Page 52 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

The level of excess that isn’t contributing to his current debilitating stillness.

I’ve revealed a bit too much, but fuck it. I don’t give a damn.

"And yet here I am, in an oddly good mood." I lean back, fully opening my eyes to let Lord Bartholomew see the deep crimson that has consumed my irises.

At my full height of 6'3", I stand level with Damien and Cassius, while Nikolai and Mortimer tower just slightly taller at 6'5".

"My kind has a particular fondness for grudges, and we always collect our debts. But since it's the first day of school..." I lift my hand with deliberate slowness, making sure his gaze follows my fingers before snapping them sharply.

The atmosphere clears instantly, the gravitational weight vanishing as if it never existed.

Lord Bartholomew gasps desperately for air, sweat suddenly pouring from him as if my power had been holding back a flood.

"Let this be the first and last time you disrespect my wonderfully mundane personality," I say pleasantly. "Or we'll replay this scene, next time with an audience.” I allow my hand to shoo him away. “You can go now."

He grits his teeth, mouth opening to protest, but I cut him off coldly.

"I wasn't asking."

His mouth snaps shut.

He rises slowly, throws one final glare around the room, and storms out. The door slams behind him with a satisfying crash.

The following silence is thick enough to cut, but I'm already fishing in my pocket for the blood packet Cassius provided.

"Stupid mother fucker thinking he can talk shit aboutmyDuskwalker," I snarl, feeling the nagging need to down the packof blood and maybe go for a walk before this “trial” starts. "I should throw him off a?—"

A cloud of smoke interrupts my rant. I look up to find Grim hovering inches from my face, his skull tilted in what appears to be fascination.

"Oh. Hey Grim," I say casually, my voice still deep from tapping into my vampire traits. Matched with my already male alter-ego, I sound like a guy who just got hit with puberty. "Give me a second to down this. Unlocking those powers always messes with me."

I bite into the packet, take a few sips, and immediately regret my life choices. Forcing myself to swallow to avoid staining the uniform, I can't help the grimace that follows.

"What is this blood? It tastes like it's been aging since the dawn of time!"

I can’t help but slowly look to the source of my current discomfort; Cassius frowns slightly.

"It's from this morning's sunrise."

Oh…

I’m not sure how I feel about drinking some random innocent girl’s blood who was probably trying to get out of the school’s possession alive, but the lingering aftertaste of the metallic liquid is driving my tastebuds crazy.

"It tastes like someone preserved a corpse for three millennia just to torture us," I whine, sticking out my tongue and inadvertently displaying my retracted fangs. "If the other packets are this bad, I might actually cry."

"Men don't cry," Cassius states matter-of-factly.

"Wellthisman is about to make history then," I retort, eyeing the blood packet with deep suspicion. "No way is this fresh blood. Nope. Seriously, where did you even get this? The ancient artifacts chamber's reject pile?"

I catch Damien's slight smirk and Nikolai's barely suppressed chuckle. Even Mortimer seems amused by my dramatic display.

Grim releases another puff of smoke, this one somehow manages to convey sympathy. I reach up to pat his skull affectionately.

"At least someone understands my suffering."

The mark on my neck pulses once, warm and reassuring, as my power settles back into its usual rhythm. The runes on my wrist fade from their intense crimson back to their normal state, though they still shimmer faintly beneath my skin.

Well then…what now?

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