A Demon's Horns: Vice College For Young Demons: Year One Read online

  “Name?” She stared at her clipboard, expression flitting between impatience and boredom.

  “Lilith Carazor.”

  She looked up briefly, probably checking whether I looked like my picture, then handed me an old-fashioned key, a small booklet and two envelopes. “Room eleven. Top floor,” she announced curtly, before she dismissed me into the building with a wave.

  I tugged my suitcase over the doorstep, making sure to find a spot against the wall and out of the way, before allowing myself to look around at the well-lit common room. Sofas and large cushions dotted the room, with two old-fashioned vending machines tucked away in a corner. A few early people were already seated and getting to know one another, but I bypassed them and headed for the stairs with the stream of other new arrivals.

  Four flights later, with my arms screaming from the effort, I finally reached the top floor. Of course, sod’s law meant that my room was at the far end of the corridor. When I finally got there I unlocked the door and heaved my stuff in. There was a single bed along one wall and the other was taken up by a built-in wardrobe. Having the corner room meant that I had two windows to let in more light. A slightly battered desk sat underneath one window, looking out over the manicured lawns and gravel pathways of the grounds. A bookshelf was wedged under the other, which had a view of the sprawling gothic keep. Of course, the walls were that plain shade of magnolia and the furniture a little battered and used, but it looked cosy enough and for the first time in my life I had my own space.

  I left my suitcase on the floor and slowly began to unpack. Everything fit into the wardrobe with room to spare, especially since the school uniform was compulsory outside of the Gatehouse. I placed the shiny, brand new textbooks (which my mum bought before even enrolling me) on the bookcase beside my precious, but tatty sketchbooks. I hadn’t brought my laptop, phone or tablet, because Vice didn’t have electricity, much to my disgust. Another point I wasn’t so fond of was the communal bathrooms, for which my mother had packed sanitising wipes and a new pair of sparkly purple flip-flops to wear in the shower.

  Then, at the very bottom, I discovered my old ballet shoes and leotard, carefully wrapped in tissue paper with hopeful smiley faces drawn over it. I couldn’t help a snort. Mum had been trying to get me out of pole fitness and back into classical ballet for the past three years. I’d let her believe I’d stopped out of teenage rebellion but truthfully, I’d just grown bored of ballet after I took the final exams and there was nothing really left to learn. I stroked the satin shoes carefully before packing them away in the wardrobe.

  Once it was all put away, I turned to look at the booklet and envelopes that the door lady had given me.

  While I opened the first envelope, I studied the cover of the booklet.

  Orientation guide

  First year students should be aware of the following college rules:

  No electrical devices of any kind are permitted on the college grounds.

  Students are not permitted to be outside of their dorms after ten pm.

  Uniform is to be maintained outside of student dorms.

  Students are not permitted to leave college grounds.

  Students are not to swim in the moat.

  The upper floors of the library are off limits to first year students.

  Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served in the great hall at six am, one pm and seven pm respectively.

  Failure to attend lessons will result in detention.

  First year inductions will take place at eight am tomorrow in classroom 548.

  And on it continued, as I flicked through the booklet, becoming more and more depressed as I read the enormous list of rules. Leaving it abandoned on my desk after the first few pages, I settled onto my bed and unfolded the letter. An old-fashioned library card, with my picture, name and room number on it fell out and onto my lap. Tucking it to one side, I signed the accompanying form and placed it with the card, so I wouldn’t lose it.

  The second letter was from the school bank and enclosed the coupon book my parents could top up to enable me to buy things from the school shop. The thickness of the book and the scribble on the front told me I had a few hundred pounds in credit which was probably my mother’s doing. I silently thanked her as I slipped the coupon book into my purse. I may not have wanted to be here, but now that she’d achieved her goal, she had gone out of her way to set everything up so that I could enjoy it as she had.

  Now unpacked, I faced the daunting question of whether it was better to go downstairs and attempt to find someone to socialise with before dinner or go to dinner and attempt to find somewhere to sit alone.

  Deciding to get it over with, I locked up my room and trudged downstairs to find nearly all the seats had been taken or were too close to an existing group for me to sit on. I clung to the edges of the room and tried to find someone else looking as uncomfortable and lost as I was.

  “No seats left, huh?” An awkward voice spoke on my left. I jumped because I hadn’t noticed him approach.

  He was an awkward looking guy, handsome in a bookish way, with square spectacles and foppish mousey hair. He wore the same deep red uniform the rest of us did, but his seemed almost too large, possibly because he slouched so much, hiding what I guessed was actually an impressive height.

  “Daron Abraxon.” He held out a hand.

  “Lilith Carazor.” I shook it. “Any idea how many of us there are?”

  He shrugged. “Looks to be about fifty or sixty, perhaps-”

  Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by someone backing into me.

