Page 8 of Beasts of Shadows #1

The Hag and Bel

(Another entry in Calea’s ever-growing collection of regrettable unions).

Calea’s third husband, Bel, was—by all accounts—faithful, capable, and entirely unremarkable. He lacked the ambition of Shiva and the cunning of Bale. For a time, that seemed to suit her. But gods rarely settle for quiet companionship, especially not one who commands both spring and winter.

Eventually, Calea grew restless.

And when boredom set in, she cast Bel beneath the ocean’s surface—sealed away in the depths without fanfare.

From his displaced bloodline came the müns, mythic sea-born entities native to the Irish Sea.

They are said to sow discord with nothing more than their presence—conflict incarnate, inherited.

The spring festival of Beltane still bears his name. Ironically, it honors passion and renewal—two things Bel was never quite allowed to keep.

—Reema

P.S. If someone mentions a mün near the docks, maybe don’t follow it into the water.

∞∞∞

“Congrats,” Mistress Burrows, the Dean of Admissions, calls.

We stand in a courtyard, roughly two football fields long, edged on all sides by tight-knit English gothic buildings.

I’ve never been to a college campus, but this is close to what I’d expect.

The moody exterior does nothing for my nerves, and I eye the towering spires and drooping arches—held up only by the silhouettes of skeletal trees—with apprehension.

In this world between worlds, are the grotesque gargoyles real?

Can they come alive at night, like some Disney flick?

“You made it through the night. You are now officially attending the prestigious Van Ritten Institute, and you’re on your way to proving that anyone —human or otherwise—can earn a place in our world.”

The surrounding humans—all twenty-six of them, I counted—don’t seem as grateful as Dean Burrows seems to think we should be.

The girl beside me has a bandage on her middle finger, where something ripped it off.

I swallow hard, hoping she can’t tell that I’m a poser.

In Cody’s clothes, I don’t even have blood from the wendigo to show I was in a fight. I look suspiciously comfortable.

No wonder Nikolai saw right through me.

The dean finishes her less than inspiring speech. Then, a group of mortals swell around us, immediately separating survivors into different groups.

“Stella Bennett and Nari Harper, you’re with me.” The man in front of me inclines his head decisively. Missing Finfer and I shuffle into his group of a dozen.

Our guide has an Arabian vibe about him, with floppy raven hair and blackened irises.

“I’m Geneir Acosta. You’ll be shadowing me today.”

Geneir? Didn’t Reema say that name last night?

He holds up a printed roster. There are at least three columns, with half the names crossed out, with numbers marked in red beside each person. My number is the highest, at eighty-six, with Stella right beside me in eighty-five.

“These are your year level rankings. They’re updated every Friday at noon.

You’ll note that all if you are in the last few spots.

Surviving got you through the door, but barely.

At the end of each semester, the bottom ten are cut from the roster.

So, it’s important to keep your wits about you at all times.

You can change your rankings through tests, assessments, teacher and peer reviews, as well as athletics and community service. ”

“What happens to the ten crossed off the list?” Fingerless Girl—Stella—demands.

Geneir’s smile attempts sympathetic, leaving us to fill in the blanks with our imagination. It doesn’t paint a pretty picture.

“Play the game, fly under the radar, and you’ll be fine. Be wary of pissing off the wrong students, but especially watch yourself around faculty. They’re the only ones who have the power to force you out on Bonfire Night.

“The full moon is also called the Bonfire Moon here. We have plenty of apex predators on campus, as I’m sure you noticed last night, and that is their designated hunting time.

Mortals can add points to their ranking by defeating a predator on Bonfire Moon.

Surviving the night can also help, although the points are much lower.

Most humans lock themselves in for the evening. ”

No one seems too surprised by this information, although a hiccup steals my chest at the thought of fighting through another night. Nikolai would eat me alive. Nevermind whatever this mysterious Professor Sumner would pull.

“I know that’s a lot of information, but I believe in transparency.

We’re the minority, here, and people will thrill in reminding you of it.

Now, I’ll walk you through your coursework as first years.

