Strange Academy (Hot Paranormal Romance) (2 page)

“A plaque for the sign?” Sadie asked.

“A plaque for the sign.” Dr. Cross confirmed.

“A plaque for the sign?” Gray scoffed.

“Don’t you have a class to be at?” Dr. Cross asked Gray.

“On Sunday?” Gray’s gaze held hers as if sharing a joke. Warmth grew at the base of her spine.

“Prep work,” Dr. Cross growled.

She had to do something before the testosterone in the room reached toxic levels, so she cleared her throat and nodded toward the little girl, who stared at them all with eyes so round they belonged in a Japanese cartoon.

Gray frowned at the girl and then revealed those perfect white teeth in a smile that would have melted the Titanic iceberg. “Miss Strange. The kids loved your aunt. I’m sure you’ll do fine here.” His gaze sparked, holding hers for a long moment. She wasn’t falling for it, but damn, he faked sincerity well. “If you need
anything
, please let me know.”

She nodded. It had been fast, but Gray had frowned. He didn’t like the little girl any more than he liked her. One may smile and smile—and be a villain.
You tell ’em, Hamlet
.

“Sadie, let me say a quick hello to our newest student.” Dr. Cross nodded at Wednesday Addams. “Then we’ll tour campus.” Dr. Cross’s words wha-wha-ed in her ears like the adults in
Peanuts
. She was busy watching Gray lope off, treating herself to a fantastic view of his butt.

When had she slipped into an alternate dimension where men who hated her flirted with her?

After he’d gone, her head cleared. Without all His Hotness distracting her, her B.S. detector went into the red zone.
Poking around
.
Hide soon enough
.
Removed
. Lorde Gray, haughty hottie, was hiding something.

*

***

******

****

*

“And this is the library.”

Sadie balked on the step, staring at the modern glass doors set into the ancient gray stone of the round building. Grief squeezed the air out of her chest. Christian said it so casually.
This is the library.

This is where your aunt was murdered. This is where she died, sprawled on the floor between the stacks, a copy of
The Atlas of Ancient and Medieval Architecture
lying by her head.

Christian’s face, as he held the door for her, went blurry.

“Sadie. Oh sh—” She barely felt his hand on her shoulder through the oversized wool coat her mother had given her as a going-away present. “I’m sorry. Let’s get you out of here.” He tried to steer her back down the tree-lined path.

“No, I’m going in.” Wiping away a tear, she studied the door. Her ears pressurized and her throat closed. “I need to see where it happened.”

Christian nodded. The voices of children rode the warm air escaping the open door.

“My feet aren’t moving, are they, Christian?”

“Afraid not.”

“I’m trying to make them move.” She glanced at the uncooperative limbs. “There’s a force field blocking me.”

To his credit, he didn’t laugh. “The mind works in mysterious ways. Maybe yours is saying you’re not ready to go in there yet, Sadie.”

Sadie shook her head. “No, I’m pretty sure about the force field.”

“Why don’t we go to Strange Hall now?” Christian’s tone was sympathetic.

*

***

******

****

*

Gray’s pants tingled. As he strode down one of the black paths crisscrossing the campus, toward the parking lot behind Rose Hall, he reached under his woolen winter coat and plucked his vibrating cell out of the leather sheath on his belt. He knew the number on the backlit call display like his own.

He sighed. Only two people in the world told him what to do. And one of them was planning April’s wedding.

His mother, the voodoo priestess, didn’t really want his opinion on the invitations or the flower arrangements or the blessing spells. He should just change his voice mail message to “Yes, Maman. Yes, Maman. Yes, Maman.”

He’d been taller than his mother since he was twelve and she could still make him jump through hoops. He grinned. It would bother him if he didn’t love her so much.

The tower bell rang 6:15, just like it had every day for centuries. A couple of teen boys raced past him—and everyone else on the path—in their hurry to get to the dining hall.

He put his finger on “Talk” and got ready to say “Yes, Maman,” but a serpentine head popped out of the backpack of the kid walking in front of him and blinked red eyes. Another joined it and yawned, showing sharp lizard teeth.

“You.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder through his thick down coat, while sheathing the still-vibrating phone. “Kid.”

