The Vengeance Demons Series: Books 0-3 (The Vengeance Demons Series Boxset) Page 2

  I wanted to kick something or cry. A mark of zero. After all the group practice sessions and hard work. I didn’t realize until now that a part of me honestly thought I’d aced this with no issues. It was demoralizing to screw up in such a disastrous manner.

  Alright, chin up and do some damage control. You lost the battle, but not the war. Try saying something contrite and repenting. You can’t afford to fail this semester. Not if you want to move out of the dorm and get away from those dreadful girls.

  “What does he get?” I heard myself ask. I couldn’t help it. I might not want The Machine dead, but the idea of him getting off scot-free, with no memory of his punishment, didn’t sit well with me, either. Maybe I just plain sucked at the whole detachment thing they valued in school.

  “Something a little less…heavy.” I could’ve sworn there was just the tiniest curve at the corners of Enid’s mouth. In an instant, the facial expression made my usually austere mentor appear a decade younger.

  “Like what?” Now I was intrigued.

  “A period.”

  Chapter Two

  “BEFORE EXACTING YOUR assigned vengeance, reconnaissance within reason is allowed under Article 4.3, section E of the IICVD handbook…” Professor Mando shook the said handbook in his hands for emphasis.

  It was the last class of the semester in my freshmen year, and three weeks since The Machine made international headlines holding a gun to a convenience store clerk’s head for a package of winged maxi pads. The air was scented with late spring flowers. A few hummingbirds dive-bombed each other outside the classroom windows, their rapid flight graceful if one discounted their violent attacks on one another in their ceaseless turf wars. There was just enough of a cross breeze entering the stone structure to keep the students awake as Professor Mando droned on and on about even more rules we’d all one day be regulated by.

  Assuming, of course, that we earned our designation from the Interdimensional Institute of Chartered Vengeance Demons. We might have the blood of vengeance demons in our veins, but that did not guarantee being certified as a practicing member of our race. Those who failed the professional exams became support workers, like paralegals to lawyers. Those who failed to become support workers got on an even lower tier, and on and on it went until the worst of the worst simply became outcasts in our society. A dropout two years ahead of me was now living on the human plane, working as a security guard on Judge Judy, and nobody ever talked about him again.

  Clang…clang-clang-clang…clang-clang…

  I tried to focus on the lecture, but my mind kept straying to the metallic sound resonating from the floor and what it meant.

  It meant somebody was being bullied. It meant that in a school intent on training future justice handlers, someone was deserving of a little comeuppance herself.

  Yes, it was a she, and so was her victim. There was only one person in class the sound of iron would be terrifying to.

  The target of the bullying was Serafina Anastassia Advocatus, a vengeance demon stolen at birth by changelings and only released a year ago. As a result, she had to learn the ways of her people from scratch, and it hadn’t been easy for the pale and mousy girl. The prestigious name of her birth family might’ve earned Serafina an entrance into the university, but that wouldn’t give her decent grades, nor stop the mean girls from targeting her.

  The ringleader of the freshman clique, one Madeleine Abrianna Lex, tapped her heels on the floor in front of her seat. Embedded in the heels was a pair of miniature horseshoes. With each tap, the slick blonde hammered out a wave of vibration that would be nerve grinding for the iron-fearing changelings. Not that iron could actually hurt Serafina, who didn’t have a drop of changeling blood, but tell that to eighteen years of conditioning. Serafina suffered the onslaught of pulsation in silence, shaking and folding her body in a near-fetal position on the chair, not daring to make a sound.

  She reminded me of my younger self, before I toughened up and fought back. That sense of helplessness and isolation had to suck. I should’ve reached out to the reticent girl at the very start of university, but I’d been too wrapped up in pursuing my own career goal.

  Professor Mando favored rubber shoes and didn’t feel a thing. Before the start of class, Madeleine had craftily offered him an enchanted cupcake. One tiny bite had ensured the dear old prof couldn’t hear the clanging, either.

