Page 4 of Escaping Hallow Hill Academy
I snort and call over my shoulder, “Yeah, like what?”
“You’re a Sekar, are you not?”
Fuck.So much for a quiet evening. This guy’s over here screaming and moaning about my race like a porn star on set.
“Lower your tone, baker.”
He gives my pet name a shake of his head but simply carries on. “The Sekar are the rarest of the witches in the world. But you are not alone.”
I freeze. He doesn’t need to tell me what I already know. I am the last of my kind, of my coven, and that loss hurts me more than the blood beneath my fingernails ever could.
“I am the last.” And I won’t go to some Academy with other sad, pitiful supernaturals that are as alone as I am.
Sounds like the most depressing place on Earth. No, thanks.
“You’re wrong. There’s another Sekar. Another one of your kind, and he’s at the Academy.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up slowly one by one.
I whirl then, seething. “You’re lying.”
He’s smirking like he can read every thought swirling in my brain, and I want to cut the lips off his fucking face. “I am not. But if you do not believe me, come meet with Headmistress Krist. Speak to the Sekar. You’ll see for yourself.” He turns slowly away and strides off down the dark alleyway.
And just like that. This asshole’s fucked up my night entirely.
Because I bend down then.
And silently pick up that glittering card.
Chapter Two
Ikick the door closed to my one-bedroom apartment and yank off my boots a moment later. My clothes are discarded all over as I walk into the small space until I’m naked with nothing but my sheathed sword dangling from my fingers. I grab a random shirt that could probably go for a fluff-and-fold, but I’m too tired to give a shit.
I make my way to the altar in the middle of my house dedicated to my Holy Lady of Death.
Some say that you should always look your best for your deities, that you should be perfectly put together. I like to think my lady appreciates me as I am.
A half-naked hot mess and all.
I kneel before the altar. It’s a stairway structure, decorated in black-and-purple candles, dark orchids, mirrors, cauldrons, and at the very top is my Lady.
She is a woman draped in long, dark robes and a sheer veil that covers her skeletal face. Legends say that to look into her eyes is so powerful, it can wake death with a single glance; her gaze is madness incarnate and frightening to behold. It’s why she wears the veil, why she’s depicted with her features covered in our holy images.
Even pictures are powerful things.
I place the sword in front of the altar before I press my palms flat against the floor and lean forward, staring up at her image. “My Lady, I took another soul today. An offering for you, another soul for your river of sorrow.” I pause, chewing at my bottom lip, pondering what I should say next.
Ah, what the hell. She can likely already read every thought running through my mind, anyway.
“Am I really the last, Lady? For so long, I’ve lived with this thought that my people are gone and today . . .” I suck in a breath. “Today, they told me it was all a lie. Another Sekar is out there at Hallow Hill Academy. Is this true? Should I go? Please, Lady, give me a sign . . .”
I wait a long moment and then another, measuring the seconds with my own frantic heartbeats, hoping for a signal of some kind.
Nothing.
There’s nothing. Not that I’ve ever expected it. Signs can be found all around, but my Lady has never spoken directly to me.
I close my eyes, unsure of what to believe, and when I open them again, I notice the sword of souls glowing brighter and brighter, and the voices of the dead inside rise into an ear-splitting shriek of utter chaos that swirls around the small room. It’s blinding light that reflects off the dirty walls. For a moment, it’s a symphony of voices and screams that drown out the constant sound of the city and life in general.
