Captive Monster: Blood Moon Academy Book 1 Read online

  Captive Monster

  Blood Moon Academy Book One

  Demi Dumond

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Ready for Book Two?

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 by Demi Dumond

  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.

  Book cover by Melody Simmons

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Keira

  Okay, I had to admit it. After robbing my ex-boyfriend of the stuff he had stolen from me, I felt fantastic. I needed my shit back because no asshole was going to take my past away from me. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. You’d think being my ex, he’d get a stronger lock. That was on him.

  I strolled back toward my car, noticing that while it was only ten at night, already the streetlights were casting harsh shadows on the pavement. I was alone, but I kept looking over my shoulder as I walked the unfamiliar city streets.

  I was happy because one, I would never have to see my dick ex-boyfriend again, and two, I’d never have to see my ex-boyfriend’s dick again, both of which I was grateful for.

  I gripped the overstuffed duffel bag with a smile on my face.

  Victory was mine. But the more I looked around, the more nervous I felt.

  The streetlights weren’t shining as brightly, for one. They looked darkened and hazy and they gave off a sickly yellow glow.

  Now that I looked around, everything about this street was creepy. There were shadows everywhere, but no people around. I refocused and continued walking the four blocks to where I had stashed my car, looking over my shoulder the whole time.

  Glancing at the storefronts as I passed, I could see that four out of every five of them were vacant. The fact that my asshole ex lived in a shit part of town wasn’t a big surprise to me, but this place seemed even more dangerous than usual. I could feel it.

  A couple more blocks and it wouldn’t be my problem anymore. I just needed to get back to my blue Ford Fiesta.

  That’s when I saw a tall, bearded guy come out from an alley. He was wearing a black leather jacket and a red beanie. He turned in my direction before he even looked up. Shit.

  The next thing I knew, he was coming toward me, and he was moving fast. I got a better grip on my duffel bag.

  My body tensed, waiting to see what he would do. Especially since I was already on high alert.

  He took the street edge of the sidewalk, hemming me in.

  I stepped sideways next to the storefront in a move to get around him, or more importantly so that he’d go past me. But, of course, he swerved at the last minute, bumping into me and knocking me down. Asshole.

  My ass landed on the cold sidewalk, the duffel bag falling next to me. I had moved it to the hand opposite him, so that when he had reached out to grab it, he missed. That’s what you get when you try to steal from a thief.

  My chest tightened. The guy was twice my size, but he had picked on the wrong woman on the wrong night.

  I got back to my feet quickly before he could make another pass at my duffel bag. Then I backed up a little to see what he would do next.

  “Hey asshole, go find somebody else to rob. You’re not getting my bag.”

  I had driven four hours and waited for my ex to leave and go partying for the night so I could get my stuff back.

  I mean, who steals people’s personal photos and keepsakes on their way out the door? Anyway, there was no way in hell I was just going to hand over the bag I had rightfully stolen.

  “Just give it to me before somebody gets hurt,” he said. He swung a fist in my direction. I ducked under it, which was easy enough for me to do since he was so tall. Once he was off balance, I gave him a shove. It was his turn to hit the pavement.

  “See ya,” I said as I tightened my grip on the bag and bolted. I was just about to hit my stride when he dove after me, grabbing my leg and sending me sprawling again.

  This time I fell forward. The bag fell out of my hand. Pain throbbed in my hands and knees from the cold concrete. How the fuck had he gotten up so fast?

  I flipped onto my back so I could face him. His expression was hard, and his brown hair peeked out through the beanie he wore. He had the brownest eyes I had ever seen. He reached down for the bag, and I sent a kick upward toward his crotch. I missed, but not by much.

  I tried to get up, but he recovered from the kick faster than I thought possible and pushed me back down onto my ass again. A shooting pain went up my back. He stood there looking down at me. I watched his hands. I was already getting my ass kicked here, but if he had a weapon, I was going to be toast.

  Something was off about his eyes, though. Time seemed to stand still. I stared up at his eyes because I couldn’t help it, something was bothering me. Then it hit me. No pupils. What the hell?

  While I was still staring at them, his eyes flashed blue. Not blue like a normal person’s blue eyes, but blue like a flash of blue fire. It was impossible.

  And then they were brown again. I know what I saw, and what I saw wasn’t normal. Suddenly every hair on my body was standing on end.

  “Something is seriously wrong with your eyes, dude. You should get that checked, like immediately.”

  Moving backward, I pushed up with my hands in an effort to regain my feet and get away, but he was too fast. Way too fast. With impossible speed, he grabbed me by my shoulders, lifting me up in the air. He laughed at me.

