Fallen Academy: Year Four (Fallen Academy #4)(5)

She just glared at the poor group of eleven students with a glean in her eye that said, ‘I might kill you.’

“Shea is right,” I continued. “You will need to toughen up. Demons kill the weak.” At my words, one little blonde girl looked like she might faint. “But that’s what I’m here for,” I added.

“Yeah!” Shea shouted. “By the end of this summer course, you will be kicking ass and taking names.”

A grin pulled at the corners of my mouth. Shea and I were teachers. What the hell was Raph thinking when he made that happen?

“Is it true you’ve killed like a thousand demons?” a girl with short brown hair asked me. Her expression looked tough, but she was scrawny as hell, and the shortest person in the class. I’d have to get her lifting weights.

My gaze flicked to her name tag—Tiny.

I chuckled. “Not even close. No.”

“But you have killed some?” an eighteen-year-old male model looking guy asked. His outfit and hair looked way too pristine for the battlefield. I was going to have to teach him to get dirty and lose the hair gel. There was only room for one Noah in this school.

“Yes, I’ve killed a lot,” I replied awkwardly.

“Is it also true that you made a pact with the Devil? To, like, go to Heaven and kill God and all the angels there?” a new girl asked, eyes wide.

What the hell? Is that what the rumor mill is churning out these days?

“Geez! Where are your manners, you little shits? This is your professor! Of course, she didn’t agree to that! Drop and give me ten push-ups. Now!” Shea roared and charged the group with an animalistic growl in her throat.

The students paled, dropping their notebooks and pens, and falling to the ground to do Shea’s bidding.

I schooled my features, trying not to let the girl’s comment get to me, but it was clear the rumor mill was in full effect. How the hell did they even hear about it? My mom had a saying: ‘Tell more than three people a secret, and it becomes a widespread rumor.’ I guess too many people knew. All I could do now was try to control it.

The students were face-down, doing push-ups when I decided to let the rumor go. Nothing I said right now would change anything. They would believe what they wanted, and I didn’t really care either way.

“I spent a year in Hell!” I shouted, deciding to switch to a mix of nice teacher, mean teacher. Technically it was only a few months in Hell from my point of view, but a year sounded more badass. “I am going to teach you what I learned down there about demons, and how to kill them. If you fail the gauntlet a second time, I will take it as a personal attack on my teaching. So, listen the hell up, and do as you’re told,” I boomed.

Shea gave me a grin from where she stood, looming over a first year who was struggling with her push-ups. Now I understood why Lincoln was hard on all of us. It made us better fighters. If I wanted these kids to pass, I was going to have to be their teacher, not their friend.



After making the students do jumping jacks, running sprints, and some random sixty-second planks—where Shea tried to hold in her laughter at how many of them fell over—I stopped the lesson.

“Today was a physical fitness assessment,” I informed them, writing notes next to each name.

“You all pretty much failed by the way. You need to strengthen your muscles,” Shea added, and I cut a glare her way.

“Tomorrow will be a magical assessment, where I will take a look at your gifts, and see how you can use them to fight in the Fallen Army. Class dismissed,” I commanded.

The eleven students, sweaty and panting, sulked off toward the dorms as Shea turned to me. “Oh my God, there is no way they can serve in the Fallen Army. No wonder they failed the gauntlet. That tiny girl couldn’t even do one push-up. One.”

I groaned. “Tiny just needs weight training. She’s got a fighting spirit.”

Shea laughed, hooking her arm with mine as we walked back toward campus. “A fighting spirit won’t do shit against an Abrus demon.”

A frown pulled at the corners of my lips, and I looked at my best friend. She’d matured since we started here. Her body was leaner and packed with more muscle, but there was a sadness to her eyes that wasn’t there before, a sadness that said she’d lived through some shit. I imagined I had the same. And on her finger—both of our fingers, actually—were rings. We’d grown up.

“Raph believes in them, and I do too. I can get them in fighting shape. They just need extra attention,” I informed her.

Shea grinned. “You will never change. Always believing the best in people.”

I would get these eleven students in fighting shape in the next eight weeks, even if it killed me. Raph thought I had what it took, and I was going to prove him right.

“I’ve got to drop off my training notes with Raph, and then I have my Emberly lesson,” I reminded, detaching from Shea, and beginning to make my way toward Raphael’s office.

“I’ll have Lincoln, or someone meet you outside the gym after your lesson!” she called out, heading in the opposite direction.

I swear Shea and Lincoln had some unspoken rule. If I wasn’t with someone powerful like Raph, Emberly, or a professor, they made sure one of the two of them was there to escort me places. It was maddening, but I understood it made them feel calm and in control, so I allowed it without complaint.