Curse of Stone: A Young Adult Paranormal Academy Romance

By Veronica Shade

Supposedly, witches can’t kill. But Madison accidentally killed her boyfriend, and now a girl at her witch academy is dead, too.

Madison spent her life avoiding her magical abilities, but when she’s forced to use them to save her best friend from a deadly storm and accidentally kills her boyfriend as a result, she decides she needs to enroll at La Voisin School for Young Witches after all.

She knew starting a year later than her peers would come with its own struggles; she just never expected one of those struggles would be the impossible murder of a classmate. The school is spelled for safety, and witches can’t kill…so how did Giselle end up dead?

Only Giselle and her killer know, and only Madison can find out. Because now, the dead witch is haunting her. Crazy thing is, Giselle’s murder isn’t even the biggest secret this school has.

Just ask the statues.

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

Scroll up and one-click to starting reading this haunting, slow burn paranormal academy romance today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evershade Publishing
• Release date: Dec 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781949112412

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

Through the clashing of the marching band and roaring of the crowd, no one hears the rumble of thunder in the distance, warning of the horrors to come.

And now here they are! the announcer crows into the mic, his voice reverberating over the cheering crowd. Your regional champions! The Turkey Hollow Turkeys!

Of course, he pronounces hollow like holler, as any good Oklahoman would.

Let’s hear your turkey hollers! the announcer calls, and all of us join in with the traditional gobble-gobble sound we learned to perfection back in our elementary school years.

My best friend and cheerleading captain, Julieta, pumps one of her pom-poms in the air. Her brown curls swish to the side with her energetic movements. Let’s go, ladies!

She leads us in a jog onto the field, where we jump and tumble, our pom-poms shimmering in the bright lights of the football field. It shouldn’t be this dark on a Saturday afternoon, but the clouds are moving their way over the sun.

We live in Tornado Alley. Before you can even walk, any kid raised here knows the terror that can follow a lightning strike, a gust of wind, and the blare of the tornado siren.

Even the most rural part of the state has early warning systems for deadly storms. But numbers lie. Systems fail. Sirens don’t always go off.

People die.

But in the thrill of enjoying one of our favorite high school pastimes, it’s all too easy to ignore the signs that the fun should be put on hold.

The clouds move in too fast. The wind changes direction. There’s that warning smell in the air.

Others might have a free pass for overlooking the signs, but I should know better. Maybe if I wasn’t always so worried about hiding my special abilities, I’d be better at trusting my instincts.

As the football team busts through the door from the locker room and onto the field, concerns about the dark weather are ignored. This is the division championships. If we win this game, we will go on to state finals! It’d be a huge accomplishment for our school, and I’m about to be a part of it.

We cheerleaders step to the side, forming an alley for the footballers to run through. We yell and raise our pom-poms, but I’m only looking for one guy.

My man. Number 63. Beau Redbird. Not hard to spot him since he towers taller than most of the football team.

When our eyes meet, it is as if the rest of the world melts away. He smiles at me from beneath his head of dark long hair that he keeps pulled back. His teeth gleam against his warm terracotta skin, and I can’t speak, can hardly move, as my heart beats to nearly rupturing in my chest. I could get lost in those big brown eyes forever.

As he passes by, he reaches out and lightly brushes my cheek. Then he’s gone, lost in the throng of players bustling onto the field. The crowd roars again as our players move into position.

Come on, Julieta says, grabbing my arm so we can take our seats on the side of the field.

This is our first chance for a break in hours. We had to lead the pep rally first, which started at noon. And that was after the charity pancake breakfast the team hosted that we had to act as servers for. Not to mention it’s been a crazy week of activities leading up to today. And if—no, when we win—the next few weeks leading up to the state finals will be even crazier.

But so worth it!

If Beau gets a scholarship, then I’ll know where to start applying for colleges, too, so we can live in the same area. I know it’s crazy to think I might have found the one when I’m only seventeen, but when you know, you know, right?

