Surviving Year One (Grim Reaper Academy 1)

I sighed. I couldn’t think of my own parents. Not now, not ever. I’d run away from home a week ago and hadn’t even left a note. Not that I had anything to say to my father, but my mother would have probably appreciated an explanation. But I didn’t feel like explaining myself. She would have thought I was crazy, anyway. Leaving everything behind to go to a school that sounded like it was ripped out of a fantasy novel! Ridiculous. What kind of gullible person did that? What kind of weak minded 18-year-old dropped high school and risked her chance at ever going to college for an imaginary institution that declared its mission was to prepare the next generation of Grim Reapers? Maybe it was better for my mom to think I’d run away from home, just like any other tortured, rebellious teenager, than live the rest of her life with the conviction that her daughter was cuckoo in the head.

The professors took their places at the front table, which was raised on a dais to make it clear that it was more special than the other tables in the dining hall, but the Headmaster remained among the students. He motioned for us to form a semicircle around him, then snapped his fingers and produced a scroll out of thin air and unrolled it ceremoniously. So, he’s a mage, too. Lotta mages around here. He proceeded to call out names, and I stood straighter, my heart picking up the pace every time he directed a student to the table of his or her Cabal, and returned to the scroll to call the next name.

“Lorna Chiaramonte. Righteous Death.”

Lorna stepped forward, took her RDC badge from the Headmaster, shook his hand, and went to sit at her table, where her friends were waiting for her. How the hell is she righteous?!

“Klaus Severinus Hamelin. Merciful Death.”

“Told you,” Klaus winked at me.

I smiled and watched him walk away as my stomach twisted and my heart hammered with a passion. I moved my hands behind my back and crossed my fingers. Let it be Merciful Death. Let it be Merciful Death. Klaus is right. It’s in my name already. I didn’t want to end up in the Righteous Death Cabal with Lorna and her righteous bitches.

“Pandora Darkmoor. Neutral Death.”

How the fuck is the daughter of Lilith and Satan neutral?! Great, that crossed another Cabal off my list. If looks could kill, the look the beautiful, redheaded Pandora gave me as she walked past me would have put me six feet under. She hates me already. Why? Because I saw her cry?

“Sariel Gracewing. Violent Death.”

Laughter bubbled in the back of my throat, threatening to spill through my lips. I snorted like the classy lady that I was, coughed, and covered my stupid mouth with my hands. Gracewing, though?! Gracewing?! No wonder he had a chip on his shoulder about gays. His name sounded gay as fuck. Archangel Sariel Gracewing, Protector of the Heavens. I bit my tongue hard. I couldn’t burst out in laugher. No. He’d kill me if I made fun of him. He gave me a scathing look as he walked past me, and I dared to flip him off. His perfect brows met right above that cute nose of his when he furrowed them so hard, I was afraid they might stay that way.

“GC Apis. Violent Death.”

Of course, that was the all-boys Cabal. It made sense that all the assholes would be in it. Thank God I didn’t have to worry about being sorted into the VDC. For once, my vagina was proving to be my savior. So far, it had only given me grief, what will all the irregular bleeding it did every month, and the throng of trash suitors it attracted. GC blew me a kiss. When I rolled my eyes at him, he just blew me another one and grabbed his crotch.

I looked around me. How was it possible that no one had noticed that? No, I was pretty sure Headmaster Colin had seen it, but he was too busy with his scroll. Meh. Probably GC’s beefy family was in the audience, and he didn’t want to make a scene.

“Sheba Hellflame. Righteous Death.”

The blond girl with sparkling green eyes and endless legs joined Lorna. Her name made me guess she could only be a demoness.

“Pazuzu Heremus. Violent Death.”

Oh, so Paz came from Pazuzu. I shuddered. I’d heard of Pazuzu, the demon of the wind, the one who brought famine and locusts when mortals got on his nerves. Was Paz that Pazuzu? Better not to think about it.

“Francis Saint-Germain. Violent Death.”

Oh, oh, oh. I’ll be damned. Big names, big names. I was but a poor mortal, but I had heard of these guys. Well, not about Sariel. He was just some random archangel, from what I could tell. But GC Apis?! The false fucking god himself? The one the peeps in the Old Testament worshipped when Moses was late to his own party? Nah. I still couldn’t believe it. Maybe he was just the son or the grandson of the original false god. That sounded more like it. And Pazuzu?! There were movies about him! Francis Saint-Germain. Could he be related to the infamous Comte de Saint-Germain? The one who was thought to be a vampire and an alchemist? I studied him as quickly and as inconspicuously as I could. He had brown hair and clear green eyes, was tall, but not as ripped as the three jerks he joined at the table. In fact, I doubted he was an asshole. He didn’t look like one. He was probably the most normal-looking person in the hall, except for me. He shot me a glance, and I blushed. There was nothing cruel or unpleasant in that glance. On the contrary. He seemed rather… curious about me?

“Mila Lazarov. Violent Death.”

What now? What? I had been so distracted by Francis Saint-Germain that I’d heard Headmaster Colin wrong. I didn’t react.

“Mila Lazarov.” The Headmaster craned his neck to find me among the other students. I was in the back, thinking I’d draw the least attention there. “Mila Lazarov, please step forward and claim your Violent Death badge.”

I gulped. Shit. I’d heard him right. That w

as, indeed, my name. But the Cabal… No. Klaus had told me no girl had ever been sorted in the VDC.

“I’m sorry, you must have gotten that wrong,” I said in a small, barely audible voice.

“Speak up, young lady. We can’t hear you.”

Yeah. That… that was the idea. I dragged in a breath and took a step forward, like he’d asked me to. The other students moved out of my way, and I hated them for it. I was out in the open now, dead silence had literally fallen over the entire hall, and everyone was looking at me. I cleared my throat and smiled apologetically.

“I… I’m sorry, sir. I mean, Headmaster Colin. Sir. You’re wrong.”

“Your name is not Mila Lazarov?”