Demon Found: A Paranormal Academy Romance (Fates Academy Book One), page 1
Demon Found
Fates Academy Book One
Zana Wilder
Copyright © 2023 by Zana Wilder
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by US copyright law. For permission requests, contact zanawilder@zanawilder.com.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by Miblart
First edition 2023
Content Note
These content notes are made available so that reader can, if they wish, inform themselves. This is a slow burn PNR, that doesn't mean no sexy times – if that's not your thing, then this might not be the book for you.
Recommended Age : 18+
Bad Language: strong, frequent
Sex / Nudity: fully described sex scenes
Violence: several violent scenes including descriptions
Contents
1. Chapter One: Lorelei
2. Chapter Two: Lorelei
3. Chapter Three: Lorelei
4. Chapter Four: Lorelei
5. Chapter Five: Lorelei
6. Chapter Six: Lorelei
7. Chapter Seven: Lorelei
8. Chapter Eight : Lorelei
9. Chapter Nine: Lorelei
10. Chapter Ten: Lorelei
11. Chapter Eleven: Lorelei
12. Chapter Twelve: Lorelei
13. Chapter Thirteen: Lorelei
14. Chapter Fourteen: Lorelei
15. Chapter Fifteen: Lorelei
16. Chapter Sixteen: Lorelei
17. Chapter Seventeen: Lorelei
18. Chapter Eighteen: Lorelei
19. Chapter Nineteen: Lorelei
20. Chapter Twenty: Chano
21. Chapter Twenty-one: Chano
22. Chapter Twenty-two: Lorelei
23. Chapter Twenty-three: Lorelei
24. Chapter Twenty-four: Lorelei
25. Chapter Twenty-five: Chano
26. Chapter Twenty-six: Lorelei
27. Chapter Twenty-seven: Lorelei
28. Chapter Twenty-eight: Lorelei
29. Chapter Twenty-nine: Lorelei
30. Chapter Thirty: Chano
31. Chapter Thirty-one: Lorelei
32. Chapter Thirty-two: Lorelei
33. Chapter Thirty-three: Lorelei
34. Chapter Thirty-four: Farrell
35. Chapter Thirty-five: Lorelei
36. Chapter Thirty-six: Chano
37. Chapter Thirty-seven: Farrell
38. Chapter Thirty-eight: Lorelei
39. Chapter Thirty-nine: Lorelei
40. Chapter Forty: Lorelei
41. Chapter Forty-one: Lorelei
42. Chapter Forty-two: Lorelei
43. Chapter Forty-three: Lorelei
44. Chapter Forty-four: Lorelei
45. Chapter Forty-five: Chano
46. Chapter Forty-six: Lorelei
47. Chapter Forty-seven: Lorelei
48. Chapter Forty-eight: Lorelei
49. Chapter Forty-nine: Lorelei
50. Chapter Fifty: Lorelei
51. Chapter Fifty-one: Lorelei
52. Chapter Fifty-two: Lorelei
53. Chapter Fifty-three: Lorelei
54. Chapter Fifty-four: Lorelei
55. Chapter Fifty-five: Lorelei
56. Chapter Fifty-six: Chano
57. Chapter Fifty-seven: Lorelei
58. Chapter Fifty-eight: Lorelei
59. Chapter Fifty-nine: Lorelei
60. Chapter Sixty: Lorelei
61. Epilogue: Two Days Later: Farrell
Also By Zana Wilder
About Author
Cocktail List
The Abridged Guide to Supernaturals
Chapter One: Lorelei
Every man for himself.
That’s how Venez works. I know it, this guy at the end of my knife knows it. Hell, everyone who lives in this shithole knows it. The rest of Eltanin might be different, but here it’s the unwritten law.
Still, part of me feels sorry for the guy. A very small part. He was damn stupid to flash his cash around. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. Especially since he’s so weak a seventeen-year-old girl without any magic just overpowered him.
