A Curse of Fire (Fae Academy Book 1) Read online

  A Curse of Fire

  Sophia Shade

  Evershade Publishing

  Copyright © 2017 by Sophia Shade

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Edited by: Cynthia Sheep

  Cover Design by: Lori Grundy

  ISBN: 978-0999625620

  Praise for Sophia Shade

  “Fans of Bella Forrest’s ‘A Shade of Vampire’ and JK Rowling’s ‘Harry Potter’ are going to lose their minds with excitement when they read this series. Sophia Shade brilliantly creates a magical new world that I fell in love with from page one.” ~ Once Upon An Alpha

  “A Curse of Fire has everything I look for in a fantasy romance. A smart heroine, a couple of hot guys to choose from, a mystery to solve and a fascinating setting to explore. I loved all the students of Callador and can't wait for more.” ~ New York Times bestselling author, Lexi Blake

  “If you like ‘Harry Potter’ or ‘The Vampire Academy,’ but love Fae books, this is for you.” - Voracious Readers Only

  For Rebecca Hamilton

  Without you this book wouldn’t be possible. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Continue Reading

  Dear Reader,

  Also by Sophia Shade

  About the Author

  One

  My life starts over every two to three months. Sounds dramatic, but it’s the truth. The only truth I’ve ever known.

  Yesterday was my last day of high school. Today, my mom and I were supposed to attend my graduation. My white cap and gown hang in my closet. It’s behind a long dress I wanted to keep, but left so I wouldn’t have to look at my graduation gear.

  I can’t attend because we’re on the run.

  Again.

  I’m in the passenger seat. My mom drives us out of town, toward the highway. I glance into the empty backseat. Our possessions had fit neatly into a couple of suitcases stowed away in the trunk. We don’t even have any moving boxes. We’ve never stayed anywhere long enough to accumulate many possessions. Thank God for digital content. At least I have my photos on my phone, my books on my e-reader, and my games on my laptop.

  I shoot off a text to Cassie.

  Me: Guess where I’m going?

  Cassie: You’re moving again.

  Me: How did you guess?

  Cassie: What? Christ, girl. I was kidding! I was about to wish you a happy graduation day!

  Me: I guess you still can. It’s just a stupid ceremony. I still graduated.

  There’s a pause while I wait for her to reply. I imagine her typing furiously, erasing whatever she just wrote, and then typing again. We both know what this ceremony meant to me. One normal day. One day where I’d have pictures I’d be able to look back on. Where I’d be able to imagine that, for just one day, I was like everyone else.

  But that’s not my life. It’s not me. It probably never will be.

  My phone finally pings.

  Cassie: Are you sure your mom isn’t a spy or a former mob wife or something?

  Me: LOL. No.

  Cassie: You’re eighteen. An adult. Just tell her no. You can come live with me. I never go anywhere.

  I start to type LOL again, but I hesitate. Why not? It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? I mean, Mom just packs us up and makes me move all the time. Why can’t I do the same?

  Because that’s what Dad did.

  Maybe running away is hereditary, though I can’t know for sure, because Mom is the only family I have. No grandparents, aunts, siblings, or cousins. No one. For as long as I can remember, it’s been just Mom and me. She’s the only real person I have in my life.

  And I’m the only one in hers.

  If I moved in with Cassie, Mom would still leave. For whatever reason, she believes she has to. In that case, I’d be leaving her alone.

  Yeah, even thinking it makes me feel pretty shitty. Shitty that she would abandon me. Shitty that I would think about abandoning her. Two sides of the same old coin.

  Mom is nearly leaning over the steering wheel, the wheel gripped in white knuckles like it might run away from her. When was the last time she took a breath?

  “Mom?” I ask.

  She gasps, seeming as if she’d forgotten where she was. Her eyes dart around frantically.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She sighs, easing off a bit. Her smile is forced, and it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, baby. Of course. A new adventure! Here we come, world!”

  The small, reassuring half smile I send her feels fake, and I hope she doesn’t see through it. I look at my phone again, stomach sinking since when I realize what I have to type.

  Me: I think my mom needs me.

  Cassie: What about what you need?

  It makes me glance at the bag beside me, the opened college acceptance letters I stuffed inside poking out. I don’t know why I kept them. I won’t be going to college. I can’t leave Mom.

  Me: I gotta go. Talk later.

  I shove my phone in my bag along with the stupid letters, zip it shut, and shove the bag down by my feet. Pushing it under the seat with my foot for good measure, I cross my arms and stare out the window, but I know better than to think out of sight means out of mind.

