Page 7 of Wolf Trial

“The best, plus all the people you’ve kidnapped,” I said under my breath. Apparently not under my breath enough, because her stare pierced me and sent my heart into a clattering beat.

“You were all volunteered for this position,” she said with something like affront, and I laughed loud enough that the sound carried around the circular room. “Your families were paid very handsome finders fees.”

“Shame none of that finders fee made its way to me,” I drawled, and waved a hand when she began to launch into another speech.3 “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all in. Sign me up for wolf killing and generous stipends. But if you want us to act like this is a normal academy, and you’ve done us a favour by bringing us here, you might want to switch up your mode of transport. Prison wagons tend to put people in a bad mood.”

Nose Ring Girl edged closer to me, as if she’d decided I’d make a good ally. Or maybe my big mouth would get me in trouble and take the heat off her.

The male kidnappee stabbed his finger at me. “Exactly. This is bullshit.”

“I don’t speak for you, cocksleeve,” I quipped.

He paused in the middle of a reply, and didn’t seem to know how to finish.

“You want us to sign up to kill people we’ve never met,” Nose Ring Girl said, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I’ve never even killed an ex-boyfriend; I can’t kill a wolf.”

The silver-haired woman raised her hand to indicate the corridor behind them. “You can be taught how to fight, you can be moulded into a slayer the likes of which can never be defeated in battle, but what we can’t do is change an unwilling attitude. If that’s your choice, you can leave.”

And get attacked by the wolves she refused to kill. What a lovely choice. Nose Ring Girl dropped her stare to the floor and said nothing else.

“The wolves are not innocent,” the headmistress, boot camp instructor, whatever she was, said with feeling. “They have slaughtered countless innocents, both human and vampire. The history of their packs is bloody and ugly, and they have their own fortress where wolves are raised to kill innocent vampires.”

Innocent vampires, or the killers from this academy? I could recognise political spin when I heard it. I gave her an unimpressed look.

I startled, my heart throwing itself into a desperate lurch when the brunette leaning against me groaned and crashed back into consciousness all at once. She looked from me to the blonde holding her, to the rounded room around us and the statue of the veiled woman with her head in her hands, and then her mouth dropped open when she saw the severe, silver-haired drill sergeant.

“Blood and silver,” she said with the ring of a curse. “So this really is Lunatic Academy.”

“Lunova Academy,” she was sharply corrected.

“And you’re Laura Mortem,” the brunette whispered, terror shining in burgundy eyes. She said her name the same way I’d breathe a serial killer’s name if I found myself in a dead-end alley with them. Laura—with the Lau rhyming with vow, not law the way I was used to. It made the name harder somehow, gave it edges sharp enough to cut if we pissed her off.

I really should be running for my life. It was the only sensible thing to do. But that taser remained firmly in my memory, and I had no desire to meet the sharp end of a wolf’s fangs, either. My common sense waged a battle against that glowing sum of money, and I blamed capitalism for which won.

“Now that you’re all conscious,” the silver-haired woman—Laura Mortem—said crisply. “We can begin. If you wish to run, do so now. Otherwise, follow me.”

I waited to see if anyone would run, but even the guy and the terrified brunette stuck around.

Guess we were all doing this. Enrolling at an academy that trained captives to murder wolves.

I hope your cabana boys are worth it, I thought in a hiss at Gran. If I make it through this training, I’m coming right for you.

CHAPTER 5

SADIE

“Huh,” I said, when Laura Mortem led us in a winding route through grey stone corridors made warm by golden light, past more arched doorways into darkened rooms, alcoves housing stone benches, stone staircases, and a statue of a huge stone bat I was immediately suspicious of. I kept my eye on it until we passed, convinced it was going to come to life and transform into a vampire.

The academy had an atmosphere to it, a gravitas and weight like old churches, and the same old, dusty scent. No coppery tang of blood. It didn’t exactly set my mind at ease; just because there were no obvious pools of blood didn’t mean they weren’t hidden away behind closed doors. The whole building was deadly quiet, though. There was no way to judge how many other students—slayers, Mortem called them—were here, or guess the number of faculty that would oversee our training.

I wasn’t looking forward to the training part of Lunova Academy—or Lunatic Academy as the brunette, Fioranna, had called it—or really any part of the academy shit, but I’d been working in retail for four years. I could handle anything.

The chamber we were led into was big enough that our murmurs echoed off the vaulted ceilings. Banners hung from the wainscoting, cherry wood walls between windows that let in silver moonlight to mix with the amber glow from chandeliers above.

“Fancy,” I said under my breath. Not the armoury I’d been braced for, or maybe a room full of past slayers who’d been strung up for disobedience, their decaying corpses a warning for us to not step out of line. Instead, this was a dining room, with rows of tables covered in differing coloured tablecloths—each matching a banner, I couldn’t help but notice.

I stopped where Mortem indicated, the others fanned around me before a long, cherry-wood table set with five bowls of something that looked a lot like rice pudding and smelled like warm vanilla and cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven. How nice of our kidnappers to feed us before they forced us to enrol at their murder school.

Just think of the money, I told myself. One year, and you’ll have enough to start over anywhere. I could move to Paris, become a sophisticated woman who visited galleries and libraries on the weekend. Or rent a cottage deep in the Pennines, where no one would ever bother me again. One year, and I could live happily ever after.