Page 7 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

He steps out of the shadows like death personified — tall and lean with hair darker than a starless night. His bone structure could cut glass, all sharp angles, and haunting hollows. But it's his eyes that steal my breath — pale as moonlight on fresh snow and just as merciless.

"Move aside, Cassius," he commands, those pale eyes narrowing. "Your energy is particularly...abrasive tonight."

I watch, fascinated, as the Duskwalker actually listens, retreating to a far corner where his shadows curl around him like agitated snakes.

I can barely see him now that he seems to camouflage with the darkness, but I guess he’s the least of my worries right now with this Seventh Order dude present.

Is he here to take me away or something?

Mortimer's lip curls into something between a sneer and a smile.

"Don't sulk. You know I'm bound as your eternally faithful 'pet'." The sarcasm in his voice could strip paint.Is he talking to Cassius?"But that doesn't mean I have to enjoy how your particular brand of darkness makes my skin crawl. Some of us prefer our magic a bit more...refined."

A Necromancer Reaper? Like, what…does he reap souls AND raise the dead? Because that's not terrifying at all.

Cue in the heavy sarcasm.

He prowls around my chair in a slow circle, those arctic eyes dissecting me piece by piece. I resist the urge to squirm. I've faced down seductive vampires, taunting fae, and now apparently one very moody Duskwalker.

I can handle Mr. Tall, Dark, and Death-Obsessed.

"Name?" he demands.

I groan, letting my head fall back.

"For the last time, I'm Gwenivere Isolde Graveshadow. I broke in to save my dying sister. I needed the Chalice of?—"

"Ah yes," Damien cuts in with that infuriating smirk. "Such commitment to the role. The feminine mannerisms are a particularly nice touch."

Can he just shut up and let me say my shit?!

My mouth drops open to argue, but something else happens instead.

"AH-CHOO!"

The sneeze catches me completely off guard.

What the hell?

Mortimer hasn't moved, but somehow the air around him feels...different.Heavy.Like standing in a tomb that hasn't been opened in centuries.

"Are you wearing cologne or something?" I demand, my nose tingling. "Because whatever it is—" Another sneeze cuts me off. "—it's making my sinuses go crazy!"

For the first time, something like interest flickers in those pale eyes.

"What time is it?"

"Just past six," Nikolai answers casually, but there's a new tension in his shoulders that makes my stomach drop.

"Six?" My voice rises an octave — which, given my current baritone, is quite a feat. "As in, sunrise is—"ACHOO!"—happening now?"

I try to fight back another sneeze, but it's like my entire face is rebelling against me.

The pressure behind my eyes builds until I see spots, and my sinuses feel like they're being scrubbed with sandpaper.

A prickling sensation on the back of my neck makes me look up, and I freeze.

The shadow creature bound to Cassius hovers directly above my chair, its form more defined than I've ever seen it.

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