Heritage: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Academy Novel (Elmwick Academy Book 3) Read online

  HERITAGE

  ELMWICK ACADEMY

  Book 3

  While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  HERITAGE

  First edition. April 5, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Emilia Zeeland.

  Written by Emilia Zeeland.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Part I

  Chapter 1. Cami

  Chapter 2. Cami

  Chapter 3. Cami

  Chapter 4. Cami

  Chapter 5. Cami

  Chapter 6. Cami

  Chapter 7. Cami

  Chapter 8. Cami

  Chapter 9. Cami

  Chapter 10. Cami

  Part II

  Chapter 11. Mason

  Chapter 12. Mason

  Chapter 13. Mason

  Chapter 14. Mason

  Chapter 15. Mason

  Chapter 16. Mason

  Chapter 17. Mason

  Chapter 18. Mason

  Part III

  Chapter 19. Cami

  Chapter 20. Mason

  Chapter 21. Cami

  Chapter 22. Mason

  Chapter 23. Cami

  Chapter 24. Mason

  Chapter 25. Cami

  Chapter 26. Mason

  Chapter 27. Cami

  Chapter 28. Mason

  Chapter 29. Cami

  Chapter 30. Mason

  Chapter 31. Cami

  Chapter 32. Mason

  Chapter 33. Cami

  Chapter 34. Mason

  Chapter 35. Cami

  About the Author

  Part I

  Chapter 1. Cami

  I’m slipping into darkness. The black fog vies for my attention and whispers in my ear, silencing my own thoughts.

  As a banshee, I often take the path that scares me the most. Only the faith that my visions show me the best course of action, as terrifying as it seems, gives me the strength to continue. But what am I supposed to do when darkness shrouds every path? When temptation to choose the wrong way overwhelms me?

  IT’S BEEN OVER THREE weeks since the battle and subsequent explosion at The Ravenna, since Mason drove off with the hunters, not knowing he’s truly one of us—a lost legacy whose powers have been suppressed with a joint spell cast by the other legacies generations ago. Right here is the start of our descent into darkness.

  To kick things off, we have no idea how to undo the joint spell. We also don’t have Mason with us, so even if we figured out how to break the spell, we couldn’t free him. Possibly worst of all, Mason left with the hunters, who would no doubt kill or imprison him if presented with any evidence of his heritage. Since he doesn’t know he’s a legacy, he’ll be blindsided and could easily land himself in trouble. Deeper trouble, that is.

  Unfortunately, that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

  The old booklet Awan gave us was also a warning. A circle of six is incomplete. A circle of six is broken by design. And now that Awan joined us, we’re a banshee’s circle of six.

  We’ve been trying to keep it together, taking precautions to prevent our tricky powers from spilling out of control.

  As a cold one, Jean compelled Seff to take ten deep breaths whenever he felt the wolf temper inside him bubbling up. The rest of us started taking vervain, so we could make sure Jean wouldn’t abuse her powers of compulsion. I practiced using my banshee scream against Awan’s lion protector and Charity’s charmed shields, in case they got any weird ideas. And Charity placed a charm on Vanessa to rebound her viper curses. We figured nothing would be more efficient in preventing Vanessa from casting a terrible curse in anger than the threat of that curse landing right back on her.

  And what about me? As dangerous as the banshee powers can be, the links I feel to each member of my circle should prevent me from ever hurting them. It would be like hurting myself.

  Now we have a system of checks and balances that’s supposed to keep us accountable to each other.

  Sadly, we didn’t really understand the curse of an out-of-control circle when we placed those safeguards on each other. They might be keeping us from hotheaded fights, but they can’t stop the anger making us want to burst out of our own skin.

  Everyone’s thoughts are turning darker and darker. They flow to me through the links created with each one when they were bound to the circle—an endless murky river. And I crave only one thing—escape. I would do anything to feel the slightest tremor of excitement, the briefest moment of bliss.

  So, on a Friday before our next after-dark party at the Elmwick Academy common room, I skip my dose of vervain. With these twisted, hopeless thoughts drowning me, the guilt can’t even swim up to the surface.

  That’s what terrifies me the most.

  The party starts immediately after the dodgeball game. Jean compelled the teachers to let us use the common area in the Elmwick Academy entrance hall. Her extended ability to compel even other cold ones, which she gained when she was linked to the circle, should be used with more care, but as I said, guilt doesn’t stand much of a chance with us these days.

  The common room where the Elmwick Academy legacies usually drink their coffee, eat snacks, and chat in between classes has transformed into an outrageous party. Couples make out on the puffy couches—Awan and Charity among them.

  Seff is doing a headstand, cheered on by a group of wolves. He’s been trying extra hard to ingratiate himself to them since he can turn at will now, and supposedly that makes them testy. Not that his extended powers have made him a king among the wolves. They’re loyal to the alpha—his sister, Willa, who challenged the old Valtyk alpha for control only weeks ago and emerged victorious.

