Shadow Caster: The Nightwatch Academy book 1 Page 2

  So, here we were. Two friends in a glare-off. One I knew I was about to lose, because yeah, I’d promised not to skip out on the simulation today. Team exercises were graded based on team performance; if one member was a no-show, the whole team suffered.

  I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. “Fine. Give me five minutes, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.

  “Five.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll be back to get you if you don’t show.”

  I flashed my teeth at her. “Have I ever let you down, pixie-boo?”

  “Do not call me that.” She crossed her arms. “You know I hate it.” She sniffed.

  “Riiight. So, you just wrote it in the back of your notebook and decorated it with tiny flowers for no reason then?”

  She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times and then took a deep breath. “Five minutes.”

  She grabbed her book bag and headed out of the room.

  The door didn’t slam behind her.

  Not too pissed off then.

  Good.

  I threw back the covers and swung my legs out of bed. God, I hated evenings. The moon was high and round and clearly visible through our room window. Other supernaturals struggled to adjust to the fact that we slept during the day and studied at night. But this was standard fare for a nightblood. We were nocturnal, not because the sun would fry us, but because it stripped us of our supernatural abilities, weakening us and making us easier to kill. It’s where the whole kill-the-nightblood-by-day myth came from. The whole stake in the heart and all that shit. Try and stake a nightblood through the heart when the moon was up, and you’d find yourself armless. Ha. Armless. Unarmed. Disarmed.

  God, I needed caffeine.

  But seriously, it’s why we were perfect for the Nightwatch because the Watch operated mostly under cover of dark. Super cliché if you asked me.

  The moonkissed adjusted easily, but the weavers and feybloods struggled. Fuck ‘em, they decided they wanted to be here, so let them deal with it.

  Oh, crap, I had less than two minutes to get to the lobby. Inner monologues were such a time suck. Looked like a shower would have to wait.

  * * *

  Hair pulled back in a messy bun, tatty sweater, jeans, and boots on—because like hell was I wearing the regulation black skirt and maroon blouse with the Academy logo—I headed out of the room and down the corridor leading to the main staircase.

  The Academy was an imposing gothic building with high arches and finicky-looking fleur-de-lis slapped across every fucking surface. The dark wood and stone weren’t exactly insulation friendly, and only two wings had been adapted with central heating. Because nightbloods and moonkissed didn’t feel the chill like other supernaturals, we’d been shoved in the old wing where showers had to be taken in communal shower rooms. His and hers, thank God. I was no prude, but showering with male moonkissed on a full moon was asking for a hairy eyeful.

  The feyblood and weavers were on the opposite side of the Academy with hot water on tap and radiators to keep them toasty warm. The final wing was reserved for shadow cadets, the prestigious males who emerged after drinking from the ceremonial goblet and activating their super gene. These men were marked for greatness. At least that’s what the Watch told them. In truth, they were cannon fodder for the fight beyond the mist. The fight against an ancient race called fomorians who were intent on getting into our world.

  The fortress, a mile away from the Academy, housed shadow knights who patrolled the tear in the fabric of our reality and ensured that didn’t happen. I felt sorry for the shadow cadets. As soon as they were marked, their lives were over.

  A lance of moonlight slipped through the high windows and lit up the cuffs on my wrist as I made my way down the main staircase to the huge central foyer that connected all the wings. Yeah, maybe I should focus on my own problems rather than those of a bunch of men who believed they were special.

  “Nice outfit, Justice,” a snide male voice called out from behind me.

  Thomas Carmichael, nightblood, and stuck-up ass. I glanced over my shoulder. “Thanks, you want to borrow it?”

  “Not until she fucking showers.” Harmon, a moonkissed big, hairy dude, appeared behind the nightblood.

  The two guys were inseparable, if you know what I mean. Although nightblood law forbade us from procreating with other species or marrying them. The rules on messing around were fuzzy, and things at the Academy were pretty relaxed.

