The Curse (H. Academy Series #1)

In the dense Vermont forest, spreading over a large estate, three imposing, grotesque buildings loomed, forming the complex of the Hunt Academy. Their sharp, pointy rooftops stretched toward the cloudy skies, casting dark shadows over the leaf-covered lawns. The greyness of the statues, fountains and pathways clashed with the red, orange and yellow of autumn. The rusty gate screeched as it dragged on the pathway, interrupted by rogue plants growing through the stone. The two iron ravens standing on each column of the gates stared me down as I walked through. My throat tightened when the cab behind me turned around on the macadam and drove off. I ignored the creeping sense of abandonment and the judgemental birds, wrapped my leather jacket tighter around me, and made my way down the path.

When I was a child, I imagined that finally going to the Academy would be a dream come true. At some point, the idea of this place turned into a nightmare. It was too close to it all: magic, my father, his expectations, uncertainty. Alas, he made the call two months ago—attend the Academy or else. That ‘or else’ encompassed a lot of things.

Convincing myself that I could just breeze through the studies without issues, I packed my stuff, sent it over, and flew over all the way from Switzerland, leaving the boarding school and all of my very human friends behind. Well, it wouldn’t be much of a change, this place was just as preppy and obnoxious.

A bundle of nerves rolled in my stomach as I was approaching the grandiose, iron-clad double door, tightening once I saw someone on the porch. Two people, talking. As if the feeling of something watching me wasn’t enough. Goddess, this was not how I imagined the rest of my academic life. When I convinced my father to send me to Switzerland because I was too useless to be a witch, I really thought I’d escaped. Very slowly, I approached the entrance to the school. The conversation on the stony steps was one-sided and angry, the teacher part of the teacher-student exchange heated, while the student didn’t care much.

“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—”

His gaze flickered to me, and 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, your room is in the western building. Leon will show you the way.”

“Seriously?” Leon tapped a cigarette into his palm, frowning at Professor Lange.

“Behave,” she warned before turning 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 that showed up. Self-conscious and annoyed, I eyed him in return. I took in the white shirt not tucked into the green tweed pants and the loosely tied tie hanging 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: his dark, almost entirely black hair strands fell over his eyes, contrasting them; he had a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and thin lips. He tapped the cigarette into his palm, expression turning insolently amused.

“Jade Montgomery,” he said my name like it was hard to roll it off the tongue. “I wouldn’t want to be in your skin.”

My nerves prickled, the need to turn around and walk away 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? Rumours travel fast.”

Before I could answer, he headed for the door, leaving behind only a cloud of smoke. I closed my mouth and followed, frowning at the fact he walked in with a burning cigarette. My eyes caught the iron pentagram carved into the double door, and 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 intercepted above on the balcony. There were four doors leading away from the lobby—one to the left, to the right, and two leading from 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 library. To the right we have the hallway that leads to the classrooms. I’d try to avoid all of those rooms if I were you.”

I stared at the beige tapestry and the portraits of people from another time decorating it. Some portraits were dating all the way to the 15th century, and despite their age, they were well preserved. The newest one was the portrait of our current Arch Mage, Balthazar, a white-haired, white-bearded man that looked eternal and ethereal compared to the old, wrinkled men that lived in the other portraits. 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 them open for me.

The library’s first and second floor 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.

“This is the quickest way from the front door to the back exit,” Leon said, the few students picking up books grimacing at him and his cigarette. “It’s also the quickest way to the eastern exist, if you ever need to run away ”

“Feels like it’s easy to get lost in here,” I muttered.

“We have a few missing students each semester,” he said. “My working theory is that they’re sacrificing them to the demon-god that sleeps underneath the school.”

His steps were too big for me, and I struggled to catch up. I wasn’t short myself, but his head reached 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 backwards; his cigarette stopped burning.

“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 sucked in a breath and followed him through the dark hallway. The layout was confusing to say the least.

“What’s on the upper levels?”

“Dragons.” Leon grinned when we reached the end of the hallway; the backdoor. “So, what’s your room number?”

“One hundred in the western building.”

He whistled. “Daddy Montgomery pay for the suite?”

“You know I can smell money on you, right?”

He chuckled and opened the backdoor. “Relax, princess, I just like my smoke with some fire.” As if trying to prove a point, he sucked in a drag, the end of his cigarette hissing and burning.

The dark clouds rumbled with thunder, throwing a shade over everything, colouring Leon’s eyes grey. I looked past him to the training grounds between the main building and what I assumed was the western building. They were practicing; magic reverberated through the ground in strong waves, sending a shiver down my spine. Goddess, I missed it, I missed the feeling of magic underneath my skin. Students were chatting in groups, close enough to notice me, and the whispers grew louder once they did. It made me feel exposed and vulnerable, and I leaned against the stone railing of the stairs, reluctant to go there.

“So, are the rumours true?”

I looked at my tour guide. “What rumours?”

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Alright, 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 disappear into the darkness of the night.”

“I can get behind that plan.” He chuckled, exhaling the smoke. “Why didn’t you want to come here?”

“I figured I would probably run into a jackass asking too many questions.”

“Oof.”

“Thought you liked some fire with that smoke,” I said.

Leon’s blue eyes flickered to me, infinitely amused, and he leaned forward. “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.”

My thoughts scrambled, my mouth falling open, a breath passing my lips. “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No, no, no!” A voice interrupted our staring contest, and a black-haired girl marched up the stairs, surprising me, shot an angry glare in Leon’s direction, and hooked my arm. “Leave her alone, you disgusting pest.”

He let out a laugh. “Morta Aquila—rescuing women since God invented lesbianism.”

“Morta?” My eyes jumped to my saviour.

“Goddess of Death,” she said, still shooting daggers at Leon. “Stay away from her.” She pulled me away from the staircase, confusing the hell out of me.

I glanced over my shoulder right as Leon took out another cigarette.

“Let me know if you need a getaway car for that nefarious plan of yours,” he said, grinning.

My head snapped ahead 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.

“We do not hang out with Leon Lind, because he’s a sociopath,” she said and made a face. “We also don’t give two shits about these assholes staring at you. Oh, by the way, I don’t believe any of these rumours 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 yanked me toward the entrance. “I promise you that you’re going to have a fantastic time at the Academy; honestly, it’s not half as bad as people are saying, there aren’t even that many missing people. Oh, and the parties. Honey, 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 appeared when I was a baby, right after my grandmother died. The same grandmother that was, according to rumours, conspiring with demons. The tattoo was 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.