The Culling Trials (Shadowspell Academy #2)(2)

Pete rubbed his throat. “Yes, fine, I won’t tell. But…” His brow furrowed. “They don’t even take geniuses below the age of seventeen. The academy isn’t just about academics—people have to be a certain age to properly control their magic before they can be tested.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “Mr. Sunshine said he got it cleared.”

“Who?” they asked in unison.

“The Sandman. Sideburns. My own personal Grim Reaper. When he checked me in, he said he’d gotten Billy cleared. It was pretty clear then that he knew I wasn’t Billy. I assumed he didn’t say anything because it would look bad on him if he showed up with the wrong kid.”

“Why not just bring in you?” Orin asked. “You’re the right age, aren’t you?”

“He said something about my electing not to come. But I never saw a letter or anything.”

“Oh. One of your parents must’ve filled out the form,” Pete said. “Though why would they opt out for you and not your brother?”

I wondered the same thing, though a larger issue nagged at me. “It wouldn’t have been my parents to fill out that form.” I couldn’t bear to elaborate. I didn’t want to talk about my mother dying early, or the role my father might’ve inadvertently played in my other brother’s death.

Thinking of Tommy—

“Could a sibling have filled out the form?” I asked.

Pete shook his head. “It has to be a legal guardian.”

“Then who would’ve—”

“Hey!”

We all jumped. Ethan stood in the doorway with a glower. “Can you guys shut up? It’s late and I’m tired.”

“Sorry,” Pete nudged me with his elbow, “I was just talking with my bro here.”

I rolled my eyes and made my way out of the bathroom, thinking on what Sideburns had said. Wondering why the school had gone after Billy so aggressively, well before it was prudent, even if I was mysteriously excused. Something wasn’t adding up. Or, I should say, another something wasn’t adding up. I needed to know why my family was a target—why my mother had tried to keep us out of this life.

There was someone I could ask who might know. Rory. And tomorrow, a rest day, I’d find that miserable, two-faced, cowardly sonuvabitch and force information out of him.

One way or another.





Chapter 2





A siren blared through the crappy little portable, echoing in the small, close space. I startled awake, sitting up on my top bunk and smashing my head on the ceiling.

“Owww.” I pressed my palm to my forehead.

The lights flicked on, dim, showing that it was still not quite light outside.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go,” someone shouted in at us.

An object clattered across the floor. A moment later, small blasts filled the space, crackling and popping. Someone shouted outside.

“What’s going on?” Pete thudded against the floor below me as I scrambled to the bunk ladder.

Ethan threw his legs over the railing of his top bunk and leapt to the ground, landing in a half crouch.

“He’s a douche, but he’s an agile douche,” I said, attempting the same thing and half sliding, half falling from mine. Amazing that I could run across a log while being pummeled with arrows and spears, but could barely manage dropping out of bed. Then again, there was no adrenaline pumping despite all the noise. These theatrics were irritating, certainly, but not dangerous.

Another set of mini-explosions drowned out the shouts and yells from outside—fire crackers meant to scare and drive us out.

The door burst open, and a woman with short platinum hair and thin lips stepped in. Her clothing style said she was part of the program. “Get moving! Let’s go, slugs!”

“What’s going on?” Ethan yelled over the blaring siren.

“Your second trial starts in half an hour. Get to the gate or get a ticket home. Let’s go!” The woman peeled away from the doorway as we staggered forward, sleep drunk.

“Today is supposed to be a day off,” Ethan called after her as she strutted down the narrow lane leading to the other portables. People waited in their clusters, their crews, rubbing their eyes and huddling together against the early morning chill. More kids surged out of the mansion, their movements jerky from the shock of being woken up just after the butt crack of dawn.

Pete stretched and then groaned. “I’m still sore from yesterday.”

“We all are. That’s why we’re supposed to get a break,” Ethan groused.

“Head to the buses.” The woman stalked toward us, motioning us to the buses. “Load up.”

“When was the last time the academy changed stuff up like this? They’ve always had a day of rest between each trial,” Gregory asked Pete.

He shook his head. “Wally would know.” He pointed. “There she is!”

Wally broke away from a group of girls and jogged toward us across a broad stretch of lawn, waving her hand like she was stranded and flagging down a rescue plane.

“She’s not supposed to leave her group, I don’t think,” Pete said softly.

Ethan rolled his eyes and shoved me forward before grabbing Pete by the shirt and yanking him after me. “Hurry up. They’ve been known to leave without people.”