Legacy of Shadows (Supernaturals of Castle Academy, #1)

by Tessa Hale

EIGHT YEARS EARLIER, AGE NINE

Pressure built behind my eyes as people milled around the gravesite. They would shake their heads or mutter things like “such a waste” or “poor Leighton.” The only one who didn’t seem affected by it all was the woman standing next to me, a blank mask on her face. It was wrong. All of it so wrong I wanted to scream. Dad would’ve hated everything about today. The black. The formality. The fakeness.

I didn’t want to cry in front of all these people. Didn’t want to lose it in front of my mother. The one time I had, after cancer stole my dad from me, she’d snapped at me. “Stop it right now. I can’t deal with your hysterics.” I’d shut up right then. I’d spent the last ten days escaping to the woods behind our house. Finding what refuge I could in the trees and creeks.

Dad hadn’t wanted a casket. He’d wanted to be cremated and spread out in nature. But, of course, my mom hadn’t listened to that, either. Instead, there was a dark wood, gleaming monstrosity that my father would be buried in. As the minister moved closer, I had no choice but to look at the jail cell my father would be enclosed in for all eternity. The moment my eyes locked on it, the panic set in,

A hand wrapped around mine, squeezing, and I jerked at the familiar buzz that lit in my palm. That buzz had only ever come from one person. My gaze snapped to the side. The tears almost came then. Colt. The boy who I’d spent every summer with from before I could walk. The son of my father’s best friend. He was my true refuge. He always had been. Even when we were apart all school year, the memories of our wild summers would hold me over.

My head jerked in my mother’s direction. She’d told me that they were too busy and didn’t want to come. Mom’s cheeks heated.

The panic flared fresh, and I couldn’t get any air into my lungs at all. My chest burned as black spots danced in front of my vision. “LeeLee?” Colt whispered, concern in his voice. “I-I can’t,” I squeaked. He gripped my hand harder. “Come on.”

I tried to follow the exaggerated rise and fall of his chest, but it was no good. I couldn’t get my lungs to obey. The tears came then, hot and vicious, each one scalding my skin. Colt said a bad word and then threw his arms around me, holding me close. His arms tightened as I cried harder. “LeeLee. I’m right here. I’ve got you.” That only turned my cries into full on sobbing. I’d been holding all of it in these past ten days. So tight it was nearly killing me.

“I’m scared,” I whispered. Colt pulled back, taking my hands as he studied my face. “Your mom?” He knew me so well. “I don’t want to be alone with her.” We’d never been close, but she’d gotten worse as my father’s health had declined. Gotten crueler the more she had to deal with me. Colt’s face went stormy. “You need to come live with me and Dad.” A little bit of hope flared in my chest. “Do you think she’d let me?”

“You don’t give a crap about us. You think I don’t know that? Leighton isn’t what you think, and the moment you realize that, you’ll dump her because she’s useless to you,” my mom snapped. I frowned at Colt. But he looked furious. “She needs to be protected,” Andrew argued. Mom scoffed. “And you’re going to do that, how? I won’t let her get messed up in your world.”

I glanced at Colt in panic. He kept hold of my other hand. “Dad, can’t she come live with us? She wants to.” My mom laughed, but it was an ugly and twisted sound. “You think I’d let her go with you? She’s my daughter. You’ll stay away from her.”

Colt yelled out for me, but his father held him back. I tried to fight my mom’s hold, but it was too strong. “Colt!” I cried. “Shut up,” she snapped, shaking my arm. “I won’t have you embarrass me any further. You’ll behave, or you’ll pay the price.” I snapped my mouth closed, but I couldn’t stop the tears.

PRESENT DAY, AGE SEVENTEEN

The bruised muscles on my side and back radiated with pain, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Betsy looked up from where she was rolling silverware, her eyes narrowing. “Everything okay?” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my expression neutral and nodded.

That panic settled into my bones. I needed every shift I could get if I had a prayer of freedom once I hit eighteen. I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment, picturing that freedom. The images I conjured up got me through my darkest times. Those, and my memories of Colt.

He’d called me “girl” since my first day here, over three years ago. As though if he didn’t use my name, he wouldn’t have to put the energy into caring about me. “Thanks, Sal.” I always used his name. As if I were fighting back with each single syllable.

The easy conversation made my chest feel hollow. As if there were an emptiness in me that would never fill. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like if wondering whether a boy liked me was my greatest worry.

The other glanced up, but it was as if she looked through me, not truly seeing. I was used to it. That was what happened when you were invisible. But that was by design. If no one saw me, they wouldn’t ask questions.

It was that telltale blend of brown, blond, and red in the guy’s hair, so much like Colt’s. Pressure built behind my eyes. I missed him so badly it was as if I were conjuring him up everywhere I looked.

