Hemlock (Academy of the Dead Book 1)

by Rue Volley

  I took his seat.

  “Hate.” He spoke without much emotion. “That’s what happened.”

  “Well, I need a little more than that for my essay and if you know anything, it would save me time.”

  He glanced at the books on the table, leaned forward, interlocking his fingers. I mimicked his body language without thinking.

  “Emma Green was a princess betrothed to a boy that her father chose for her, which was customary for the time. Unfortunately, Emma had fallen for someone else—a boy she was forbidden to see,” he paused, then leaned in closer. “A vampire.”

  My eyes widened with intrigue. “Tell me more.”

  “Well, Emma was a Necromancer, from the first family of Necromancers. Her full title was Emma Green of Hemlock, Daughter of Gailynn. Keeper of Death.”

  The story and his voice had me transfixed.

  “And Gailynn was a powerful Necromancer, as you can imagine, but he hated the Vampire more than anything else in this world.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because he felt like they were a threat to his power. I mean, he had control over death, but a vampire is death, so he decreed that all vampire must leave his land or be hunted down and killed.”

  I shook my head. “What a jerk.”

  G seemed amused, “Yes he was, but what he didn’t know is that his daughter had fallen in love with a young vampire by the name of Athan, and she couldn’t stand the thought of being without him. So, on the night before she was to marry this other boy, who she had never met, she ran away with Athan, deep into the Forest, where it would be impossible to find her. They say that the two of them stumbled into a perfect circle of hemlock in full bloom, which is when it’s at its most deadly, with an apple tree right in the center of the circle. So, she sat down at the base of this tree, bringing him with her, and there they pledged their undying love to one another. Emma recited her favorite poem to Athan, that revealed the deepest secrets in her heart.”

  I could barely breathe as he told me exactly what I had seen.

  “It was in French.” I whispered.

  He nodded to me.

  “Do you know what she said to him?”

  He licked his lip and then bit into it, torturing me.

  “I do know.” He whispered.

  “Please tell me. I want to know what she said to him before they died.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, as if permission had to be given.

  I nodded.

  His eyes swirled with color, penetrating my soul. “Say it.”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes shifted in color and he recited the poem for me.

  “When night has died

  The stars’ memory keeps burning

  A dazzling ink remains

  In the handwriting of dawn

  The world bursts forth

  Tearing nothing apart

  Like gives birth to like

  Joyful renewal

  Bellies are haloed

  Heavy with unborn suns

  Bird-arrows dart up

  Toward fertile forms

  Virgins are blossoming

  On the bed of time

  Angel bushes

  Spring from their navels

  Everything

  Is possible”

  My chest rose and fell to the beat of my heart. I finally blinked, breaking what seemed like a spell that he had cast over me.

  “Then they fed some poisonous hemlock to each other, and fell into a deep sleep, that would carry them away as one.”

  I quickly wiped a tear from my cheek and he tilted his head.

  “Did that make you sad?”

  I adjusted my glasses and grabbed my long braid, letting my hand slide down the length of it. I accidently removed my hair tie and it fell to the floor. “Yes, it did. It makes me very sad.”

  “For Emma?” he asked.

  I gave up looking for my hair tie. “For both of them. I can’t imagine being denied love simply because of who you are. I mean, we can’t control it. I was born this way, with this power.” I stared at my hands as they trembled, “and so were they. Emma was a Necromancer like we are and Athan’s only crime was being a vampire. It’s awful, and sad—and makes my heart ache for both of them.”

  He stared at me in wonder. “I mean—don’t you agree?”

  He nodded, “Of course—yes. I don’t share the same views as some do about vampires, and you’re right, we are what we are, it would be like hating someone for being purple or blue.”

  “Well, after his daughter died, Gailynn dedicated his remaining days to creating Hemlock Academy and he banned every vampire from attending. But of course, over time, that hatred began to die out, and that’s how Nightshade was added to the Six Kingdoms, making them Seven.”

  “How do you know so much about this?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, moving his bangs aside. I really didn’t need to see his eyes.

  “I like to read.”

  Why was he so perfect?

  I shifted in my chair and my braid unwound itself, letting my hair flow over my shoulder. My hair reaches the middle of my back when it’s down. That’s why I usually keep it up, or braided. I started to braid it again.

  “Don’t. It’s pretty that way.”

  I felt a rush of blood heat my skin. He swallowed hard and the worry line deepened between his brows, naturally narrowing his eyes.

  “Thanks.” I said, admittingly enjoying his compliment. “But it’s hard to handle.”

  “The best things are,” he added.

  I was silent for a moment, certain he was flirting with me.

  “Can I?” he stood up as I sat there confused about what he meant.

  He stepped around behind me and knelt down on the floor. He found my hair tie and then gently pulled all of my hair behind my head. He gathered it together and had it tied in no time. I didn’t know where he learned to do a girl’s hair, but I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know.

  A boy like G got around, I’m sure.

  “G—I want—”

  “It’s Gage.” He said.

