she feels the same nothingness I do.

  She nods again.

  “As you can see, we don’t all have solid packs,” Roald says. He lifts his chin, looking every bit as happy as a peacock. “We’re trying to form our own.”

  I close my eyes a moment, so I won't roll them. "That so?"

  “Yes.”

  It’s not as easy as he’s making it out to be. They might be the only ones of their packs here, but I doubt they’re all orphans, which means their parents are alive. For the most part, werewolves tend to date werewolves, although a few do date and even marry humans. They’ll have to leave every month or so to hide transforming into a wolf. You have to. Our bodies, our natures… We have no choice. We can’t abandon our wolf, or else we risk abandoning our sanity.

  And because of their parents, that means they aren’t in a pack of one. That also means it’s not so simple to make a new pack for the lot of them to join. For that, they would need a true alpha, and that’s not Roald, as much as I’m sure he thinks it does. It’s probably not Nia either. An alpha needs to feel emotions, to have empathy and strength and compassion or ruthlessness when necessary.

  “Can you guess who the alpha would be?” Roald asks.

  I shake my head. “I just met the lot of you. I can’t possibly know.”

  Roald’s nostrils flare. “You can’t make a guess?” he demands, his voice growing tight, harsh.

  “I can if you twist my arm behind my back, but unless you do that, I don’t feel the need to.” I shrug.

  Roald glowers at me, and I swear Decker and Elliot step closer to me as if they’re going to grab me so my arm can be twisted, just like I said.

  “Can it, Roald,” Nia snaps. “We all know you want to be head honcho, but that’s not in the stars for you.”

  “You and the stars,” Roald bites back. “You act as if the stars can tell the future.”

  “You know that’s true!”

  “You aren’t a fairy! You can’t read the stars!”

  “Fairies aren’t the only ones who can!”

  “Doesn’t matter. You can’t!”

  "Yet, you don't want me to see what the stars have seen for you." Nia gives a cold, chilling smile. "Are you so sure I haven't?"

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Roald says, his words almost growls.

  Nia laughs, but the sound is without mirth. She really is chilling. "If you don't think I can, then why are you so nervous? You think that just because we're all here that we're going to be willing to listen to you, let you decide what we do? That's not how it works, Roald. We're here because we want to be, but it's not because of your say so."

  “You want to be here because I can lead—”

  “You can’t lead,” Decker cuts in.

  “Why not?” Roald roars, rounding on the blond.

  “You aren’t…”

  “I’m not what?”

  I lean back slightly, arms still crossed. This was somewhat amusing at first, but it’s starting to grow wearisome. I don’t care much at all about their bickering, and I don’t think I want any part of this supposedly rough crowd of loners. They can’t even be true lone wolves. They have to be together, and no, that doesn’t make them a pack. It makes them a mockery of what they claim to be.

  “You aren’t alpha material,” Elliot speaks up.

  “And how would you know?” Roald snaps. “You want to leave your alpha, or isn’t that what you said?”

  Elliot flares his nostrils and inhales deeply. “I…”

  “Leave him be,” I say mildly.

  Roald’s gray eyes flash. The werewolf has a lot of emotion in him, too much emotion if you ask me. The amount of anger he has inside of him makes me wonder if he might be able to make it as an alpha after all. A terrible alpha at that, but an alpha nonetheless.

  An alpha isn’t just something related to blood. It’s something much deeper and stronger than that. Not all alphas are good ones, but the ones that are the strongest are the ones who truly care about their people and will do anything for their pack.

  It’s clear to me that none of the ones here are capable of being a good alpha. They’re all too self-serving, too ambitious, too egotistical. They aren’t even friends. How can they even contemplate being together in a pack? The idea is ludicrous.

  “Who are you telling to leave be?” Roald asks me.

  "Maybe I'm telling all of you," I challenge, "and by leave him be, I mean me. I'm not here to listen to you all squabble about who should be alpha. Who cares? There's no pack to be had here."

  “You don’t even know us,” Roald snaps.

  “And I don’t want that to change,” I return.

  Roald then does the craziest thing.

  He doesn’t take a swing at me.

  He doesn’t kick me, grab me, or anything like that.

  No, he throws back his head, and he roars with laughter.

  “I knew I liked you!” Roald says. “You’ve got something about you that I really appreciate.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You speak your mind. Not many people are w
illing to do that to me.”

