Entranced (Guardian Academy 1)

I cover my mouth with my hand as he unzips the bag. The stench hits me before he even gets it all the way open, like rotting eggs and vomit. “What the hell’s in there?”

“A Zombie,” he says, looking completely unbothered by the stench.

“It smells horrible. Like—”

“Like rotting death?” He glances at me with amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’ll get used to it.”

“You keep saying that.”

“That’s because it’s true.” He leans over the Zombie, inspecting the rotting flesh peeling away from the once human face. “A lot of Guardians are like you when they first start.” His forehead creases as he studies the left cheek of the zombie’s face. “Being around death is in your blood even if you think it isn’t; otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten the mark.”

I absentmindedly touch the mark on the back of my neck. “How many people in your family are Guardians?”

“My parents both are and so is my sister,” he says, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he leans in closer to the zombie. “Dash… He’s one, too, but he’s …” He trails off, clearing his throat. “Well, he’s a little less invested in the job than my family is.”

I want to ask him if Dash is something other than just a Guardian. I don’t know why I think he might be other than the odd sugary scent coming off him. I don’t know of any creatures who smell like sugar other than Sprites, but that’s because they have sweet tooths. Dash can’t be a Sprite, though, since they don’t take on human form.

Before I can ask Jax about it, he motions me to come over to him.

I inch back. “No thanks. I’m good right here.”

He gives me a tolerant look. “Alana, I just want to show you something. I promise you don’t have to touch it.”

I begrudgingly inch over beside him, rubbing my nose as the stench burns at my nostrils.

“See this right here?” He points at a faint sequence of symbols carved on the Zombie’s left cheek.

I nod. “It looks like a tag for a paranormal experimental facility.”

I try not to shudder. Paranormal experimental facilities are the worse. They kidnap anything with magic in their blood, including Keepers, lock them up, and do all sorts of experiments on them.

His brows furrow. “How do you know about tags?”

I shrug. “My parents talk about it sometimes. It’s crazy how many paranormal experiment facilities they’ve had to tear down.”

“Yeah, they’re on the rise, too.”

“Really?”

He nods, reaching to zip up the bag. “I’ve been noticing a lot of tags lately.” After he zips up the bag, he pushes it back into the chamber. “And not just on Zombies. On Vampires, Fey,” his voice drops a notch, “Wolves.” He clears his throat. “But anyway, I’ve been looking into it, and I think they might be linked to each other somehow. I just don’t know who’s running the show.”

“Is that part of your job?” I ask with skepticism. “To find out who’s tagging?”

“I told you there was more to our job than finding dead bodies.” He steps toward me, tugging the sleeves of his shirt down. “Now, close your eyes.”

I eye him with distrust. “Why?”

He gives me a blank stare. “Because I’m going to shove you in the body bag with the Zombie.” When I roll my eyes, his lips quirk. “I need you to shut your eyes so I can get us out of here without you seeing where the entrance and exit to this room is.”

“Fine.” I heave a dramatic sigh, pretending it’s a bigger deal than it is.

Once I get my eyes shut, he steers me somewhere with his fingers enclosed around my upper arms and his chest pressed against my back. I try to breathe normally, but for some reason, my breathing is coming out in sharp, uneven pants. It only becomes harder to get air into my lungs when he moves his hands to my waist, his fingers brushing against my bare skin.

I feel like I should say something, remind him of my no-touching rule. I mean, we just got all up in a Zombie for God’s sake. I shouldn’t want him touching me.

But it kinda feels nice.

Okay, a lot nice.

Thank God he finally comes to a stop; otherwise, I might have done something stupid, like said my thoughts aloud or touched him back. Considering he’s my teacher or whatever the hell his title is—I’m still not clear on that—I don’t think it’d be wise to get involved with him.

His fingers tense for a brief second before they fall from my waist. I take a deep breath and open my eyes, sighing in relief when I see that I’m standing in the center of the souvenir store again. I breathe in the fresh scent of non-Zombie air, smiling, glad to be out of the morgue. But when I catch sight of Jax staring at his phone, his skin as pale as a ghost, my smile falters.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Why do you look like… well, like you just examined a dead Zombie?”

He blinks up at me, paling even more. “We need to go back to the Academy.”

“Did something happen?”

“We … I got called in on a case.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard. “Alana, the name listed on the case file is … It’s Julian Lucas.”

Chapter 12

Jax starts explaining to me what happened, but I’m in too much shock, and I barely hear anything he says.

My grandpa Lucas is dead?

My grandpa Lucas was murdered?

Oh, my God. I’m never going to see him again.

I wrap my arm around my stomach as tears pour out of my eyes.