  Seff’s twin, Fillan, only sulks in the corner. Jean might as well join him, but any proximity to the wolves could set her off, so we all take extra care to put some distance between them. Bryar, Jean’s girlfriend and Mason’s sister, still hasn’t returned to town, and her absence is making Jean even more irritable. It doesn’t help that Bryar only seems to keep in touch with Jean through rare texts. The latest one explained that, with Mason gone and the new rules we established in Elmwick after the battle at The Ravenna, her parents had no intention of returning.

  The new rules. Yes, of course. Legendary hunters like the Fowlers would never accept the occasional blood donations Jester and his vampires require of this town.

  Despite the darkness slowing me down, I’m keeping a close watch on Jester, allowing each of his vampires to feed only once a week. It’s probably more than what they’re used to, so they should be happy. There’s quite a few of them, though, and we’re running low on volunteers since I won’t allow them to get themselves permanent devoted. That would grant Jester too much power.

  Plus, I’d never allow unsuspecting humans to pay the true cost of my deal. That’s why we recruit volunteers among the legacies. It works for now. Many vipers have volunteered, inspired by my actions to take control of this town. The charmers and lions, who weren’t persecuted as often as the vipers, aren’t as agreeable, but I’ve convinced a few to participate on occasion.

  That fragile balance is the best I could hope for at this time.

  Speaking of balance, Vanessa doesn’t seem stable, dancing on the coffee table in those three-inch heels. I take a sip of wine after she raises her glass at me.

  “Get up here, Cami!” Vanessa coos.

&nbs
p; I sigh, pushing down the dark fog inside me. Vanessa gives me a hand up since I’m also in heels. Someone turns up the music. Vanessa and I give each other a twirl as the crowd grows rowdier.

  I’m wearing skinny jeans, so I’m not restricted in my dance moves. Vanessa and I mimic each other, going lower and lower as the cheers erupt. A singe of discomfort zaps me through the link, but I don’t have the mental energy to place the legacy it came from. Perhaps it was Jean rolling her eyes at us or Charity feeling a little embarrassed for the way we conduct ourselves. Or maybe it was Seff...

  I refuse to think or dig deeper. I need a distraction.

  My high heels give a loud stomp when I hop off the coffee table, leaving Vanessa’s cousins to join her. Fillan is doing a headstand after Seff, whose slightly absent look focuses on me. My gaze travels down to Seff’s full lips. I remember how soft they felt against mine.

  Without giving myself enough time to reconsider, especially since our last kiss resulted in a flash of Vanessa’s face in my mind, I grab Seff by the hand and lead him away. The part of me that still feels sane is glad that we slip out without drawing much attention to ourselves.

  Seff’s hand feels warm around my fingers as I lead us downstairs to the corridor connecting the six training rooms. We don’t even make it into one. Seff backs me against the first door to the left—the wolves’ training room. I grasp a fistful of his shirt and pull him to me. His lips press, hot and full, against mine.

  My fingers tangle in his hair as he pulls me closer. But as much as I will myself to sink into the moment, to forget anything and everything that feels wrong in my life, I can’t.

  I push Seff off me with a hand on his chest.

  “You all right?” he says.

  I exhale deeply, annoyed at myself for a thousand reasons. I’m more lost than I’ve ever felt before. I made myself feel something, but the ugly emotions that mesh inside me now aren’t the elated kind I hoped for.

  The painful memory flashes bright inside my gloomy mind. I was calling out Mason’s name, desperate for him to come back, but he left.

  The guilt simmering inside my chest, underneath the tendrils of darkness, now gathers strength. Mason and I shared something special. His leaving should be more than enough to herald a break-up, but my banshee intuition tells me things aren’t over yet.

  Upon that realization, the darkness floods into me again, fueled by sadness. And bitterness that stems through one of the links—the one to Vanessa.

  I push Seff further away. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. You should go back upstairs. I wouldn’t want people to think...” I can’t even bring myself to finish that thought.

  Seff’s huff morphs into a deep growl. “You’ll have to figure out what you want and stick with it one day.”

  My lips pinch into a sullen pout. “I guess you’re right.”

  After another low growl, he leaves me and heads back upstairs. I massage the bridge of my nose with closed eyes for what feels like an eternity. If I could only push the darkness away and think clearly for just a moment, I’d fix everything I keep messing up.

  But the measures we took seem to be keeping the others in my circle in check. I’m the problem—the banshee too weak to handle the darkness.

  I open my eyes and try to steel my spine. I can do this. There must be a way. There must be something I could do to feel better.

  As if on cue, the door to the cold ones’ training room creaks open. Jester steps out, leading a group of about ten of his vampires.

  The corners of Jester’s mouth quirk up when he sees me. “To what do I owe this pleasant welcome?”

  He’s wearing his signature jester’s hat, which jingles as he approaches. The rest of his group head upstairs for a bite.

  “I should make sure—” I press my lips together and stop talking abruptly.

  “Ah, don’t you trust me after the past few weeks?” Jester feigns getting offended, a hand on his heart. “I promise, same as always, they’ve been instructed to feed as quickly as possible and never to compel your people into becoming their devoted.” He pauses, but when my expression doesn’t change, he adds, “I probably shouldn’t admit this to you, but we’ve never been as well-fed as these past few weeks. My vampires wouldn’t jeopardize that.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Even though my tone remains hostile, I relax a little.