I scan the crowd for my mama. I knew I wouldn’t have time to see her this morning, so I had been pestering her all week so she wouldn’t forget the game today. This morning I’d found a note she’d left for me that said See you at three! and stuffed it into my bag as I ran out of the house. Part of me knows she didn’t come, but I can’t help but hope.

I don’t see her anywhere. The bleachers are packed, though, and she’s kind of short. She could be here; I just can’t see her.

That’s a first down! the announcer yells.

The crowd cheers and gobble-gobbles, bringing me back to the game. We cheerleaders jump to our feet and rustle our pom-poms.

A cold gust of wind pushes at the back of my neck, sending goose bumps across my flesh. I turn around, a sense of dread pressing down on me when I see the black cloud seeping over the field.

Julieta? I say, nudging her with my elbow. What did the weather say today?

Chance of storms later, like after five, she says, still watching the game. Hopefully the game will end before the rain starts.

I don’t think we are going to make it. I tug on her arm, forcing her to turn around.

Shoot! she says as she reaches into her top and pulls her phone out of her bra. I better check for any warnings.

Out in the crowd, a few other people are also checking their phones. There may have been no siren or official warning, but we need to get inside.

I grit my teeth, eyeing the storm cloud above. We could make it a little longer, couldn’t we? This game is too important. If we call it off now, there’ll be no chance to reschedule before the finals.

A few people shrug and return to the game. I guess I’m not the only one hoping the storm will just blow over.

There’s no warning, Julieta says. Even the radar shows it going way west of here. I’m sure we’ll be fine. It just looks bad.

I nod, and we both turn back to the field. But the wind lifts my hair, brushes my skin. I feel the electricity in the air zapping my fingertips. The air is calling me. Warning me. Speaking to me.

Run.

Oh no, Julieta says before I can voice my panic. Mr. Barker’s dog got out again!

Across the field, on the other side of the fence, Mr. Barker’s little brown pomeranian runs loose, sniffing the grass and barking at something.

I better go get her, Julieta says, and she takes off before I can stop her.

Mr. Barker is an elderly gentleman who lives next to the school. He was a state champion back in like the fifties or something. Kind of a local legend, so we all look out for him. His dog, Mimi, sneaks out once in a while and we all fight over who gets to take her back home and get treated to tea and poppin’ fresh homemade biscuits with butter and honey.

Sometimes, I think Mr. Barker lets Mimi out on purpose for an excuse to get some visitors. He doesn’t seem lonely when we’re there, but I bet he is the rest of the time. He’s a sweet old widower who loves to drone on about back in my day…

But today, as I see Julieta running across the field, her superb brown ringlets bouncing in the staticky air, I’d rather leave Mimi to her own devices and get everyone else inside.

I pull out my own phone, checking the weather alerts myself.

Please, please, please, I mutter. Please, let there be an alert.

We need to get everyone inside. I just know it in the magical way I seem to know these sorts of things. But there is nothing, and I’ll seem crazy if I tell people to go in now. They’d ignore me, and then hate me for trying to ruin such an important game for our school.

Run!

I can’t ignore the warnings any longer. I don’t have to look to know the storm is about to break over us.

Screw it. They can hate me. I have to say something.

I run to Coach and grab his arm. He pulls off his headphones and narrows his stormy grey eyes at me. He glares up at me. It’s funny he ever played football, to be honest. He’s short and has a bit of a beer belly. The latter might not have been a problem when he was in highschool, but I doubt he’s shrunk since then.

This better be important, Whittaker! he barks. It’s a serious breach of rules to interrupt Coach during a game.

The words die in my throat, so I just point. He turns to look up, and terror sweeps over me. The clouds are churning more now. Thicker, darker. Almost evil.

Coach throws his headset back on and pushes a button. We need to call this off and get everyone inside, he says. Now! Storm’s coming in fast.

Screams of panic tear my attention back to the bleachers. Some people in the crowd are pointing at the roiling clouds; others have already jumped to their feet and are trampling their way down to the field.

But there’s a few who have planted themselves firmly, arms crossed as if refusing to give in to the power of nature and let anything disrupt the game.

