An ominous silence fell over the group, and my gaze traveled back to the claw marks on Brady’s neck.
I had to know. “Is that where you got those?”
He didn’t even bother to look up at me. “Got lucky.”
The twins were moonkissed, Carlo was nightblood, and Brady was … feyblood. We all healed fast, but Master Hyde had scars, and the wound on Brady looked fresh.
I set my mug on the counter. “The wounds never heal completely, do they?”
Brady did look up at me now. His jaw ticked, but it was Lloyd that answered.
He lifted his shirt to showcase claw marks across his abdomen—neat, pale scar tissue.
“Scars are better than being dead,” he said. He dropped the edge of his shirt. “Go get fed. You’re going to need it.”
“Sector one?” Carlo asked, brows raised.
“Yeah,” Lloyd said. “Orientation for the newbies.”
Aidan threw back his coffee. “Yeah, you’re going to need a full stomach for that.”
They stood as one as if they’d practiced it, and padded toward the corridor to the second-year dorms. It was only as they were vanishing around the corner that their footwear registered.
They were all wearing gray, fluffy slippers.
* * *
The shadow gene binds us.
The shadow gene unites us.
We speak not of the mist and its secrets to anyone but our shadow brothers.
We speak not of our trials and tribulations to anyone but our shadow brothers.
The mist is sacred. Our task is sacred and unspoken.
The oath spilled from my lips with ease, and my voice mingled with the male timbres around me. Harmon’s deep baritone united with Thomas’s tenor as we repeated the words Master Hyde led with. The second years had already left for training, and only the new cadets remained.
Ten of us.
Only ten.
Brunner’s statement about fewer shadow cadets being born came to mind. Ten out of a whole year of Nightwatch cadets seemed awfully low, especially when the class was sixty-five percent male.
A tingle passed over my skin with each line spoken. This was binding weaver power at work. I imagined if I tried to speak of shadow cadet stuff to Minnie later, then the words probably wouldn’t come.
We were stepping into another prison, even as we stood in the student lounge in two neat rows dressed in our cadet black and blue.
We repeated the words until Master Hyde nodded curtly.
“Done.”
He paced back and forth in front of us. “You’re here, but that doesn’t mean that you’ll still be here at the end of the year. Cadet training is faster and more intense. Nightwatch has three terms to a year. We have two, and in between, we work at the fortress. This is on-the-job training, and yes, survival rates are low. If you make it to graduation in two years, then you deserve to be here. Until then, consider this your probation. Shadow cadets may live at the Academy, but we operate on fortress rules. Up with the owl, and down with the lark. Got it?” He threw a glance our way but didn’t wait for a response before continuing. This had all the makings of a rote speech. How many times had he given it? “Your first test is in less than three weeks. The shadow trials come in three stages, and each stage takes place in a different sector. Today, you’ll be introduced to the terrain on which you’ll be tested in three weeks’ time.”
“What’s the test?” one of the cadets asked.
Master Hyde fixed his eyes on the speaker and canted his head. “Did I ask you to speak, cadet?” That tone froze the hairs on the nape of my neck.
The cadet who’d spoken blinked in surprise and swallowed hard. “I was just—”
The guy beside him elbowed him in the ribs.
A figure materialized behind Hyde. It was Larkin, and he was perched on the countertop, tail swishing slowly.
I wasn’t the only cadet to balk at his appearance. Someone even cursed loudly. The cat-man had literally materialized out of thin air. He’d been invisible. He could read minds and be invisible. Shit. I’d be giving my room a serious sweep every night before bed from now on.
“Oh, come now, Hyde,” Larkin drawled. “The boy doesn’t know the rules yet.” He hopped off the counter and approached the lineup. “Here’s how it is, lads …” His gaze snagged on me. “And ladies. You listen, you learn, and you train. You do the things that Master Hyde asks of you, and you may survive the next year. What you don’t do is interrupt. What you don’t do is ask questions before Master Hyde opens the floor to questions. Got it?”