  Nobody else in class seemed inclined to do anything about the blatant bullying, which was playing out right in front of the teacher. They might find the vibration distracting, but nothing worth speaking out about, considering the consequences of doing so. No one wanted to make Madeleine angry, even if it meant approving through silence the re-victimization of someone who’d already been through so much. The whole thing was just so damn high school. Since Serafina had already missed the benefits of going through an adolescent education, she shouldn’t have to suffer through the pain of it, either.

  I totally got how it felt to be different, to be excluded because of something I couldn’t control. There were rumors about Serafina botching her practice session because she’d tried to get her mean drunk of a target help rather than punishing him. Not that I thought we ought to save everybody, but the fact that Serafina tried was something.

  While the vengeance demon in me protested Madeleine’s cruelty, another part of me—the part I inherited from my trickster mother—whispered devious, delicious plans in my head to make her stop. I tended to think of myself as a vengeance demon, but in times like this I was reminded of my dual heritage.

  I could make Madeleine sprain her ankle with the next tapping or give her a phantom toothache with a rhythmic pulse matching the one she was dishing out. That oughta stop her. Or, to hell with a good poetic twist, I could simply compel Madeleine to climb onto the table and perform a little impromptu striptease. Videos of the blue-blooded heiress twerking could have a few thousand hits on the DemonTube before Professor Mando even called me to the front of the class.

  Too bad I couldn’t listen to my naughty side.

  If I were seen using my mother’s magic, no one would take me seriously in this school. Heck, they thought I was a joke as it was. Knowing my trickster heritage was one thing; seeing it in action with their own eyes would be another.

  I loved Mom, I really did. I just liked Dad’s profession more than hers, that was all. Tricksters had a bad rep for being impulsive, irresponsible, and lazy. I just wanted to get a bit of respect, build up a healthy credit score, and resist the urge to enchant my prof’s chair with a whoopee cushion spell. Was that too much to ask?

  Though I must admit, the idea of Madeleine on a whoopee cushion during a hot date did have a certain appeal. Talk about the opposite of being sexy.

  Oh, shut up. Not happening.

  But imagine the horror on her face. C’mon.

  Not. Happening.

  The tapping, and the blatantly public assault, continued.

  “Now, I’m going to pass around my own vengeance dagger for you to see. You youngsters will get yours when you graduate from this program. Notice the carving on the left side, which originated in the eleventh century when humans were still aware of our existence.” Professor Mando went on about the Five Principles of Vengeance, the Six Decrees, and so on.

  Madeleine lived on my dorm floor. Opposing her in a public manner would mean certain consequences. I’d gotten crap this past year just for being a hybrid. My stomach tightened with the memories of her past pranks, from curdled rice pudding on the eve of my four-hour final exam, to itching-powder-laced body lotion right before my co-op interview. Each prank had gross and devastating results. Stepping in now would mean taking things to the next level.

  Screw it. I’d be damned if I’d sit through the harassment of Serafina and did nothing.

  I stared at the commemorative dagger being passed around, an iron dagger, and it gave me an idea.

  When the person in front of me gave me the dagger, I deliberately dropped it at just the right ang
le, while sending a temporary shield to encompass Serafina. The blade bounced off the floor with a pronounced ding, sending a resonating feedback straight to Madeleine’s iron-centered heels, cracking the horseshoes each in half.

  “Ouch!” she screamed, rubbing her temple. Poor girl, the feedback must be ricocheting through her head like a malfunctioning human speaker. It would’ve pained Serafina even more, if not for the protection I’d placed around her.

  “Oops.” I filled my voice with innocent regret and picked up the dagger. I sneaked a glance at Serafina. She uncurled herself from her fetal position, looked up and around for the first time in class, like a wide-eyed baby owl fresh out of a snow cave, surprised at the abrupt end to her torment.

  “What’s wrong, Miss Lex? Why did you scream?” Professor Mando frowned at the obnoxious queen bee.

