All Chapters of Werewolf Academy : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Ariah’s face darkens, her playful energy momentarily replaced by something sharper. “No, that’s not life. That’s just cruel.”I nod, the lump in my throat preventing me from saying more.“So,” she begins, her tone shifting back to mischief, “I know a spell that can turn a boy’s balls into icicles.” She fans herself with an empty wrapper, grinning. “I haven’t tested it yet. Know any worthy subjects?”I sputter a laugh, the sound catching me off guard. “You can actually do that?”“Totally. I’ve got a few tricks. We aren’t supposed to use that kind of magic on students, but there’s no rule against using it on humans.”“So… I’ll be able to do stuff like that too?”“Absolutely. My favorite is making the popcorn machine work while I’m still under the covers.”“Now that is awesome.”“Right?” Ariah crinkles a candy wrapper between her fingers. “What’s your star sign?”“Leo. Why?”“Ooh, Leo wolves are feisty.” Her face scrunches up in thought. “That means your birthday is coming up soon. When?

“How do you talk to the Huntress?” I ask, trailing after Ariah through the hallway. She’s been showing me around, getting me acquainted with the faces and the layout. People are friendly enough, but no one misses a chance to let their gaze linger on my mark.As she opens her mouth to answer, a tall, bald man appears beside us, clearing his throat with a sharp, dry sound. “Miss Woods.”Ariah lets out a depleted sigh. “Mr. Len. What can we do for you?”Without a word, Mr. Len hands me a timetable. I frown at the ink. “This has to be a mistake. It says my first lesson with Mrs. Humphrey is at midnight?”Mr. Len huffs, his voice a slow, condescending drawl. “You surely don’t expect to tap into the spiritual realm during broad daylight, do you?”He then begins to drone on about the sun’s energy and how its ‘blinding radiance’ stifles the spirit. I try to follow along as he explains that the moon is the only true lens for the Huntress, but then he moves into something about the perigee of th

Ariah parts ways with me before lunchtime, having promised to help a teacher with a project. We agree to meet up later with Nate and Celeste, but for now, I’m on my own.Deciding to use the head start, I head up a flight of stairs toward the library. I’m desperate to find the Book of the Divine and decode the meaning behind my mark—assuming I don’t get lost in this labyrinth first. The sheer scale of the academy is enough to give me nightmares; I can already imagine being late for class and wandering these endless stone corridors without a map.Thankfully, my luck holds. When I round the corner, I find the heavy double doors of the library. My heart sinks, however, when I spot a hand-scribbled note taped to the wood: Be back in an hour.I sigh and lean against the wall, weighing my options. Without a timestamp on the note, I have no idea if the librarian left five minutes ago or fifty. Going back to my room isn’t appealing—there’s nothing there but empty space and the memory of who liv

I push open the heavy, creaking door of the library, and the scent of aged leather and musty paper immediately envelops me. The space is gargantuan, with ceilings that soar into the darkness, supported by arched beams of dark oak. Flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows against the stone walls, illuminating ancient tapestries that depict forgotten werewolf wars and the lineages of past rulers.I pass the long front desk manned by a few librarians. The rubber soles of my sable sneakers squeak against the cold, smooth stone, the sound echoing until I step onto the large, intricately woven rugs scattered throughout the floor.I head straight for the aisle Celeste pointed out earlier, offering her a quick wave before disappearing into the labyrinth of bookshelves.Each section is marked with a hand-carved plaque, the inscriptions barely legible in the dim light. They guide the way through different realms of knowledge: Alchemy, Herbology, History. The books are bound in various shades

A few minutes before midnight, I slip my jacket over my shoulders, the fabric rustling softly in the silver moonlight filtering through the window. I watch Ariah for a beat, careful not to wake her. Her breathing is steady and rhythmic, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the only thing breaking the stillness of the room. It’s odd how even that tiny movement triggers my awareness now.These werewolf senses are going to take some getting used to.As I toe my way toward the door, I can’t shake the prickle of being watched. An uneasy chill crawls up the back of my neck, forcing me to glance over my shoulder. My empty bed looms in the shadows—a silent, dark reminder of the girl who was brutally murdered right where I’m supposed to sleep. I let out a shaky breath, wondering how long it’ll be before I can rest here without feeling like a ghost is tucked in beside me.I turn back to the door, pulling it open and slipping into the hallway—only to ram straight into a solid wall of chest and m