  The bastard was laughing. I swiped at his eye, but he leaned back. I squirmed in his grasp two feet off of the ground. His crazy eyes bore into my soul, and I could only kick and flail. I aimed a foot at his crotch again, but he dodged it.

  “Look, asshole,” I said, “there’s nothing in the bag but worthless pictures. I’ve got fifty bucks in my pocket, it’s yours. Go get bombed or something.”

  The look in his eye told me nothing I could do would stop the attack. At this point, he could throw me aside and just take the bag if he wanted to. What the fuck was he waiting for? Was this guy trying to kill me?

  Something built up inside of me. It felt like a wild, desperate fire. Whatever it was, it radiated downward, all the way to my fingertips.

  Intending to slap him, I moved my right hand to his face. When I did, though, pink sparks flew out of my hand and hit him in the chest. He screamed in pain and dropped me.

  Once again, I h
it the cold pavement. I got to my feet, not sure what had just happened. At least I was alive. I risked one more glance at my attacker, who was still screaming in pain on the ground. I grabbed my bag and turned to run.

  Only, as I turned back toward the street that led to my car, there were three security guards standing there with their weapons drawn and pointed at me. When did they get here? And why wasn’t it in time to help me when that asshole was robbing me?

  Still holding onto the bag, I raised my hands. “Hey, easy now. I’m the one who was attacked.” I said, indicating the guy behind me. “That guy tried to steal my bag.” I waited for them to lower their weapons.

  They didn’t lower their weapons. If anything, they got even jumpier. I could feel the tension in the air. My brow furrowed as I waited for them to ease up. What was their problem? They weren’t even wearing regular police uniforms, meaning they were probably just local shop security. What the hell did they care?

  Then, without a word, two of the security guards rushed me. I cried out and tried to dodge them, hoping to make a break for it. Before I knew it, though, I was handcuffed and in an unmarked car.

  One of the guards was in the front of the piece of shit silver Camry, and one sat in the back with me, taser in hand. They sure were worried I was going to start some shit.

  “I don’t even understand what’s going on here,” I said. “I was attacked. Why don’t you arrest him?” I pointed to my attacker, who was now sitting up on the pavement being interviewed by the third security guard. Then, the security guard helped him up. With a final sneer at me through the car window, my attacker sauntered off.

  “Hey, stop him!” I objected. There was no response. “Seriously?” I asked. “The only person who actually committed a crime is getting away.” Still nothing. “What kind of security guards are you, anyway?”

  “Private,” the driver said. “We caught you red-handed with a duffel bag of contraband, and you assaulted that citizen in the middle of the street.”

  “Assaulted?” I asked. “He assaulted me. Assault, attempted burglary, who knows what else he would have done to me if you guys hadn’t shown up.”

  Something didn’t feel right. “I want some real cops. Give me my cell phone back. I have rights, you know.”

  “Sure,” one of them said. “You have lots of rights, but I’m afraid your phone battery’s dead.” He looked at my driver’s license and grabbed a radio “Yeah, he said, “I need a background check on a Keira Rose.”

  “Can I at least have my wallet back?”

  “No,” taser guard said.

  Ugh. Now these rent-a-cops were robbing me too. Or worse. My phone was just fine five minutes ago. We all sat there in the car and waited until the rent-a cop-got a printout, presumably about me. He looked it over and then they nodded to each other before starting the car.

  “Hey, where are we going?”

  They all ignored me. I started paying more attention to which streets we were passing so I could find my car later. Then we passed a police station and just kept going. A chill went down my spine.

  “Um, we passed the police station.” I announced. “You might want to turn around.” There was nothing but silence as the car continued onward. What the hell had I gotten myself into this time? Where were they taking me? Whoever these guys were, I had the sinking feeling they weren’t cops. My chest tightened and with each passing second, I could feel my pulse rise.

  I waited for a stop light. Then I tried the door handle. Locked. And it drew extra attention from the taser guard who didn’t calm down until I held my hands out for him to see that they were no longer trying the door.

  “Technically, this is kidnaping.” I objected.

  “Calm down, Ms. Rose, we’ll be there in a minute,” the driver answered. He turned down a dirt lane off of a long, winding, deserted street. Then we bounced around for another five minutes before coming to a stop in front of an old, iron gate.

  I squinted beyond the gate to see a large mansion-type structure with smaller buildings surrounding it. Despite the late hour, most of the lights inside looked like they were on. The driver rolled down his window and waited for a voice at the gate audio speaker to squawk something at him that I couldn’t make out. “Yeah, it’s Cane. I’ve got a new student for you.”

