by Avery Cross
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Catacombs
Briar Shroud has gone from foster child to full scholarship at the Academy of Ancients. Cool, right?
Not quite. Her upperclassman mentor Zachary sucks. He’s hot, but he sucks at being a mentor. And a friend. And a person.
Her roommate’s a paranormal, and the whole school is underground and a secret.
Know what else is bad? Briar learns she’s a witch. And a rare type of witch, to boot.
It went from bad to worse—a picture of a sister she’s never heard of appears at the school. A sister she knows nothing about.
And the rules seem hellbent on keeping Briar from learning the truth. And sometimes, it seems other forces would rather not see her alive.
Catacombs
Academy of Ancients
Avery Cross
Contents
Dedication
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
Afterword
Dedication
Dedicated to Zach
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Chapter One
Briar
“You have mail.” Mrs. Brown handed me an envelope the second I walked through the door.
She’d said I could call her Mary when I first came to live with her. I couldn’t call her Mary. How do you call someone a good forty years older than you by their first name? She also once mentioned I could call her Mom. Couldn’t do that either. Being my foster mom for the last few months, that didn’t make her a mom. Not my mom, anyway, no matter how sweet her intentions were meant to be. I didn’t need a mother. At eighteen, I’d made it this far without one, for the most part.
I closed the screen door behind me and entered the semi-dark living room, darkened by the drawn heavy drapes in front of horizontal blinds. Anything to keep the brutal Texas sun from baking the front room and turning it into a convection oven. Summer in Houston, Texas. Always brutal.
I inhaled deeply. Mrs. Brown had been baking. Chocolate, by the scent of it.
She waved the envelope in front of me.
I glanced at it as if it were a rattlesnake. I wasn’t surprised that I had mail. I’d been getting tons of mail. Most of it was rejection letters to the colleges I’d applied to. Applications sent out near the end of my senior year because I tended to play catch up on every aspect of my life. I didn’t know I should have filled out the college applications earlier. I didn’t know a whole bunch about the things that I should and shouldn’t do when it came to life stuff. Things like applying for colleges before the last minute. Taking college aptitude tests early. Taxes. Jobs. Yeah. Lots I didn’t know.
I glanced at the envelope again. It looked like expensive stationery. Looked like the kind of school I couldn’t afford.
Let’s be honest; the only school I could afford would have to be offering me a ton of scholarships and grants. Otherwise, I’d be drowning in student loans and that was not a weight I needed to be added to my plate.
“Thanks.” I forced a smile to my lips as I took it from her.
Mrs. Brown wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “It may not be like the others.”
Right.
I twirled the envelope between my fingers for a few seconds before shoving it between the pages of my British Lit book. Finding out I’d been rejected could wait.
“No, no.” Mrs. Brown plucked it out. “I made chocolate chip cookies. Why don’t you open it while you have some? That way we can celebrate.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn’t have to.
Celebrate—more like commiserate—in the fact that I was rejected, again.
Sure, why not have some chocolate chip cookies and milk to wash down the bitterness of rejection? I hated to say it, but life had made me cynical, apparently much too young for someone my age, according to Mrs. Brown.
I paused. “Where’s Jake?” He would usually be greeting me by now, even if it was just to shout at me from his room.
“Jacob’s running an errand for me.”
Jacob—Jake. My foster brother. He’d been here for a year.
All of Mrs. Brown’s birth children were grown and out of the house and she’d been too lonely without them, so she became a foster mom. Took rejects like me in. I wouldn’t say that about Jake; he was far from a reject. He also had his driver’s license, so that meant he got to borrow her white Hyundai Elantra for her errands and his own. A driver’s license. Yeah, I should have one. But I don’t. There’s a good reason for that.
There’s a good reason for a lot of what’s going on in my life. Or not going, on I suppose.
Jake. The one with good grades. Starting quarterback for Melvin Hahn High School, where we both attended. Jake, the one who got a full ride to Texas State. Texas State and every other school had been courting him hard, wanting him for their team and yadda, yadda, yadda. I liked him, I did, but at the same time, couldn’t he just have one little flaw? Just one time where he messed up, instead of my always being the one that did? Hell, I was lucky to get a high school diploma. What with my bad behavior and all that nonsense. I wouldn’t say I got away with being lazy, or acting out because of my past, but it didn’t hurt either. Everyone expected me to be the bad one.
I simply didn’t see the effort in trying to prove them wrong.