A hiccuping sob drags my attention back to the wretched guy. He looks like he’s about to piss his pants. I’m not that scary, and I one hundred percent do not need the extra attention his shrieking will bring.
Holding the tip of my knife to his neck I motion toward his wrist. He scrabbles to dump his shitty watch in the pile beside his wallet and phone. None of it is very valuable, but at least I’ll have money for food. It’s not like Frank is going to feed me, is it? Snorting back a laugh, I snatch up my haul and back away slowly, knife held high.
Reaching the end of the alley I peer around the corner. No one. Thank the heavens and hells. Dammit, if I had my magic, I could get a regular job instead of resorting to this shit. Sliding out the alley, I walk down the street at a brisk pace. Not too fast, not too slow. Nothing to call anyone’s attention. Pulling jobs on Las Ratas territory is downright dangerous, but who wants to employ a kid off the street like me?
If I just had my genus, if I could shift . . .
Hellfire, while I’m dreaming, I may as well dream big. If I was ascended, I could leave this crappy corner of the supernatural world for good. If I was ascended, I’d have full access to my powers, I could apply for a visa and travel anywhere in Eltanin. Anywhere at all. But nope, here I am stuck in Venez without an iota of power, risking my neck for cents.
How in hell’s name am I going to survive once I turn eighteen and Frank turfs me out?
I’m too wrapped up in my thoughts to register the dull roar of the crowd. I careen around the corner into the back of hundreds of pissed-off supes. How did I not hear this? The chanting is deafening. The crowd surges, engulfing the first row of riot cops.
“Food! Sanitation! Health!”
It’s not asking for much, but I’m surprised they even have the energy to protest. I get why we live like this. Venez citizens can’t cause the Angel King problems if our whole province is half-starved and fighting each other for scraps the whole time. We’re the lowest of the low. The rest of Eltanin doesn’t give a damn about us. It’s another unspoken supernatural law—those with more power prosper, and they keep the rest of us down.
I do not need to get caught up in this. Protests are dangerous. I do enough dodgy shit as it is. My juvie record speaks for itself. Ducking my head, I pull my cap low over my face, squinting around for security cameras. The police retaliation for a protest of this size will be vicious. The police are vicious.
Ferocious black clouds of magic-suppressing gas pulse into the square, pushing the crowd back, coughing and spluttering. As the smoke slowly drifts away an uneasy silence falls. There, crumpled on the ground, unnaturally still, is a body. A uniformed body.
Fuck.
I’m up and running before the smoke completely dissipates. Dead bodies aren’t unusual, far from it. But a dead officer? Anyone caught today is fair game. And the police don’t play fair when they take revenge for one of their own.
By the time I’m far enough away to be sure I’m out of trouble, my pulse is hammering, and I’m choking out ragged gasps. Dammit, I’ve enough bloody problems as it is without getting caught up in civil unrest. I can’t afford to be so careless.
Leaning against a crumbling wall, I let my breath slow as I inspect my stolen haul. The wallet has piss-all money in it, enough for a few meals. The watch is trash—I may as well give it away to someone in exchange for a favor. Sighing, I turn to the phone. It’s decent, not the latest model but still . . . very sellable. I ping out the SIM card, letting it fall to the ground. Palming my own from my pocket I pop it in, quickly checking for any new jobs.
The screen lights up, and the phone vibrates violently in my hand as message after message comes through—some over two weeks old. Messages from my brother.
What the hell? We don’t talk. Sure, after he got out the foster system, he looked me up. But we’ve spent too long apart to act like proper siblings. A bitter disappointment roils in my stomach.
And now this . . . five missed calls and a series of messages. What the blazing nymphs is going on?
Where are you? The rest of your year has arrived.
I scroll quickly to the next message, my brain scrambling to catch up.
What the hell is wrong with you? I did everything in my power to get you into my academy. They won’t be impressed you’re late. This is going to reflect badly on me, you ungrateful little shit.
