The Waking of Ghosts (Lost Souls Academy Book 1), page 1
Lilliana Rose
The Waking of Ghosts
The Lost Souls Academy Series Book 1
By Lilliana Rose
Copyright 2019 Lilliana Rose
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Editing by Swish Design & Editing
Book design by Swish Design & Editing
Cover design by Christian Bentulan at Covers by Christian
Published by Infinity Dreaming
Cover Image Copyright 2019
There is an evil awakening.
At the Lost Souls academy, students aren’t your typical everyday alumni.
Rejects from clans, packs, and covens walk these halls, but there’s something more sinister haunting the academy.
A resident ghost has new student, Zarya, on the fight to banish it. Will her actions cause more enemies at her new school than friends?
‘I’m coming for you.’
A message from beyond has Zarya fearful. Her skills are underdeveloped, but as a ghost hunter, she must stand and fight this new evil.
Can Zarya grow to be the ghost hunter she’s destined to be or will forces overpower her and bring chaos and destruction to the Lost Souls academy?
Robyn C.
For anyone looking to belong, and for a second chance to learn their unique magic ability, then the Lost Souls Academy is for you.
Can lost souls really work together?
Find your own normal.
Cast out from covens, orders, clans, and packs, the Lost Souls Academy is for paranormal beings to have a chance to belong and find a purpose.
But is their purpose for the greater good or evil?
Blurb
Dedication
The Lost Souls Academy
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Acknowledgments
Connect With Me Online
About the Author – Lilliana Rose
Avery Blackwood finally had found the old lost library. It was right under her nose here in Seattle of all places. She’d only come here by accident and out of desperation. There had simply been nowhere else to look.
During the past year, she’d searched the most obvious places around the world, and she was sick of traveling through portals.
Cars sped along the busy Fourth Street to the inner city. A small parkland to the right, an old church on the other side, and there nestled between two towering buildings built in the late 1800s, she’d spied the door behind the branches of trees that was protected by their evergreen leaves. She’d pushed them aside and confidently went up the crumbling concrete steps to the entrance.
Avery placed her hand on the ornate brass handle. Locked. No biggie.
Pulling in a deep breath, she connected with her ability. A tingle went from her solar plexus, radiating out as the power of her magic intensified.
A locked door wouldn’t take much effort to open as long as no one saw her.
Avery glanced over her shoulder.
A man dressed in a suit hurried past, talking angrily on his phone. On the other side of the street, a young woman was busy pushing a stroller with a kid asleep inside.
Then she felt it.
The energy protecting this special place.
It buzzed around her as if it were waking.
To the ordinary, they would only see an old door, run-down, leading nowhere. But to Avery, this door would give her a future and keep her protected, especially after what she’d done.
Avery directed a tendril of her magical energy, which made her who she was.
Powerful. Clever. Lost.
A witch.
One with the ability to manipulate, cast spells, bring change, and whatever else she put her mind to. To be feared even.
The golden sparkling snake-like energy twisted from her fingers, forming the image of a key. It slipped easily into the lock, moving deliberately, intent on achieving its goal.
Click.
Her skin prickled.
Avery turned the handle and pushed open the intricately carved oak door. A blast of stale air blew out, tangling with her long, curly dark hair for a moment. Cold seeped through her. Her tight leather pants, low-cut dark blue top, and loose black jacket were unable to stop the foreboding that lingered in the air from flooding over her.
Avery wasn’t going to stop now. No matter what. She had only one plan, and if that didn’t work, she’d give up, even though it wasn’t in her nature to do so.
Avery stepped into the dark belly of the old library. A long-kept secret, known only by a select few in the Seattle coven—the one who had cast her out. She had done whatever it took to learn the secret, including murder. A necessary evil. She had to look out for herself because no one else was going to.
The door swung closed behind her with a thud. She jumped. Instead of feeling fear, though, excitement prickled through her, sharpening her senses. With a click of her fingers, she created a yellow flame, pushing away the ancient shadows that had made this their home.
Avery’s heeled black boots stepped onto the faded ornate Victorian-style floor rugs, lifting small clouds of dust from between the fibers.
An overwhelming staircase ascended in front of her, splitting to the left and right, to the next level. She lifted her hand and breathed, sending a sphere of light upward. The glow showed her what her heart had been desperately hoping. The shelves, floor to ceiling, were full of books, which hadn’t been touched in decades, maybe even centuries.
More stairs.
More levels.
The forgotten library.