And then there was Jake. Came from a harsh background just like me and he’s the star child. Wish I could say the same for me, what with all my rejection letters, and less than stellar grades, no activities of note on my high school resume, no clubs, nothing. No school wanted to touch a crazy case like me.
Clubs. I cringed just thinking of being stuck in one of those. The only organizations I could belong to would be the “I don’t know who my father is” and “my mother can’t kick heroin” clubs. Too bad there were no formal clubs for those.
There was, of course, the other bonus of having Jake around. He was the guy that made my pulse race and my stomach fill with butterflies. Jake, who’d be leaving for Texas State in a few short weeks and I’d be alone with Mrs. Brown, working at some crappy part-time job until she got sick of me and kicked me out.
I bit back a sigh and traipsed through the living room with its threadbare carpet and sat at one of the mismatched chairs in front of the kitchen table. The distressed wood and cracked tile table had a plate full of cookies, and from the smell of them, they were still warm.
“Where’s everyone else?” I expected to see my other foster brothers and sisters, because who could resist freshly baked chocolate chip cookies anyway?
“Missy’s at basketball practice, catchi
ng the late bus. Renee is at volleyball, also riding the late bus. Jorge and Jose are at a friend’s. They’ll be home later.”
Mrs. Brown had a lot of foster kids. That would explain why she didn’t have new furniture or more money in her savings account. She should be sainted, she’s that awesome. I might be bitter about my own life, but she had nothing to do with that. I heard plenty of horror stories about crappy foster parents and she was far from one of them.
She set a cold glass of milk, condensation building on the outside, on the table at one of the seats. Next to it, she placed the envelope and a sharp letter opener. I smiled at the idea of her letter opener and thought of all the other envelopes I’d mangled while opening them.
Mrs. Brown was so precise.
I picked up the sharp-edged tool and tucked it under the seam of the envelope but paused before I tore into it. I realized I hadn’t read which school would be telling me no this time.
I flipped over the buff-colored thick envelope and read the return address:
SILENT HEIGHTS, PENNSYLVANIA 15021
No school name, no street name, no street number.
The stationary felt fancy, but there wasn’t even an insignia for the college on it. When I flipped it back over again, I noticed the small seal of wax sealing the envelope. I set the letter opener down and ran my fingers over the wax instead. Who the hell sealed letters with wax anymore? The symbol of two crossed swords with an owl in the center wasn’t familiar, but I had applied at just about every school imaginable. They all ran together after a while, but the lack of a name bothered me.
How was I supposed to know what school was rejecting me ahead of time?
Mrs. Pogue, the school counselor, had helped me these last few weeks and I assumed this was one off her list. Never heard of a college sending out letters to students unless they applied. And at last count, we had sent out at least thirty applications, maybe more.
I stopped counting, or caring honestly.
No one wanted me, and it wasn’t anything new in my life.
The sound of a throat clearing reminded me that Mrs. Brown was watching, waiting. Next would come the toe-tapping and fingernail-drumming.
“Alright, alright,” I muttered as I broke the wax seal. “I’m opening it.”
“Just saying, the longer you hold it, the longer you have to wait to eat a cookie. Fingers crossed, hon, this is the good one.”
I wished I could have her confidence, but if life taught me anything it was that I was better off having meager expectations, if I had any at all. I picked at the wax, almost hating to break the seal, but as soon as I opened the flap, I swore a chill wind whipped around the kitchen.
Mrs. Brown hadn’t seemed to notice it.
I frowned. Must’ve imagined it. I pulled out the heavy paper and unfolded it. I read over the greeting and then the next few words. I blinked a few times, not sure I read it right. I closed my eyes, opened them again, and read the same thing.
“It says, Congratulations. I think… I think I just got accepted into a school.”
“Really?” Mrs. Brown peered over my shoulder and whooped. “It does. You got in, Briar. Look at that.”
I wasn’t sure about celebrating yet and read through the entire letter a second time before I searched for the school name. At the bottom was a fancy, looping signature that had not been printed and was hand signed. That seemed odd, but then I glanced at the top of the page and found that symbol again. Words were printed in a fancy, almost unreadable font on a banner running around the two swords. It was Latin… or some other language I couldn’t read.
And beneath that were three words: Academy of Ancients.
“This is a joke, right?” I stated. “What is this place?”
“I don’t know, but it sounds fancy,” Mrs. Brown said with a wink. “And old, very old. Probably some prestigious college that is very far away from Texas.”
“I was hoping to stay in Texas.”
“What for? Hon, this is your chance for a fresh start,” she said encouragingly. “Get you out of this state and away from your past. Take this opportunity and run with it. What’s wrong with leaving Texas anyway?”
