Queen of Legacy: A Young Adult Paranormal Academy Romance

By Veronica Shade

Saving the Soule Coven starts with saving one statue from the academy – but its walls are impenetrable, and Madison is being hunted.

After a painful betrayal and a frightening encounter with her pursuers, Madison’s at a dead end. As she risks detection and death to pursue a Salem urban legend connected to the statues, Madison finds the clues she needs…and unravels some family secrets she never wanted to know.

Haunted by her discoveries, Madison realizes she and her friends can’t rival the power of La Voisin alone – but if they step aside, the entire supernatural community will be doomed. To have any hope of winning this fight, Madison must walk into a den of gods and somehow convince them to help instead of taking her life.

But even that might not be enough to breach the defenses of La Voisin, where deadly magic lurks darker than ever.

Fans of Stephenie Meyers’ Twilight and Bella Forrest’s Harley Merlin series will devour Veronica Shade’s Academy of the Damned series.

Scroll up and one-click to continue reading this slow burn paranormal academy romance today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evershade Publishing
• Release date: Nov 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781949112450

Veronica Shade

Veronica Shade writes fast-paced young adult and new adult paranormal romance reads. When she's not busy writing about snarky heroines and darkly dreaming vampires, she spends her time binge-watching Game of Thrones and reruns of Firefly, playing with her cats, or gaming. Veronica’s love for writing comes second only to her love of reading. If you like her books, she recommends you also check out Bella Forrest, Kiera Cass, and Cassandra Clare. The Veronica Shade pen name is a joint-venture persona of authors Rebecca Hamilton, Heather Marie Adkins, April Canavan, Anna Applegate, and Leigh Anderson.

Book preview

Chapter 1

How did everything go so wrong?

I’d had a goal. A plan. My best friend had bound her soul to a voodoo loa, and I’d received a gift from a goddess. How could everything have fallen apart so quickly?

While Zandie stands sentinel at the door, Gillian goes outside and pulls a metal screen down to protect her large shop window from the storm...and whatever else might be coming. Meanwhile, Krista paces Ritual of Magic’s floor, chewing her thumbnail.

I know she wants to go back and save Ivy, but we can’t. Saying so would just add salt to a fresh wound, so I hold my breath and wait for the inevitable.

Zandie ushers Gillian back inside, then locks the door behind her and mutters something under her breath. Probably a voodoo spell of some kind, as one might expect from a voodoo priestess who descended from Marie Laveau. She runs her finger around the doorframe, and a small white light trails behind her touch.

The door should be secure, she says, whirling to face us.

Worry lines pucker between Gillian’s eyes. Should be?

Zandie shrugs. I’m a powerful woman...but so is Camille.

Gillian looks around her shop, her business, her livelihood, and her expression falls so much, I feel my stomach sink in response. She’s about to lose everything...and it’s my fault.

All of my friends have sacrificed so much for me, and I haven't been able to give them anything in return. None of my plans have worked out. We are no closer to rescuing Damon or Zoey, and now Ivy is lost, too. All of the Soule family are still stone. Hecate is goddess knows where.

If Gillian loses her shop—loses the income she needs for her family—I don’t know how I could ever repay her.

Gillian’s eyes meet mine, and she forces a smile. I have insurance.

Is she saying that because my aura is throwing off major guilt waves, or does she actually have insurance on her shop?

I want to believe she does. Unlike me, Gillian is a responsible adult, whereas I’m just an idiot who has no idea what I’m doing.

A crash of thunder and lightning makes the ground rumble and lights up the shop, as if all the fixtures are sporting thousand-watt bulbs. A moment later, everything snaps to a deep obsidian darkness.

Power’s out, Krista says, the sound of her pacing footsteps stilling.

Gillian gets to work lighting candles. She has like a million of them. The candlelight casts flickering shadows on Zandie’s figure as she remains stalwart at the window, a tight grimace on her face as she watches out to the street beyond the panes.

Anyone out there? Gillian asks as she works her way around the room.

Not yet, Zandie says, arms crossed and focus unmoving. But the storm is getting worse. I don’t see any lights on down the road.

At least it wasn’t just us, then, Krista says, finally sitting down, though her knees are bouncing with nervous energy.

This isn’t natural, Gillian says. A thunderstorm in New England in November? A freak snowstorm, maybe, but not this.

Agreed, Zandie says. The ominous chill in her tone casts an icy breeze down my spine. This is Camille’s doing.

But why? Krista asks, rocking back to her feet to stand next to Zandie at the door.

To scare us, Zandie says. To demonstrate her power. To make it more difficult for us to escape. Who knows?