  “I can fucking smell her from here,” Harmon complained, nostrils flaring as he took another long whiff.

  I smirked up at him. “You’re taking a nice long drag there, Harmon. Strange for someone who finds my odor distasteful.”

  Heightened senses were the norm at the Academy, but the full moon meant Harmon was running on special juice tonight.

  “Are my pheromones making you horny?” I fluttered my lashes at him.

  Thomas bared his teeth at me, fangs on display. Everyone knew Harmon swung both ways. He wasn’t subtle about it. Monogamy wasn’t his strong suit, so this was Thomas staking his claim on the huge hunk of hairy meat, not that I’d ever go there.

  The fact they’d spoken to me at all was kind of a shock. The cadets had steered clear of engaging with me up until now. I was, after all, there against my will—the cuffs on my wrists made that clear.

  The Academy was located in a pocket of reality warded by powerful weaver magic, and there was no escape without authorized use of one of the weaver portals. But at least the other cadets knew they could get that authorization to leave, to go home to their families during the term break. But the cuffs on my wrist told them I was a prisoner. That using the portals would fry my insides. It told them that despite being a Justice—a member of one of the legacy families—I wasn’t good enough.

  Luckily, that was something that had been drummed into me from birth, so the scathing looks and derisive glances did shit to me.

  The cuffs made me a pariah, and I was good with that.

  Minnie was the exception. But then I got the impression Minnie was used to flying in the face of convention and getting what she wanted. The woman was born to be a leader, and although I’d never openly admit it, I was glad she’d decided she wanted me as a friend.

  The tedium of the Academy was alleviated with her by my side.

  And there she was, pointy-chinned face turned up to greet me, smile firmly in place.

  “Okay, let’s get this over with.” I fell into step beside her as we made our way to the study wing where all the classes and labs were based.

  She shot me a sly look. “You know, if you relax and allow yourself to, you might even enjoy being here.”

  Anger flared in my chest. “I’ll go to a few classes, Min, but I’m not going to enjoy it. This wasn’t the plan for my life. I do not want to be here. Remember that.” There was a harsh edge to my tone, one I hadn’t used with her for weeks. But she needed to understand that my feelings about my incarceration weren’t about to change.

  She was silent as we joined the bustle of uniformed bodies pouring into the study wing, and just when I thought she’d dropped the subject…

  “What was your plan anyway? Huh?” she asked. “Pit fights and slumming it? Was that your dream? Wouldn’t it be better to accept this? Maybe they’ll waive the cuffs, and you’ll be able to go home to your family during the break?”

  She had no idea. No idea what home had been like. What being a daughter to a man who’d wanted a son was like, or how cold the bosom of my family was.

  It wasn’t something I wanted to share with her, or anyone, for that matter.

  I bit back my annoyance. “How about we focus on the lessons, eh, seeing as you want to ace them so bad.”

  I steered her toward the first class. History of Supernaturals 101. We passed a set of huge double windows open to let in the night air, and the clank and chink of metal on metal drifted up to greet us.

  I couldn’t help it. I had to see. There they were, shadow cadets in training armor, s
econd years if the color of their breast plates was anything to go by. They sparred in twos, back and forth, stab, parry, thrust. Moonlight glanced off the metal surfaces of their armor and impressive weapons. No training swords there.

  A huge hulking figure stood off to one side, arms crossed over his broad chest, shorn dark hair glinting silver in the moonlight, biceps bulging obscenely as if trying to escape the confines of the tight long-sleeved black top he was wearing.

  Archer Hyde – the man, the legend himself. My gaze dropped to his legs, but even with my nightblood vision, it was impossible to spot which one was real and which one was mechanical from this far away. But I’d heard the stories of his battle-scarred face and formidable fighting skills. And the loss of the limb? Well, the story was that a fomorian hound had eaten his leg. He’d fought it, killed it, and carried a man back through the mist to safety. And how did the Watch repay him? By benching him and giving him a class of snotty shadow cadets to train.

