Chapter 3
It’s a blessing that the event occurred on the farthest coast of Nova Terra, allowing the Imperium Alius and the Custodes Hominum to create a clear barrier between the anomaly and the rest of the world.
THE SCIENCE OF CHANGE BY BARTHOLOMEW REGINALD
Chilly air slapped me with the tang of the sea as I stepped out of the port and onto the platform of Nightsbridge Station.
Weathered white stone pillars bordered the black-and-white checkered ground, housing a small redbrick guard’s building.
The air between me and the churning gray clouds shimmered with an electric blue glow, the wards protecting travelers from what lay beyond.
The ocean on either side of the station acted as a natural barrier, rippling and rolling toward the land, lapping hungrily at the jagged beach beyond the platform.
I took a moment to drink in the sea air and serene vista while my stomach settled.
I hated the aftereffects of port travel.
Being magically broken down then reassembled hundreds of miles away felt downright wrong.
But it was the most common form of travel for long distances, and the only way to get to Nightsbridge.
It made sense, Nightsbridge wasn’t exactly a tourist attraction, and the only people who lived there did so because they had no choice.
And here I was, hoping to become one of them.
Behind me, the glow of the port faded with a soft crackle, and I hauled my backpack onto my shoulder and strode toward the guard’s office. A tram sat on the tracks beyond, its windows tinted black.
I guessed that was my ride.
The wind whistled a soft lament as I pushed open the door to the guardhouse and stepped into what looked more like a comfortable sitting room than an office.
Two armchairs bordered a cheery hearth, and books were piled on a table in the corner beneath a painting of a man with a wiry beard and stern eyes set beneath bushy brows.
There was only one window in the building, open despite the chill—a waste of heat if you asked me. But whatever.
A man—who looked very much like the one in the painting but without the beard —was parked behind the official desk. He nursed an impressively large mug in his hands. Tea, if the teapot beside him was anything to go by.
He took a slurp of his beverage and surveyed me from beneath his salt-and-pepper eyebrows. “If yer done gawping, I’ll have yer papers.”
I pulled the pass from my pocket and handed it to him. “It’s sealed and everything.”
“Course it is. Not every day we get a voluntary visitor. Especially one who’s requestin’ a Perculiari Petitione.”
“News travels fast.”
He tutted. “Crazy to petition to be admitted here. You do know it’s a death sentence, right?”
“Surely not always.”
“Optimist, huh?”
“No. A survivor.”
A large bird flew in through the window behind him and landed on the top of the armchair.
A raven.
A massive one.
It preened for a moment, then cocked its head to fix me with a cold and calculating stare that was far too intelligent.
“Yes, news does travel fast around here,” the man said. “I mek sure of it.”
The raven cawed as if in agreement.
It had taken five weeks from my legal representative filing the necessary documents to obtain a date for this visit. I didn’t want to wait around another second. “When does the tram leave?”
“As soon as you get on it,” he said. “Not expectin’ anyone else today, are we, Maddox?”
“We certainly aren’t,” the raven replied.
The raven replied? Out loud. Fucking hell. I’d come across critters who could communicate through psybonds, but never across an animal that could speak out loud.
The guard let out a bark of laughter and slapped his thigh. “Been a while since I saw that expression on someone’s face.” He turned to Maddox. “Let the border guard know that Miss Onyx is on her way.”
He said Onyx without any inflection of disgust. Didn’t he know about the shit associated with my name?
His eyes narrowed. “Can’t have been easy for you.” The kindness in his tone had unwanted heat gathering behind my eyes. No one, not in all my twenty-one years, had ever shown such consideration.
Daniel, my stepfather, had been kind, of course.
But only in the confines of the estate, where he’d kept us, his secret family.
He visited once or twice a week, bringing small gifts and laughter, creating an illusion of safety.
But I knew now that he would have spurned us in public, because as soon as the rumors started, he’d cut and run.
“You all right, luv?” the tram guard asked.
I blinked and looked away. “I’m fine. Just eager to get going.”
“Speaking of going…Maddox, why are you still here?”
“Caw, come on, Chester, can’t a bird get warm? Caw!” He leapt off the chair and back out of the window, gone in a flurry of black feathers.
Chester heaved his body up from his seat and stomped past me to the door.
“Come on, then let’s get you off.” He held the door open for me, letting in a gust of icy air.
“Few rules for you.” He overtook me as we stepped onto the platform, leading the way to the tram.
“This here tram is warded. You stay inside, you stay safe. They can’t see you, but you can see them.
Ignore them. To be honest, it’s been pretty quiet the past few weeks.
Hunters been keeping the hot zone clean, so it should be a mundane ride. Just stay in yer carriage.”
Hunters…that’s what I’d be once I convinced them to remove the block on my power and let me enroll.