All of those possibilities sound pretty bad, Gillian says, stopping to look around the shop. Dozens of candles are lit by now, and she nods to herself as if she’s satisfied with the outcome. Then she stands next to me. You’re being awfully quiet.

I shrug. I already told them I don’t know what to do. I’ve gotten them into this mess, and I have no idea how to get them out of it. At this point, I’m just trying to not make things worse.

You need to come up with something— Zandie starts, but Krista, who’s been hovering close, stumbles into her elbow first. Zandie glares at Krista as my friend locks her gaze with the voodoo priestess.

How did you end up here, anyway? Krista asks. You just, like, appeared. Can you portal us out of here?

That was Marie’s doing, Zandie says, ticking her eyes up as if annoyed. When Camille tried to take the grimoire, she brought me here to stop her. I can’t just— She waves her hand around. —open portals here and there.

Damn, Krista says, raising her eyebrows. Possibly in part to Zandie’s story, and possibly in part to Zandie’s attitude.

At least you’re trying to come up with something, Zandie, I say, cutting a glare at Krista. We need Zandie’s help, and irritating her isn’t how we’ll get it. I...I’m completely at a loss.

Krista looks around the shop, eyeing a mirror leaned against a wall, then turns her attention to Gillian. We could go through there, right?

Gillian grimaces. The mirrors in the shop are spell-protected, for my safety. Though, she says, looking at Zandie, I guess that’s no match for a loa.

Zandie’s annoyed expression seems to set further. "Unless Marie portals me out of here, there’s nothing I can do."

Well, we don’t have time to remove the wards on any of my mirrors, Gillian says, spreading her hands. Should we just...leave? There’s a back door.

Not without Ivy, Krista says, whirling toward us sharply. Before I can respond, she looks at me with stony eyes, and I give her a nod.

Not without Ivy, I repeat. Or, ideally, Damon. As a Soule witch, he might be the only person who can really help us. I can read the grimoire, but only he will be strong enough to perform the spells the way they need to be.

Gillian purses her lips. I just don’t see—

Shh! Zandie hisses suddenly.

As she points out the window, we all go silent, crowding around her to look out the window at what she sees. Five cloaked figures are walking down the street toward us. The rain leaves a dry circle around them, as if the group is protected from the elements entirely.

They stop in front of the shop, and I gulp.

The central figure pulls their hood back, unsurprisingly revealing Camille. When the other figures join her in revealing themselves, we’re met with Jaxon, his mom, and Ms. Boucher.

"What’s she doing here?" Krista asks before I can.

She’s talking about Ms. Boucher. I know because I’m just as shocked as she is.

Who? Zandie asks.

One of those women used to be the air mentor, I explain. When I first came here, she was the person who killed Giselle and set all this in motion. I...I just thought she was gone forever.

Well it makes sense, I guess, Krista says. Camille must have been in cahoots with her the whole time. She knew Ms. Boucher killed Giselle, and why. She’s been playing you from the beginning.

Why, though? I ask. That whole thing happened before I learned the truth. What does any of it have to do with me?

Oh my goddess, Gillian says, and we all look back out to the street.

Camille had said something to the fifth cloaked figure, who is now reluctantly pulling back her hood. It’s Ivy, her head drooped and tears mottling her face.

Oh, hell no! Krista says, and she opens the door before anyone can stop her.

Hands flaming, she rushes into the rain and throws a fireball at Camille, but the woman just bats it away in midair like it’s nothing more than a pesky gnat.

Get back here! Zandie yells, but Krista ignores her.

Krista! Ivy yells. Run! Get out of here!

Not without you!

Camille rolls her eyes. Did you really think Ivy would betray me? One of her own kind? The person who trained her and made her the witch she is today?

You bitch! Krista runs toward Camille, but Camille knocks her down with the flick of her wrist. Then she nods to Ms. Boucher, who steps forward and summons enough air around her to lift off the ground.

I can’t stand by and do nothing.

Come on! I say to Zandie as I rush out into the rain as well.

I try to summon a whirlwind, but Ms. Boucher pulls the air I gather away from me before I can do anything. Shadows rise from the ground around Camille and grasp at her cloak as if trying to pull her down through the ground with them, but Camille merely kicks them away.

Zandie’s eyes go wide as they dissipate like smoke.

Camille lifts her hand, and lightning shoots from her fingers toward where Krista had fallen moments before. Toward where Gillian is now helping her get back to her feet.

The vision I once had of Gillian dying flashes suddenly and horribly in my mind. Without even thinking, and so quickly that Ms. Boucher can’t stop me, I whip the air at Gillian to pull her out of the way.