  One of the shadow cadets paused and glanced up at the window. He brushed his fair hair off his forehead before raising a hand in greeting.

  I almost responded.

  But he wasn’t waving at me. He was waving at his sister. Minnie waved back, and he smiled. His gaze tracked to me, and the smile dropped, leaving only icy contempt.

  Yeah. Lloyd was not happy that his little sister was besties with a Justice. I tore my gaze away and across the neatly trimmed grounds, over the tops of the gray, bushy trees to the building that rose up to touch the stars. The shadow knight fortress was an impressive structure built as a stronghold. It was also the final destination for every shadow cadet.

  That would be their prison. Look at them fighting to get there.

  Idiots.

  “Come on,” Minnie said. “We’re going to be late.”

  I pushed away from the window ledge and joined her in the throng of students headed to class. “You think Barnaby will notice?”

  She snort-chuckled. “Probably not.”

  Someone bumped me and then shot me a filthy look. I bared my teeth and growled, and she hurried away.

  “Seriously, Indie, do you have to be so feral?”

  “Yes.”

  Minnie shook her head and led the way into Barnaby’s class. Most tutors preferred we call them by their last names and stick Master or Madam on the front, but not Barnaby. Barnaby wanted to be hip and trendy. Problem was, he had a narcolepsy problem and spent most of the class asleep. Minnie usually took over and handed out the worksheets or handouts.

  Why not report him?

  What? And be given a tutor who actually stayed awake to teach? Pffft. With Barnaby asleep, we got to run through the sheets in fifteen and spend the rest of the hour chatting.

  I guess today wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  Except instead of the usual murmur of conversation, there was dead silence, and instead of Barnaby at the desk, there was a man I’d never seen before.

  He looked up as we entered.

  “You’re late.” He glanced down at the register in his hand.

  In all the weeks I’d been there, I don’t think Barnaby had touched that register once.

  Harmon and Thomas grinned from their seats. Fuckers had beaten us there.

  “Name,” the man asked.

  “Minnie Faraday and Indigo Justice,” Minnie replied for the both of us.

  The man tensed. It was a fraction of a second and then gone. He looked up, his expression smooth, and then his gaze fell on me and remained there for a little too long. He wasn’t old, probably the same age as my father. But whereas my father’s hair was graying at the temple, there seemed to be no gray woven into this man’s thick head of golden hair. Gray eyes regarded me steadily. Okay, this was getting weird.

  “Do I have something on my face?” I touched my cheek.

  He blinked sharply as if snapping out of a trance. “Sit.”

  Wow, okay. We took our seats as he vacated his. “Master Decker is on leave for the next week, so I’ll be taking this class. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Carter Payne, and I’ll be your tutor for Defense Against Weaving next term.” He picked up Barnaby’s notebook. “Let’s go over what you’ve been learning.”

  Someone snickered.

  “Something funny, Samuel?” Master Payne snapped.

  The feyblood in question snapped his mouth closed.

  There was something imposing and commanding about this tutor. I ducked my head and focused on the grain of the wood of my desk. The sooner this class was over, the better.

  “Looks like you covered history of supernatural species,” he continued. “You’ve touched on the history of the mist. Good. So, what can you tell me?”

  There was silence, and my scalp prickled in awareness and foreboding.

  I raised my chin, and sure enough, his gaze was zeroed on me.

  Three

  “Miss Justice. What can you tell us about the mist?” Master Payne asked.

  Minnie cursed softly under her breath, probably worried I hadn’t been paying attention. But me? I was like a sponge.

  I sat back in my seat and straightened my legs out under my desk. “What would you like to know?”

  He offered me a close-lipped smile. “How about you start from the beginning. What is the mist?”

  “Um, Master Payne,” Minnie interrupted. “May I?”

  Carter Payne didn’t even look at her. “No, you may not.”