His academy? Fates Academy—a real-life proper university for supes. It’s nothing like the crappy colleges in Venez. What the hell’s he talking about? What does he mean getting me in?
I applied. Of course I did. I applied the hell out of every single academy in the supernatural world. I’d have applied for a place on Mars if it would give me a shot at ascension. Hellfire, I might even have considered a uni place in the human realm. Except the unascended aren’t allowed to travel there. Apparently we’re too stupid to stay hidden from the humans.
I was so sure I’d aced the entrance exams, but I’ve heard nothing back. From anywhere. The disappointment hits me all over again. Scrunching my nose up, I turn back to the phone.
A prickle of apprehension crawls down my spine, and I scroll with shaking fingers to the last message.
Are you seriously throwing away this opportunity? The dean says you didn’t even respond to their acceptance letter. I look like an idiot. Don’t dare contact me again. Is life so cushy that you think you don’t need this, that you don’t need me?! I’m your only family, you brat. Maybe you really are the spoiled little princess Mom always said you were.
It hits me. I know exactly who’s behind this mess. Frank. My lazy good-for-nothing asshole of a foster carer. He’s gotten hold of my mail.
My legs are moving, pumping, sending me in the direction of the house before I have a chance to think.
Chapter Two: Lorelei
One wild-eyed stare around the backyard shows he’s not in his usual beat-up deck chair.
“Frank! Where the hell are you, you good-for-nothing—”
The swing door opens, and he stumbles out. His eyes are bleary, and the wife-beater tank he has on is covered in day-old stains. My words die in my throat.
“The fuck you want, Shhhkinny?” The twitch in his hand gives away the fact he’s not just drunk, he’s coming down, again. Hellfire. Normally I’d give him a wide damn berth when he’s on a downer, but I don’t have time for that today.
Pulling my shoulders back, I take a deep breath. “You have something of mine, Frank. I want it back.”
“Your foster allowance? Spent it.” He gives a cold laugh “Seriously, Skinny, not a good time. Piss off.”
Not a good time? Not a good time?! I just found out I’ve missed out on my one chance to escape this nightmare and he’s having a bad day?
“I want my mail, Frank. I want to know why you kept it!”
His whole face takes on a sly smirk.
“You was about to turn eighteen. No use to me after you’re out the care system. Don’t get paid for no eighteen-year-olds.”
“So why not just let me live my life? Why stop me?” I poke my finger in his ugly broad face.
Like lightning, he grabs my hand, twisting it until I squeal and my knees buckle. He lets out a satisfied grunt and shoves me away. I stumble backward, and he stands, watching, with a sneer painted across his mouth.
“See, there’s this new scheme, Skinny.” He rubs a hand across his stubble. “I sign you up to an apprenticeship program and still get me money, right ’til you’re twenty-one.”
I hold my breath. I won’t scream at him. I won’t. But dammit, it’s not his money. It’s money he’s meant to spend on us foster kids, not that we ever see a dime.
“Las Ratas, see, they got a new ’prenticship program. They’ll house you, feed you . . . All I had to do was sign you up. I can get a new foster kid too, double me money. So, Skinny, I couldn’t let you get away from me.”
Dread pools in the pit of my stomach. Las Ratas? Shit.
“Don’t I get a say?”
“Foster lady says you don’t. I’m your legal guardian, and if I get you an apprenticeship, then I stay that way ’til you exit the program. Only thing that trumped it was an academy place. So”—he shrugs—“I took care of your letter from those posh assholes at the academy and made sure you wasn’t present at any of them genus emergence days in school. Simple.”
My hands ball into fists and my muscles tense. Frank takes a step back, eyeing me.
His scrappy little mongrel shoots out the house and barrels its way between us, yapping frenetically. I swear Dog lives on testosterone and adrenaline. It’s not as if Frank feeds him anything else. He never even named him. Not properly. Dog snaps, and I jump back, narrowly avoiding his sharp teeth catching my ankle.
