Page 2 of A Taste of Torment
And that’s why I won’t let the disguise of this place lull me into a sense of ease.
It looks like any other snooty prep school for the annoyingly wealthy, and I now fit the part perfectly too in a blue plaid skirt, white button up top, and matching knee-high socks. My dark hair is a tad curly and trimmed to my shoulders.
The difference is, I really am what I appear to be.
Human. Weak. Vulnerable.
Utterly terrified.
I unfold my wrinkled acceptance letter with tense fingers.
Candice Montgomery,
It is with great pleasure that I write to inform you that you have been accepted into the Minor Program at Shadow Hills Academy!
Great pleasure, my ass.Schools like this begrudgingly accept a few non-magic students per year. I may have some roots in the magical community, but that doesn’t mean I’ll fit in.
My mother’s bottom lip trembles as she nods. I give her one last tight hug, followed by another fist bump to my father, and then I march up the steps toward my worst fear and most challenging ambition.
* * *
I pushopen the massive stone doors to the school without hesitation and am greeted by a rush of chaos. There’s a large crowd gathered in the main lobby; so much so that it’s hard for me to shove my way in. Luckily, the crowd is distracted by something at the front of the room, and once the door opens far enough, I slip in barely noticed.
High above, curved wooden accent beams decorate the domed ceiling. The floor is checkered marble, and the people surrounding me are all well-groomed with tailored uniforms, perfectly fitting each body.
The pretentious boarding school vibes continue inside, I see.
Most of the girls are tall and willowy, somehow still with luscious curves. The boys are even taller, with thick muscled frames. Their skin is flawless and smooth over sharp cheekbones.
I wrinkle my nose and resist the urge to look down at my too long skirt and the button I can’t keep fastened around my chest.
I didn’t have time to have my uniform tailored due to myexpedited acceptance.
But what difference would it make to have a tailored uniform? It’s like being surrounded by airbrushed models, not a single flaw on their luminescent skin. I may as well run with my frumpiness and make the most of it.
I need to find the hall to administration so I can get my schedule and get to my normal Minor classes with the other weak students. Maybe I’ll be able to breathe there.
There are several open walkways in this main hall. One reads:Portals. My stomach sinks. Definitely not that way.
Another,Elite Hall.That’s arguably worse.
Arena.Nope.
Administration.
As I track my path toward my destination, I finally find the source of all the attention, and my stomach drops to my feet. Three figures stand on the platform between two spiral marble staircases.
The breath freezes in my lungs when my gaze falls on the demon heirs.
Jarron, Trevor and Beatrice are the most powerful students at this academy. The pride and joy of Shadow Hills.
From here they look… well, ethereally beautiful but otherwise normal. Human.
But I know better. Maybe better than anyone else here.
These demons keep their true forms hidden, even from other supernaturals. Because knowing and understanding are two very different things.
I work to keep my heartrate steady in this throng of supernaturals that can sniff out a weakling in a millisecond.