  I smiled thinly before replying to his question. “The mist is a phenomenon caused by the tear in the fabric of our reality and cuts our world off from the fomorian realm. A long time ago, an ancient race called fomorians came into the human world and shacked up with supernaturals, sowing their wild oats.”

  Someone snickered—probably Samuel.

  Master Payne glared over my head for a beat. “Please continue, Miss Justice.”

  I traced a pattern on my desk with an index finger. “They hoped to take over our world. To birth an army right here under our noses. But the males born with the fomorian gene decided they liked this world as it was, and when the tear appeared and the war was imminent, they turned on the fomorians and formed the order of the shadow knights. Together with the Nightwatch, they fought back the threat. We won. The fortress and Academy were built here, to train the next generation of enforcers to police the supernatural world in the mortal realm and to find the next generation of shadow knights.”

  When I finished speaking, the room was deathly silent. Shit. Had I gone all eloquent?

  Master Payne smiled smugly, which irritated the fuck out of me. Like what the hell did he have to be smug about? I’d answered the question.

  I shot Minnie a sideways glance to catch her staring at me.

  “Well said, Miss Justice,” Master Payne said. “Now, who can tell me about the feybloods’ heritage?”

  The spotlight was off me, which was what I’d wanted. So, why did I feel so annoyed?

  * * *

  “Well, he certainly grilled the class.” Thomas shoved past us, eager to get away from the classroom.

  “Watch it!” Minnie snapped.

  He spun to face us and bowed. “So sorry, ladies. No, let me amend that, lady and tramp.”

  One of these days, he was going to get acquainted with my fists.

  “He’s not a weaver,” Minnie said.

  “Huh? Thomas?”

  “No, Carter Payne. His powers were nullified by the shadow knight gene.”

  We made our way to the next class, riding the wave of students who filled the corridors with every bell. Chatter rose up around us, but it was easy to tune it out.

  “That shit is true?” I shot her an incredulous look.

  “Yep.” Minnie shouldered her way through a knot in the crowd.

  Everything was fucking legacy in our world. Legacy nightblood families and legacy weaver families. Even the moonkissed had their pack hierarchy. Payne was one of the three legacy weaver families. Nightbloods were forbidden to procreate
with anyone other than nightbloods, and it was the same for weavers. The three weaver families intermarried to keep the weaver gene strong, because without weavers, magic would be lost. They were prized by the Nightwatch, and Payne had lost that power by being born with the shadow knight gene. It was rare in weaver families, and when it happened, the man was usually shunned by his peers. Marriage was out of the question.

  “Why isn’t he a shadow knight?”

  Minnie shrugged. “I guess you’d have to ask him that. As far as I know, he’s been a tutor here forever. He teaches and also runs the med bay. Not that anyone ever gets sick. I heard he uses it as a lab for his alchemy experiments.”

  Sounded boring. “Not interested. Let’s get some food.”

  As we made our way toward the canteen, my mind wandered back to the system and everything that was broken. I couldn’t wait to finish my sentence here and get out.

  * * *

  The canteen was the communal hub of this place, sporting a lounge area and an upper balcony heaving with books and nooks where you could curl up and read. The food was varied to accommodate the various supernatural species of cadet, and the atmosphere was thick with activity. Unlike my old nightblood school, there were no real cliques here.

  The Watch had a no-tolerance policy for that kind of mentality. We were training to be Nightwatch, and that meant working together as a team whether you were nightblood, moonkissed, or feyblood. Unnatural if you ask me. Like was drawn to like, and once these cadets got out of this artificial environment, they’d go back to their prejudices. Nightbloods had a natural aversion to moonkissed and vice versa. And the feybloods that went here thought they were better than everyone else because they were descended from the shining people.

  Outside, they’d be called bastardized fey. But use that term in here, and you were asking for a disciplinary.

  At least the queue for food wasn’t too long. My stomach rumbled as we lined up with our trays.

  Minnie grabbed an apple, and I did the same even though there was no way that was hitting the spot for me today.