Little shit.
He’s normally my dog, my defender . . . Dog even went for Dexter when my control freak of an ex wouldn’t back off. But with Frank, Dog’s got a blind spot. Frank can do no wrong. Even when he’s abusing the poor mutt.
Dog’s teeth drive me back another step. Frank deserves to pay. But it’s not like I have the strength to best him, even if I could get past this snarling ball of matted fur.
Dammit, I assumed Frank stopped me emerging because I’m easier to control if I can’t shift. I didn’t understand there was a more sinister reason behind it.
He’s cost me my place at an academy.
It slowly sinks in, and I rock back on my heels, my whole body trembling. Not just that, he’s signed me up for Las Ratas. A gang. The one thing I swore I’d never get involved in, not after Dad.
How do I get out of this? No one leaves Las Ratas, not alive.
How can he have so much power over me? I’m an adult next week. How does a gang even get given the right to run an apprenticeship program? It’s utter cerberus shit.
“Give. Me. The. Letter.” I enunciate every single word so loudly Dog’s hackles rise.
“Or what? Hmph. Although, don’t suppose it’ll do any harm now. You can have it as a keepsake, if you ask nicely.” He smiles, like he’s doing me a favor. “Can’t destroy the damn thing anyway, it’s spelled.”
“Please.” The word tastes like dust.
I have to see. I have to know for sure.
He flicks it out of his trouser pocket at me. I grimace at the grubby envelope being so close to his stinking privates for so long. He wasn’t taking any chances I came across that by accident, was he?
Snatching it up, I storm away to the one place I’m safe in this neighborhood. The cemetery. No one in Venez remembers their dead. They’re barely living themselves. Frank might not be very powerful, but he is a fully emerged manticore with access to his element. And he’s withdrawing. I can’t lose my shit with him. I’m no match, not yet. I’ve the scars to prove it. I’m lucky his patience lasted so long today. Dog trots happily after me, snuffling through the long grass, pausing occasionally to check where I am. The little asshole is delighted to be my friend again, now I’m nowhere near his precious master.
I give him an ear scratch before turning my attention to the envelope. I peel open the academy’s official seal and a tingle runs through my fingers. The letter is dated three months ago. My heart sinks as I scan the page.
I put my heart and soul into passing my school exams and acing the academy entrance tests, dammit. This was to be my ticket out of Venez. I applied for every freaking scholarship too. Not that it was easy, having to feed and clothe myself at the same time. And here, in my hands, is the proof that I was good enough.
I did it.
But term started nearly two weeks ago. I’m too late. Disappointment washes over me, leaving a hollow in the pit of my stomach.
I’m one hundred percent done with the Franks of this world, with other people controlling my life. I’ll get out of Venez province if it kills me. The way shit is going, it might.
I have a plan.
Had. I had a plan. I pass a hand over my face, holding in a howl. He’s completely screwed up my only way out. To get a visa and leave the province you have to be ascended.
So that’s it, my whole plan, gone.
If I can’t get into an academy, I can’t graduate. If I can’t graduate, I can’t freaking ascend, can I? Only academy graduates ascend. They don’t trust us lowlifes with the power ascension brings. You only get your magic completely unbound if you get through four whole years in an academy. That rules out most of the supes in Venez. Who here has the money to send a kid to an academy?
All my hard work. Gone. I was one hundred percent willing to sacrifice four years of my life surrounded by rich assholes with richer daddies for this one chance. I even got myself a sponsor. It’s almost worse knowing how close I was.
It was for nothing. I missed the date to reply. Even if I could call them and beg a favor now . . . the year has started. And I don’t even know what genus I am, what kind of supe. There’s a bit of harpy in me, sure, but what else? Dad always told us kids not to listen to bullies, that being crossbreed wasn’t shameful. I was too little to understand. And it’s too damn late to ask what genus my mom was now.