“What’s good here?” The male voice froze me to the spot, sending a faint shiver over my skin with its rasp. It forced my eyes up toward the sound. As if my gaze had no choice in the matter. It was a mistake, looking up. The owner of the voice was unlike anyone I’d ever seen before. While he was young, probably about my age, he was massive.

Ronan—massive, defined muscles making him someone not to tangle with, buzzed dark hair, scar bisecting eyebrow, hypnotizing golden amber otherworldly beautiful yet cold eyes, feeling of brutality/anger under the surface, one of Colt’s best friends, feral grin, blunt, brooding, hidden pain, prickly but worries/ protective

I felt the sudden urge to run. As if he were the predator and I were the prey.

Over time, I’d learned to trust my gut when it came to people. I had good instincts that had been crafted over years of pain. And my instincts were telling me now that the guy sitting in that booth, no matter how beautiful, could snap my neck with a flick of his wrist.

the scar that entranced me most. I had a million and one questions about it. How had he gotten it? Falling off his bike when he was a little kid? Or through some more twisted cause? Something that matched the darkness that radiated off him. It was more than a darkness, though. It was a brutality.

Those eyes of hers narrowed in that way that called bullshit. “Don’t forget to have Sal make you dinner before you leave.” Warmth spread through me at that. As rough around the edges as Betsy could be, she cared. She was probably the only person in my life who did. She made sure I always had at least one good meal on the days I worked. She’d make excuses of buying too much of this or that and gave me the “extras”. And every Christmas and birthday, there was always something from her, the only thing I’d unwrap on those days. “I will. Thanks, B.”

I kept my focus low, away from those amber eyes. “Would you like anything else?” I asked softly. There was no response. My insides churned, and I forced my gaze up. “What’s your name?” My throat went dry. If he were some serial killer, I really shouldn’t be giving him any personal information, but I didn’t feel like I had any choice. “Leighton.” The word was barely audible, but it was there. A muscle in his jaw ticked. As if just my name pissed him off.

He scowled, his irises darkening, and I stumbled back a few steps. Someone slammed into me, and I let out a soft cry as their broad form connected with the bruises on my side. The guy at table five was on his feet in a flash, shoving the boy who had crashed into me. “Watch where you’re going.” The boy was one I recognized from school. He was one I avoided like the plague because he was cruel. Brian.

I bolted for the hallway and slipped into the break room, my chest heaving. Panic started to grab hold, the edges of my vision darkening as I battled it back. Memories slammed into me. Punches. Slaps. The burn. I dug my fingernails into my palms, the pain fighting back the memories.

The sandwich sat on the table, untouched. And next to it were two one-hundred-dollar bills.

mysterious stranger. Brian out for blood. Whatever else might be hiding in the shadows. There was nothing. I waited for my breaths to come a little easier, but they didn’t. My muscles were wound so tight I couldn’t get a pain-free inhale. But I was used to living with pain. I could do what I had to even if I was in agony. So, I started walking.

There was something about that little crook in his nose. It looked so much like the same one Colt had after taking a baseball to the face when we were six. There were other things that resembled Colt, too. Or what I imagined my best friend would look like now, my mind filling in the empty spaces that eight years without a glimpse or word had left. I blinked again as the guy disappeared from sight. As I did, the memory of the figure suddenly didn’t look quite like what I had thought. His shoulders were too broad, his hair too dark.

Colt—best friend/grew up together until her dad died when 9y/o, his dad & her dad were best friends, hair mixture of brown, blonde, & red, crooked nose where hit with baseball when 6y/o, unique hazel eyes mix of green with flecks of gold & other tones, broad shoulders encased in muscles, had tingles when held hands as children, calls her LeeLee, 6’4, same lopsided grin

It shouldn’t have surprised me that I was cracking up. That I was trying to conjure Colt out of thin air when I was so damned lonely. An ache flared to life in my chest as a memory flashed through my mind. Colt and I were running through a field behind my old house,

My backpack thumped against my side as I stepped off a curb, and pain ricocheted through me. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. Dumb, dumb, dumb. This was what happened when you got distracted, when you let yourself get lost in memories of a life that was no longer yours. It was better to stay in the here and now.

I’d saved up for my own pot of plants one time, but my mom had ripped out the daisies, saying they were a waste of perfectly good money. But I guessed booze and cigarettes weren’t a waste. I’d have my flowers one day. So many I’d get lost in the sea of them. I just had to make it through my senior year. Get one of the many scholarships I was applying for. And break free.

Trudging up a cracked driveway, a voice stopped me in my tracks. “You’re late.” The voice sounded as if it were coated in sandpaper and dunked in acid. Raspy and patchy, as if not every tone could make it out of her throat. I stilled, forcing my gaze to the woman on the front steps. I wouldn’t call her “Mom”. Not even in my mind. She certainly wasn’t recognizable as the woman who’d raised me. Not that she had been especially warm then, either. She’d always been…distant. But I’d had my dad, so it hadn’t mattered. But now, the woman who had once been so put together was…fraying.

