Foot in the Grave: The Grave Chronicles, #2

By Ciara Graves

Juliette's arguably got the hottest boyfriend ever and the coolest life to go along with it. She's in her second year at Crescent City Academy of Magics. Forget Penn State. It's much cooler being a necromancer and a witch, both at the same time. She's one of those rare duals. And life's perfect. Or is it?

Nah, it's not. Life's complicated. Starting with a new necromancer student at the academy who is hellbent on irritating her, though one could argue that he's hot. Not for her though. There's no way she'd be interested in anyone but her shifter boyfriend, Jackson.

What else could go wrong in her life, though, right? Lots of stuff. Starting with finding out who murdered her mother. Avoiding her homicidal father. Hiding that she's been studying forbidden spells.

Oh, yeah. Juliette's going to have an interesting second year at Crescent City Academy of Magics.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CiaGra
• Release date: Apr 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393842354

Book preview

Foot in the Grave

Grave Chronicles Book 2

Mysterious necromancers. Wicked shifters. Fierce witches. Forbidden alliances. The Crescent City Academy of Magics will suck you in. 

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Juliette’s arguably got the hottest boyfriend ever and the coolest life to go along with it. She’s in her second year at Crescent City Academy of Magics. Forget Penn State. It’s much cooler being a necromancer and a witch, both at the same time. She’s one of those rare duals. And life’s perfect. Or is it?

---

Nah, it’s not. Life’s complicated. Starting with a new necromancer student at the academy who is hellbent on irritating her, though one could argue that he’s hot. Not for her though. There’s no way she’d be interested in anyone but her shifter boyfriend, Jackson.

---

What else could go wrong in her life, though, right? Lots of stuff. Starting with finding out who murdered her mother. Avoiding her homicidal father. Hiding that she’s been studying forbidden spells.

---

Oh, yeah. Juliette’s going to have an interesting second year at Crescent City Academy of Magics.

---

Warning: This series will hook you! Violence and blood can be found in this series of action-packed academy fantasy, with necromancers, vampires, shifters, and badass witches.

Chapter 1

If you would just listen to me—

I didn’t listen though as I unleashed a fireball that cut a swath through the darkness and raced straight toward him.

Augustin Livaudais, the man who called himself my father, stepped out of this world, traveling through the in-between, and back into the world fifty yards to my right. The fireball hit a headstone and blew it into a million different pieces, sending it spraying in a wide radius. I spun to face him, a snarl on my lips. Dressed in a natty three-piece suit and an old-time bowler hat, he flashed me a wide, thousand-watt smile.

Juliette, sweetheart, you are getting quite talented with the elemental energy, he said, his voice dripping with a Cajun accent. I’m impressed. Truly.

I don’t care.

I channeled a weave of my power, calling up on air energy then unleashed a blast of wind at him. He started to step into the in-between again, but he was a second too slow. The gust of tornadic wind caught and spun him like a top, sending him flying. He hit the ground with an audible grunt and his hat went flying.

I rushed him, calling up a column of fire, intending to fry on the spot. But his eyes widened when he saw me coming and he rolled out of this world, escaping into the in-between once more.

I spun around, reaching out with my power of necromancy, trying to find the ripple in the wall between this world and the in-between that told me where he was going to step back into our world. But I felt nothing. He was either taking a moment in the in-between to gather himself or he’d had enough for now and retreated. If I were a betting girl though, I would have said he'd be back. As I’d found, he wasn’t the type to give up and take, get screwed, for an answer.

Ever since he showed up outside the gates of the Crescent City Academy of Magics—my school—after figuring out I was there, he’d been relentless in trying to recruit me to his side. He showed up everywhere, trying to talk to me, begging me to listen to his side of the story. His side being, of course, that he didn’t kill my mother and that he was innocent of all the horrible things I’d learned about him over the last year.

I was tempted to follow him into the in-between and battle him there, but I cut a glance over at Naomi and Matthew—my two best friends at school—who were doing a working together. They were trying to duplicate a warding spell that prevented my father from setting foot on campus—and cast it over the entire town of Avignon. It was a difficult spell to cast, and they needed time to complete it. That’s why I was there in the cemetery with them. I was providing protection since we knew the instant they started to cast it, he would show up to try and stop them. If I slipped into the in-between and my father showed up and hurt them—or worse—I’d never forgive myself.

The air around them shimmered with the energy of their working. I bit my bottom lip, waiting and hoping they’d finish soon. But there was no guarantee of success. The ward cast around the school had been done by masters of the craft. What Naomi and Matthew were attempting was not just super ambitious, it was potentially dangerous.

