Page 1 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One (The Paranormal Elites of Wicked Academy #1)

PROLOGUE: A DESPERATE GAMBIT

~GWENIVERE~

T he ancient stones of Wicked Academy breathed magic like other buildings exhaled dust.

I felt it in my bones as I crept through the shadowed halls, each step carefully placed to avoid triggering the centuries-old wards that protected this sacred bastion of supernatural education.

“Scary and intimidating is an understatement,” I whisper to myself, thinking about the rumors and constant discussions about Wicked Academy that I’ve gathered over the years.

Yet, here I am. Infiltrating the place like a damn fool.

My sister's face haunted my thoughts—her skin growing paler by the day, magic bleeding out of her faster than she could replenish it, leaving her suspended in a magical coma that grew deeper with each passing hour.

I have to do this. It’s the only way out.

The Chalice of Restoration had to be here somewhere.

The ancient texts I'd discovered in my grandmother's grimoire had pointed to Wicked Academy as its resting place. After a year of intense research, finding such information in the heart of her old home was like finding a needle in a haystack.

The Chalice of Restoration: a powerful artifact capable of regenerating depleted magical cores — it was my only hope of saving Elena.

I’ve tried everything else I could think of, and in this world of merciless wonder, no one would possibly risk their lives in attempting to get into this prestigious school that is known for its wickedness.

What would define as wicked?

The usual. Murder, the easy route apparently, kidnapping, abuse, constant suffering, and misery. Anything to push you far past your limits and leave you begging for death like it’s some sort of blessing.

Yet, paranormals across the world fight desperately to get an invitation.

But not me, Gwenivere Isolde Graveshadow. Apparently, ghost-like bitches like me who get possessed by the dead and have untapped elements coursing through their veins just hopped over a wall and made my way inside.

"I swear there’s going to be a trap sooner or later,” I grumble to myself, feeling absolutely stupid if there really isn’t further protection in this grand academy.

Moonlight filtered through towering stained glass windows, casting eerie patterns across the marble floors.

My enhanced vampire senses picked up the distant murmur of voices, but the west wing remained mercifully empty at this late hour.

Guess I should be thanking my dad for the vampy senses or else I’d never be able to infiltrate so easily in a place filled with paranormal individuals from across the realms.

I try not to think of my parents too much, their love story tragic, but gave birth to me and my twin sister, so they have some sort of legacy that’s living and doing their thing.

Not like I can’t simply summon their spirits, but I should be a good forbidden child and let them sleep in peace…wherever they went.

"Focus,” I encourage myself, needing to take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. My brain enjoys wandering, a dangerous habit that usually leaves me staring into space while the world continues ticking away.

No wonder why I get the Wandering Gwen as a nickname constantly. That’s all my brain does. Wander…imagine, and sometimes get possessed because I’m so far into my daydreaming that spirits like to pull a “wee” and enter right into my body.

Personally, I think it’s a family trait from my mom, but to the world, I’m just the crazy ghost lady.

With dark circles, red lips, and the perfect resting bitch face. The extremely long white strands of hair don’t help either.

“Ugh!” I have to stop myself from moving to recenter myself.

According to the architectural plans I'd memorized, the Artifacts Chamber should be just ahead.

I adjusted the enchanted amulet at my throat, I pray it can continue to pull off my disguise; the culprit in maintaining my masculine glamour.

Even now, the magic felt foreign against my skin, like wearing someone else's clothes.

But it’s necessary.

Wicked Academy hadn't admitted a female student in over five hundred years, and I wasn't about to let that minor detail stop me from saving my sister.

A sexist Academy isn’t stopping me from saving my last living family member.

The ornate double doors of the Artifacts Chamber loomed before me, their ancient wood carved with runes of protection that made my skin prickle.

I pulled out the skeleton key I'd spent months enchanting, praying it would work. This stuff is usually what gets me labeled as some crazy haunted bitch whose mental illness should be studied because I should be thrown into a mental institution than walking among the living.

Well, that’s what all the whores who hated my ass would say, but any who.

I don’t see the problem with liking skeletons, bats, and voodoo dolls or even thinking cemeteries and graveyards are fascinating.

At least I wasn’t a necromancer summoning the dead, right? Not to say I haven’t tried but apparently, you need Duskwalker energy coursing through your veins for that.

No one meeting a Duskwalker lives, period, so I have to put that dream to the side.

Sliding the key into place, I turn it slowly while enhancing my senses to ensure I can pick up on any sounds of activated traps. The lock clicked open with a sound that seemed deafening in the silence.

One step closer…

Inside, hundreds of magical items glowed with their own inner light, arranged on shelves that stretched up into darkness. To think such a vast collection would be so easy to have access to makes goosebumps rush along my flesh, making me feel a nervous tingle brew in the pit of my stomach.

My heart thundered in my chest as I moved between the displays, scanning for anything that matched the chalice's description.

Time was not on my side — dawn approached, and with it, the return of the academy's full population of supernatural students.

There!

On a pedestal near the back wall, a goblet of twisted silver caught the dim light. The runes etched into its surface matched the drawings in my grandmother's book perfectly.

“Finally,” I dare to whisper as relief rushes through me.

All I can think of is my sister lying in that hospital bed, matching the sheets of white with how pale and clammy her flesh had become. Unlike me who was this odd hybrid, my twin was blessed with our mother’s traits only.

Missed our father’s somehow…

"It’s now or never,” I encourage myself, trying not to be mortified with nerves as I reached for it with trembling fingers…

That may have been why I didn’t notice…

A ward flared to life, bright enough to blind.

I yanked my hand back, but it was too late.

The floor beneath my feet vanished, reality twisting like a kaleidoscope. My body tensed up as I plummeted through the darkness; wind rushing past my ears as I fell through what felt like an endless void.

