Strange Academy (Hot Paranormal Romance) (8 page)
“Lorde Gray.” The guy leaned against the window ledge. Next to him leaned a pair of crutches. The right leg of his khakis was pinned up above the knee so it wouldn’t hang empty.
“Parker Klark.” Gray took up a position next to him. “Haven’t seen you since we graduated. Who knew an ass like you would become a legend?”
“Ah, now I remember why we weren’t friends in school.”
“Actually, Klark, I couldn’t fight my way through the crowd of girls following you everywhere.”
“They would have been interested in you if you hadn’t singed your eyebrows off. Three times.” Klark smirked. “You don’t smell like formaldehyde anymore. Congratulations.”
Gray chuckled. Not many people dared to insult him. His thoughts turned to a certain Non...
Klark eyed him sideways. “I heard you took out a dozen ghouls in the Marrakech night market last year.”
“A lie,” he tossed off. “I counted fourteen. I heard a naked virgin with a bag of unmarked bills could drive ten miles an hour through Chicago at midnight with her doors unlocked, the way you kept the crime rate down. Until you got caught in a burning building last year.” The Meta healers had gotten to him too late to save the leg.
“Yes.” Klark’s voice twanged oddly, making Gray wonder whether there was more to that story. “I’m a big hero. I’ll be teaching physical self-defense.”
“Chicago’s loss. Welcome to Strange Academy.” When they shook, Klark’s grip matched his own strength.
Cross ahemed at the front of the room and all conversation died. “First, Jewel, do you have Sadie distracted?”
Gray scowled. They stuffed themselves into a classroom instead of the cozy staff room for fear she’d find them. Did she have to be the topic of every conversation, too?
“She’s supervising the seventh graders at their kitchen duties,” Jewel said.
His scowl turned into a grin. Supervising work duties wasn’t any more pleasant for the teacher than for the kids. Especially the cafeteria work. You had to have a keen eye to keep the slackers in line at the same time you were keeping thieving fingers out of the food.
At the front of the room, Cross started the announcements. He went through the upcoming week’s events, including whoever was assigned to keep Sadie out of the way. Mostly, they just scheduled the magical training for periods when she had a class. Still, his stress knot grew at every mention of her name.
She has to go,
he thought. But the red haze cleared from his vision when he focused on his briefcase. He’d take care of it. If no one else took responsibility, he would.
“Finally,” Cross said, “Michaiah says his independent study experiment is ready.” A few groans went up from the assembly. Cross silenced the group by raising a hand. “As an added precaution, I want a volunteer to cast an extra magic circle.”
“I nominate Gray.” From the group of shapeshifters, Cloren Walsh winked at him. With Sadie elsewhere, she didn’t bother with the glamour hiding her golden feline eyes.
“What’s so dangerous about this Michaiah kid?” Gray asked.
Tao Zhang spoke up. “His element is water, and he’s trying to summon a Leviathan demon. Last time, the thing got out of hand and destroyed the indoor pool. But we have his parents to thank for the new aquatic center.”
They’d been lucky to just lose the building. An enraged Leviathan could rip open the hull of a nuclear submarine. “Sounds like fun.” Gray yawned. “I’ll do it.”
Cross folded his arms. “Well, I’m done. Anyone else?”
Gray raised his hand, like an obedient little student.
The principal looked right at him. “Talk to me in my office.”
Gray stood, collecting the interest of everyone in the room. A thrill went through him, as if he were facing an enemy. Only this time, the enemy was Sadie and he had won already, thanks to the contents of the briefcase.
“I was against Sadie Strange being hired. Look at us. We can’t even have our meeting in the staff room. Why are we changing everything we do for an outsider?”
Jewel Jones piped up. “Pippa recommended her.”
The faces of the eleven Staff Coven members turned hard. He’d get no support from the most powerful group on campus. Pippa had trained most of them—their hard-core loyalty meant they’d never doubt her ability to forecast the future.
“This used to be a sanctuary,” he said, “a place for our kids to be themselves. Now they have to hide here, too.”
“Temple approved her. She stays.” Cross set his jaw.
Gray sidestepped the subject of Temple. “I’ve found something concerning all of us.” He snapped open the locks on his briefcase. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are not people to her. You want to know who she thinks we are?”
