H. Academy Series Book 1: The Curse
Author
Nella Thorn
Reads
526K
Chapters
64
Welcome to Hunt Academy
Book 1: The Curse
Three gothic buildings loomed from the dense Vermont forest, their crimson pointed rooftops stretching toward the cloud-filled skies. The buildings occupied the main part of a large estate cut out of the dark wilderness, the leaf-covered lawns providing a carpet beneath their feet.
Hunt Academy.
My throat constricted when the cab behind me turned around and drove off. I wrapped my leather jacket tighter around myself and made my way down the path toward my new college.
As I approached the main gate, the iron ravens perched on each pillar stared me down, watching me pass through. The grayness of the statues and fountains clashed with the red, orange, and yellow treetops lining the path.
The whole property was buzzing with magic, and not just from the students who were most likely casting spells everywhere around.
A bundle of nerves rolled in my stomach as I approached the grandiose, ironclad double door, tightening once I saw someone on the porch of the first building. There were two people there, talking to each other.
“This is your final warning, Leon. If you pull any of the crap you did last year, I will expel you, and I won’t think twice about it—”
The student’s gaze flickered to me. The teacher, a white-haired lady dressed completely in black, turned around. On impulse, I brushed my silver hair behind my ear and straightened my back.
“Jade Montgomery,” the woman said. “I’m Professor Lange. Welcome to Hunt Academy.”
Her voice was strong and melodious, the voice of a singer, and she straightened her back and her tall neck.
“Classes start tomorrow, and your room is in the western building. Leon will show you the way.”
“Seriously?” Leon said as he tapped a cigarette into his palm, frowning at Professor Lange.
“Behave,” she warned, then turned on her kitten heels, opened the door, and disappeared inside.
Leon’s icy blue eyes scanned me from head to toe in a way that gave me an inkling he did that to all the girls who showed up. Self-conscious and annoyed, I eyed him in return.
I took in his untucked white shirt, his green tweed pants, and the tie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar. There was a confidence to him that could have only arisen from years of people telling him he was smart and handsome.
And he was handsome.
He was pale and lean. His dark, almost entirely black hair fell in strands over his eyes, providing a harsh contrast against their iciness; he had a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and thin lips.
He tapped the cigarette into his palm, his expression turning insolently amused.
“Jade Montgomery.”
He said my name like it was hard to roll off his tongue.
“I wouldn’t want to be in your skin,” he continued.
My nerves prickled, the need to turn around and walk away from Hunt Academy growing stronger.
“Why is that?”
He put the cigarette between his lips, lit it up, and shrugged.
“A black magic wielder coming to the school? The Magus Primus’ daughter? A family full of secrets? Rumors travel fast.”
When I was a child, I imagined that finally going to the Academy would be a dream come true. But at some point, the idea of this place turned into a nightmare. Hunt was too close to it all—magic, my father, and his expectations.
He made the call two months ago—attend the Academy or else. I packed my stuff, sent it over, and flew all the way from Switzerland, leaving the boarding school behind, not that anyone there would miss me.
I would have preferred a school that was a bit farther away from the Veiled Hall, where my father worked, a school like Winston Academy, but he wanted me close.
Goddess, this was not how I’d imagined my academic life. Five years ago, my father finally decided he was giving up on trying to force me to be more powerful and sent me to my aunt in Switzerland, to a human boarding school.
I thought I’d stay there, study art, and have human friends.
I thought I’d escaped.
Before I could answer Leon, he headed for the door, leaving behind only a cloud of smoke. I closed my mouth and followed, frowning at the fact that he was walking inside with a burning cigarette.
My eyes caught the iron pentagram carved into the double door, and I scratched my left wrist absentmindedly.
A semicircular lobby opened in front of me, covered with dark red rugs that followed the curve of the double staircase and intersected above on the balcony.
“Here’s the main hall,” Leon said and pointed to the left with the cigarette. “That’s where you’ll get your daily dose of Headmaster’s preaching. Upstairs is the student study area. To the right, we have the hallway that leads to the classrooms.”
Leon dragged himself up the stairs, both hands in his pockets, the cigarette burning between his lips. I sighed and followed, cursing myself for missing the actual tour of the school for freshmen two weeks ago.
He walked through the left door and held it open for me. The study area’s first and second floors were bound together in one open space, with narrow balconies circling the upper perimeter like suspended walkways.
One staircase led to the lower level, and I glanced at the tops of bookshelves and the students drifting along them like ghosts. Weak daylight poured in through the arched windows.
“Feels like it’s easy to get lost in here,” I muttered.
“We have a few missing students each semester. My working theory is that the faculty is sacrificing them in the teacher’s lounge,” he said with a grin.
I rolled my eyes. His steps were too big for me, and I struggled to catch up. I wasn’t short myself, but his head reached the clouds, which must have been where he got that inflated ego too.
There was another staircase hidden at the end of the long balcony, leading back to the first floor. Leon turned around and continued to walk backward.