  Talking to Cassie usually makes me feel better. She has been the one constant in my life other than Mom. We met online several years ago in a discussion forum for a game we both loved, and we just clicked. Since we only know each other online, it doesn’t matter where in the world we are if we want to talk or “hang out.” We only need an internet connection.

  Of course, even that’s a challenge sometimes. I’ve lived in more than one place that hadn’t had internet installed, and sometimes, Mom wouldn’t have the money to get it hooked up. But even if I was offline for days, weeks, or months, I could always reconnect with Cassie when I got back on. We’d never met in person, and probably never would, but we don’t need to. We are always there for each other, no matter where we are.

  There are a few other online friends I chat with about books or go on raids with in games, but that’s about it. I used to try to make friends at school or in the neighborhood, but since I move every couple of months, it tends to be more work than it’s worth. I gave up on that in middle school.

  I’m not sure why I’m even broken up about the graduation ceremony, anyway. It’s not as though I’d have any friends to share it with. I didn’t even have a yearbook to get signed, because orders for them had cl
osed before I started at that school…just three months before graduation. I’d flipped through one a girl in my chemistry class had passed around for everyone to sign, though. I’m not sure what I expected to find since they were made before my time there, but I was still sad I wasn’t in it.

  I look back at Mom. She’s tense again, and she keeps checking the rearview mirror. I look back myself, but see nothing. What’s she so afraid of?

  “Mom?” I ask again to break the tension. “Any idea where we’re going this time?”

  She replies through a tight, strained smile. “Wherever the road takes us. It’s an adventure!”

  Some people might think my mom battles with mental illness or something similar, but most don’t spend enough time with her to make that sort of judgement call. She’s never anywhere long enough to make friends, either. Or to see a psychiatrist.

  What makes it so bad is that I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t have a clue why we move so often. If Mom is running from something or to something, it’s a mystery to me. Maybe she’s looking for something she can’t find. Maybe she’s just trying to find her own place in this world.

  I’m done asking, though. When I was younger, the moves were much harder on me. I cried, screamed, and refused to leave, but one way or another, I ended up in that car. As I got older, I tried to talk to her about it, but I never got a straight answer. Eventually, I just gave up trying.

  I will find out, though. Somehow, some way, I will solve the mystery of our life. But I won’t be able to find out if I abandon her, so I have to stay. It’s my only hope of learning the truth.

  I turn back to the window, staring as the scenery morphs outside—from the neat rows of houses in the town we just left to the wild forests that are so thick it’s impossible to see past the first row of trees. The sun shines brightly, and the shadows of the passing scenery slide over my skin. The noontime sun seems to get brighter after each shadow. Summer is coming, and the days have felt a little brighter, no matter how dark my life feels.

  When a wave of pain rocks through my brain, I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “Headache again?” Mom asks.

  I cover my closed eyes with my hand. “Yeah.”

  “Have they been getting worse?” she asks.

  “No,” I lie. “It’s just the sun.”

  They have been getting worse. More often, more intense. But she doesn’t need to worry about me. She has enough on her plate.

  My phone pings again. I consider ignoring it, for now at least, but I reach for my bag with a sigh.

  Cassie: If I can’t wish you a happy graduation, then at least I can say ‘Happy Birthday.’ I meant to tell you weeks ago.

  I shake my head, putting the phone away without replying.

  Happy birthday indeed.

  I awake with a gasp. The car is shuddering, and it jerks violently to the right. I grip the dashboard, frantically scanning our surroundings. Mom is getting off an exit. I twist in my seat to peer out the back window. Weirdly, there’s a fire burning right in the middle of the highway, smoke billowing.

  “What the hell was that?” I yell.

  I hadn’t realized I’d dozed off. It’s twilight now. We’ve been driving for hours. Had we even stopped for gas?

  “It’s fine,” Mom says. She pulls into the parking lot of a small diner, parking and darting a quick glance at me. “Another car just had a blowout or something.”

  Maybe I’m still half asleep, but it doesn’t seem like she’s telling the truth. I didn’t see a car on the side of the road before we got off, and how could a blowout cause a fire?

  My heart beats a million miles a minute. “What are we doing?”

  “Just getting something to eat. You must be starving.” She gets out of the car, shutting the door like we didn’t just almost die in an inferno on the highway.

  I take a few calming breaths before following her into the diner. Mom heads for a booth near the back, and then takes a seat facing the door. She still seems anxious. Even though we’ve been on the move my whole life, this one is starting to feel different. Like something is wrong.

  I sit across from her. We quickly place our orders for cheeseburgers and fries, and sit in tense silence. Mom scrolls through her phone while I noisily fidget with my knife and fork. She doesn’t even seem to notice I’m here.