No one said anything.
Larkin rolled his cat eyes. “That was a question in need of a response.”
A soft chorus of yes sirs filled the room.
Master Hyde’s lips curved in a cold, cutting smile. “Thank you for the informative interruption, Larkin.” He turned his attention back to the group as a whole. “We’ll be taking the tunnels to sector one today. Stay close. If you stray and get lost, then you’re on your own. Any questions?”
I raised my hand.
“Justice?”
“Where is sector one?”
He locked gazes with me, his eyes more green than blue today, lit up with something akin to glee. “Sector one, like all the other sectors, is in the mist.”
Sixteen
The mist. We were headed to the bloody mist.
We jogged through the tunnels after Master Hyde. He took a left instead of the right we’d taken yesterday, and then the tunnel went from gray stone to black. The murmur of whispered conversation echoed off the walls.
Harmon and Thomas were a little ahead of me. I picked up the pace, so I was right behind the pair.
“Hey, how’s Lottie?”
Harmon didn’t answer. Instead, he shot off, leaving me and Thomas behind.
Thomas didn’t try and follow him, and instead, he fell into step beside me. “They wouldn’t let him see her. Said she was too fragile for any visitors. They said it would upset her. She doesn’t remember anything. Not this place, not her family, not her name. Harmon is fucked. He cried. I’ve never seen him cry before.”
I couldn’t imagine Harmon crying either. The guy was cocky and hard as nails. “Fuck. What the hell could do that to a person?”
“I don’t know. I mean, the brain is crazy complicated. They have Madam Mariana on the case. She’s gonna do her weaver thing, and see if she can extract any memories to piece together what happened to Lottie.”
Maybe then we would have some answers. “It won’t help Harmon to push people away.”
Thomas snorted. “Seriously? This coming from you? Miss I-have-a-wall-around-me-that-has-a-Minnie-sized-hole-in-it.”
“Point taken. But I’m messed up as shit. Harmon is … He has it together.”
“You’d think so. But he’s not the playboy everyone thinks he is. And when it comes to Lottie, he’s a total softie. He sees her as his responsibility. His mum died five years ago, and he took over caring for his sister. The Black pack doesn’t have time for females. Its focus is on the males. Women are baby-making machines. He insisted Lottie attend the Academy as soon as she hit seventeen so he could watch over her so that she could have a purpose other than bearing children for the pack. He wanted more for her.”
And now she didn’t even remember him.
Shit.
Cool air brushed my skin.
“I think we’re almost there,” Thomas said.
“The mist?”
“Fucking hell, right?”
The tunnel grew brighter, and then we were slowing down and coming to a halt. Hyde stood at a thick metal grated barrier. There was a winch system set up on the wall to one side. He grabbed the handle and began to turn it slowly. The grating began to lift.
“Exit is by winch,” Hyde said. “But your entry is by biosignature.” He ushered us under the partially raised grating.
I stepped out into the night air, onto soft grass that rose in a hillock. Sparse woodland lay on eit
her side of us, cocooning the entrance to the tunnels. Stars winked down at us, and a waning moon hung heavy and bright in the sky.
A citrus scent tickled my nostrils, and then Hyde brushed past me. The contact was brief and through clothing, but my skin tingled regardless.
“This way,” he ordered.
We followed him over the knoll, and the world beyond came into view. Flat land was home to a low, squat building with a stream running behind it, and beyond … Beyond was a swirling mass of silver and gray.
“The mist …” Thomas took an awed step forward.
We’d heard about it. We’d read about it. But seeing it this close … Wow.
“We’ll be headed into it soon enough,” Hyde said. “You can stare at it then, from the inside. Come on.” He jogged down the knoll and toward the squat gray building.
Neat rectangular windows stared back at us. The building was a box made of brick and metal that looked impregnable. A garage door trundled up as we approached, and a stocky bald man wearing overalls, boots, and a tool belt ambled out to greet us. He raised a gloved hand to Hyde and then looked us over.