“The teachers’ offices,” he said, and gestured to the doors lining the L-shaped hallway we were in, then pointed to my right. “The teachers’ lounge, classrooms, the eastern exit.”
I looked past Leon to the training grounds between the main building and what I assumed was the western building. There were students there, practicing.
Magic reverberated through the ground in strong waves, sending a shiver down my spine.
Goddess, I had to admit to myself…I had missed it. I had missed the feeling of magic underneath my skin.
Beyond us, students were chatting in groups, near enough to notice me. I leaned against the stone railing of the stairs, reluctant to move closer to them.
“So, are the rumors true?”
I looked at my tour guide.
“What rumors?” I asked.
“Oh, you know what I’m talking about.”
I cocked my head. It would be better to get ahead of it. And I wasn’t the type of girl who got intimidated by assholes like him. I’d met too many of them already.
“All right, you caught me—yes, I didn’t want to come here, but my father forced me to go, and I have a nefarious plan to burn this entire place down, and then disappear into the darkness of the night.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. He exhaled the smoke.
“Why didn’t you want to come here?” he asked.
“I figured I would probably run into a jackass asking too many questions.”
“Oof.”
Leon’s blue eyes flicked to mine as he leaned forward, closer to me.
“Is your family going to sacrifice me to the demons now that I’ve offended you? I heard that’s what you get up to. Besides burning down boarding schools in Switzerland, of course.”
My thoughts scrambled, my mouth falling open, a breath passing between my lips.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said through my teeth. “I did not burn it down. It is still standing.”
“No, no, no!”
A voice interrupted our staring contest as a black-haired girl marched up the stairs toward us.
“Leave her alone, you disgusting pest,” the girl snarled.
Leon let out a laugh.
“Morta Aquila—rescuing women since God invented lesbianism.”
My eyes jumped to my savior. She hooked her arm in mine.
“Stay away from her, Leon,” she said, shooting him a glare.
My head snapped as Morta dragged me down the path to the western building, another dark giant looming over the lawns.
Thoughts swirled through my head, fear wrapping around my throat as we walked right past the groups of people staring at us, but Morta didn’t care.
“Morta is an…interesting name,” I said, unable to help myself.
“A goddess of death from Roman mythology,” she replied, her eyes meeting mine. “We do not hang out with Leon Lind because he’s a sociopath. We also don’t give two shits about these assholes staring at you. Oh, by the way, I don’t believe any of the rumors about your grandmother making a deal with a demon for her power and youth.”
“Oh, goody,” I mumbled.
“Come on, let’s get you to your room,” Morta said, yanking me toward the entrance. “I promise you that you’re going to have a fantastic time at the Academy. Girl, the parties are amazing…”
Her voice trailed off as my wrist began to sting again. Morta went ahead, opening the door for me, and I allowed my thumb to slip under my sleeve and graze the pentagram tattoo.
It had appeared when I was a baby, right after my grandmother died. The same grandmother who had, according to rumors, conspired with demons.
The tattoo had been dormant for the better part of my nineteen-year-old life, until a few months ago, when it began to sting every now and then.
Why I had it, and what it meant, I didn’t know, but the gnawing in my bones made me think it meant trouble.
Morta led me through the female dormitory’s lounge, a large, heavily ornate room with leather couches, Persian rugs, a crystal chandelier, and crimson tapestries.
“Our rooms are on the uppermost floor.”
I followed her up the grand staircase.
“We’re roommates?” I asked.
“Housemates,” she corrected. “We’re sharing the apartment with another girl.”
Our apartment was in a whole separate hallway, with a personal bathroom and three rooms. Morta pointed at mine, and I unlocked the door.
The most glorious room awaited inside. The huge canopy bed was in the middle, resting on the gray rug. Silver fabric was draped over ruby sheets made of silk. Multiple pillows decorated the bed, inviting me to sleep.
An oak table stood under a window that overlooked the backyard, books neatly stacked on top of one another, a quill and ink waiting for my hands. A chandelier, smaller than the one in the living room, sparkled above the bed.
“Not half bad,” I murmured.
A knock on the door interrupted me.
“Hi!” A chirpy voice came from behind me.
“Jade, this is Ammelise Dalton,” Morta murmured.
“Amma,” she said with a grin. “Nice to meet you.”
Amma had a clear expression, a freckled face, white teeth, reddish hair, and warmth in her green eyes. On sight, she seemed younger than us, like life hadn’t been stressful enough yet to age her.
Morta cleared her throat.
“So, do you want to hear the bad news now or later?”
The two of us looked at her, and my heart immediately dropped to my gut.
“Is there a ‘never’ option?” Amma asked.
“Something happened this morning in the library,” Morta said. “It’s sealed off, but no one knows what’s wrong yet. Other students are saying that someone died.”
“Excuse me, what?” Amma shrieked. “Died?”
“It happens,” Morta said, shrugging.
Morta looked at me, a half smile on her face.
“I had a feeling things were going to get interesting the moment you showed up.”