He held the thing up so everyone got a good look. The teachers took in the glossy cover with stiffening reactions. In glowing colors, two figures fought in mid-air, framed by a backdrop of skyscrapers. A guy wearing a cape drew back a glowing fist to pummel an impossibly muscled man whose identity-concealing mask seemed about to tumble to the ground.
“Why did you bring that thing here?” Klark growled.
“I think you know we don’t encourage those on campus, Mr. Gray,” the principal said, his low voice a warning.
Gray paused for extra drama, about to launch into the speech he’d been mentally preparing all day. This woman thinks heroes are cheap fiction. She thinks people who fight the forces of darkness wear tights. We’re not real to her. Not people. But he didn’t have to say it. The teachers’ eyes told him they knew she thought they were a joke.
The rest of the room fell silent. So everyone heard the creak of the wooden door opening.
He fought a smile at Sadie’s flustered blush as she entered and saw everyone looking her way.
She was in librarian mode again, all beige. But thanks to him, she wasn’t fooling anyone with the innocent act.
“I’m so sorry. I just found out about this meeting.” She bit her bottom lip as she looked for a seat and found every one was taken. The teachers leaning against the walls shifted to fill the empty spaces next to them.
A few silent heartbeats went by. Coffee-colored eyes searched the room, then pulsed hatred as she focused on what Gray held.
Their gazes had just locked as Cross spoke up. “We’re just finishing. Sadie, come with me. I’ll fill you in.”
Sadie’s tone changed from apologetic to icy. “Are you finished, Mr. Gray?”
He smiled, his lips curling so high his cheeks hurt. “Maybe you could help me, Miss Strange. Tell everyone what this is.”
“A comic book, Mr. Gray.”
“Very good. But it’s also known as a ‘graphic novel.’”
She folded her arms, making her breasts strain against her beige jacket. “Says who?”
“Your thesis advisor. Mr. Timothy.”
“You mean Dr. Timothy,” she said.
“Right. I forgot they give Ph.D.s for comic books now.”
“Actually, his thesis was on Restoration theatre,” she informed him.
“Is your thesis about Restoration theatre?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.
“Didn’t Dr. Timothy tell you?” She blinked innocent brown eyes. Why was she calm? “It’s on myth and the modern graphic novel. But, Mr. Gray, you’re being rude, talking to me when you should be telling the staff something. What do you want to say?”
Oh, what he’d really like to say. If only he could tell her the truth: that no Meta would ever been seen dead with a comic book. All Metas had hated superheroes ever since an American writer and a Canadian artist living in 1930s Cleveland had seen a Meta rescue a woman from kidnappers by lifting the car. A couple of months later, he’d seen a silly line drawing of himself on the cover of a new comic book line. The two, “inspired” by the event, had turned his life into a farce in front of the whole world.
Tights and capes. Gray gritted his teeth. Faster than a speeding bullet, his arse.
And whoever this “Stan Lee” character really was, he had a lot to answer for. How he kept figuring out Meta powers and giving them to his fictional characters, no one knew. Several Metas had chatted with the white-mustached guy who claimed to be Lee, but he didn’t know anything. An actor hired to play the role. No wonder he wanted to appear in every movie based on Lee’s work.
But Gray couldn’t say any of that without revealing the school’s secret. It didn’t matter, though. Every other person in the room knew. They were all sensitive to the effect that comic books could have on young Metas. “I’m not sure I want someone who thinks comic books are high art teaching my nephew. He’ll end up shouting
shazaam
and thinking he can leap tall buildings in a single bound.”
Oddly, her face was relaxed, calm. “Anything else?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. Support wafted toward him from every person in the room. Not even Cross would defend her now. But why wasn’t she panicking? “Only one more thing. This is for you.” He tossed her the comic book. She caught it with one hand. “Maybe you could trade it for some bubble gum.”
“Finished, then?” She actually started flipping through the comic book.
“Yes.” He clenched his teeth. Why wasn't she panicking?
She cocked her head to the side. “Nothing more?”
“Positive.”
She rolled the comic into a tube as she walked to the front of the room, getting everyone’s attention. Of course she did, with her sweetheart ass drawing the eye. And the way her trousers clung to the groin-tightening curve where her legs met her backside.