  “Sorry, sorry.” The girl, who was only slightly shorter than I, apologised. “It’s just so cramped in here, I didn’t mean any offence.”

  Her apologetic nature gave her away instantly.

  “Wrath?” I asked, smiling.

  “Mother and older brother.” She gave a small smile, brushing fiery red bangs out of a face filled with delicate freckles. “Rina Inferna, and you are?”

  I repeated my name and let Daron introduce himself.

  “Do you have any Wrath parents?” she asked me, green eyes large and curious. “You recognised me so quickly, so surely you must.”

  “Nope, my mother is a Pride, my dad’s a Sloth. I just guessed.”

  “Good guess.” Daron’s eyes raked over me from behind his glasses. “How did a Pride and a Sloth end up together?”

  “No more miraculous than a Greed and a Wrath.” Rina came to my rescue. “What are your parents?”

  “Both Envy… I probably will be too; it’s in my genes as far back as anyone cares to look.”

  I winced, inwardly speculating about how this shy nerdy guy was going to turn into one of the two-faced gossips my mum had described.

  “Are you nervous?” I asked them both.

  “Terrified,” Rina replied, with a weak smile. “Please say you are too.”

  I nodded, but Daron didn’t. “Why would you be? If you’re here, you have the highest chance of having your showing. The library is apparently first class, and the standard of teaching is very high.”

  I looked at him, curiously. “So, you don’t find the idea of having to spend a year awaiting your destiny being decided by ten seconds of absolute agony in the company of complete strangers the least bit scary?”

  He grimaced. “At least it’s only ten seconds.” He stalked away towards another group glancing back at us as he went.

  “Did we say something?” Rina smirked.

  I simply shrugged, repeating my dad’s earlier words. “Everyone is so consumed with their own showings. I think it will be hard to understand what anyone is thinking.”

  “If we even have one,” Rina muttered.

  I forced a smile. “Daron is right about one thing. We have the highest chance of it here.”

  “Right.” She didn’t look so convinced. “Where are you from, anyway?”

  We made small talk through dinner, and while Rina was nice company, I didn’t feel like I had made a
friend when I fell into bed that night.

  The next morning at breakfast, we sat with each other again, more for company than anything else. We rushed through the meal, still enamoured with the grand hall of the huge castle and followed the trail of others towards what we hoped was our introduction.

  Aside from the stone walls, it appeared like any other old-fashioned classroom. There were wooden desks, complete with cushions and the usual scratched graffiti and gum stuck to the underneath. There were two chairs to a desk, each with its own mercifully clean looking cushion.

  A man who looked to be in his twenties – although with demons you could never tell – greeted us once we all sat down. He was a slim man whose natural tan and well-groomed dark hair contrasted with his slightly shabby clothes. He wore jeans, a white shirt and a crumpled looking waistcoat. It was stained lightly in places and had a rip on the collar. His black hair was gathered loosely in a tiny bun at the base of his neck, whilst the strands of his fringe fell gently around a Pride crystal on his forehead.

  “Good morning, First Years,” he began in a jovial voice. “My name is Seth Maddox, but you will address me as Professor Maddox or Sir.” He paused as if wondering if anyone would complain. “My fields of study are Demonic Origin and The History of Human-Demon Interactions, and I have been teaching at this college for over six decades. For my sins, I have been assigned as your head of year while you remain at Vice College as well as being your Demonic Foundation Studies teacher.” He took a long breath and stared across the room with stern, grey eyes. “There are fifty-eight of you here. Let me be clear, even with our stringent vetting process, at least seven of you will not complete your awaiting, so do not be overconfident. Others of you –” He was cut off by a strangled cry from the back of the room. Almost as one, the entire classroom turned around to see who it was.

  My eyes widened as I realised it was Daron, bellowing in agony and clutching his hands over his chest like he was being burned alive.

  Moments later, he stopped. When he realised the pain was gone, he ripped his shirt up to his chin, looking in amazement at the yellow crystal that had formed perfectly over his heart. A few droplets of blood had escaped from around it to weep slowly down his surprisingly well-sculpted chest.

  He was Envy, just like he’d said. I paled and shared a glance with Rina.

  Ignoring the distraction, Professor Maddox continued. “Others of you will find that once exposed to a large demon presence such as the college, you will undergo your showings fairly quickly. It does not matter when you undergo it; the only difference it will make is that your living arrangements will be changed from the Gatehouse to one of the seven towers in the bailey. Your lessons will remain the same for the most part, and we will, of course, inform your parents.” He shot a glance at Daron, who was still looking at the crystal on his chest with amazement. “I presume you have all read your orientation documents, so I shall not bore you with the other rules of the castle. Instead I thought to use today as an opportunity to explain the different demon castes and our current theories on demonic origins.” He swept a hand across the room. “You have all been raised by demon parents. You no doubt all know a little about their castes, but it is unlikely, given demonic nature, that you will have heard truthfully about the other types. You may even have become prejudiced against them without meaning to.”

