Prologue
“Anya,” a faint voice called me from afar. It sounded familiar to me, but I can’t put a face to it.
“Anya,” this time it sounded a lot closer and it also held a hint of desperation to it. I wondered who it was.
“Aannnyyyaaaa, open this door,” the frantic knocking on my door jarred me awake from my deep sleep.
“Anita,” I rubbed my eyes as I got out of my bed. As it had become a habit, I walked lightly on my feet to my bedroom door, so as not to make any sound while walking.
Turning the jamb on the door I pulled it open to reveal the sight of Anita, a 46-year-old woman, also our housemaid.
“Hey, what’s up? Everything alright?” I asked her sleepily.
“No, nothing’s alright, my dear. Your father is back and he’s called you to his office now,” she informed me.
“What? Why?” I asked, alarmed, all my previous sleepiness was now forgotten.
“I don’t know, dear. But you must hurry.” She’s right, I should. If not...
“Tell him I’ll be there in 10,” and with that, I shut the door in a slam and hurried.
Ten minutes later, I knocked on my father’s office. Once, twice, “Enter.”
I walked in his office to see my father, Nicholas Cox, sitting behind his table, his head bowed reading something only God knows what. His desk was cluttered with piles of papers, stacks of opened and unopened files and books on it and in front of it were two empty chairs. There were windows behind his chair with a huge one-way mirror to gaze out and keep watch. On the left of the room were shelves filled with books, his own mini-library. And on the right was a small black leather sofa. There was also a door on the right end of the room that leads to a bathroom.
“Take a seat,” he did not look up at me as he called out.
I closed the door behind me and walked to his desk. Sitting on the chair opposite to him, I wondered what this was about.
Finally, he looked up at me and said in his usual calm and collected tone, “You must be wondering what this is all about.”
I blinked at him, surprised because that was exactly what I was thinking.
He didn’t give me a chance to reply as he continued, “Why I’ve summoned you this morning is to inform you that I’ve enrolled you in Mystic Academy.”
“Mystic Academy?” I parroted dumbly. I’m not even sure why I’m so shocked, I should’ve expected this. Father has been talking about sending me to this boarding school since I turned 15 last year in December. Ever since my mom died when I was 13, my father has gotten into his head that I should be sent to a boarding school. Why? I’d never know.
“Yes, it’s a boarding school for... gifted kids like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yes, like you. You know, kids of our world.”
“You mean vampires?”
“Vampires,” he paused for a moment, then, “and the others.”
“Others?” I asked with a frown.
“You’ll understand better when you’ll get there. For now, I want you to start packing. You’re starting school from next week.”
“So soon?” I knew it was a mistake the moment I uttered those words. I knew it. So why did I? Because it was also a moment of weakness where I was numb with shock.
My father’s expression turned colder, chillier. His eyes turned completely blank yet I could see the anger and annoyance behind them.
“Yes. Do you have any problem?” Although his voice remained neutral, I knew the warning behind it.
So like the coward I was, I took the warning and did not press.
“No, Father,” I said meekly with my eyes on my hands that were on my lap, “I’ll start packing.”
***