  The audio squeaked again and then the iron gate began to slowly open. I didn’t like the driver’s tone of voice at all, or the way he said new student. Students weren’t snatched off the street at gunpoint and taken in the middle of the night against their will. What the hell was this place?

  Maybe I should have let Eddie keep my shit.

  2

  Keira

  The guards drove up the long driveway into the sprawling compound toward the large building. The grounds were poorly lit at night, but I could still make out manicured lawns and old wooden structures.

  When we stopped in the circular driveway in front of what looked like the main building, the guards jumped into action. Then they remembered my duffel bag. They searched it before handing it back to me.

  “I know, right?” I said. “Nothing of value. And did you catch the kid in the photos? That was me. You caught me stealing my own stuff, dipshits. And you let the real attacker get away. Great job.”

  The guard in the backseat with me urged me out of the car, at the point of the stun gun. What weren’t these guys getting about the fact that I hadn’t done anything wrong?

  “Look,” I said, scooting out of the car and standing in the cool of the night. I didn’t want to go in. Something about the building in front of me gave me the willies. Probably because I was being forced into it.

  Panicking, I felt like I had to do something fast or I was done for. “You guys screwed up, but I won’t tell anyone. Just take me back to my car, okay?”

  “That’s above our pay grade,” the driver said. The guards didn’t care. They pushed, prodded, and threatened me to the building, which right now looked like a dimly lit cross between the Haunted Mansion and the Bates Motel.

  I didn’t even see anyone through the glass doors. What the fuck was the big hurry? Dim lights were on inside, but it looked like nobody was home. The guard with the taser opened the glass door and motioned me through. I went in, but I didn’t like it one bit.

  “I’m sure everything is above your pay grade. Because you suck at your jobs.” That brought a hard shove from behind and I lurched forward, barely avoiding a face-plant onto the coral-colored, antiseptic smelling, hard-tile floor.

  “Oops,” the guard said.

  Inside, the place was massive. High, vaulted ceilings loomed overhead with layers of dust threatening to fall onto us. It made my throat itch with allergies just looking at it.

  The front desk area looked posh yet dated. The desk itself was unmanned, probably because of the late hour. Comfy, oversized chairs and tables were scattered around in a waiting area.

  Once we moved past the front desk, the first hallway we passed had vending machines and water fountains. We kept going. I stared down at the coral tile floor for a moment. It had a pretty swirl pattern I didn’t remember seeing at first.

  When I looked up, all I could see was the beige-ish wallpaper. Unlike the clean tile floor, the wallpaper held all the dust and looked dingy and in need of a good clean. I couldn’t imagine how gross it would look in the daytime.

  We stopped in front of a door that had a fancy, old-fashioned brass nameplate that said: Julius Crowe, Headmaster.

  A guard opened the door before shoving me in. Once inside, I felt like I had been transported back in time to the nineteen-twenties. Black and white photos of impeccably dressed people at elegant dinner parties adorned the walls along with medals and crests I didn’t recognize.

  “Have a seat, please,” the voice behind the desk said. I hadn’t noticed the desk or the headmaster because I was so busy looking around the room.

  I turned to face him and then had a seat where he indicated. It was a good thing I was already tumbling into a
green comfy chair when I caught sight of him. I flinched before I could catch myself. He looked mid-sixties with distinguished short gray hair and a bulbous nose.

  That part was fine, it was the brown horn protruding from the top of his head that freaked me the fuck out. The horn was about three inches long and stubby, not sharp.

  Startled, I looked from the guards to the headmaster and back to see if I was being pranked. The guards just crossed their arms and glared at me.

  “Okay, I’m sitting.” I said. My voice came out squeaky, so I cleared my throat.

  The Headmaster looked self-conscious when I stared at his horn. With a heavy sigh, like I was already a disappointment, he placed a black top hat over the horn. If anything, the effect of hiding the horn with the hat was even more jarring.

  I felt bad for a moment, maybe he had some weird medical condition and couldn’t afford to have the horn removed or whatever.

  “Hello, um, Mr. Crowe,” I started over, “I was assaulted tonight, you see. And these idiots grabbed me instead of my attacker. This can easily be fixed with a quick look at the surveillance tape. And then hopefully, heads will roll over the mistake,” I said, returning the guards’ glare.

  “There’s been no mistake and there will be no surveillance tape.” The Headmaster said to me. I opened my mouth to object, but I was getting tired of repeating myself.