But I’m not quick enough.

Gillian slams into the wall and falls to the ground.

Run! I scream to her. To Krista. To anyone who will listen before it’s too late, and their deaths are on my hands.

Zandie lifts her arms and chants something, and a wall of shadows appears in front of her. Krista helps get Gillian to her feet, and I help Krista get Gillian inside as Zandie and her wall back toward the door to join us.

Ms. Boucher tries to hit Zandie with a burst of air, but the wall deflects it. Once we’re all inside, Zandie magically reseals the door, then spins toward Krista with a glare.

What do you think you were doing? she yells as Krista and I lay Gillian out on the floor.

I put a hand on Zandie’s arm, hoping my touch is calming, and give a small shake of my head. Not now, I whisper.

Gillian groans. I’m scared to look, but when I do, it’s not as bad as I feared. The injury isn’t to her stomach, but to the left side. Her shirt is burned through, and her skin is seared. I’m sure it’s plenty painful, but at least it wasn’t a deadly blow.

Fuck! Krista says, and Gillian lets out a sob.

We have to get help, I say, trying to hold back my own tears.

From who? How? What do we do now? Krista asks, looking at me.

I look to Zandie, but she just arches her eyebrow at me. Yes, Madison, what do we do now?

She’s mad I corrected her for yelling at Krista, and we so don’t have time for that kind of drama.

The building shakes violently under a roar of wind. Fucking Ms. Boucher. She’s calling a tornado.

Time to get the hell out of here, I say. I’m so sorry, I tell Gillian as I put her arm over my shoulders.

Krista does the same with the other arm, and we pull Gillian to her feet. She cries out, but at least she’s able to move her feet.

It’ll be okay, I say over and over as we move Gillian through the shop to another door in the back room.

Krista opens it, and we head out into the alley and back into the pelting rain. A glance over my shoulder shows Zandie following us, backward, making sure no one breaks through the door and comes after us.

But when I look back in the direction we’re heading, Jaxon looms in our path.

Crap.

Come on, I plead with him. You don’t want to be part of this. Let us go. She’s a mortal and needs help. Just let us go.

I can’t do that, Madison, he says, lifting his hands, and vines from the bushes and trees behind the alley begin to snake toward us.

Zandie stands next to me in an attack pose, but as much as I want to get out of here and protect Gillian, a stupid part of me doesn’t want to see Jaxon get hurt.

Wait, I tell Zandie, who scowls at me.

"Jaxon, don’t," Krista says, her voice catching. When I glance back at her, she’s crying.

Jaxon sighs, and the plants slow their crawl. You know I have to do this, Krista.

You don’t, she says. "You don’t have to. Camille already took you from me, and now Ivy. Are you really going to let my friend here die too?"

Jaxon goes quiet, his lips pressing together as the rain pelts all of us.

"Run," he finally says.

I don’t wait to see if he changes his mind.

I turn Gillian to move down the alley. Go!

Thank you, Krista says to him, but she doesn’t dawdle, either.

There! I nod toward a door with the name of a dress shop over it. They’ll have mirrors. We can portal out of here.

Zandie runs ahead of us and kicks the door open without even checking to see if it had been unlocked.

A woman who had been working in the back room turns to us, her eyes wide. What the he—

Run, Zandie says, waving her hand in front of the woman’s eyes.

The woman turns around and runs through the front of the shop and out the door as if under a spell.

Actually, most certainly under a spell.

There’s no mirrors in this room, so we go into the main part of the shop. I point to the two dressing rooms off to the side.

There! I say.

Zandie runs ahead and pulls the curtain back. Krista, Gillian, and I angle ourselves so that I go into the tiny room first. I adjust my grip on Gillian and then slap my hand on the mirror.

Take me home, to my bedroom, I say. To Turkey Hollow.

The mirror ripples, and I practically fall through it. I catch myself as I step into the room, pulling Gillian and Krista through behind me. We go to my bed and lay Gillian on it.

As soon as Zandie is through, I rush to the mirror and lock it so that no one else can follow us. A weird sense of relief washes over me, and I sink to my knees, grateful to be alive.

I push my wet hair back out of my face, trying to pull myself together to figure out what to do next. But then I hear crying.

I look up and see Krista sitting on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands. I crawl over and put a hand on her knee.

Hey, it’s okay, I say. We made it.

"Go to hell!" she says, jumping to her feet, then goes into my bathroom and slams the door behind her.

A loud thud tells me she’s sunk to the floor against the wall; I’d made that same thudding sound hundreds of times after finding Mama high and passed out from drugs on the living room couch.

As Krista’s sobs carry through my bathroom door, realization hits me as to why.