Coach blows a whistle and sprints onto the field to convene with the other coach and referees. The players seem confused at first, but then they see the storm and start taking off their helmets. I motion to Beau to come to the side of the field, but he shakes his head.

His attention is swiftly back on the coach, like he can’t make any more decisions—not even for safety—without Coach’s approval first.

Okay, folks, the announcer says, an undercurrent of panic in his voice. Looks like we got a gullywasher coming in. Let’s have a nice orderly procession off the field and into the building. Hopefully it will blow us by, and we can resume the game.

After a screech of feedback and a thunk, the announcer tosses off his headset. He’s probably making a beeline for the door, not wasting a moment of time to get to the ground.

The crowd is in chaos. Some people boo and hiss at having to leave their seats. Others still refuse to get up, blocking the way. Several people hop from bleacher to bleacher, trying to find any path to the ground and back to the high school building across the parking lot.

Finally, the coaches give their players permission to vacate the field.

Be the leaders I know you all are, Coach says to the boys. Escort everyone inside in an orderly fashion.

Beau runs to me first and squeezes my hand. You need to get inside.

I have to find my mama first, I reply. Even though I have a feeling she never showed, I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her. I’ll meet you inside.

The wind picks up, blowing around us. My hair and skirt flutter in the breeze. He turns to block me from the wind, his warm arms wrapping me in a safe embrace.

A tornado siren blares, shattering the air. The few people left in the bleachers finally realize the seriousness of the situation and jump to their feet, crowding the exits as they try to pile down the rows of the bleachers all at once.

Beau releases my hand. I’ll find your mom. You get inside, he says, then he runs to the bleachers with the other players to escort the people off the field.

I look around to make sure all the cheerleaders are gone when I see Julieta scampering back over the fence, Mimi in her arms.

I wave to her. Come on! I scream, but my voice dies as the wind howls. Branches and debris fly across the field. Hurry!

Julieta shields Mimi in one arm and lifts the other to protect her head. The last of the crowd is making their way across the parking lot. We are the only people left.

I run toward Julieta, but just before I reach her, a piece of debris smacks her in the side of the head. She crumples to the ground, and it’s as though the debris has impaled my own heart.

Not my friend. I have to do something!

Julieta! I scream.

Mimi yelps as Julieta lands on top of her, but she squirms her way out from under her and sprints toward the building.

I kneel at Julieta’s side and shake her, but she doesn’t respond. I lift her head and see a trail of blood seeping from her temple. Her head lolls back down. I put my fingers to her throat .

There’s a pulse.

Come on! I cry, trying to get her to her feet, but it’s no use. I’m strong from cheer practice, but I can’t deadlift another human being.

I stand and look around, trying to find someone to help, but everyone is safely inside.

As the tornado forms, debris swirling around us, I know there’s really only one hope that we’ll survive this.

I have no choice.

Even though I swore I wouldn’t, I have to use my powers.

After years of hiding them, I’m not even sure I can, but I have to at least try. I stand and face the storm. I’m not strong enough to stop it, or even redirect it, but I should be able to create a pocket of air around us for protection.

Dread churns in my gut that I might not be enough of an air witch to pull this off. But I can’t stand by and do nothing.

I raise my hands and call on Hecate, the First Witch, for strength. I cannot create air, but I am able to gather the wisps of errant breezes around me to create a small cyclone of my own.

As my magical cyclone whirls around us, faster and faster, the tornado drops from the clouds to the earth like an angry dragon’s tail. Lightning strikes around it, and the wind roars threateningly, but I hold my ground.

I’ve had no formal training in how to use my powers. Everything I know is simply from the trial and error of my youth, before I realized it wasn’t safe to use my powers. There’s too much risk of someone seeing me.

It’s been a few years since I’ve practiced against a fierce Oklahoma storm, and that wasn’t a tornado. I’ve never faced down a tornado before.

Mama would kill me.

But I can think of no other way to protect Julieta. If the tornado comes for us, we are doomed.