  “Is this about Dad?” I finally ask, more for the shock value than anything else. I don’t really believe this has anything to do with him, since I haven’t seen him in years, but I know such an accusation will get her attention.

  It works.

  She immediately stops messing with her phone, raising puzzled eyes to my face. “Why would you bring him up?”

  I shrug. “If not him, then who? Why else would we be running away? We never stay anywhere long enough to form any attachments, so who else from our past would make you act like this?”

  “Act like what?” she asks, pasting on a smile. She seems to be trying to act like I’ve amused her with my questions, but I’ve learned to read her. It’s obvious she’s pretending there isn’t anything wrong…but there is. I can see the fear behind the forced levity she wears like armor.

  “You’re scared,” I say.

  Her smile becomes uncertain before completely melting away.

  “I can see it in your eyes, and in the way you act. Like I said, we never stay anywhere long enough to form attachments. No one knows you like I do. And this time is different.”

  “You’re such a silly girl sometimes,” she says after the waitress bring our food. “And today certainly has nothing to do with that deadbeat Garrick Roberts.”

  I can’t help but feel a little twinge of victory. She only says my dad’s name when she’s really mad.

  “Then what does it have to do with?” I ask. “What was so urgent that we couldn’t wait to flee until after my graduation ceremony?”

  “What…what do you mean?” she asks.

  “My graduation,” I say, nearly shouting. “It was today! I was supposed to be there at ten this morning. It would have been over by noon.”

  “That was today?” she asks, putting down a fry she was fixing to put in her mouth.

  “I told you weeks ago.”

  “I know,” she says. “But I didn’t think you were interested in going. I didn’t think you really cared. I thought you were just bringing it up…sarcastically. Like it was beneath you.”

  “I bought the cap and gown.” I try to fight back the tears stinging my eyes. “You paid for it. Don’t tell me you forgot that conversation, and putting the money for them into my hand! Why would I buy it if I wasn’t planning on going?”

  “I…I…”

  “Don’t lie to me!”

  “Imogen,” my mother finally snaps. Her eyes seem to spark when she sits up straight and looks directly at me. It’s as though she’s woken from a fog. “That is enough. You will lower your voice. I honestly didn’t know you wanted to go. You should have said something this morning.”

  “You were already packing when I woke up. What was I—”

  She holds up a hand to stop me. “I am sorry we didn’t go to your event, since it was apparently important to you. I love you, Imogen. I would never do anything to hurt you. I would do anything to protect you.”

  Her words sound strange in my ears. Who was talking about me needing protection? I thought we were discussing the fact I’d had to miss my graduation. Once again, she’s not telling me the whole story. Not even half of it.

  And she’s not going to. She’s already back on her phone, distractedly dragging fries through ketchup before popping them in her mouth. I pick at mine a bit, but I have no appetite.

  On our walk back to the car, the sun is setting. It’s beautiful with layers of orange, pink, and purple just beyond the dark horizon. The half of the sun hovering over the curvature of the earth is still bright yellow. While I watch, it seems to get brighter. Hotter. So much so I have to shade my eyes with my hand to continue
to peer at it.

  Damn. I start to feel nauseous. The sun is clawing at my skin. I feel like I’m going to get a sunburn if I don’t turn away. But I can’t. It’s so majestic…

  “Imogen,” my mom says. When she puts a hand on my shoulder, I turn to her, breaking whatever hold the sun had on me. “Let’s go,” she continues. “I found us a place to stay.”

  “That’s great,” I say halfheartedly, following her to the car.

  “We won’t make it there tonight,” she explains after we put on our seat belts, and she signals to turn in the opposite way of the highway on-ramp.

  When I look questioningly at her, she continues. “We can get a hotel for now. I found a cute place down the road. We can have a rest, go for a swim. You’d like that, right? In the morning, we’ll finish the drive to our new place.”

  “Sure,” I say. I don’t bother asking where “our new place” is or what it’s like. It doesn’t matter. We’ll be gone from it before long, so it won’t truly be “ours”.

  We arrive at the hotel, and Mom backs the car into a parking spot. While she goes to check us in, I lean against the car, looking at the short building with its rows of doors. It seems clean. From the outside, at least. Most hotels are hit or miss, regardless of first appearances.

  “Imogen,” Mom calls when she comes back out. “Open the trunk.”

  We get our suitcases, and I follow her along the row of doors until we reach the one with the number that matches the plastic card she has in her hand. She swipes the key through the reader, but when she opens the door, the light is on…and there’s a woman sitting on the bed with two men standing beside her.