We left Ivy behind.

Krista left Ivy behind.

When she started helping Gillian into the shop, she never stopped to go back for Ivy. She never balked when I said we needed to leave. She put Gillian’s safety first, ahead of her own feelings.

So I let her cry. Because I understand. I understand we’ve all just been doomed to a situation we can never fully recover from.

If we even survive this at all.

Chapter 2

Gillian’s eyes are closed, but tears still run down her face. I lean over her and gently place my hand on her shoulder. Hey, I whisper, like even speaking too loud might cause her more pain. How are you?

She grimaces. It...it’s not so bad...if I don’t move, she says, but the strain in her voice says otherwise.

I’m going to get help, I tell her, and she nods, then winces and squeezes her eyelids tighter. I can’t help but cringe in sympathy.

When I open the door to my room, Mama and Julieta are already running up the stairs.

Madison! Mama cries. She runs to me and grasps me in her arms.

For a moment, I wonder how she knows something is wrong, but I’m sure I look a fright, and any time I show up unannounced is probably bad news. I give her a quick squeeze and then pull away.

What’s wrong? she asks, still holding both my shoulders so that I can move no closer or farther away. It’s like she’s trying to get a good look at me, like maybe she can figure out what’s going on even if I don’t tell her. What are you doing here?

I’m fine, I say. I step away, out of her grasp. It’s my friend, Gillian. I think we need to call an ambulance.

Mama rushes into my room and fusses over Gillian while Julieta gives me a tight smile and gentle hand-squeeze before entering the room, too.

She pauses when she passes the bathroom, juts her thumb toward the door, and leans in to whisper, "What’s going on in there?"

Oh, that’s Krista, I say. I’m giving her space. I lower my voice to match Julieta’s whisper. We had to leave Ivy behind. She’s taking it hard.

Is Ivy okay?

I shake my head slowly. Yes and no. She’s alive. It’s complicated. I’ll tell you later.

Julieta nods and joins Mama at the bedside while I stand nearby, nervously chewing my thumbnail.

Hey, honey, Mama says to Gillian. Can I take a look?

Gillian nods and grunts as she takes her hand from her wound. I hear Mama suck in a breath, but she collects herself quickly.

I think I can help, Mama says. It doesn’t look deep. I have some meds and creams the doctor gave me when I burned myself last year.

You burned yourself last year? I ask. I don’t remember anything about that. What happened?

Never try to work a gas grill high, Mama says, trying to play it off like a joke. But her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and I don’t want to hear more.

Julieta tilts her head as if she’s listening to someone even though the room’s gone silent at Mama’s joke.

I can help too, she says finally. I just need some things from the kitchen.

Wait, I say. I appreciate all you’re trying to do, but this is serious. She was basically struck by lightning. She needs a hospital.

And how are you going to explain this to them? Mama asks. They’re going to want to know what happened, and there’s been no lightning here.

Madison, Julieta says, giving me a pointed look, she’ll be okay. Understand?

I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other and nod. Julieta must be trying to tell me that Mama Marinetta is going to help but doesn’t want to say anything in front of my mom. Still, working with Mama Marinetta always has a cost, and I’m not comfortable with that.

Zandie’s fingers wrap over my shoulder. Madison, she says, and I turn to face her, glad for the distraction while Mama and Julieta help Gillian. There’s nothing I can do for her. I must go now.

Go? I ask, my stomach dropping as I turn to face her. Why? I need you.

I understand your fear, she says, looking past my shoulder to Gillian. But this isn’t my place, not my fight. Mama Marinetta has ordered my return home. I must be with my own people.

I look at Julieta, suddenly terrified that she will be called away too, but Zandie seems to read my mind.

"She hasn’t been called away, and I don’t see why she would be. She belongs here with you. You are her people, Madison. You always will be."

I pull Zandie in for a hug, though she doesn’t seem to really want one, so I quickly release her and step back. Thank you for coming. I don’t know what would have happened without you.

She squeezes one of my shoulders from the safe distance that maintains the personal space she seems to prefer. You can do this, she says. The gods are on your side.

I nod as she goes to the mirror, touches it, and steps through. Returning to the bedside, I check to see what’s going on with Gillian. She seems calmer, her face not twisted in pain so much. Mama is taping some gauze over the wound.

What did you do? I ask.

Julieta’s the one to reply. Gave her something for the pain, she says. And something to help her rest.

I cleaned and dressed the wound, Mama adds. I’ll check on it in a couple of hours.

I’m surprised by how...competent...my mom seems. How did she learn this stuff? I’m about to ask her when she stands and gives me a look somewhere