His mouth went dry. No panty line. She had to be wearing one of those thongs.
Her voice broke into his thoughts. “All of you know why I got the job here. My aunt recommended me.” She took a deep breath and put the comic book down. “But I don’t think any of you know Pippa Strange thought she was a witch.”
The members of the coven twitched. Where was she going with this? She should be claiming comic books were literature, like Dr. Timothy had. A bitter taste filled his mouth. She had warned him that if he tried to play at politics, she’d win. He might have powers beyond a normal human, but her time at university had given her more experience in an educational setting.
“When she was here,” Sadie continued, “she hid what she loved so that she would fit in.”
Gray snorted. Ha. Little did she know.
“Strange Academy is a prestigious institution with a long history. Many of you attended school here. I didn’t. I’m different. That’s the issue, not the title of my thesis.”
What the hell? Around the room, faces were softening toward her. Why was everyone riveted? The knot in his back throbbed.
“Let’s face it.” She threw helpless hands in the air. “I don’t fit in at Strange Academy. I’m trying, but can’t seem to manage it. So I’ll ask a question and go back to my apartment. If the answer is no, I’ll pack and leave.”
“No.” Gray spoke loudly enough that everyone could hear.
Sadie ignored his interruption. “Is there room for someone different at Strange Academy?”
Midnight. She didn’t have much time. No one had come to her door to tell her to vacate the premises, but Sadie knew her maneuver had bought her a few weeks, max. No more wasting time.
She threw a notebook and a disposable camera into her handbag. Right. I’m a real Nancy Drew. I’ve been here for weeks and haven’t even visited the crime scene. She’d kept her ears open and noticed a few odd things, like the time she’d followed Cloren Walsh around a corner to find a tabby cat, not a teacher, there. And then there was the way Ella Roman muttered ones and zeroes endlessly. But nothing added up to anything remotely like a clue.
The library was closed, but she’d have to find some way in. It was time to go. Now.
Putting on her coat, she wished for her sister, the one who was entirely at home at crime scenes. She might have even come, if Sadie hadn’t said those things about her so-called psychic powers at Aunt Pippa’s funeral.
Her stomach turned at the memory. How she’d started out begging Chloë to come and ended up calling her a faker.
Ouch.
She put it out of her mind. She’d grovel later, pretending to respect her sister’s abilities. Now, she had to find out what had happened to Pippa. Starting in the library.
She flung open the door of her apartment, ready to dash for it, only to find a chest-high blonde girl in pink pajamas under the crook in Thalia’s hand.
“Diana.” She could barely hear her own voice for the pressure in her ears. She popped them. “Is something wrong?”
“You have a visitor, Miss Strange.” The twelve-year-old’s voice was a creepy monotone.
“It’s midnight. You should be in bed.”
“I should be in bed,” repeated Diana. She stood very still, and her pupils were pinpricks.
“Diana, do you feel well?”
“You have a visitor, Miss Strange.” The same flat voice. “I should be in bed.”
“Right.” She narrowed her eyes at Diana. “Where’s my visitor?”
Diana pointed down, through the floor, in the vague direction of the front door. “You have a visitor, Miss Strange. I should be in bed.” Her flat voice left Sadie with an inexplicable chill, even after she’d left.
Who could have come for her at this time of night? Sadie ran down to the front door, at a complete loss.
She opened the door to a man as pale as the light snow clinging to his skin. Despite the frigid night, his coat, the color of dried blood, was open down his chest. It was a moonless night, but little dark sunglasses perched on the end of his nose. Not many men could make a lace shirt seem heterosexual, but this guy pulled it off.
“Do you grant me entrance?” he asked.
His Slavic accent sent Sadie to a land of dark castles and wolves howling at the moon. The danger of reading too many fantasy books.
“No,” she said sardonically. “I’m going to leave you standing in the cold.”
“Ah.” He didn’t move.
“Of course you can come in.” She stepped aside, making way for him.
“You invite me to enter of your own free will?” That accent made the odd words come out just a little sinister.
Sadie held open the door. “Welcome to Strange Hall, Mr....”
“Burana,” he said. “Count Burana.”
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