Moon Called : Werewolf Academy (Book 1)

Chapter 11

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? We’re definitely having a dorm party.”

“Oh, no, please.” I shake my head. “Besides, it was actually yesterday.”

“No freaking way. The same day all this—” Ariah cuts herself off, the realization hitting her. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” I narrow my eyes at the floor, suddenly unable to meet her gaze.

“Girl, that is just… awful.” Ariah leaps from her bed and snatches her digital clock from the nightstand. She peers at the LED display for a second before clicking it back down. “Breakfast is in an hour. Hey, Hailey?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got something I need to take care of. Will you be okay here, unpacking?” When I nod, she flashes a supportive look. “Great. I’ll come back for you when it’s time to eat. That way you don’t have to brave the cafeteria alone.”

It doesn’t take long to unpack the little I own. By the time I reach the photo album—filled with memories of me and my parents—I’ve found just enough courage to toss it into the trash can.

Ridding myself of the last piece of my family burns like a hot poker through my chest, but it has to be done. I can’t keep torturing myself over people who don’t care if I’m alive or dead.

I don’t realize I’m crying until a heavy tear tickles the side of my nose.

I wipe it away with my sleeve, then roll up my empty duffel bags to slide them under the bed. In the process, I knock a loose floorboard. It snags on the strap of one of the bags, and when I try to yank it free, the whole thing gets wedged.

“Oh, come on,” I grumble. I wiggle and tug, but the strap is stubbornly lodged. “Ugh!”

I let go of the duffel and shove the bed aside to fix the floorboard. That’s when I see it. Something silver gleams from the dark gap where the wood shifted.

I drop to my knees and fish around the small space, my fingers brushing against cold metal. I pull out a skeleton key tied to a frayed pink string. My brows knit together. I reach back in, searching for more, and withdraw a tiny, rolled-up scrap of paper.

It’s a letter, soft and worn from being folded and unfolded a hundred times. I carefully unroll it, noticing a jagged tear in the corner where the paper has finally given up.

Whoever this letter belonged to had read it dozens of times. My curiosity wins out, and I begin to read.

Dear L,

By the time you read this letter, it will be too late. I want you to know that this key holds all the answers. Be careful how you use it, as it can either bring good fortune or unleash hell.

I will always love you.

Sally.

I read it a second time, twirling the key by its string around my index finger. L? As in Luca? I grimace. Did Sally know he was going to kill her? If she did, why was she still so loving?

Something about this feels wrong. If the academy staff had found this while cleaning up the crime scene, they would have taken it. Which means it stayed hidden.

I’m staring at the paper, debating what to do with it, when the impossible happens. At the bottom of the note, dark ink bleeds into the fibers, forming two words: Help me.

An undignified screech rips from my throat and I drop the letter as if it’s white-hot. What the ever-loving hell? I’m frozen, staring at the paper on the floor and weighing whether to grab it or bolt for the hallway, when the door suddenly cracks open.

“What?” I shriek, leaping to my feet.

Ariah peeks through the doorway, her brows arched toward her hairline. “Uh… did I interrupt something?”

“No! Sorry.” Heat floods my cheeks. I smooth the front of my shirt with shaking hands, forced a smile onto my face. “I’m just… jumpy. Sorry.”

The corners of her lips tip up. “Let me guess—still paranoid about the dead girl?”

“I guess.” I look down at the note, but the ink is gone. The bottom of the page is as blank as it was a minute ago. I pick it up, rotating it in my palm and checking every angle. A trick of the light? It had to be.

“I must have imagined it,” I murmur.

“Did you say something?”

I shake my head, fighting back a frown. “No. Nothing. Never mind.”

As soon as Ariah turns her back, I seize the moment. I quickly roll the letter back up and shove it, along with the key, deep into the narrow gap beneath the floorboard.

“Anyway, I came to get you,” she sings, oblivious to my heart nearly hammering out of my chest. “Breakfast is ready.”