  Jester reaches out and lifts my chin with ice-cold fingers. “Why so sad tonight, my banshee?”

  It’s suddenly hard for me to swallow. “Maybe you can help me forget everything for a while?”

  I want to be strong, to find a way to lead my circle through the darkness, but every fiber of my body is about to bend under the pressure. If I could escape it all, just for a minute, I’d be able to gather my thoughts and piece myself back together.

  Jester watches me with the same predatory expression I remember from the night of The Ravenna heist, but he doesn’t seem to believe me. The thirst for that blissful feeling burns in my veins. It’s hard to remember a time I dreaded it so much that I fought Jean, too horrified to imagine letting her feed on me.

  They say that the more often you receive the bite, the more you crave it. I may have only been bitten twice, but the memory of bliss is fresh in my mind, begging me to give in again.

  I sweep my wavy hair over one shoulder so it’s out of the way. Jester’s eyes trace the vein pulsing on my neck when I tilt my head to one side in invitation.

  His carefully maintained cold facade crumbles. His eyes flash, red and menacing. He has just enough control of himself to lean gently over me and place a butterfly kiss on my skin before his teeth sink into my flesh.

  After a brief flash of pain, the bite pulls me under its sway. I close my eyes, submerging myself in the blissful feeling. The tight grip every emotion has on my chest loosens. Anxiety unfurls and flutters away. Loneliness siphons out of my heart. And the darkness escapes to the edges, chased away by a flash of glittering light.

  I breathe in as if for the first time. This weightlessness brings me new hope.

  Jester pulls away slightly, but I whisper, “Not yet... Please.”

  He indulges me for another second, but then his teeth retract and his wet lips leave my neck. With that, the sway dims, though tiny traces remain, coursing through my veins, soothing me.

  “I think that’s quite enough,” Jester says.

  I shake my head, unable to explain the desperate need to feel better. No one understands. “Just a bit more...”

  “Begging doesn’t become you.” Jester licks his lips for the last of my blood coating them.

  “I’m not dizzy,” I snap back. “I won’t faint on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  His cool brown eyes study me, and for a second, I think he’s going to indulge me. But the door to the cold ones’ training room creaks again. Too lazy to check on the vampire that’s probably trying to sneak past us to feed, I keep my eyes on Jester. His resolve is weaker in the frenzy of the feed. I could get the bite again if...

  An arrow whistles through the air and strikes the door frame on my left.

  “Step away from her,” a girl says from the darkness.

  Jester turns in her direction slowly, but I recognize the voice at once. Bryar steps out of the shadows, dressed in long pants and a red trench coat too warm for the beginning of summer. The red hood of her coat hides her face, but strands of reddish-brown hair glint in the weak torchlight.

  “Little Red Riding Hood?” Jester chuckles. “Appropriate.”

  In one smooth motion, Bryar raises her bow and notches another arrow in it. I guess she didn’t find the joke amusing.

  “Cami? What are you doing?” Bryar’s green eyes shine in accusation. “Aren’t you supposed to be looking for my brother?”

  Chapter 2. Cami

  The residual sway of Jester’s bite helps me handle Bryar’s surprise appearance better than I would have otherwise.

  “Jean will be glad you’re back,” I tell
her.

  Bryar keeps the bow raised, aiming at Jester. “Sadly, I can’t say I’m glad to be back. What happened to this town? Have you forgotten Jester’s vampires tried to kill me in the forest?”

  Jester wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb, but it’s only a reflex. He’s already licked away the last traces of my blood from his lips. “You must not have been around for a while. My vampires and I helped chase the big, bad hunters away from Elmwick. Cami’s just paying us back with a little...sustenance. A gesture of goodwill.”

  “Jean can’t be all right with this.” Bryar doesn’t lower her weapon.

  “Jester seems to take pleasure in contradicting her. “Oh, but she is.”

  Bryar’s gaze lands on me, her bright green eyes swimming with suspicion. “You’re awfully quiet for a scream queen.”

  That forces me out of my stupor. Is it strange that it costs me so much energy to react? I shake my head, chasing away the stray thought.

  “Leave,” I tell Jester. “Everyone in the circle will want to talk to Bryar.”

  “And I’m not a member.” Bitterness coats his words. “Got it.”

  Although he throws a very sullen look at me, Jester doesn’t argue. I guess after what happened at the heist, he knows I’d never be able to bind him to me. He’s still testy about it, though. Like I’m to blame.

  Jester’s gaze doesn’t leave my face as he brings his fingers to his mouth to whistle—a shrill sound that cuts through the air. I scrunch my nose, irritated, but then focus on the commotion upstairs. One by one, Jester’s cold ones return downstairs, some looking rejuvenated, other sulky that their fun has been cut short.

  “Let’s not overstay our welcome, shall we?” Jester smirks, like leaving was his idea.

  He’s good at pretending he’s in control. A part of me wonders how long he’s been doing it and if the vampires in his employ sense the pretense. But most of me simply feels the sway of the bite fading by the second. I wouldn’t admit this out loud, but I wish Jester would stay close, just in case I need him.