The tornado skirts around the field, growling like a freight train bearing down on us. The sky churns, spitting down stinging rain. Lightning sparks.

Then the tornado seems to pass us by.

Relief floods through me so fast that my blood runs cold. We’re going to be okay!

Just as soon as I have that thought, though, I’m reminded that tailwinds are the most dangerous. The tornado had ripped up trees and demolished houses, and now the remnants are following in its wake, careening toward us.

Siding from a house pummels toward us, but I wave my arm, slapping the debris to the right with a gust of wind to send it away from us. A patio chair tumbles toward us next, but I knock it away as well. A tree branch, a rearview mirror, shingles—I knock most of it away with counterair, and the stray pieces bounce off the protective air bubble I’ve created.

I start to think we just might survive this when something dark and long falls out of the clouds and heads straight toward us. I try to send a gust of wind toward it, to knock it off course, but it is too heavy. As it gets closer, I realize it is a bundle of rebar, probably from a nearby construction site.

Damn it.

I can’t maintain the air pocket and control the gusts. It will take all my strength to divert debris this heavy.

I drop the air pocket and send not just a gust, but a full surge of wind to the rebar. It is just enough to redirect the rebar’s fall, and it crashes to the ground, the zip ties holding it together breaking, sending the rebar flying in all directions.

I scream and send out a burst of wind to keep the errant rebar from hitting us. There are too many of them that I don’t even think about where to send the flying metal. All I think about is pushing air out, away from us in every direction.

The wind starts to die down, and the tornado slips back up into the clouds. The siren goes silent. I collapse at Julieta’s side and shake her. She groans.

Hey! I say. Are you okay? She grunts again but doesn’t speak. I brush a curl from her face. I’m going to go get help.

I stand up, my legs and hands shaking. I’m tired from the exertion, but the adrenaline is still rushing through my veins. I can’t believe I faced down a tornado! I can’t wait to tell Mama. She’ll be mad, but there’s no one else I can tell. No one else knows I’m a witch.

I run past the bleachers to the field’s exit to find someone to help me with Julieta. She needs a doctor. But as I run, I see someone else collapsed on the field, lying on his back.

Not just anyone. My boyfriend.

My blood freezes in my chest, and my whole body stops. The adrenaline is gone. The fear of the tornado is gone. Julieta and Mama are gone.

There is only Beau.

I find my feet and run toward him, my arms pumping at my sides. Beau!

He’s not moving. Why is he just lying there?

When I reach him, I see why.

A stick of rebar is jutting out of his chest, his dark blood pooling around it.

No! I collapse at his side, my lungs seizing and tears pinching my face. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

His eyes are wide open, but he doesn’t respond.

I shake him. Wake up! Please!

But the truth is there in those warm brown eyes I could get lost in. And this time, I really am lost. I need Beau. He can’t leave me.

Beau! I shake him harder, clinging on for some kind of miracle. Come on, we have our whole lives ahead of us. Beau!

But he’s already dead. He was probably dead before he hit the ground. And just like that, my life might as well be over too. Tears sting my eyes, and pain grips my heart like the talons of a devil’s claws. This can’t be reality.

Beau was my everything. He can’t be gone.

He can’t be. But he is, and I’ll never be the same.

I scream to Hecate. Cursing her. Begging her for help. But I know she had no hand in this. This was me. My fault. My pride. My stupidity.

I’ve killed the boy I love.

Chapter 2

The hospital smells of disinfectant, blood, and salt. Everyone speaks in hushed voices, but I can still hear what everyone is saying as their words carry on the air.

Such a tragedy.

He was such an amazing young man.

It was Madison Whittaker who found him? Weren’t they dating?

I shake my head and forbid the wind from carrying the voices to me. I look down at the blood on my hands, my fingers red and trembling. I fumble for my phone for the third time and try to call Mama.

There’s no answer.

Again.

As I shove it into my duffel bag, the note she left me that morning falls out. See you at three! I want to scream as I crumble it up and shove it into the deepest corner of the bag, under my street shoes and shorts. I’m still in my cheer uniform. Blood on the skirt. But whether it is from Julieta or Beau, I’m not sure.