A shiver went down her spine, and she smiled at the treasure that was hers to behold and wield.
Dust was heavy in the air. The musty smell of unread pages warmed her heart against the chill inside the area. The library still held its value. The books were here. Her plan would begin.
Avery could start her own academy, hidden in plain sight, and have a life after all. She could give this gift to others, and put in motion her plan. The lost will do her bidding.
You really think it would be that simple?
Avery sighed with disappointment.
You found me. She spoke telepathically, not bothering to turn her head to the ghost who had attached himself to her through her deeds.
Easily. You should remember that.
In a shadow to her right, Avery caught sight of a door. Curiosity welled inside of her. She stepped toward it. A fresh wave of coldness washed over her. She turned around but saw nothing.
Shrugging it off, Avery went to the door, opened it, and walked through the doorway. It was an office, and it would do perfectly. She could meet the future students in here.
I wouldn’t do this...
Then go, Casper, she answered.
Witches usually had animals as familiars, but no, she had her very own ghost. A male. A warlock unable to pass over, or work out his unfinished business, or whatever it was that had kept him here on the earthly plane. She sure as hell had no intention of helping him. Crowe had only recently attached himself to her, and despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get rid of him. Avery figured it must be a sort of retribution or something—her penance for what she’d done. But then if that were really the case, she’d be in a level of hell or have a hoard of ghosts attached to her. The problem was there were times she looked at him and wished he was in his earthly form. Crowe was young and hot, and she could feel with every ounce of her being he’d be satisfying. There was no way she was going to let him know that, though, and nothing was going to happen since he annoyed her more often than not.
Don’t call me names. Crowe huffed, continuing to use the telepathic abilities they both used to communicate privately.
Avery suppressed a smile, glad to have annoyed him. She never listened to him anyway. He’d been no help whatsoever in trying to find this place. In fact, he’d been very good at distracting her and putting her off course.
I must remember that.
Avery put her hand on the ruby around her neck, the container of life, the relic she’d stolen. One of two. The other, a sapphire ring on her left middle finger. The extra power she’d need to keep hidden and a parting gift to her coven.
Thanks for having me, bitches.
Cobwebs hung over the edges of the bookcases on the side walls. A stained-glass window behind the desk let in a little light through the design. An angel, looking innocent and pure, illuminated. Not quite the look for the type of schooling she was going to set up here. There won’t be any angels, and their actions were going to be less than pure. The irony wasn’t lost on her. It could well be a good reminder of what they were really trying to achieve.
Avery ran a finger over the top of the leather part of the desk, picking up a thick layer of dust. She wrinkled her nose and brushed her finger off. She preferred cleanliness, order, but there was something about this dust that caused her stomach to clench painfully in a warning.
“Any good at cleaning, Crowe?” She spoke out loud, her voice vibrating around the room, the first sign of life that had been here for so very long. She planned to bring this place back to the glory it deserved.
“No,” was his short reply, speaking out loud to enforce his position on cleaning.
She chuckled, turning to walk out, determined to explore the rest of the library.
Invites would need to be sent as soon as possible, after all, what was an academy without students or teachers. It wasn’t students or teachers she really wanted, but she had plans on how to convert them, and what to do if they didn’t comply. She took no prisoners.
“This is a bad idea.”
“I guess we’ll both find out soon enough.” She turned to the sound of his voice. “You could at least show yourself.”
The air rippled, and a young man materialized in front of her wearing a suit, open shirt, and he a short haircut. “Better?”
“Indeed.” She raised an eyebrow noticing that he was better groomed than the last time she’d seen him.
Was he trying to make an effort? For me?
A strong sense of peace settled in Avery’s bones. The Lost Souls Academy would soon be open for its first group of students. She was very much looking forward to teaching the paranormal lost beings, making them into followers rather than students, to give them a second chance. A place where outcasts could belong, develop their skills, and well, help to get her the revenge she wanted. Craved. Needed.
“You think the lost will really want to do your bidding?”
Avery folded her arms over her chest and looked at his ashen face. “If they want somewhere to stay, they will. Seattle can be a lonely city if you don’t have any friends.”
“The Seattle Coven will stop you.”
Crowe had a very good point.
“All they will see is another academy opening. One for the more troubled souls. And they will send them to me. Gladly. They will wash their hands of them because they don’t want to deal with them.”
“Maybe. But they want your blood more.”
“They won’t know it’s me.”
“Hiding in plain sight won’t work forever, Avery.”