OOF!

The impact, when it came, was surprisingly soft.

I landed on something that definitely wasn't stone.

My vision cleared slowly, adjusting to the dim light of what appeared to be an opulent bedroom. Horror dawned as I realized I'd landed on a massive four-poster bed, its black silk sheets cool against my skin.

Where the hell did this chalice take me?

"Well," drawled an amused voice that ignited chills that consumed me, "this is certainly a novel way to introduce yourself."

I froze.

Lounging in a chair by a crackling fireplace sat possibly the most beautiful man I'd ever seen.

A very naked beautiful man…

Dark hair tumbled in careless, artful waves across his forehead, framing a face sculpted to perfection, as if the gods themselves had lingered too long in admiration.

His eyes—piercing, otherworldly, a violet so vibrant it seemed stolen from twilight—glinted with teasing mischief that sent shivers coursing down my spine.

Every line of his body, lean and honed to wicked precision, was on full display, his state of undress an unapologetic challenge that left me breathless.

The golden glow of the firelight danced across his bare skin, highlighting the sharp contours of his collarbone and the ridges of muscle that seemed carved from marble. Heat pooled low in my stomach, and for one humiliating moment, I wondered if vampires could smell desire.

If they could, I was ruined.

“I-I-I'm so…” I opened my mouth to apologize, words stuttering out to explain — to say anything to get out of this unexpected confrontation despite the generous…view — and stopped short at the sound that emerged from my own throat.

Deep.

Masculine.

Wrong .

The glamour wasn’t supposed to work on my voice. At least, I wasn’t talking like a man moments before. Its purpose was to affect my appearance.

Only that…so what the fuck happened?

The stranger's lips curved into a devastating smirk as he rose from his chair with fluid grace.

"I must say, I've had my share of admirers, but none quite so...dramatic. A boy no less? A first for everything it seems.” Admirers? Who the fuck is he to have admirers? I mean…okay. I can see why with a body as dauntedly sinful as that, but hell…I don’t admire myself enough. Why would I admire a man? “Falling through my ceiling, though? That's a new one."

"I'm straight!" I blurted out, then immediately wanted to die as I processed his words. "Wait—boy?!"

His eyebrow arched elegantly.

"Indeed. Though I'm normally introduced to my fellow students through more conventional channels,” he confesses while intrigue dances through the depths of those violet eyes of his.

Uniquely serene but far too dangerous to ignore.

“Prince Damien Constantine." Rising and giving me a generous view of ‘everything’, I can’t attempt to stop myself from taking him in from head to toe.

He gave an elegant bow that somehow managed to be both mocking and graceful.

"Welcome to Wicked Academy, mystery man. I do hope you'll make your future visits during normal visiting hours. Although..." His smirk widened. "I must admit, your entrance was far more entertaining than the usual tedious introductions."

I scrambled off his bed, my mind racing.

Of all the places that ward could have dumped me, it had to be in the private chambers of one of the notorious paranormal princes.

I recognized that name because the girls back home couldn’t stop obsessing over the news of a set of princes entering Wicked Academy, which should have been common, but apparently, this set of princes was different.

Tainted. Sinister. Merciless.

All wrapped in a combo of trouble and unforgiving turmoil if you look at them the wrong way.

Yet, here I am, in one of their chambers looking like a complete idiot… as a BOY!

And not just any prince — the vampire prince.

Why would I know that?

Well if my own vampire senses weren’t tingling like I was about to have my life flash before my eyes, I’d think he’s a different paranormal race of royalty.

I could only hope he can’t sense my paranormal traits thanks to the glamor that has morphed into…well, whatever this is.

"I'm so sorry," I managed, trying to keep my voice steady despite its unfamiliar depth. "There's been a terrible mistake. I'll just?—"

Get my male ass out of here!

The door bursts open, flooding the room with light that makes me temporarily squint. It’s not like vampires are harmed by sunlight or whatever the legends say, but as a girl who enjoys all-nighters reading romance books of girls being railed by monsters, this bright light shit is agonizingly annoying to my line of vision.

Two more figures stood in the doorway — one tall and lithe with pointed ears that I knew without a doubt was Fae royalty by the obvious golden crown with embedded emeralds, while the other wrapped in shadows where it felt impossible to see his genuine figure, let alone a face.

"Damien," the Fae prince states with urgency, his voice like honey over steel, "we heard the ward alarm. Are you?—"

He stopped short, taking in the scene before him.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, and I only felt sicker by the second just by seeing the twinkling malevolence dancing in the depths of his alluring pupils.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

The other prince doesn’t say a word, but those shadows. Goodness… they move on their own accord in a haunting sway of hypnotism that works effortlessly to bring me into its pull.

I looked between the three princes, having to dance my gaze around so I didn’t fall prey to the tempting daze that was fighting to take me over, my heart sinking with dread.

Shit…I’m cornered…

In trying to save my sister, I might have just made the biggest mistake of my life.

The shadows around the third prince lean closer as if they’re an entity themselves and are studying me, but they begin to take shape behind the prince, like a second skin, and I can only hold my breath as the creature’s shadow eyes take life just as the prince’s real eyes open to reveal haunting balls of silver that seem to pierce through me like millions of knives.

I feel paralyzed as the creature’s shape is complete because the very being I thought one could never survive confronting is now before me like a reaper of death.

All it’s missing is a scythe to steal my soul away…

Duskwalker.

"Just a lost little bird," Damien declares, his voice rich with amusement but also, seduction. "Who seems to have found his way into quite the interesting nest."

Three pairs of eyes fixed on me with predatory interest, and I knew with crushing certainty that my mission to save Elena had just become infinitely more complicated.

If not the path to my early demise…