  Several people fidgeted, I was one of them.

  “Can anyone tell me about the origin of demons?”

  No one raised their hand, and Maddox shook his head with a tiny smile. “I’m not surprised, because the truth is: we don’t know. As long as there have been humans, there have been demons, and vice versa. We have theories and myths, but no evidence to back them up. Does anyone know when demonic society separated from human society?” He picked out a hand from the three which rose into the air.

  “The 18th century witch hunts?”

  “Not quite. It is actually believed to have been somewhere around 200 BCE,” Maddox corrected. “The Romans held witch hunts which resulted in widespread panic among humans, resulting in the collective decision to disappear by the leaders of the castes. This brings me to my next question – an easy one this time - who here can tell me the seven castes?”

  Several people’s hands shot up, so I was surprised when he called for me to answer.

  “Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth,” I replied.

  “Correct but, like I said, that was an easy one. Someone else, tell me where each caste’s showing crystal appears?” He pointed at a well-muscled guy to my left, but he shook his head. The girl who was chosen next decided to answer.

  “Stomach for Gluttony, the chest for Envy, back of the neck for Sloth, left hand for Wrath, right hand for Greed, forehead for Pride... but I don’t know about Lust, Sir,” she admitted, ducking her head in embarrassment.

  “Few first years do,” Maddox muttered. “Can anyone here tell me where the showing crystal of the Lust caste is located? Anyone?”

  Everyone looked around, but only one guy raised his hand. “Base of their spine, Sir,” he said.

  “Well done…” Professor Maddox trailed off, searching for the guy’s name.

  “Bane, Sir, Bane Krossian.”

  “And how did you know the answer?”

  “The older years’ uniforms,” Bane answered. “I was watching today at breakfast, and I noticed the uniforms for the older years all display their crystals. The ones on the base of the spine were the only ones I didn’t know, so I presumed that it was where Lust had their crystals.”

  Professor Maddox nodded. “Very observant.” He looked across the room. “Has anyone read their class texts yet?” A few people nodded. “I will go around the room, I wish for everyone to introduce yourself and name two sub-castes of demon. There are well over a hundred, so you should have no trouble with it. And, there will be a special prize for anyone who can guess my own sub-caste by the end of the term – no asking the older years, because they won’t help you.”

  I wanted to grin but suppressed it. I had chosen a table in the corner of the front row, meaning I would likely be among the first to be called on. That was a good thing, considering I could only remember a few of the sub-castes I’d read about over the summer.

  I was proven right when he pointed at me. “Please begin, Miss…”

  “Lilith Carazor, Sir,” I began, “Pride Narcisissm and Sloth Indifference.”

  “Well done, next,” Professor Maddox called.

  And on it went. Professor Maddox was polite and allowed people time to think, but he wouldn’t accept not being given an answer, and seemed to find it worse than people giving repeat answers. At the end, he made us promise to memorise all one hundred and forty sub-castes for a quiz next lesson, and asked Daron to stay behind as the rest of us filed out of the classroom. Rina didn’t come to find me in the throng of people, so I assumed this was where our casual friendship ended. I decided to take a walk of the grounds while I waited for lunch. As I wandered around the immaculate flowerbeds and neatly mown lawns, I began to people watch, observing, as Bane had said, that the uniform for the older years was indeed cut to show off their crystals. Pride was the easiest to spot, but looking closely I could see Envies as well, with their low necklines displaying their crystals.

  Then, I saw them.

  I’d wandered off towards one of the towers when I noticed the small crowd. The first thing that made me stare was the sheer concentration of beautiful people crowded around a single bench. Then, I noticed their clothes, or rather, lack of them.

  Technically, it could be argued that they were wearing the uniform, or at least a version of it. Although, I was pretty sure the uniform required guys to button up their shirts and skirts to be longer than micro-mini length. Then, I noticed that one of the girls had her hand in a guy’s trousers and was lazily moving it up and down. The guy’s head was thrown back, but as I watched he turned to the girl who was fondling him and gave her an arrogant smirk that made her mou
th fall open slightly and her eyes close.

  A quick check confirmed my suspicions. They were Lust.

  I was about to turn away when the guy’s head swivelled, as though he’d sensed my perusal. His eyes – which even from this distance I could tell were a strange, crystal clear yellow colour – studied me as I studied him. He gave me the same smirk but, instead of allowing myself to pout like the other girl, I pursed my lips and looked away, trying to use a mask of disapproval to hide my embarrassment.

  Terrified that I had been caught staring at their little scene, I hurried past, trying to ignore them as I continued to pointedly look in every other direction.

  The imprint of those yellow eyes burned behind my eyelids every time I blinked.