Nightworld Academy: Term One(Nightworld Academy #1)(9)

Andrei's jaw clenches. "You know how old I am, arsehole."

Jamie's words seem enough to repel Andrei and his rudeness, which surprises me. Jamie strikes me as the quiet, studious type and not one to challenge others. I have a lot to learn about these people.

"Come on. You can sit beside me." Jamie's friendly face has the unfortunate effect of reminding me about my vision earlier. I take a deep breath and ground myself by touching the wall before anything hits me. I've never had a vision repeat itself before, or one this horrific.

I thank Jamie and move to desks by a bay window, and Jamie sits in front of me. "Why did you ask Andrei how old he is?" I whisper.

"He's a cocky idiot who doesn't study, so he’s no right to mock you. Andrei's almost twenty and repeating the classes. Again."

I place my notebook on the table. "But he's in the advanced program."

The setup in this academy gets crazier and more confusing. Jamie gives me a tight smile and turns around.

The room fills, and I keep my head down, evaluating the room as those I recognise walk in. Katherine breezes into the room, her strong perfume following her. She sits with Andrei, which again I find odd as a they seem poles apart. Amelia arrives with Ash and they take the vacant desks beside us.

Ash mouths "How are you feeling?"

How? Fuzzy inside that he asked.

The door to the room slams closed and a woman walks in. Her armful of bangles jingle as she sweeps by in her long black skirts. Her red hair is striking against her pale skin and blue eyes, further accentuated by bright red lipstick.

She drops a large book on the desk, and I flinch as the sound bangs around the room.

"Who's finished the latest project?" Her tone is terse as her eyes flick from one student to another. "Anybody?" Her eyes come to rest on Jamie. "Surely you have, Jamie."

Jamie glares over his shoulder at Andrei, who leans his chair onto two legs, hands behind his head. He chuckles at Jamie's death stare.

"There's been a delay, thanks to a group member not completing their task," Jamie says, turning back to the teacher.

She gives a despairing sigh, then her eyes widen as she spots me. "You must be Maeve. I'm Professor York. Welcome to my history class."

She doesn't acknowledge my thanks as she immediately crosses her arms and scrutinises her pupils. "I'm aware you think my subject is a waste of time, but history is important to everyone. You cannot move onto the final year until you pass this subject. Can you, Mr. Tepes?"

Andrei yawns at her addressing him.

"I can't be bothered standing in front of you all feeding you the information, either, I’m busy tonight. I'm giving you leave to go to the library and complete the assignment." A guy near the front leans back to whisper something to someone at the desk behind him. "No, this is not free time to waste, Daniel," she retorts. "I'm deducting marks for each day this assignment is late. Starting tomorrow."

"What the hell?" mutters Jamie.

"That's unfair for Maeve," says Ash. "She hasn't started yet."

"Maeve can join your group, Ash. I'm sure you can help her. Perhaps your group can all put in some extra work before lessons tomorrow?"

Are all the teachers at the academy like this? I know students skip classes, but teachers too? Professor York doesn't appear to enjoy her job at all, and the students get the brunt. Ash mutters and pushes at the book on his desk?

I lean forward to Jamie again. "Who's in your group?"

He shifts his seat around to look at me. "Me, Ash, and Andrei."

He couldn't look more annoyed if he tried.





We head to the library with Andrei loping along behind, focused on his phone. This focus doesn't drop away as we walk into the vast space. I pause in awe as I stare at the circular room. There are four floors of tall bookshelves arranged around the centre, which is tiled with the academy house crest. A semi-circle librarian’s desk is placed at the top of the crest and a harassed-looking man sits behind, tapping a keyboard and frowning at the screen.

This place holds more books than I’ve seen in my life.

Having visited numerous times, the guys miss the magnificence that hits me, and they head straight for the stairs. The metal steps spiral upwards and stop on the second floor. Jamie leads the group to a quiet corner at the far end of the floor. A wide table surrounded by chairs is hidden between sets of bookshelves, and a bank of computers are lined up on a long table nearby.

I hate projects, especially when I'm brought in halfway through. I pull out a chair and sit. History isn't my favourite subject, but I'm a skilful researcher so hopefully I'll be helpful. If I'm lucky, the project could be a topic from my old school.

I pull my laptop from my bag and open the lid. "Fill me in. What do I need to research?"

Andrei places his feet on a chair opposite and knocks together his tatty Converse at the toes. "You won't find anything on Google about this."

"Ha ha," I mutter.

"No. He's right. The information we need is in the books in that part of the library." Jamie points at a long line of shelves to our right, which hold huge books with peeling spines.

"There's nothing at all on Google? That's impossible."