Page 5 of Shadow Caster
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 backin 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 whoemergedafter 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.