Jax grows quiet after that and guides me to the car. He hardly says anything to me during the drive back to the Academy, letting me cry to myself. I keep thinking about my dream and how worried he sounded, how worried he looked the day before I left. I knew something was wrong, and I didn’t do anything about it.

I should have done something.

I should have helped him.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jax says after he parks the car in the garage adjacent to the Academy.

“Do my …? Do my parents know yet?” I choke through the tears.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “A Guardian should be heading over to their house to tell them, but it might take a bit …” He seems unsure about something. “You can call them, though … if you want to.”

My eyes pool with tears as I nod and get out of the car.

We walk in silence as we cross the dirt drive and head into the school. All I want to do is go to my room, call my mom and dad, and cry my eyes out, but Jax gently touches my arm, stopping me.

“I know you probably want to go to your room,” he says in an apologetic tone, “but I’m supposed to take you to Vivianne’s office first.”

The last thing I want to do is talk to anyone. But I’m too emotionally exhausted to argue, and I easily surrender and follow Jax to Vivianne’s office located smack dab in the middle of the maze of hallways.

He knocks on the door then turns to me, seeming apprehensive. “I can wait for you if you need me to.”

“I’m fine.” My voice sounds so hollow.

He hesitates to leave. “Are you sure? Because I can stick around for a bit. At least until you’re done talking to her.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the offer, though.”

With a reluctant look on his face, he heads down the hallway.

As the quietness sets in, my mind turns on. I start thinking of everything when all I want to do is think of nothing. I almost call Jax back just so he can distract me from the pain, but the door in front of me opens.

Vivianne stands there with her hair pulled into a tight bun and a too-pleasant look on her face. “Alana, please come in.”

I wipe my cheeks with my hand before stepping inside her office.

She shuts the door and gestures at a chair in front of a mahogany desk. “Please, have a seat.”

When I sink into the chair, she takes a seat at her desk and quietly studies me for a moment.

“You look like him.” She

says it as if the fact disgusts her.

I ball my hands into fists. “Is that why you brought me in here? Or did you actually have a point?”

Anger flashes in her eyes as she reclines back in her chair, crossing her legs. “You know, I felt a little bit sorry for you when I first heard the news, but now that you’re here, displaying that arrogant Keeper attitude, I think part of me is going to enjoy telling you this.”

“Telling me what? That my grandpa is dead?” The firmness in my voice cracks. “Because Jax already told me.”

Her eyes darken as her lips curl into a smile. “Did he tell you why he was killed?”

I don’t know how to respond. He could have told me at some point, and I was just too out of it to hear him.

“Your grandpa was a fugitive and was harboring the Dagger of Conspectu. And by the way your face drained of color, I’m guessing you know what that is.” She shifts forward in her seat, looking twistedly pleased by my pain. “You know as well as I do that he wasn’t supposed to have that dagger. No one is. That’s why it’s kept locked up in The Vault.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of this dagger or The Vault,” I lie in an even tone.

I’m technically not supposed to know what The Vault is, but I accidentally overheard my parents whispering about the place Keepers keep every powerful weapon they accumulate during raids. There are so many weapons the walls are laced with every kind of magic repellant to keep anyone from getting inside. If anyone did get their hands on some of the stuff hidden in there, they could pretty much start an apocalypse.

As for the dagger, I’ve never heard of it before, but I’m pretty sure it’s the dagger hidden in my bedroom ceiling.

“Are you sure about that?” she says simply. “Because I have a source that says your grandfather might have told you where he put the dagger.”

My palms dampen with sweat, but thank God my voice comes out steady. “Why would he tell me that? I’m just his granddaughter.”

The darkness in her expression sends a chill up my spine. “He broke the law when he stole the dagger. And anyone who’s helped him—who knows where the dagger is and doesn’t say anything—can be held accountable for the crime.”

My grandfather’s words echo in my mind.

“Please, Alana,” my grandpa pleads. “Please, don’t let them find it, even after I’m gone. Keep it safe. It’s why I gave it to you: because I know it’s safer with you than anywhere else.”

Whether it was a dream or not, I’m not about to tell this woman anything, not until I find out what’s going on, who they are.

“It’s a good thing I don’t know where it is, then, huh?” My heart hammers in my chest, but I refuse to look away from her.

She looks like she wants to wring my neck. “Don’t be stupid, Alana. Your grandfather got himself killed over this, but you can walk out of it just fine. All you need to do is tell me where it is.”

“I can’t tell you where it is, because I don’t know.”

Her eyes flash with rage as she balls her hands into fists. “Fine. You can leave, then,” she bites out. “But if you change your mind, you know where my office is.”

My legs shake as I get up and head for the door.

“And, Alana, you have detention when you return from the funeral, and you’ll be spending it in here with me.” She sounds elated by the fact.