Not that I wanted the damn job. If job was what you could call it.
There was no pay, merely obligation and the chance to get your face ripped off by the Horrors and Echoes that were drawn to this region like moths to a flame.
But if I wanted my powers—and a chance to find the Libra Veritas—then I’d have to submit to the process.
I’d make a point to remind them of the terms of the Arcanum Lex—the fact that they needed me alive.
Heck, I might avoid being a Hunter and land some kind of admin role instead, something that would allow me to begin my search for the book of truth…
And I was getting ahead of myself. I needed admission first.
I tucked my hands into my jacket pockets to warm them. Thank Trinity for felt lining.
“Talbot’ll meet you at the Border House,” Chester said.
“The Border House?”
“Doubles as the end of the line. It’s the messenger quarters and houses ports to the Academy buildings.”
The tram door opened as we approached. “In you get,” Chester said. “Do not disembark until you reach the Border House.”
“I’m no fool, Chester.” I climbed into the carriage, where it was markedly warmer.
“You should be there in just over an hour, way before the storm hits. It’s not due till tonight.”
“And a storm is bad why?”
“We don’t run the tram during a storm—it messes with the wards. Academy is all right, though. They got the steeple that conducts and converts the lightning. Fabulous invention.”
I turned to face him. “What about you? What about the guardhouse?”
He smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry about me. I have me protocols. I’ll see you soon, no doubt.”
The doors slid shut, the tinted glass darkening the world outside. My pulse spiked at the woman staring back at me, almond eyes, sharp cheekbones, a pointed chin. Fuck, I did look like my mother.
The tram rumbled to life. We slid away from Chester and the guardhouse, pulling away from the platform and out of the wards.
Power pricked my skin—the tram wards activating, no doubt. I took a window seat and set my bag on the floor, settling down for the ride.
The beach receded, the sound of the sea fading as we slipped into forestland. Trees sprang up on either side, tall, dark, and menacing, blocking out the late afternoon sun. The tram was a lone metal snake, slithering through this deadly forest that housed all manner of monsters.
Horrors and Echoes—that’s how they were classified.
But the details were unknown to me, a secret that would only be revealed if the Academy accepted me.
What I did know about the Academy was that it played a vital role in keeping the rest of the world safe.
My home education with Mother had delved a little into the history of this place.
It had been built as a bastion to house Hunters, warriors tasked with culling the Horrors that didn’t belong in our world.
Monsters that had come from another place.
But the details of where and how were shrouded in conjecture and rumor and mystery.
Maybe once I was admitted, I’d get to know the truth of it all.
There was no denying the shiver of anticipation in my belly, not all due to the verbal battle and resistance that I was certain awaited me in the Perculiari Petitione. Like hell would they let me into the ranks of the Arcanus without a fight, no matter what the Lex said. I was, after all, an Onyx.
I’d spent all my life among humans and supernals like Bunty and Carlisle—Arcanus without affiliation to any coven—skimming the outskirts of society while the magic users who I should have been able to count on for support pretended I didn’t exist. I’d worked with other kinds of supernals too, Therianthropes and Haematophages who preferred not to be drawn into the politics of shifter packs or high society.
Carlston Town had been a haven of anonymity. For a while, I’d convinced myself that my heritage didn’t matter, that it was a hindrance, but now… Now it would be a hook, a weapon, an ally in getting what I needed, and no one would stand in my way.
They couldn’t. Not legally. Unless there was something I’d missed.
I’d find out soon enough.
The rumble and squeak of the tram faded into background noise as I allowed myself to relax into the leather seat. This wasn’t so bad.
Did the Hunters at the Academy use this tram when they went on leave? Did they get leave? Did the students training to be Hunters go home for holidays?
What would they make of me? An outsider in so many ways. Once again, the tiny voice in the back of my mind whispered that I was getting ahead of myself, but I shut it down quickly.
A flash of light split the sky, followed by an atmospheric rumble, and my stomach dipped. Chester had said the storm wasn’t due until later tonight.
Another flash and rumble were followed by the hammer of rain on the roof and windows.
Shit.
We were still miles from the Border House, and if the wards went down… No, it was fine.
Chester said it had been quiet recently. Not much activity in the forest. There was nothing to worry about.
The storm intensified, a living thing fuelled by ire and intent, surrounding me in its wrathful embrace until the squeak and rumble of the tram was buried beneath its elemental voice.
Was it my imagination, or was the tram slowing down?
Long minutes passed. Wards were still holding. I’d be fine. I’d barely relaxed into my seat again when movement outside the carriage caught my eye. Before I could get a good look, the whole carriage shook violently, and I was thrown against the wall.
What the fuck?
Across the aisle, a dark shape hurtled toward the window and smashed into the wards.