We’ll get your uniforms issued and settle you into the dorms. Classes begin tomorrow, so I definitely recommend getting plenty of rest tonight. ”

“Where are the bogeys?” I wonder to myself, searching the shady spots beneath trees for the telltale moving darkness.

Stella gives a bitter chuckle.

“West Coast girl, huh?” She has a thick Boston accent.

“That obvious?” I wince.

“Bogeys don’t come out during the day. Only people I ever met who were so clueless about this world came from there. Our city’s run by political families bound to Calea. The Celtic Mafia.” She rakes one eagle eye down my being. “Surprised you made it through.”

“I’m lucky,” I manage.

“Mm,” Stella retorts.

“This is the academic building,” Geneir explains, pulling us through the hallways. “First years all have the same coursework. You’ll only start branching out into your support specialties in your second year. Do we have any conscripts among us?”

My hand is the only one that goes into the air. But Geneir was already looking my way, and I can’t help but wonder if Cody asked him to look out for me. Cat mentioned this morning that the two were best friends.

All but Stella eye me warily. Perhaps wondering if I’m secretly a creature. After the night they had, I wouldn’t blame them for being skeptical.

“Same expectations.” Geneir nods. “But you’ll have an extra class on Wednesday nights to teach you more about whatever deal you were offered.”

I bite down a retort, thankful my flush at being outed isn’t so obvious against my mocha skin.

He might as well have said I have an upper hand over everyone here.

Someone chose me to come, and I sincerely doubt whatever reasoning behind it—whether family or my so-called ability as a seer—will be enough to earn their support.

I’ll be fighting a war on two fronts, it seems.

The compound is split into two distinct factions—one for classwork, and one for training.

The groups of other worldly beings mosey through the academic halls, but are mostly shuffled out to where they will spend their time—the training grounds.

That’s good. I don’t think any of my companions are up for any new interspecies interactions.

Geneir takes us to the Central Issue Facility, where we receive our school uniforms and any other required materials.

We’re allowed to carry two daggers on us at all time, to “keep things fair.” I clip one on each hip.

I’ve studied fencing since I was five, after my mom had a role in some fantasy movie, but I’m hardly confident with smaller blades.

Plus, I haven’t stepped foot in a mat since junior year.

I can only hope I look more fierce than I feel.

Then, we collect our personal items from last night, and are shown to our dorms.

“No breakfast this morning, but lunch is at noon, daily, and dinner at five. Curfews are strict, for safety purposes, and all cadets should be in a bed—doesn’t matter whose—by eight.

” A series of groans take the dorm. “I know, I know, but you earn more freedoms with each semester you pass. Just take it one day at a time, follow the rules, and you’ll be fine. ”

∞∞∞

That night, I lay curled on my bed, the scratchy blanket pressed tight against my chest, pretending that I’m just cold.

But it isn’t the cold that keeps my limbs locked and my throat dry.

It’s the sound of screams that won’t stop echoing.

It’s the knowledge that if I had tripped just one second later—if that wendigo’s claws had caught me—it’d be my blood soaking the grass. My arm hanging out of the truck like the one I saw this morning. My name crossed off the list.

I close my eyes.

And see Ravi.

Not how he looked at the diner, teasing Audrey and Azalea. Not how he smiled when we danced barefoot in the garage that one summer. Not even how he looked the morning I had that final vision.

I see him how he looked when he washed up on the rocks.

Empty. Cold. A shell.

I did that.

Even if no one ever finds out, even if I had a reason, even if it was to stop something worse—I chose to let him die.

And now I’ve survived something I shouldn’t have. Not because I fought, not because I earned it.

Because someone else pulled me out.

Someone always pulls me out.

What if that’s the truth of me? Not a seer. Not a warrior. Not anything real. Just a girl who floats to the surface while everyone else sinks.

My fingers find the tiny scar near my hip where the dagger’s sheath rubbed raw. I press against it, like I can remind myself what pain feels like. Like that means something.

It doesn’t.

I wait for sleep.

But when it comes, it’s full of blood.

And Ravi.

And the cold, hungry dark.