“This it?” He didn’t sound impressed.
“I’m afraid so,” Hyde said.
“Slim pickings. Half of ‘em will be dead in two years.”
“I know.”
They were speaking about us as if we weren’t there. As if we were nothing but cannon fodder, and anger flared in my chest.
“Hey!” I stepped forward. “How about a little confidence? How about a little mentorship? That is what you’re supposed to be offering, right?” My ire was all for Hyde. For the man who was supposed to make us into knights but was acting as if we didn’t matter.
Hyde’s jaw ticked. “Get the fuck back in line, Justice.”
I was a cadet, and he was my tutor, but right then, I was just a woman who’d been pushed around too much. “For what? For a chance to die? Is that all this is? A little faith would be a great motivator, you know. How about you give us the fucking benefit of the doubt instead of treating us like we’re already bloody dead?”
Hyde looked down his nose at me, and then he smiled, a cruel thin smile that filled my veins with frost.
“You want motivation? How about this. You speak out of turn again, and I will personally feed you to Redmond’s hounds. Do you understand me?”
He wouldn’t do that … Would he? His gaze bore into me, demanding a response. And yeah, in that moment, I had no doubt he’d follow up on his word.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” he snapped.
“Yes, sir.”
His lip curled. “Get back in line.”
Part of me wanted to push, to rebel. But the primal part, the part that recognized danger, complied by taking a step back.
Hyde’s shoulders didn’t relax, though. He jerked his head toward the building. “File into the barracks. Vince will be running orientation.” His smile was wry. “Let’s have a little excitement, people. You’re about to learn the truth about the mist.”
* * *
He’d called this place the barracks—a place to house soldiers. A place for us? Two long tables with bench seats filled one room. There was a kitchen and a dorm-like room with bunk beds and a communal shower room off to one side.
Cadets obviously stayed here.
My pulse quickened. Would we be expected to stay here? Lloyd and his troop said they worked sector two … was that deeper in the mist? Were there other barracks like this one?
Vince led us into a room with plastic chairs and a whiteboard. “Sit.”
Chairs scraped on lino, and when we were all seated, he crossed his arms and stared at us.
“You got the shit end of the stick. No doubt about it,” he said, his voice like gravel. “It ain’t no joke that not all of you will survive the next two years. Just how it is, I’m afraid. Me. I served my time. Fifteen years, I did.”
He pulled up the sleeve to his gloved hand and showcased a metal arm. “Lost my arm five years ago. So, here I am, relegated to sector one barracks master. But you ain’t here to listen to my story. You want to know what’s out there.” He grabbed a chair, dragged it to the front of the room, and sat. “I’m here to tell you. You see that mist?” He jerked his head toward the window. “It ain’t natural. But it ain’t fomorian either. It’s man-made.” He paused there to let that sink in.
There was a ripple of confusion which manifested into whispers.
“Yes, that’s right. The magic mist is not magic. We make it. It’s Winterlock Technology. They provide the Atmospheric Modifiers that are planted all over the place—twenty-five hundred acres of land between us and them. The AM posts churn out the shit that keeps the fomorians at bay, but”—he raised an index finger—“over the centuries some creatures have evolved to live in the mist. They call it their home, and those are the threats we work to keep off our land.”
Wait, what? The fomorians couldn’t get to us? We were safe?
“Hounds have adapted to the mist,” Vince continued. “They roam in packs—huge fuckers with massive tear-you-the-fuck-to-shreds teeth. There are fucked-up mutant bugs and snakes. You got your biters too—humanoid critters that used to live on the other side but have built hives in the mist.” He sat back with his hands relaxed in his lap. “The farther you go, the worse it gets. And then you have the raids. The fomorian bastards have found a way to withstand the mist for short periods of time. They send parties coated in some kinda fomorian clay to try and knock out the AM posts. They want to end the mist so they can swarm us. It’s our job to keep the mist alive and to keep the number of threats in the mist to a minimum. We cull, we fix, we plant, and while out there, we’re under constant threat.” He took a deep breath and scanned our faces. His gaze locked on me for a long beat before moving on to Harmon. “Yeah, it’s dangerous. Yeah, you might die. But fuck, you could get hit by a night bus crossing the street in the human realm and have had your life amount to squat. Here you get a chance to matter. Here death means something.”