The boy halted instantly, the tails of his red scarf waving in the biting wind.
At least
someone
still listens to me,
he thought,
even if Cross—and everyone else—has selective amnesia about their debt to the Old Houses when it comes to Sadie Strange.

He stepped around and blocked the kid’s backpack from the line of sight of the fifth floor of Strange Hall.

He knew he should recognize this kid with blond curls. Gray couldn’t come up with a name, but he was in Sterling’s grade. He did remember the kid wasn’t great at alchemy. Understandable, since he was a psychic, not a magic user.

The boy glanced over his shoulder and gasped when he saw his pet blinking back at him. “Iffie doesn’t like being in the bag. She wants to fly.” A drop of sweat appeared on the kid’s forehead. “Please don’t give me a demerit.”

Of course the kid didn’t want to lose a point in the inter-house competition, but this was about more than a contest. “What’s your name?”

“Nikkos, sir.”

Gray offered his hand, palm up, to the hydra. One of her extraordinarily ugly heads sniffed his fingers. So did the other. He stroked her necks and she purred a two-note growl.

Stuffed in a bag when she should be flying. He could relate. He was used to his own life having an R rating. Harsh language, violence, adult situations. He had to tone himself down to be suitable for family viewing. But he’d play the part of an alchemy teacher as long as Sterling needed him. Still, he was going to explode if he didn’t get laid or kill something soon. A really big demon would do it. Killing it, that is. Not the other thing.

A familiar pain throbbed against his right shoulder blade. The muscle knot where he carried his stress had doubled in size since he’d met Pippa Strange’s niece.

This was one of the few places in the world where these kids didn’t have to hide how special they were. But then
she
came here. How Cross and the others thought they could keep her from finding out, he had no clue. She’d have to be stupid. She wasn’t. Intelligence shone from those coffee-brown eyes.

She might be Pippa Strange’s niece, but she didn’t belong here. People thought the times when having unexplained powers would make you the star of a marshmallow roast in the town square were over, but they weren’t.

His family had spent the Middle Ages preventing lesser Metas from becoming human barbeque. Chances were good Nikkos—the kid’s hydra rubbed her twin jaws against Gray’s knuckles—owed his existence to one of Gray’s ancestors. But the Gray House would protect the Nons from the dark forces threatening to take this world for their own—as long as the Nons behaved themselves.

Needle teeth crunched into his finger, making him wince.

“Iphigenia! Geez. Sir, I’m sorry.” Nikkos glared at the hydra, probably disciplining her through their psychic link. Her snouts blushed purple and she dipped her heads at Gray before slinking down into the backpack. Nikkos looked at the ground. “Uh, that means she likes you,” he offered.

“I like her, too.” Gray pinched the growing red dots on his finger while maintaining his calm. “Is she poisonous?”

Nikkos shook his blond curls. “She’s not supposed to come out in public anymore.”

“You get a demerit for this. According to the rules.” A part of Gray knew he should enforce the rules. A bigger part felt like punching someone.

“Take Iffie to the library and let her fly. Tell anyone who bothers you I said it’s okay. She—” Gray nodded in the direction of Strange Hall “—won’t go in there.” From across campus, Gray had seen Cross skip that part of the tour.

“Thank you, Sir.” Nikkos ran off, blond curls bobbing.

He couldn’t believe people thought they could hide the truth about Strange Academy from
her
. Pippa had been dead wrong on this one. Last wish or not, the Non-Metanormal had to go.

He looked across the campus to see Nikkos disappear behind the red-brick Science Building. A loud game of touch football was in full swing by the residences. In the shadow of Chapter House’s clock tower, a smiling teenage girl tucked her hair behind her ear as a goofy-looking boy walked by, his nose in a thick textbook. Near the ancient cracked bell on a pedestal in the center of the Quad, a memorial of the 1854 fire that destroyed the original school, a group of staff and students in matching black outfits bowed to Tao Zhang, the psychic self-defense teacher, leading them in tai chi.

It was what Gray didn’t see that made his stress knot tighten. No budding wizards testing out fireball spells for extra credit. No mutant students showing off enhanced strength. No psychic teachers demonstrating levitation techniques.

His temper rose. This place was under attack, and Cross refused to do anything about it. Gray wouldn’t let it happen. As usual, other people made a mess and left him to clean it up. He was here to watch over Sterling during the divorce. Good thing, too, with the added trauma of Sterling’s favorite teacher dying.