“I had school,” I said softly. I’d learned long ago that arguing with her was never a good thing, and raising my voice was a disaster. All I could do was give quiet explanations and hope that she would see them as justified. Maryanne huffed. “What a waste. It’s not like you’ll ever amount to anything.” I hated that the words still hurt. That they branded my skin, leaving invisible scars to match the ones clear to see. It was as if she were trying to counter every message my father had ever told me. That I could do anything I set my mind to. That I was kind and clever. Beautiful in every way. But to Maryanne, I’d always be nothing.

“Chuck and I are going out tonight. You’ll clean the house while we’re gone. Every room.” Every muscle in my body constricted at the sound of his name. Maryanne’s boyfriend had a different sort of cruelty. And the comments he’d begun to make over the past year turned my stomach. Comments I was terrified would turn to action.

Maryanne laughed, but it had an ugly twist to it. “Just remember, I can kick you out of here whenever I damn well please, so you better earn your keep.”

Slipping my key from my pocket, I unlocked the side door. Old junk was piled up, things my mom didn’t want to give away for one reason or another, even though they were broken beyond repair. But those broken things had become my wall of protection. I figured my mom knew I stayed back here, but she never bothered trying to find me, even though my room in the house lay vacant. It had ever since the day of my sixteenth birthday. Instead, I’d made a home amongst the trash. It was fitting, given that was all she thought I was.

A soft meow sounded from deeper in the space. A smile tugged at my lips, the first one since I’d left my safe haven this morning. “I’m coming,” I called. Briar answered with another meow, a little more insistent this time.

Briar the cat she rescued/rescued her, missing tip of ear from fight

the tiny home I’d made myself. An old mattress was pushed up against the wall, covered in quilts I’d found in one of the boxes Maryanne had stored in here. A milk crate lay next to it that I’d turned into a nightstand. A camping lantern sat on top of the nightstand that was just enough light to do homework. I’d created a dresser of sorts from empty boxes that housed my few outfits and other belongings. It wasn’t much, but I could breathe in here.

A creaking sound had me tensing, panic setting in. Chuck and Maryanne had always been too lazy to search for me, but maybe that was changing. I frantically searched the space for my baseball bat. “LeeLee?” I froze. That voice. I knew it almost better than my own, even after not hearing it for eight years. It wasn’t possible, yet hope bloomed in my chest. Treacherous hope. I didn’t want to look because I didn’t want to find out I was wrong.

No one called me LeeLee but Colt. No one had that unique lilt to their voice when they said my name. Though that voice was deeper now. His voice wasn’t the only thing that had changed. I was pretty tall, but Colt towered over me, having to be at least four inches over six feet.

The movement was slow, as if he might be approaching an injured animal. “I guess with the internet, you can find just about anyone these days.” I wasn’t sure how true that was. I’d never been able to find Colt. There were no social media profiles or news articles with his name. I’d so badly wanted a piece of my old life to hold on to.

Those hazel eyes kept studying me, and I swore he knew I was lying. “You shouldn’t be living like this.”

He has no manners.” Ronan scoffed. “We need to move. It’ll be dark in a few hours, and we need to be gone by then.” Colt shot him a look I couldn’t decipher. “We don’t have allies here,” Ronan gritted out. “You’re leaving tonight?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. If Colt had come all this way from wherever he lived now, wouldn’t he want to stay for longer than five minutes? Colt’s expression softened as he turned to me. “We have to.” Ronan stepped forward. “And you’re coming with us.”

Colt shuffled his feet. “I’ve been watching you for the past few days.” My heart hammered against my ribs. “I saw you. I thought I was losing my mind, imagining some invisible friend…” Because the truth was, the only friend I had was Briar. Colt met my gaze, so much concern in his.

“We’ve got more than enough room. I’ve already talked to our school, and you can start whenever you want. You’d be safe.” “And you wouldn’t have to live in a trash heap,” Ronan said under his breath. Colt whirled on his friend. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m just speaking the truth.” He reached out and knocked against the outer wall. “She doesn’t even have insulation or electricity. Can you imagine how cold it is in the winter?”

For all the threats of kicking me to the curb, I knew my so-called mother would never let me leave and head off to some life that might be better. A life where I could dare to be happy. A grin spread across Ronan’s face, but it had a feral quality to it. “Leave that to me.”

Ronan’s eyes narrowed. “No crazier than staying somewhere you’re clearly miserable.” I winced. Because it was true. There was no way that going to stay with Colt and his father, a man who’d always been kind to me, would be worse than this. And if it was, I’d leave. I’d be eighteen in nine months, and I could keep a low profile until then.