  “Nothing, sir. I was caught off guard by the sound of the drop, that’s all.” Madeleine smiled weakly at our lecturer, then gave me a look of pure venom. She knew I did it on purpose and I’d pay for it later.

  “Remember, a vengeance demon should never be so easily startled. It’s our job to startle them.”

  Madeleine’s flawless face flushed to a crimson color. Alright, maybe the payback would come sooner rather than later.

  I squared my shoulders. What was done, was done. Even if I could take it back, I wouldn’t.

  Towards the end of the lecture, there was a knock on the classroom door. Through the window, we could see that it was Enid holding an envelope. The entire class sat up straight as a single entity, the sleepier ones doing so before their eyes were even fully opened.

  It was time.

  Professor Mando waved our program mentor in. “I’m just about finished, Enid. Come on in. Now, class, this is the moment of truth.”

  Enid stopped next to the professor and addressed us, her shrewd eyes roaming around the room, missing nothing. “Congratulations on a successful first year, freshmen. But in life, it doesn’t matter if you’re a supernatural or a mortal, there will always be competition. The following is a list of those who have been selected into the vengeance co-op program. If you’re chosen, you’ll get your first assignment in the next few days. If you’re not, you can apply again next year or switch to the General Stream.”

  Oh, the dreaded General Stream. Desk job workers supporting those who went into the field. Like those guys who polish James Bond’s cool gadgets or file his travel expense reports. Sexy, it was not.

  Nobody found out whether he or she was selected until this moment, not even the ones with family connections. Way to make sure that not a single freshman skips the last class, considering the exams were already over.

  Enid took out a single piece of paper from the envelope. “First on the list, Miss Madeleine Abrianna Lex.”

  Madeleine stood and nodded in an arrogant manner that came from multiple generations of extreme privilege. She wasn’t at all shocked that she’d been accepted, and why should she be? To top off her straight A’s, her dad was on the Concord Council.

  The names went on. With the reading of each of them, there was applause as the successful candidates stood up, took a bow, and sat down again. They were mostly predictable favorites, the ones who, while they might not have powerful family names behind them, had performed well in their practice sessions and won their spots fair and square. Serafina, unsurprisingly, didn’t get in. To be frank, the girl seemed relieved not to be picked. Her shoulders became more and more relaxed with every name read that wasn’t hers.

  I could barely prevent myself from biting my knuckles. I willed my name to be read. I deserved to be on that list like the rest of them. I’d gotten pretty good grades, though I didn’t brag about it. Well, not that there was anyone non-hostile enough I could do the bragging to. As for the practice sessions, in the three weeks since my disastrous encounter with The Machine, I’d worked like a demon—literally—to catch up on my marks. With the help of a dozen industrial-strength earplugs, I gave a corner-cutting contractor a botched root canal, a corporate air polluter severe asthma, and I kept an insurance fraudster honest by matching his physical conditions with his claims—word for word.

  The man had said he had a herniated disk, so he got his disk herniated. My brand of justice was funny and fitting. I should get into the co-op just on that alone.

  “The final name on the list is…”

  I crossed my fingers. Here it came. The last chance. I peeked at Madeleine, who was exchanging smug nods with her two hench-girls. One of their names had already been read, and the other one, from the confidence evidenced on Madeleine’s face, was the undoubted candidate for the final seat on the co-op train.

  “Miss Megan Aequitas.”

  Instead of cheering and well wishing, my name was met with stunned silence. Then all hell broke loose.

  Everyone was talking at the same time, their collective sound like the buzzing of angry flies over a pile of manure on a hot summer day. The words “cheating” and “trickery” abounded. The energy ripple of a few dozen students drawing on their vengeance magic unconsciously was rather unsettling, considering I was the one with a brand new target on my back.

  “Calm down,” Enid chided the group.

  Madeleine stood. “As the student council president, I demand that the administration reconsider this decision.”

  Enid’s eyebrow rose. “You demand?”

  Under Enid’s stare, Madeleine’s face flushed. “No, I mean I…I… But she’s a trickster!”

