Chapter 12
SADIE
House of the Sun, I discovered, had its own private wing in Lunova Academy.
After a fitful sleep, and a quiet breakfast, the three of us—Elix, Paige, and I—trudged across the field for our first official session: an introduction to training by Reed.
I was unsure whether it was the introduction we’d missed yesterday when Fioranna’s body was found.
Elix and I were paired together for training and we were given a failing grade.
That was what happened when you both fell on your asses too many times to count, and there was no clear winner.
My entire body ached, throbbed, and pulsed as I limped away from the field.
When Sidonie showed up out of nowhere to ruin our afternoon by separating us, I debated stringing her up and gouging her eyeballs out.
This academy was hellish enough, and training was cruel enough, without being separated. But Elix, Paige, and I were in different houses and it seemed we wouldn’t be eating dinner together today. We were being given the grand tour of each house’s wing, and others were forbidden from entering.
The only thing that made it bearable was my guide. Instead of being a stranger—or worse, Reverie—Rogue was the one who angled her pale chin for me to follow her.
“You’re House of Sun?” I asked, not feeling particularly friendly, and aware that surliness came through in my voice.
“I am,” she confirmed, slanting a glance at me as she led the way through the main doors and right, down a long corridor I’d walked thrice before.
This time, instead of following it to its end, she hooked another right down a tight corridor that looked like it had been there for centuries, the bricks pockmarked and worn in places, the flags beneath our feet concave in the centre.
I was very proud of myself for not glancing back for one last sight of my friends as they broke off in different directions. I was even more proud of myself for following Rogue instead of ditching the glamorous redhead vampire and disappearing into the complex network of hallways and staircases.
Curiosity more than anything kept me following her.
“Your pin will open the entrance,” she explained when our winding route brought us to a heavy stone doorway like the entrance of a tomb. Imaginatively, someone had carved a 3D sun into the solid block, and other, smaller suns surrounded it, their rays depicted as wavy arms like tentacles.
To demonstrate, Rogue removed a necklace from around her neck—her pin worn as a pendant—and pressed its golden face into one of the smaller suns—an eclipse. When stone groaned and the door slid left into the wall, some of my grumpy mood scattered, wonder taking its place.
“That is some Indiana Jones shit,” I murmured appreciatively, following the vampire into the chamber beyond.
Not very smart of me, but I was in a mood, and bad moods didn’t inspire self-preservation.
Instead of another dim corridor, the space on the other side was wide open, circular, and flooded with light from a glass dome ceiling.
“Who’s Indiana? An ex-boyfriend of yours?”
I snorted. “I wish. He’s not actually real; he’s a film character.” At her blank look, horror struck. “Please tell me you just call them movies here, and it’s not that they don’t exist.”
How was I supposed to live without horror films, or superhero blockbusters? Oh god. Would I have to live through my first Christmas disowned by my only family member without A Muppet’s Christmas Carol?1
“I’ve heard of them,” Rogue replied in her velvet voice—soft, a little smoky, a lot sexy. “But there’s no way to watch them in Lunova. You’d have to use one of the vents between this world and the others.”
I blinked. Blinked again. Decided to just delete that word from my brain so I could live in docile, ignorant bliss.2
“And how would I use a vent?” I asked as we descended the three carpeted steps into what seemed to be a common room.
The walls were painted a sunny colour that befitted the house name, tufted chairs and comfy-looking sofas all in different shades of yellow—egg yolk, butter, daffodil, amber, mustard, and even a dubious bronze that was more grey than sunny.
It was a strangely warm place, both in temperature and welcome.
I turned in place, taking in the painted portraits on the yellow walls alongside weapons, framed certificates, and a noticeboard covered in scraps of paper and daggers.
Lamps with tasselled shades illuminated the room, the arched windows on the rounded far wall doing nothing to lighten the room thanks to the pitch black sky outside.
All in all, it did not look like a haven of hunters and killers. And yet that’s what the people scattered on the sofas, and visible through an archway sitting at rounded tables eating or studying, were. Killers.
And now I was one of them.
“There must be a vent nearby if Ezren got us here so quickly,” I finished my thought, seeing Suri’s empty expression when I blinked. I killed someone. Suri was dead because of me. Not the tutors, not Mortem, not even Ezren. Me.