There was a slight possibility that everything could go wrong with their spell, and if it did, it could have leveled the entire town. And because that possibility existed—remote though they said it was—there was a knot in the pit of my belly.

I was so busy watching them, I almost didn’t feel the portal opening to my right. When I finally felt it, I turned and called up a fireball. But the second my dad stepped through the portal and into this world, I felt a pair of hands grabbing my legs. It distracted me enough that I lost the thread of power and the fireball flickered out. I looked down and saw a pair of skeletal hands burst from the ground. The second pair of dead hands joined the first pair in grabbing my legs.

Damn necromancers.

The bony arms pulled hard, trying to drag me down. A squeak of fear burst from my mouth, but I channeled a thread of earth power then unleashed it. The ground around the skeletal arms reached up and dragged the dead limbs back down beneath the surface. The delay was enough though, that it allowed my father to close the gap between us, and when I turned back, he was right there, reaching for me.

My heart lurched and I reacted blindly, conjuring a pair of balls made of fire.

The heat from the fire was intense and I felt it on my skin. It was almost painful and the scent of burning hair filled my nose, and the next thing I knew, there was a hard jolt against my chest, and I was suddenly airborne. I flew backward at least ten feet and hit the ground with a bone-jarring thump that knocked the breath out of me.

A dark specter loomed above me—obviously, the source of the blow that sent me flying. I quickly conjured my ability as a necromancer and made a slashing motion with my hand. The specter dissolved, but when it disappeared and I was able to see what had been behind it, I saw my father charging at me.

Fear driving me forward, I unleashed a spear of fire aimed at his face. He stepped out of this world and I had barely a moment to react to the tingling on the back of my neck before he’d already grabbed hold of my long, dark hair.

I screeched as he yanked me roughly to my feet then turned me around to face him. I was staring into a pair of dark, malevolent eyes set in his smooth, ageless face. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and beard, and an air of Southern gentility about him. The man was anything but genteel, however.

Hi, Dad.

A smirk curled one corner of his mouth upward. Why must you continue to fight me, Juliette? I’m your father. You’re my daughter. You should be by my side.

I guess we’re just one of those dysfunctional families everybody likes to talk about, I replied. Except, instead of arguing about religion and politics during holiday meals, we argue about murder.

He sighed. Must you always be so dramatic?

Must you always be so disgustingly foul?

One of the many good things about being able to tap into elemental energy was that my father, as a necromancer, couldn’t detect when it was being used. Opening my hands and turning my palms toward him, I unleashed a blast of air that hit him square in the chest and blew him backward. He slammed into a tree and bounced forward, falling onto his hands and knees. A surge of triumph swept through me as I saw him sputtering and gasping on the ground. Conjuring up a ball of fire, I ran toward him, determined to end this once and for all.

He looked up at me as I drew near him and a vicious grin stretched his lips. It was then that I realized my mistake. Dark shapes swooped in from either side of me and my head snapped to the right as a burst of pain flared in the side of my face. I staggered and fell to a knee, the fireball in my hand blinking out. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth as I glanced up at the two shadowy wraiths that hovered nearby.

I channeled my necromancer abilities and squeezed my hand into a fist, crushing the dark spirits out of existence. The sucker punch from the wraiths gave my father enough time to get back to his feet though, and he was looming over me, a crowd of spirits standing behind him like an army waiting for the order to attack.

I don’t want to hurt you, Juliette. That’s never been my intention, he said. Please stop fighting. Don’t make me hurt you.

Why can’t you just leave me alone?

Because you’re my daughter and I have big plans for us, he replied, a greasy, smarmy smile crossing his face.

I want no part of what you’re planning. I’m not a murderer.

Nor am I, he replied smoothly. It’s simply cleaning up the mess these lower races of beings are making. You do realize vampires and shifters must kill to feed, don’t you? If anybody is a murderer, it’s them. They’re a disease. A plague. And they must be dealt with to stop them from killing others.

Justify it to yourself any way you want, I snapped. I still want no part of it. Or you.

He fell silent for a moment then frowned as he looked at me. I felt the weaves Naomi and Matthew were working with as they built toward a crescendo. They were almost done. I just need to keep my father focused on me rather than on them.

I’m trying to save lives, Juliette.

By murdering countless thousands of innocent people?

Innocent? Hardly, he said with a cold smirk. But he, as they say, you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, am I right?

His casual indifference to slaughtering thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of people turned my stomach. He scared me and I could hardly stand to be in his presence. But Naomi’s spell was almost done, and I just needed to keep him talking for a little bit longer.