  His hands left my hair, and I turned to thank him, but without warning he was gone and I was alone, with my heart beating hard in my chest. I touched the back of my neck, and felt the goosebumps he had left behind.

  I let out a sigh and then licked my bottom lip, drawing it inside.

  “Gage.” I whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I studied the small bird outside the window while letting my chin rest on my hands. It had been two days since I spent time with him in the library, and he was nowhere to be found. If I wasn’t in control of my thoughts and mind it would be very easy to think he had vanished into thin air, but I knew it wasn’t true.

  He clung to everything like a ghost—or a sweet memory.

  The same he had mentioned in the stars.

  I sighed.

  Tarot Card Reading class —no Gage.

  Poisonous Bugs and Insects class—no Gage.

  Worse yet, Nadia had been MIA, because she was spending time with Cole. I wasn’t mad—it just sucked because I needed to talk to her about everything, and she’d sit with him instead of me, eat with him, stay out late with him.

  Boys! They’re the worst!

  I perked up when the door opened, but two girls rushed inside the room, giggling to each other. I glanced over where he had taken a seat on the first day, and it was empty. You’d think he had been gone a year, because it’s how it felt, and then my eyes widened.

  “Oh, crap.” I whispered. “No—nope.” I shook my head while pulling out my master journal of herbs. “Mmm, no, Rook. Nope. You do not like him like that.”

  I spent the next few seconds lying to myself about how he made me
feel, from the first moment he broke through the crowd of students in front of the school, to that awful game of spin the crown, to the way he cleaned my knee with a gentle touch, and now the library and his—you know—all of it.

  “Love at first sight isn’t a real thing. It’s in books and that’s all. That’s it. They write that stuff to get you to keep reading. Book after book. Series after series. Talking about pale skin and full lips—and kissing, let’s not forget that. It’s all so stupid and a complete distraction. I didn’t come here to do this—nope! I came here to become a great Necromancer and then get placed in a Kingdom, but you know what? Nightshade is probably not the best place for me—nah, I think I should be in something else with boys who don’t look so—so—” I muttered to myself as I leafed through my journal, finding my list of herbs. I touched the page and ran my finger down the length of it.

  The door opened and he walked in. My heart jumped into my throat. My knee hit the bottom of the table and I hissed. I was forced to reach under the table and rub it. I parted my lips and practiced some breathing techniques that really work for meditation, and then he looked back.

  I could see that he was holding a hand.

  Some girl’s hand.

  NOT my hand.

  I had a horrible reaction to it. My throat tried to close up on me. I mean, completely. I choked, while tapping my chest. I had to stay quiet. Her eyes darted in my direction, so I dropped my pencil and lowered to the floor. I peered through the chair legs, spying on the two of them while resting on all fours.

  I felt insane—like I was incapable of interpreting anything right.

  But he said things—did things—looked at me a certain way.

  Used specific words—triggering me, pressing my buttons.

  He made me feel special—wanted.

  He lied! He’s a liar. Dangerous—just like Nadia said.

  I should’ve listened to her.

  Was it some kind of sick game?

  A dare? A joke?

  Why did he talk to me at all?

  Her strawberry blonde hair slid over her shoulder. She has pale skin—paler than mine, and rosy lips—crimson in color. Perfectly shaped and so were her eyebrows. She has a button nose and no clunky glasses on her face, like I do.

  She was petite, but nearly as tall as he is, probably 5’9. She has a heart shaped face and delicate hands with light pink nails.

  Girly—not what I expected, but who am I kidding? I didn’t expect any girl, let alone this Vogue model!

  They found their seats, and he placed his hand to the base of her back, and moved his thumb. I know how that felt. I know his touch—how gentle he can be. How attentive. Making you think that you’re the center of his universe. I gawked with my jaw hanging open. What the H was happening right now?

  I was confused. I didn’t have time to feel hurt, as I probably should have. I—we—we had moments. Right? More than one. I know we did.

  “Rook?”

  I flinched, and smacked the back of my head on the bottom of the table.

  “Ouch,” I groaned.

  “Oh, babes. What are you doing down there?” Nadia reached in, and helped me up on my feet. I glanced over in Gage’s direction, but he wasn’t even looking at me. All of his focus was on that new girl. Was she his girlfriend, now?

  I tried to take a seat and darn near fell out of it. Nadia saved me with a worried expression.

  I wiggled the pencil. “I dropped it.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked, while motioning to her head.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I fumbled with my journal.

  She took a seat next to me. “I’m really sorry that I’m late, and the last couple of days—well, Cole and I have been spending a lot of time together—talking. Like seriously talking.”

  I shook my head. I could see Gage whispering something in that girl’s ear.

  “Right.”

  She narrowed her eyes and glanced behind me. “So, anyway—I’m moving to the moon.”

  “That’s awesome.” I replied.

  “Is it?” she grinned. “Because I heard it’s made of cheese and I’m not a big fan.”

  I blinked. “Wait—what?” I asked.

  She pointed upward, “I just said that I’ve decided to move to the moon and that it’s made out of cheese, which is not my favorite food.”