  “I do it all the time, but you don’t listen to me,” Nia says in a tone that makes a shiver go down my spine. If I have to guess, she’s not going to tolerate that from Roald much longer. She wants respect, and she’s going to get it even if she has to carve it from your carcass.

  I’m never going to talk to her if I can help it.

  As if to prove her point, Roald ignores her and goes to drape his arm over my shoulders, but I stiffly move out of the way. Undeterred, Roald declares, “You can be one of us if you want. I suggest you accept our generous offer. There are some students here who don’t like newcomers. We can protect you.”

  “I’m sure I don’t need protection,” I say dryly.

  Roald grimaces.

  Decker snorts. “He’s got a point. No one’s going to mess with him.”

  “How’s the other guy lookin’?” Elliot asks, jutting his chin up toward my eyes.

  I bare my teeth, unamused. “A lot worse than this.”

  The guys all hoot and holler at that, but I’m still feeling antsy and anxious to get rid of them. I don’t care for their big talk or their negative energy. I don’t feel much, but that they’re radiating this much is saying something, and it’s not saying anything good.

  “What do you want to do?” Decker asks. “I was thinking about skipping class. My wolf wants out.”

  “You let your wolf out too much,” Elliot says. “You’re liable to never turn back.”

  “Whatever. You’re just jealous that the last time we went hunting, I stole that rabbit kill out from under your nose.”

  “You’re just lucky the rabbit didn’t have worms,” Elliot hisses.

  “Boys, boys,” Nia admonishes. “We all know you both have fleas.”

  Elliot had been caught scratching his head right as she said that. He stops and scowls at her. “I don’t have fleas!”

  She just smirks.

  I slide a step away from Elliot and Decker.

  Nia’s smirk only grows.

  Roald claps his hands. “I’m sure Robb here doesn’t want to be late to all of his classes today. We should let him get to it.”

  “How generous of you,” I say dryly.

  “What do you have next?” Roald asks.

  “Compass sense and then predator instinct.”

  “Of course.” Roald grimaces. “I have predator instinct next, not last.”

  “It seems like a waste of a class,” I remark.

  “I bet you think the same of wallcrawling,” Nia says.

  “Maybe.”

  “All of the classes are worthwhile. Don’t listen to them. They disagree because they don’t bother to pay attention, but I do. I know what’s what.”

  “And what’s that?” I ask as the guys complain in the background about her assessment.

  “That there’s always more to learn.”

  “As far as…”

  “As far as ways to better your chances of survival.” She purses her lips. “You obviously know that only werewolves attend Moonstone Academy, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has anyone told you about our rival?”

  I shake my head. I didn’t want to engage in a long talk with her, but right now, I’m a bit curious, and also, I don’t want to get on her bad side. So far, just about everyone I’ve talked to today, I’ve fought with, managed to pick a fight with, and I’m hoping the rest of the day will go a bit smoother.

  “Blood Haven Academy,” Roald cuts in. “Any guess what attends there?”

  “Bloodsuckers,” Decker cuts in.

  “Vampires,” Elliot adds unnecessarily.

  “Isn’t that just peaches and cream?” I mutter.

  "You ever see a vampire up close before?" Roald asks me.

  “Yes,” I say evenly.

  They all, even Nia, try to pry more out of me about that, but I just depart and head off to my next class. I never did eat a single bite, but that’s the thing. Like I said, I don’t feel anything at all anymore, and that includes hunger. I’m never hungry, and I only eat at most two meals a day. I don’t drink much either, but I don’t drink blood. I’m not a vampire. I’m just a werewolf.

  A cursed werewolf.

  Chapter 5

  Bellanore

  The moon is glorious and splendid, a regal red in color this night, and I stare out my window at it, appreciating the sight when my phone rings in the dark, thundering tones of the opera song my dad picked out as his ringtone.

  “Hello, Dad. What do you need?”

  “Is that any way to address your dad?” he asks.

  “I asked for one weekend off, just one, only this one, and you still called me, and I have a feeling it’s because you decided to change your mind.”

  “Have I been known to do that?”

  "To change your mind to suit your will? Hmm, let me think." I tap a finger to my cheek even though he can't see me. "Yes, yes, you have. Many times, in fact."

  Dad roars with laughter. “Yes, how perfectly demonic of me.”