Miss Whittaker? a deep voice says.

I look up to see two police officers standing there. They both have blond hair, which is a bit unusual out here where my best friend is one of the only fair-haired people from town I know.

The officer on the left is a bit taller, but the one on the right looks as if he’s trying to make up for being vertically challenged by hitting the gym every day.

They both stare down, their mouths pressed into twin straight lines.

Y-yes? I ask, my voice cracking. I didn’t realize how dry my throat was.

Can we speak to you for a moment? the first officer asks. His name is Officer Downs, if his nametag is to be trusted.

Umm...should my mama be here? I ask.

You aren’t in any trouble, the second officer says. He’s a man I know from my neighborhood as Officer Jordan. We just have to take a statement before you can go home and get cleaned up.

I nod, looking at my red hands. I should wash them. Why haven’t I done that yet?

Can you come with us? Officer Downs asks.

I look up and across the hall, through the big open window to Julieta’s room. I’m not sure why I’m not in there. How did we even get to the hospital? What time is it?

Julieta’s mom is in the room talking to the doctors. Julieta is still unconscious, but no one seems worried. Still, I don’t want to leave just yet.

Umm...I… I’m not sure what to say, or what to do. I shouldn’t talk to the cops without my mama, right? Isn’t that the law or something?

I feel like I’m about to cry when I catch Julieta’s mom’s eye. She excuses herself from the doctors and rushes to my side.

Maddie? she asks, giving the officers a stern eye as she sits in the chair beside me. What’s going on?

Nothing at all, Mrs. Hernandez, Officer Downs says, doffing his police cap at her. Julieta’s family owns the Mexican restaurant in town, so the Hernandezes are pretty well-known. We just need a statement from Madison so she can go home.

Does she need a lawyer or her mother? Mrs. Hernandez asks, and I am so thankful she is here to take charge.

No, ma’am, Officer Jordan says. She’s not in any trouble. We just need to confirm what we think happened, and then she is free to go. I’m sure she needs the rest.

Have you at least tried to call Genevieve? Mrs. Hernandez asks.

Yes, ma’am. Several times, Officer Jordan says, and a knowing look passes between the three of them. My mama is a bit well-known as well, but not for any good reason.

Fine, Mrs. Hernandez says. Come into Julieta’s room. She’s sleeping, so we can talk there.

The officers nod, and Mrs. Hernandez helps me to my feet and leads me to Julieta’s room. She sets me in a chair and hands me a cup of water from the table next to Julieta’s bed.

I try to thank her, but no words make it through my parched throat, which I now realize is also sore. How long had I screamed before someone found me and Beau?

I gulp down the water and then hand the cup back to Mrs. Hernandez. I nod toward Julieta. Is she going to be okay?

Yes, honey, Mrs. Hernandez says, rubbing my back. She just needs rest.

Officer Downs takes out a notebook and pen. Can you tell us what you were doing on the field after the siren went off?

I was trying to help Julieta get to the building, I say. Mr. Barker’s dog was out, and she went to pick her up. Oh! Mimi! I suddenly exclaim. What happened to Mimi?

Who’s Mimi? Officer Downs asks.

Dog that lives near the school, Officer Jordan explains quickly, then he pats my hand. She’s fine. One of the other students found her and took her home.

I don’t know why this brings me such relief, but it does. Why do I care so much about that stupid dog?

Then what happened? Officer Downs asks.

I don’t know, I say, trying to remember. A branch or something flew up and hit Julieta in the head. The debris was moving so fast, I didn’t see what it was. She fell. I stayed by her side to—

I stop myself before I say protect her. I don’t know a lot about being a witch, except that it’s something I need to keep to myself.

I couldn’t leave her alone, I say finally.

That was very dangerous, Officer Downs says.

And brave, Mrs. Hernandez adds.

Officer Downs presses his lips together.

How did you find Mr. Redbird? Officer Jordan asks.

My breath hitches in my throat at the callous way he refers to Beau. Some part of my mind was not ready to