Surviving Year One (Grim Reaper Academy 1)

“Err… Good night, Francis.”

“Maybe you’ll join me again tomorrow evening.”

My heart started beating a tad faster. Was the mysterious, impenetrable Francis Saint-Germain asking me to hang out? Wow! I really didn’t know what to say. On the other hand, maybe it was a good idea to make friends with one of the Mighty Jerks. Yes, the Mighty Jerks was a good name for their clique. They considered themselves mighty, alright. Sariel with his heavenly lineage, GC with all his “look at me, I’m a false god” shtick, Paz who clearly thought of himself as superior because he was Satan’s son, and Francis… Francis Saint-Germain. I had no idea what his deal was, because he really didn’t talk much, but I knew that the air of mystery, privacy, and secrecy he adopted was meant to show that he was above everyone else, too. I still preferred him over the others, but I wasn’t going to lie to myself that his whole act didn’t seem a bit fake.

“Maybe,” I breathed out as I hurried down the aisle.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Oooh, Patricia (or Patty, as I called her) had literally saved my ass. Breakfast, lunch, dinner – it didn’t matter. I didn’t have to set foot in the dining hall to eat, and the kitchen staff had taken such a liking to me, that I even started to drop by for snacks. Things were looking up for me, and it was all thanks to the wonderful people who worked for the Academy. The maids, the servants, the cooks… Even the gardener! I had a fresh bouquet of flowers on my desk every day!

As for studying, I avoided the library. Everyone studied and did their homework there, so naturally, it wasn’t the place for me. I either took the books to my room, but I got lonely on weekends, so I made a habit of carrying my study materials to the kitchens, where I claimed a small table in a corner as my desk, and did my thing while I chatted with whoever was there, working. Usually, it was Patty, who was quite the genius when it came to decorating pies, cupcakes, and all kinds of other desserts.

Also, my presentation about Nergal and Ereshkigal had gone great! Mr. Halo had been quite impressed, in fact, and he’d awarded me 50 worth points. Apparently, I had saved him the trouble of teaching the lesson about the two Sumerian gods of war, death, and pestilence, and when students made his life easier, he was a real sport. I was back to 100 worth points, and I had no intention of declining ever again.

Life was good.

The only thing that was stressing me out was that Mabon was approaching, and there was no way I could skip the celebration in the forest. I was constantly thinking about a way to extract myself, but nothing came to mind. With so many mages around, I couldn’t fake sickness. Unless I got genuinely sick, I couldn’t convince the nurse to lock me up in the infirmary the night of Mabon.

I had to share something about myself or of myself before the Academy. That killed me! Or, better said, if it didn’t kill me now, it would kill me for sure on Mabon. What could I possibly share that wouldn’t provoke the Violent Death Cabal to tear me to pieces? At least, we were supposed to do the sharing exercise with our own Cabal, so I was slightly r

elieved knowing that Lorna, Pandora, and the others wouldn’t be anywhere around when my turn came. Maybe, if I stuck close to Francis… Or I could kiss GC and ask him to be my bodyguard for the night, since the offer was still on the table. Paz would probably be more than willing to help, too, but his price was much higher than GC’s. He wanted a late-night date, so he could get back at Pandora. Dangerous. Both GC and Pazuzu are dangerous. It was decided. I was going to sit next to Francis. If I could. Fingers crossed.

Two weeks went by, and I was mostly fine. Klaus sat with me when we had classes together, and when we didn’t, either GC or Paz would lurk about, making the girls jealous, and drawing too much attention. Those were the days when I feared Lorna the most. And for good reason. One Thursday, as I came in late for the Mythology class (which didn’t happen often, but Patty made me lose track of time), I stepped over the threshold and got bombarded with paper spitballs. Fucking perfect! How old were these guys?! Five? That was mostly the Righteous Death Cabal’s doing because of Lorna. Sweet Lorna – insert sarcasm. She hated me with a passion, even when Sariel wasn’t there.

Then, one Monday, I sat in my usual spot at the back of the class in Geography, only to realize that I couldn’t get up when the class was over. I mean, I could, but not without ripping my red tights to pieces. Which, eventually, I had to do. There was no other option. I didn’t have time to go to my room and change, so I took them off in the bathroom, stuffed them in the bin, and went to the next class with my legs bare under the much-too-short uniform skirt. That got me everyone’s attention! GC and Paz both sat next to me for the first time, arguing over who was going to steal the first kiss from the sexy human with bare legs. Sariel called me kuchka more than usual, and that made Lorna laugh her head off. At least, Mrs. Morgan took 10 worth points from her when she got too loud. Which wasn’t enough, really. When the professors took points from me, it was usually at least 20! The moment the class was dismissed, I ran out of the room and straight to the north tower, hoping no one from the Violent Death Cabal would be headed to their room, too, climbing the spiral staircase behind me, because they would certainly see everything up my skirt. And I meant, everything! What had possessed me to put on a thong in the morning?! It was going to be granny panties from then on.