He was useless with the emotional stuff, but when it came to taking action, Gray was your guy. He couldn’t fix the divorce or bring Pippa back. But he could get rid of Sadie Strange.

The hydra will fly over Strange Academy by Christmas, Gray thought. I swear it.

Chapter Two

“The red building over there is Rosencreutz Hall—we just call it Rose Hall—the white one is Eastwick Hall, the brown one is Last Hall, and
this
is Strange Hall,” Christian said.

Sadie didn’t look at any of the other residences. She was too busy falling in love with the five stories of gray stone that was Strange Hall.

Her new responsibility.

She couldn’t believe she had the chance to live in a building like this. She loved everything Gothic and slightly creepy, but she’d hidden that at university so she could fit in. Strange Hall, with its arched stained-glass windows and gargoyles, even looked like it might have ghosts in the attic.

The thought of ghosts reminded her of Pippa and suddenly the architecture wasn’t so charming. She shivered in her woolen coat.

“I got it!” someone yelled.

Her brain registered the words an instant before a ginger-haired head slammed into her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. A football fell at her feet. She stumbled off the tarmac path into squishy mud that trickled into her shoe and down her insole.

Christian was at her side in a moment, peeling the kid off her. “Miss Strange, are you all right?”

“She’s not Ms. Strange,” the boy said. Blue eyes scanned hers as if checking for weakness. He couldn’t have been older than eleven.

“This is
Miss
Strange,” Christian said. “Ms. Strange was her aunt.”

“Sick.” Another boy, this one in a fuzzy coat appeared. As he picked up the football, he sneered at his friend who'd run into her. “You touched her. You’ve got non-germs.”

“Warwick,” Christian said to the boy who’d spoken. “You get a demerit.” The kid’s eyes narrowed at her, as if it had been her fault.

A silent third boy lingered behind them. Dark-haired and pale, he kept his arms tightly crossed over the chest of his gray-and-black Columbia Titanium jacket. The look he gave her unnerved her—she’d never glared at an adult when she was ten.

Christian addressed him. “Sterling, do you have something to say?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head. As the three boys walked off, whispering, he stole a look back at her.

She mentally gnawed on what Warwick had said. Not non-germs. Non germs. Non. Her gut supplied the definition.
Someone who didn’t belong. An outsider.

Her mood turned sour. She glanced up at two round windows above the front door of Strange Hall and laughed without humor.

“Why are you laughing?” Christian asked.

“Those windows look like eyes,” she pointed out. “And we’re going to go through the door. I thought maybe I was about to become Strange Hall’s dinner.”

Christian raised an eyebrow at her.

“I just need to breathe fresh air a few seconds more,” she added.

During her campus tour, the kids had quieted down and whispered behind their hands when she and Christian approached. She’d chalked it up to the sudden appearance of the principal. But maybe not. Maybe the entire place saw her as an outsider. They were as stuck up as Lorde Gray.

Not that she was sparing His Hotness and his thick wavy hair a second thought.

On the tour, the place’s general air of privilege and separateness had been broken by the occasional instance of just plain weirdness. For example, the statues of eight muses in the lobby of the main building, Chapter House. By her count, and the empty pedestal, they were one muse short.

“This whole place is a hotspot.” Christian broke into her thoughts.

“Is it haunted? You sound like my sister, the ‘psychic.’” She mimed quotation marks.

She barely had time to catch Christian’s narrowed gaze before it disappeared and he gave a forced laugh. “A wireless Internet hotspot. You’ll have your laptop in the morning.”

Her mouth went dry. “I can’t afford...”

He pulled on the iron O serving as a doorknob, opening the heavy wooden door of Strange Hall for her. She stepped across the threshold and into a high-ceilinged foyer with matching curved staircases sweeping up either side. Kids aged ten to eighteen strolled, hustled, and sprinted through the room. Stained glass dyed white winter light a rainbow of colors in patches on the floor. She gaped at the architecture until she noticed several students staring at her, while Christian continued speaking, to both her and the kids. “Comes with the job. You’ll need it—Eloise, did you get a new coat?—for the e-mail. Parents here are very involved.”