  I giggle. “You know that’s not a demon trait. Most everyone will do anything that suits them and their purposes. So, what purpose do you want from me?”

  “You don’t have anything this weekend, do you?”

  “Are you trying to insinuate that I don’t have a life?” I demand.

  “Well, you do come home to see me every weekend. You are most attentive to my lessons, and you don’t mention many friends at all. I assume you don’t have a boyfriend because you know better than to start dating without my meeting and approving him first.”

  “Dad! This is not the Middle Ages!”

  “Maybe not,” he grunts, “but call me old-fashioned. I want to know any gentleman who wants to court you.”

  “No one courts anyone anymore,” I tell him, half-exasperated.

  “They should,” he grumbles. “Courting is better than dating and that Netflix and chill? You are never doing that, young lady, do you hear me?”

  “You really know how to set ground rules like a strict parent,” I say. “What about going with the fly, going with the flow, letting your hair down…”

  “You can let down your hair, all right, so long as your clothes are on,” he says firmly.

  “Wow. Okay, then.”

  “But there is no guy.” He pauses. “Is there?”

  I heave a sigh. “No, Dad.”

  “Good.”

  “You want me to be an old maid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really, Dad?”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “Yes, I actually can.”

  He laughs, and I grin. Why can’t Mom ever see this side of Dad? He’s a demon, yes, so he’s fire and brimstone when he’s furious. He doesn’t get mad. He bypasses mad and will be livid, infuriated, irate, all of that. He’ll kill people who wrong him, and he will seek revenge. There’s no mistaking what he is, but he’s not evil. Not all the time at least, and he’s stopped killing without a reason long ago.

  “My question is whether or not you asked specifically for this weekend to be off,” Dad says.

  “You want me to come home now for a lesson and switch my weekend off to another one.”

  “Precisely. Unless there’s a dance or other school event?”

  “No. I just wanted to enjoy the blood moon.”

  “Oh, well, you know, you can do that here because guess what? You can see the blood moon here too!” Dad gasps.

  I gasp too. “No way. The moon there is red too?”

  “It is!”

  I burst out laughing. “Fine. I’ll come home now. I’ll be there—”

  “You can always teleport.”

  Startled, I suck in a breath. I’ve teleported short distances before, always with Dad’s supervision. Teleporting this large of a distance is a lot more complex.

  And it’s also a demonic power, not a werewolf ability.

  “You can do it,” he encourages.

  “Are you home?” I ask. I bite m
y lower lip.

  “No, but I can leave a map for you on the table.”

  There are a few ways he can do this. Teleport back to the house to do it and then leave again. Manipulate across the world to affect the map and put it on the table. Or… I’m sure there might be another way or two that he can handle it. Maybe astral projection.

  “Where are you?” I ask suspiciously.

  “You’ll find out. You can see where I am on the map and then teleport again.”

  Panic sets in, and I grip my phone almost tight enough to crack the case. “Dad, I don’t know if I can handle teleporting to a place I’ve never been before. That’s—”

  “Advanced, yes, but you’re my daughter. I know what you can handle.” He pauses again. “Do you trust me?”

  “Trust has to be earned, Father.”

  “Oh! Ho! So I’m Father now, am I? And what exactly have I done that would make you not trust me?”

  I blow out a breath. "You think too highly of me."

  “You don’t think highly enough of yourself. You can do this,” he repeats, and I sense an undercurrent of desperation in his voice.

  My dad. Desperate. Hmm.

  Now, I’m intrigued.

  Curiosity isn’t always a good thing, but I’ve been curious about my dad and his dealings for a long while now. He doesn’t let me know anything about any of his businesses, and I think it’s far past time for me to learn about all of the pies he has fingers in. He has crumbs all over his face all of the time—not literally, of course—but he won’t actually give me any details.

  It makes me feel left out. It’s the biggest reason why I can’t say he’s my favorite parent. Mom holds back because I’m part-demon, but Dad holds back too in different ways.

  It’s beyond infuriating.

  While I don’t know why he wants me to return home right this very moment, I’m willing to if it means I might learn something that he’s been keeping from me for a very long time.

  “Maybe I can. Maybe I can’t.”

  “Do or do not.”

  "Dad, you don't have green skin," I say, picturing the little green Jedi my dad is quoting. Yoda is as far from my dad as possible.