But, as the days passed, my taste for revenge decreased. I still wanted to get back at Lorna and her clique, but the truth was that their pranks were getting old and stale. They hadn’t been able to come up with anything too humiliating or dangerous, and I was able to avoid them most of the time, anyway. I still hadn’t forgotten that first dinner, when she’d smacked me in the face with roast and potatoes, nor the morning when I woke up in a bed full of dead cockroaches. But the memories were fading, and the classes, assignments, and mandatory bibliographies were taking up most of my time. They were super interesting, too! So far, I had been able to get only straight A’s, and an A+ in Rhetoric for a speech aimed at a possible, hypothetical person who wanted to call up Death (A.K.A. a Grim Reaper) before it was their time. I nailed it so hard that not even Lorna dared to bully me for the rest of the day. I would have thought nerds and straight A students would be despised at Grim Reaper Academy just like they were despised back at my old high school, but it appeared to be quite the opposite situation. All the students here were striving to get good grades, even doing extra assignments to impress the professors. Now I understood why worth points would end up being so important at the end of the three years. With everyone getting only A’s and B’s, how the hell would the Academy decide who was going to be one of the twenty-two Grim Reapers, and who was going to go into research and teaching? Yeah. Worth points…

I went to the Holy Chapel to check the scoreboard every evening, and almost every evening, Francis was there, sitting in silence. Sometimes we made small talk, other times we didn’t even exchange a glance.

“Why do you think they put up the scoreboards in the chapels?” I asked him one evening.

He shrugged but hazarded a guess anyway. “I don’t see how else they could make the students go to church at least once in a while. Most of them are agnostics. They don’t really believe in either God or Satan.”

“How could they not? They exist. Right? As in… they exist as people, as… supernatural beings.”

“It’s not that. That they exist is obvious. They both have sons and daughters all over the world. They don’t believe in their powers and supremacy. In their rule over mortals and immortals alike.”

“Oh. That doesn’t make much sense, either.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t have to. It is what it is. We don’t have to understand everything that happens in this world.”

“And you? You’re not agnostic?”

He was silent, and when five minutes passed without an answer to my question, I stood up and went to my room. I made a mental note about how religion seemed to be a hard subject for Francis, although I wasn’t sure how it could help.

Busy with classes, engrossed in my work, thinking about Francis every day, I had let my guard down. Friday night, after having been to the chapel first and then stopped by the kitchen to get my dinner and share the latest gossip with the staff, I headed back to my room later than usual, when the other VDC students were also returning to their dormitories. I bumped into Sariel when I least expected it. For some reason, he was coming out of the narrow corridor that hosted my humble room, along with a dozen other smaller rooms filled with cleaning supplies, clean sheets and towels, and broken furniture waiting for someone to repair it.

Sariel smashed right into me, full force, toppling my food tray on purpose. Mushroom soup splashed all over the front of my shirt, legs, and the floor, and French fries and bits of grilled salmon rolled off the plate, onto my chest, and right off of there, too, stopping at my feet. I dragged in a breath and wiped my face with the sleeve of my uniform blazer.

“Well, look who’s here,” he snickered. “I don’t get to see much of you lately. You’re not eating with your Cabal. That’s very offensive. You know that, right? What message are you trying to send? That we’re not good enough for you?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but he leaned in and stopped me with a finger pressed to my lips. I couldn’t believe Sariel was touching me! And why the hell was he on my corridor?! Only me and the maids have any business here. His touch was like a lick of fire on my lips. I wanted to pull away, put some distance between us, but I couldn’t move a muscle. I was entranced by his steely silver eyes. Flecks of blue and green sparkled in his irises when the light hit him just right.

“Oh, but it’s the other way around, isn’t it? You’re friends with the kitchen staff now, so it’s not that we’re not good enough for you, but that you’re not good enough to sit at the VDC table. You know your place.” He flashed me a smile, and for a second, he looked absolutely irresistible. Too bad he was a total douche. “But you see, trash princess, you’re making us look bad.”

Well, trash princess was certainly an improvement.