I wasn’t sure how to tell her moving out of Texas would take me away from Jake, and he was the closest thing I had to a friend, to a guy I wanted as more than just a friend. That and I’d never left the state before. I grew up here, and I was just going to what, pick up and leave all that behind? For some prestigious school where I already knew I wouldn’t fit in. I was the reject, the outcast. I wouldn’t fit in anywhere. I handed over the letter, so Mrs. Brown could read it as I nibbled at a cookie, pondering my next move, if I even had one.
“Are you sure it says I was accepted?” I wasn’t sure what I was hoping would change, but when she shot me a narrow-eyed look, I shrugged. “What? Just making sure it’s actually me they wanted.”
She patted me on the arm. “You don’t have enough confidence in yourself.”
Bingo, but I didn’t say it aloud.
She went to grab her reading glasses after muttering about not being able to see a damned thing on the paper and slipped them onto her face.
“I must say, that is a very intriguing seal for a college. Very old school.”
I smirked. “Old school?”
“Yes, isn’t that what you kids call it these days?” She was grinning as she said it, and I laughed, trying not to choke on my cookie.
Her lips moved over the words as she read them, finding a chair at the table. When her brow went up, I stopped chewing, worried I had misread it after all, and that something was very wrong with this acceptance letter. She was on the second page, then the third before she nodded, folded up the letter, and tucked it all back into the envelope, a blank look on her face.
“Well?” I finally asked. “Come on, just tell me. It’s not for me, right?”
“No, no that’s not the case at all,” she promised and broke into a beaming smile. “You have a full ride. Everything paid for.”
I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it. “I’m sorry, could you say that again?”
“You have a full ride. You’re going to college.”
She got up out of her chair and rushed around to hug me as I sat there, stunned. I hugged her back, unsure of what else I could do. A paid ride out of this place to somewhere new. I eyed the envelope on the table as if it might come to life and bite me.
Pennsylvania. I was going very far away from home.
That chill wind sent another shiver down my spine, and this time I didn’t imagine it.
Even Mrs. Brown shuddered and glanced around. “Must be the air acting up again. Can’t figure out how cold it needs to be in this dang heat.”
“Yeah, the AC,” I agreed numbly. “I think I’m going to go upstairs and make sure I’m good for my finals this week and all.”
“Take some more cookies with you.” She piled about five more onto a napkin, topped them with the envelope. “I’ll make something special for dinner tonight.”
She hugged me again, nearly crushing the cookies between us, before she let me leave the kitchen. I snagged my backpack and dashed upstairs to my tiny bedroom. Being one of the oldest meant I didn’t have to share; neither did Jake, and I was grateful for it. I tossed my bag on my bed, set the cookies down, and with the envelope in hand sat down at my itty, bitty rickety desk.
“Alright, Academy of Ancients,” I said to myself as I waited for my old laptop to boot up. “Let’s figure out exactly what type of school you are.”
Five minutes later, I was finally able to open a browser window and type in the name of the school. Nothing popped up. I frowned, typing in the name of the town and zip code and still there was nothing. Leaning back in my chair, I was starting to lean toward the notion that this was a prank after all.
Downstairs, I heard the front door open, and Jake’s voice resonated up to me.
I was tapping my fingers on the desk when his steps sounded in the hall followed by a knock. �
��Hey, I hear you have some good news?”
I waved him in over my shoulder, staring with frustration at the computer. “Yeah, check this out.”
I handed him the envelope, and he flopped down on my bed.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the flow of thoughts about this guy, in my room, on my bed. Why did he have to think of me as just a friend? It almost killed me the other day when he said I was the sister he always wished he had growing up. Sister. Just his sister.
Maybe getting out of state would be good for me.
“This looks spiffy.” He examined the envelope before pulling out the letter. “Holy crap. You got in.”
He rushed over to hug me while I was still sitting down, and it took everything I had not to find some way to kiss him, just to see if he would ever think about changing his mind about us.
I resisted, and he let go so he could read the rest of the letter.
“I’ve never heard of this school.”
“Yeah, neither have I and clearly the internet hasn’t either.”
“Really?” He leaned over my shoulder, and I breathed in his cologne. “Huh, that’s weird. You can’t find anything on them at all?”
His grey eyes narrowed at the computer screen, and I imagined a very different scenario happening here. Why did he have to be so damned good looking? With those dimples and that short black hair he gelled every day. And why did it have to be football he played, making him all muscular under his tight t-shirts?