  I rolled my shoulder, and let out a defeated sigh.

  Everything hurt, or so it seemed.

  My head, my stomach—my heart.

  I just don’t feel good.

  I hate him. I do. I love to hate him. I’m addicted to it!

  OMG! I’m one of those girls now. The same ones in my books who fall for the guy who just can’t help but hurt them!

  The bad guy. The villain.

  Great! It’s only been a few days! I have years to go!

  I may die. I feel it. It’s coming.

  “Who is she?” I regretted it as soon as it fell off my tongue, but here we are.

  Nadia sneaked a peek over her shoulder. “Well, that looks like his girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend!” I yelled. I was mortified. I picked up one of my journals and covered my face.

  Nadia reached in and pulled it down. “I think we need to talk.”

  “Nope—I’m good.”

  She scratched the top of her hand, “I don’t think you are.”

  Our Professor entered the room, saving me from having to explain anything.

  He was a short man, maybe 4’2. He strolled over to the wall, and grabbed a wooden box, and drug it across the floor. It made an awful noise. Every student cringed.

  He climbed up on top of the box, and placed his hands behind his back. His round metal glasses sat nice and snug at the top of his blunt nose. It was turned up, almost like a snout. His hair was completely disheveled, and his eyebrows were white and completely unkempt.

  He spoke and I could see a gap between his two front teeth. “I am Professor Winston Bishop and today we will be talking about my favorite subject which is herbs,” he leaned forward and eyed us with a wink. “Nature is magic.”

  I looked down at my list of herbs and found no joy in it. That’s when I knew something was seriously wrong.

  “How about you?”

  I wasn’t looking but Nadia nudged me with her elbow. “It’s Rook—um,” he climbed down and walked over to his desk, snatched up a rolled-up piece of paper, and gave it a flick. It unraveled down the center of the aisle. He meticulously read the names off to himself. I jumped when he spoke up again, “Dagger!” he yelled while adjusting his glasses.

  “Oh, my Goddess.” I groaned.

  “Dagger?!” he repeated.

  There was no escaping this hell.

  “Yes—yes!” my voice cracked.

  I began silently chanting to myself.

  Please don’t call me up there. Please don’t call me up there. Please don’t call me up there.

  “Please come up here.”

  “Crap, of course.” I muttered as I stood up, clutching my journal to my chest.

  I took a couple of steps, and then did the unthinkable, tripping over myself, and instead of falling outright, I stumbled forward, desperately trying to retain my balance and dignity, but I landed flat on my face right at his feet.

  I rolled over on my back, and stared up at the ceiling. “This is nice. I’ll just live right here forever.” Professor Bishop leaned into my view.

  “Oh, dear. I think you need all the sage we can find.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “You know what? I hate boys, all of them—I guess I can’t hate Cole because, well, he’s Cole, and so far, he’s nice, but you better keep an eye on that, because they switch gears just like that!” I snapped my fingers, then continued to pace back and
forth while Nadia watched me like a tennis match, “And he was all cute with the crown, and then carried me to the Kitchen! CARRIED ME—can you believe that?” Nadia parted her lips and I didn’t give her a chance to answer me, “Then he cleaned up my knee and said these things—all this stuff, which I can’t remember word for word, but if I said them in the exact same order that he said them then you’d be all like Oh, Rook! He definitely likes you! But—but I should’ve known when he was sitting with those girls, London and Paris, who are absolutely awful, by the way—but he was all chummy, and it was at that moment that I should have said—NO! Rook! Look at this boy being all—whatever he is with the pouty lips and pretty eyes, and the hair,” I placed a hand on my hip, and glared at her while wagging my finger, “that hair, it’s blue, which—well,” I waved my hands around, “Let’s just say I like blue—I’ve always liked blue! We had these little blue swallows in the apple tress—but who cares right? And oh—oh—OH! The poem!” I rubbed the side of my head, then tapped my glasses back up my nose.

  “What poem?”

  I let out a maniacal laugh. She narrowed her eyes. “Should I call someone? Like an exorcist?”

  I began to pace again. “That poem, God, he played me like a violin. He really did! It’s like he knew exactly what to say and what I liked—which is ridiculous! I mean—why—why? Why did I ever tell him my interest in Emma Green? He took that and used it against me. Acting like he cared when he didn’t care—not one bit—not at all.”

  I finally slowed down and Nadia reached out and grabbed the bottom of my sweatshirt, making me sit next to her on the bed. I grabbed the smoking sage and waved it all over my body, then coughed a few times. She took it away from me, and placed it back in the dish.

  “I’m just so—so—”

  She pulled my head onto her shoulder. “Hurt.”

  “I should be mad!”

  She took my hand. “But you’re hurt.”

  “That.” I reluctantly admitted it.

  She placed her arm around my shoulder, “G is just, well, he dates a lot, babes.”

  “Gage.” I muttered.

  She moved her shoulder and leaned in. “What did you say?”

  “Gage—his name is Gage. I know everyone calls him G, and that’s fine, but he told me his name.”