“A vent that will only open for those with an amulet,” Rogue agreed, a twinkle in her eye as she led me through the sitting room and into that space I’d glimpsed full of tables and chairs—and more sunny decor, this time a warm ochre. “You think they’d make it so easy for us to get away?”
Rogue’s laugh wasn’t high or musical or sweet. It was a low shudder of thunder, and every bit as rich as when she spoke. I might have appreciated it if I wasn’t currently obsessing over being trapped in a world that wasn’t my own, and the fact I was now a murderer.
“Do you have police here?” I blurted when Rogue strode across the polished amber-wood floor to a table full of piping hot food.
“We have peacekeepers, yes,” she confirmed, sweeping a long fall of crimson hair over her shoulder as she inspected the food on offer.
“And they don’t care that we kill each other in training? Or that our classes involve teaching us wolf murder?”
Rogue shot me a smirk. “The academies operate outside of the peacekeeper’s authority.”
“Academies,” I repeated. “This one and the wolves’ academy?”
“And the rumoured third,” Rogue agreed with a wink.
“Let me guess,” I drawled. “A dragon academy? No, wait. Unicorns.”
“The dragon queens used to have a university before their empire collapsed. Unicorns are a myth.”
“So are vampires,” I drawled, holding her gaze and struck by the burgundy colour of her eyes and how light seemed to shine from within them. Maybe that was a magic thing. Maybe it was a vampire thing.
“In your dull world,” she quipped. “So, you’ve seen the common room and our dining room.
There are six bedrooms here for emergencies.
Or fun,” she added with a wink. Flirting seemed to be her default setting; I gave her a flat look and ignored it.
“Mostly, we use it when our roommates are being unbearable and we need to escape them.”
I trailed after her like a duckling, nodding absently as she indicated the cluster of doors—the bedrooms—and an empty, unused room—the house archives—and swept open two glass-inlaid doors to reveal a library like something from my dreams.
I used to read everyday, but I barely had the energy to eat these days, let alone read. I usually got home from work and collapsed. Plus, books were an expense that I couldn’t afford. Then again, with ninety grand in my pocket, I’d be able to buy all the books of my dreams.3
“Anyone can use this?” I checked, glancing at Rogue as she hung back, letting me stumble in awe into the library. There was one other slayer using it, but the stacks were so numerous, the room so hushed, I could pretend she wasn’t there.
“Anyone in House of Sun,” Rogue confirmed, something warm in her voice that I ignored. I couldn’t let my guard down around a single vampire. I’d decided to trust Elix, and I was now at max capacity for vampire friends.
“You can read all the books you want,” she added.
“And as long as you mark them down in this giant book here—” She strode towards where a massive tome dwarfed a podium nearby.
“You can take them back to your room. Just don’t take more than three, or the library guardian will come and kick your ass. ”
I gave her an alarmed look. “Who’s the library guardian?”
Her smile grew, disarmingly pretty. “Me.”
I laughed despite myself, returning my attention to the library.
A glass dome let in shafts of moonlight, but it was warm amber lamplight that kept the jewel-toned spines and soft amber carpets aglow.
It was every bit as inviting as the common room, and yet warmer.
Books had never let me down. Books had never disappeared overnight or sold me for a fancy holiday.
“Stay here if you like,” Rogue offered. “This was the last stop on the tour. Unless you’d like to see our private training room.”
“Pass.” My shoes sunk into the carpet as I crossed to the first bookcase, reading the brass plate: history. That might come in handy if I ever dared to learn more about this world and its inhabitants.
“I’ll be in the common room if you need me,” Rogue said, managing to make the simple offer sound like a proposition. “And Sadie?”
I half-turned towards her.
“This place won’t kill you unless you let it,” she said, the soft quietness of her voice making me blink. It sounded genuine, more real than anything she’d said before.
“I’ll try to remember that,” I murmured, glancing over her shoulder when the door creaked open and a tall, curvy woman with pale skin and red hair shouldered it aside and entered with a stack of books.
Her hair was a shade darker than Rogue’s and put up in a bun with a pencil through it, her fingernails short, lips bitten red and chapped, and her clothes were a completely different style—a grey, oversized shirt and leather trousers that looked well-worn, with heavy boots as opposed to the slinky dress Rogue wore that hugged every curve—but there was no questioning they were related.