“If anyone can do this, you can. You were born stronger and faster with this purpose in mind. Regular supernaturals and humans would die beyond the mist. But your fomorian heritage allows you to thrive on both sides of the mist.”
One of the cadets raised his hand.
“What?” Vince asked impatiently.
“If the mist can hurt fomorians, surely it should hurt us too?” the cadet pointed out.
Good point.
Vince grinned. “That’s where that fucker Winterlock did his genius shit. The particles in the mist target and bond to aspects of fomorian DNA not found in shadow knights. They attack the fomorians on a genetic level. Incapacitate and kill them.” He looked out the window again. “This sector will be your home for your first year. You’ll take shifts in the barracks. You’ll patrol it, and you’ll make maintenance checks on the AM posts. Sector one is low threat, but it’s also the last line of defense, so if any shit does get this far, you need to be prepared to bring it the fuck down. Got me?”
There was a low murmur of assent. I nodded, my mouth working with the others.
“So, let’s kick off by getting you kitted out for the mist. The shit in the air disintegrates regular man-made fabric, so when out there, we wear Winterlock forged armor.”
He stood and stretched his stocky form. “Come on then. Let’s get ya fitted.” He clomped off to the other end of the room and through a door.
There were dazed expressions, contemplative ones, and plain shocked ones—he’d just thrown a bunch of intel at us and not even allowed us to blink an eye before moving swiftly on. For a long beat, no one moved.
Fuck it. I pushed back my chair and stood. “I, for one, am ready to see what all the fuss is about.” I strode after Vince, and the scrape of chairs being pushed back followed me.
* * *
Hyde was waiting in the armor room. It had to be the armor room because there was a shed load of silver metallic breast plates and shoulder piece
s hanging on hooks. A poster of a man wearing armor was pasted to the wall with neat labels identifying the different parts. There was a large wooden chest pushed up against the wall to the far left, and another wall was taken up by what looked like a huge wardrobe, except the handle was at the center of the unit toward the ground. It would have to open upward.
“Large, medium, small,” Vince said, indicating the armor.
He frowned when his attention fell on me. “You might be a problem.” He walked over to one of the pegs and grabbed a breast plate. He looked at me, and the breast plate, and nodded. “Should work.”
“The chest over there contains skins,” Hyde said. “One size fits all. You’ll wear those under the armor.”
Vince tapped the poster. “Use the guide and suit up.”
The others around me were already busy stripping. I caught naked torsos and tight butts encased in boxers and then one or two glances were thrown my way.
“You gonna strip, Justice?” a cadet whose name I didn’t know asked with a grin.
“Fuck off, Mal,” Harmon growled, stepping in between the two of us.
“You boning her too, Harmon?” Mal asked with a sneer. “She’s part of the team now, so surely we should all get a go?”
Harmon’s hand curled into a fist, but like hell was I going to let him have the satisfaction. I stepped around him and planted my fist in Mal’s face.
The cadet staggered back under the force of the blow. “Bitch.” He leapt up and lunged but never made it, because Thomas had him in a headlock.
Hyde finally stepped forward. “Enough.”
Heads jerked his way. Fuck, I’d forgotten he was in the room. Vince too. Neither had made a sound during the short altercation.
Thomas released Mal, and the guys glared at each other, chests heaving. This one was going to be trouble. Carlo’s warning filled my mind. I raked my gaze over the others. To be fair, most of them were looking daggers at Mal, and the rest just looked uncomfortable. Not all arseholes then.
Shadow Caster: The Nightwatch Academy book 1 Page 11