  “Fifty percent trickster,” I muttered. Not that anyone was listening.

  “And a dirty half-breed.”

  I was the first vengeance demon/trickster hybrid ever born to any of the planes. I knew that. Everybody knew that. But did Madeleine really have to be so rude about it? I didn’t like the unique status, but it was something I was born into.

  Madeleine continued. “She should never even have been allowed to be here with us. Who’s to say she didn’t get the spot using trickery?”

  “Miss Aequitas’ acceptance into this university is a decision made by, and solely by, the school administration. And are you suggesting I was tricked and didn’t even realize it?” Enid’s tone was as chilly as winter on the Ice Priestess’ plane.

  That gave Madeleine pause. Enid was one of the most powerful vengeance demons at the university, and the idea of me, a fledging first year, pulling one over on her was a bit far-fetched.

  Ha, take that!

  Self-preservation kicked in, and Madeleine tried to backpedal. “No, ma’am, I don’t mean that at all. It’s just that, well, it’s never been done before. She doesn’t even have a proper middle name.”

  Her last line ended like a whine. Taking the lead from her, the rest of the class settled into an uneasy silence. Not a good thing, because in my experience repressed dissatisfaction had a way of blowing up later, when the teachers weren’t around.

  I hated the sense of foreboding in my gut. This should’ve been a moment of total triumph for me. And instead of support and congratulations, I was getting dissed for the same old, same old. It made me not sad, but angry as heck.

  After the class was dismissed, I headed towards my dorm through the school courtyard. I didn’t need eyes in the back of my head to know I was followed by Madeleine, her two hench-girls, and a few other students. And not in a we-all-just-happened-to-be-heading-towards-the-same-destination kind of way. No, their movement was furtive and deliberate, in an attack formation. I was pleased to hear that Madeleine’s footsteps had a limping quality to them, thanks to the broken horseshoes. It was a testimony to her drive to hurt me that the fashionista didn’t even bother tending to her footwear first.

  I sighed, took a deep breath, and slowed down. In my experience, there were two options when it came to bullies. It was either fight or flight. In my high school years I’d tried both, to varying successes.

  I wasn’t in high school anymore. And the ship had already sailed for anything but the fight option. It’d sailed the mome
nt I’d refused to be a bystander in Serafina’s plight, and the co-op placement was the final nail in the coffin.

  I assessed my surroundings. From the glaring daggers I’d gotten from everyone who crossed paths with me, it was a good bet that word had already spread like wildfire on campus. I’d made quite a few enemies with the simple pronouncement of my name from Enid’s lips. I had to do something before somebody suggested a mob lynching.

  So fight it was.

  However, I did have some leeway when it came to choosing how to fight. And I chose to turn the imminent ambush into a direct confrontation. I was a straightforward kind of girl.

  I pivoted and coolly locked eyes with Madeleine. Seeing the highborn heiress in full fury was quite something. She placed her hands on the hips of her black leather pantsuit, her long, bony fingers tightened with tension, as if she longed to close them around my throat.

  Well, no “as if” about that.

  “You’ll pay for what happened this morning, Megan,” she spat out, and her flock of hench-girls crossed their arms, pouted, and snarled, then pouted some more.

  I rolled my eyes. The posturing and insults were really getting old. “Paying for what, breaking horseshoes or breaking tradition?”

  I couldn’t keep the pride out of my voice. Now I had the ability to decide where I wanted to live during the work term.

  “Both. I heard you’re not going to stay at the dorm for a few months,” said Madeleine, as if reading my mind, her voice suddenly dripping with honey. That was never a good thing. “Have you started packing yet?”

  Leaning into my personal space, she pulled out a family photo of my parents and me on our vacation last summer. It had gone missing from the top of my dresser around a month ago, and I’d assumed it had fallen into the disarray that surrounded it. With my messy habits, I had no idea where half of my stuff was most of the time. Turned out, Madeleine might’ve had it all this time.