Why did you kill my mother? I asked.

I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I didn’t, Juliette, he replied. It wasn’t me. And if Vivienne told you that, it’s because she’s trying to keep us separated. She’s trying to keep a wedge driven between us. She’s always hated me. But believe me, I did not kill your mother.

A shadow crossed his face and an expression that looked like sadness was etched into his features. He looked down and there was a small piece of me that wanted to believe he was being sincere. But I knew the man is a sociopath. You’d have to be, to be so casual about murdering tens of thousands of people. And because he was a sociopath, I knew I couldn’t trust a damn thing he says.

If you didn’t kill her, then who did? I asked.

He shook his head. I don’t know.

Liar.

I’m not lying to you. I’d never lie to you.

I quickly conjured a ball of fire but before I could release it, a pair of the dark wraiths behind him moved forward and pinned my arms to the ground. The fire I held fizzled out and I struggled, trying to break free. But the spirits held me fast.

Let go of me! I screamed.

Not until you are ready to have a civilized conversation with me, he replied.

As I tried walking backward, trying to keep out of his grasp, dark shape flew in from the side and collided with my father. I watched as my father went flying, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in shock. The massive beast that had hit him bounded after him, the moonlight glinting off eyes that were a golden color and seemed to glow with an inner fire. The beast’s jaws opened wide in a snarl, showcasing a row of wickedly sharp looking teeth.

My father lay on the ground, a cut on his cheek spilling blood and turning his alabaster skin a vivid shade of red. He looked up at the giant wolf closing on him then glanced over at me. Our eyes met and I saw a feral desperation in his eyes. But he quickly slipped back into the in-between and was gone.

The wolf stood in the spot occupied by my father not a moment before, raised his head and howled. The sharp keening sound sent waves of goosebumps up and down my body and made me shudder.

I felt a burst of energy and knew that Naomi and Matthew had finished their working. I jumped to my feet as the wolf turned and started toward me. As it approached though, the wolf’s body started to change. The snout retracted, as did the razor-sharp claws that tipped elongated fingers. By the time the wolf reached me, it had shifted back into his human form—that of my werewolf boyfriend for the last year, Jackson Walsh.

He reached down and took my hand, hauling me to my feet like I was lighter than a feather. All the while, I was doing my level best to keep my eyes on his and pretend I didn’t see that he was completely naked—as he always was when he shifted. You’d have thought that after a year together, I would have been used to seeing him sans clothing by now. But my face flushed with that familiar warmth that spread through my belly and other embarrassing places better not mentioned. Jackson, as he was always good enough to do, pretended not to notice.

Are you all right? he asked, concern on his face.

I nodded. I’m fine. Angry that I didn’t get him. Again.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, and I admired the way his muscles rippled and flexed beneath his skin. I cleared my throat then looked away and heard him chuckling softly.

Your dad’s slippery as hell. But we’ll get him. Eventually, he said.

Naomi and Matthew chose that moment to run up—Naomi not even hiding the fact that she was checking out his naked form. The smile on her face and sultry glint in her eyes showing she approved of what she was seeing. Matthew pulled a face though and pointedly looked away.

Dude. Could you like, put on some clothes? I’m totally not into the sausage fest.

Jackson looked down at himself and smirked, as if only just realizing he was standing there naked. He cleared his throat and without a word, turned and bounded off into the darkness of the cemetery, obviously heading for wherever he stashed his clothing before shifting. I turned back to them and saw that Naomi was still eyeballing Jackson as he retreated. I reached out and cupped her chin, turning her head to face me. She laughed and her cheeks turned a bright, almost unnatural shade of red.

You can’t blame a girl for looking, she said. Especially when the view is so—nice.

You’re incorrigible, I told her.

She shrugged. Sometimes.

Does he seriously have to get naked every single time? Matthew groaned.

You do realize the way shifting works, don’t you? I asked.

Don’t mind him, Naomi said. He’s just feeling a bit insecure about himself now that he’s seen, well, that beefy display.

I laughed as Matthew rolled his eyes and shook his head, clearly uncomfortable with Jackson’s nudity. Not that Matthew ever had a warm relationship with him anyway. Last year—my first at the Crescent City Academy of Magics— Matthew had a crush on me. But I didn’t feel the same way about him, and he took it hard. He took it even harder when I got together with Jackson not long after he’d confessed his feelings.

Things between Matthew and me were fine now. We were great friends again, but he still hadn’t entirely warmed up to Jackson. Whether