“It will work long enough.” By then, she hoped to have another plan or at least her own coven, then she could become the leader who could dominate and punish those who cast her out.
“Pride before a fall.” Crowe hovered closer to her, the air cooling as he approached.
“If you’re going to harass me, then you can teach how to navigate through the ethereal plane.” She looked up at him. “And didn’t you say you were good at spell-making? You can teach that, too.”
“I demand to be paid,” Crowe grumbled, hands on his hips, his glare turning stormier than usual.
“Only if you do a good job.”
“Bitch.”
Avery smiled. “I need this to work. I’m hungry for success. Plus, as you know, I have no problem killing. And, let’s face it, no one misses the lost.”
Zarya
“Has the ghost gone?”
Zarya Burke turned around in the room, holding out a smoldering wad of white sage. The thin tendrils of smoke weaved out into the air, spreading a cleansing smell.
“I ask you to leave.” Zarya kept moving in a circular motion around the tight space of the very cluttered and dark living room, trying to avoid knocking anything over or bumping her leg on the coffee table.
“Has—”
“Shhh…” Zarya glanced over her shoulder, the sharpness in her tone, finally shutting up the over-nervous Reagan. The middle-aged women stood in front of the kitchen counter, a bundle of nerves, which had nothing to do with the supernatural. It was very off-putting. Well, it would be if there were a ‘real’ problem with a ghost. Zarya kept turning, trailing the sage smoke through the room.
Zarya could tell there was no real issue from simply talking with Reagan on the phone this morning when she arranged a time to come over and ‘deal’ with her so-called resident ghost.
Reagan’s clothing was worn and faded—baggy sports pants and a loose T-shirt which had stains on it that looked like they’d been there for months. Her brown hair was messy and hung in a tangled mess below her shoulders. Dark lines shadowed under her eyes, and her face was quite pale. She’d made it quite clear to Zarya that she hadn’t slept all week because of the ‘ghost.’ Reagan had no idea why this ghost had suddenly decided to claim her home.
Zarya had taken the opportunity to charge double for being called out on a Saturday, especially considering it was at the last minute. She had expected Reagan would balk at the high fee she was going to charge and then rearrange for a decent time during the week. Nothing was as easy as Zarya hoped it would be.
Raegan’s overreaction to having a resident ghost in her home was putting much-needed money in Zarya’s dwindling bank account. If she didn’t need the money to pay this month’s rent, Zarya would’ve told Reagan the truth.
There was no ghost.
There never was.
It was a figment of her imagination.
This tended to happen more often than not for the clients who called for her ghosthunting services. Zarya didn’t care about the lies because this was what she had to do to survive. It was more about the fact her real ghosthunting ability wasn’t being put to good use. As a witch, it was her ghosthunting ability which had landed her in the situation of having to make it in the world without a coven supporting her. Even her parents had turned their backs on Zarya. Though, if she were honest, that had more to do with her wayward behavior when she wasn’t complying with the rules and regulations of the Witch Academy. She had to remind herself that it was barely a year ago since everything went bad in her life. Zarya had gotten used to the incessant teasing from the other witches, but she was no delicate flower, and when heated arguments turned magical, she was kicked out.
Of course, it was always going to be her who was expelled due to her unusual skill. That was all thanks to her great great-great-great-great-grandmother, who was an actual ghost hunter and fell in love with a witch. It was a branch of the family tree that was well-hidden until she came along and had the ability. Untrained, no coven, kicked out of home, it had been tough on Zarya, and it still was. Which brings us to why she was here at Reagan’s home, banishing a ghost that didn’t exist.
“This is not your home,” Zarya spoke in a deeper tone than normal, her voice determined and firm. “It is time for you to move on. To leave.”
Zarya stopped turning and changed directions, keeping the smoldering white sage in the air, tailing the smoke deliberately in a circular motion. She figured another minute would be sufficient to make Reagan think enough had been done to ‘remove the ghost.’ The woman was super jittery, so she’d taken a little longer smudging in hope to ease her nerves.
Zarya slowly turned around, her thick black heels thudding in a muffled sound as she nearly tripped over her own feet on the worn rug on the floor. It was difficult to move since there was so much stuff, like books and magazines, which were piled up around the place, and boxes half full of other things balancing precariously on top of the books and also on the table over by the window. Take-out containers littered the coffee table in front of the two-seater couch that faced the extra-large television, a tiffany lamp to the side, giving the only light in the room. The whole place was suffocating.
