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    Nocturnal Academy 17: Victoria Victorious
    Nocturnal Academy 17: Victoria Victorious
    Nocturnal Academy 17: Victoria Victorious
    Ebook232 pages3 hours

    Nocturnal Academy 17: Victoria Victorious

    By Ethan Somerville

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    About this ebook

    Dark things are massing from the remotest corners of the Immaterum, where the realm fractures and merges with other inhospitable regions. These are the lost and insane; demons, spirits and ancient gods without names or worshippers. Something is calling and uniting them with deadly purpose.

    Because of his close affinity with the Immaterium Professor Abbacus can hear the monsters coming. He has fought them before, back in 1895 when they were united by the Martians. But he can’t understand them or determine their new mission. At his wits’ end he is finally forced to seek help from an old enemy.

    Meanwhile another blast from his past finally reaches the Nocturnal Academy. This person has been hunting him for decades, following minute clues across the country, but for what purpose? To rekindle an old friendship? Or to kill him for leaving them behind?

    To fight the approaching evil everyone at the Nocturnal Academy must be on high alert for anything even slightly out of the ordinary. Because even the sweet old folks of the Appleton Seniors Meditation and Tai Chi Group might not be exactly who they appear.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStorm Publishing
    Release dateAug 31, 2017
    ISBN9781370434534
    Nocturnal Academy 17: Victoria Victorious
    Author

    Ethan Somerville

    Ethan Somerville is a prolific Australian author with over 20 books published, and many more to come. These novels cover many different genres, including romance, historical, children's and young adult fiction. However Ethan's favourite genres have always been science fiction and fantasy. Ethan has also collaborated with other Australian authors and artists, including Max Kenny, Emma Daniels, Anthony Newton, Colin Forest, Tanya Nicholls and Carter Rydyr.

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      Book preview

      Nocturnal Academy 17 - Ethan Somerville

      Nocturnal Academy 17

      Victoria Victorious

      By

      Ethan Somerville

      SMASHWORDS EDITION

      * * * *

      PUBLISHED BY:

      Storm Publishing on Smashwords

      Nocturnal Academy 17 – Victoria Victorious

      Copyright © 2017 by Ethan Somerville

      www.stormpublishing.net

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

      * * * *

      Chapter 1

      After the great battle in the Immaterium, the Wall of Fire was sealed and Necronis the Unmaker banished back to his grim Pit of Dark Flame. The Dark God’s many supporters were scattered far and wide. Some came crawling back to the new demon lord who’d parked his titanic backside in front of the back wall to strengthen it, and Vladrakov accepted their pitiful apologies with a great grin of amusement spread across his toadlike face. Flipping a huge, pudgy hand, he declared that he would allow them to live, but only if he could humiliate them for a few hundred years first.

      The new Lord of the Immaterium now had his palace, not-so-lovingly designed by Professor Abbacus. It had numerous wings, towers and soaring minarets. It appeared a ridiculous folly, but was structurally sound and already starting to bloom with mutant foliage. Vladrakov had his great hall, surrounded by big glass windows, from which he could survey his featureless domain. Like his predecessor Abraxas, he extended tentacles from his huge, flabby body to explore every nook and cranny of his wonderful new house.

      He may have been the lord of a dead realm, but he didn’t care. To be a lord was all he had ever wanted, and he was at peace.

      At least for now.

      Those who didn’t want to join Vladrakov journeyed farther afield. They found other remote corners of the Immaterium to hide in, where the grim, grey realm started to thin and fracture, merging with others that existed on the very fringes of reality.

      These realms were known by such inspiring names as the outer astral plane, the void, the warp, dark space and even the land of the dead. They were even more inhospitable than the Immaterium itself. Over billions of years they had attracted mindless and insane beings from all over the multiverse. Some of these creatures might have been as intelligent as gods, but for one reason or another they couldn’t form a single coherent thought.

      It was here the Earth’s astral moon and all its dark inhabitants existed. And the horrific beings who’d accompanied the Martians on their invasion of Earth in 1895.

      And it was here the disgraced demon lord Oradhur fled to heal all the damage he’d sustained during the battle to free Necronis. He brought with him a ragged horde of followers, most of whom were only accompanying him because they were too proud to join Vladrakov. Merely a handful stuck by him out of true loyalty.

      Only the hardiest of travellers journeyed to these fragmented realms, and the vicious, insane natural denizens began to pick off Oradhur’s followers. The demon lord knew if he couldn’t persuade them they would eventually eat him too. They were at least as powerful as he was, but there were so many of them, as formless and furious as he was, but completely crazy, craving only endless, mindless destruction.

      Oradhur spoke softly, patiently, not reacting as his hapless demon minions continued to be snapped up and swallowed all around him. He didn’t care about them. The only other being he cared about was his trapped lord, Necronis. He bubbled with rage but kept his voice low and hypnotic, the same melodic tone he’d once used to sway a powerful Stigmata cleric named Father Donelli.

      It was one of his specialities.

      Eventually the monsters began to gather around him, not to feed but to listen. Oradhur’s voice finally managed to reach the tiny fragments of reason left in their minds.

      They began to respond.

      He described what had happened to Necronis, his defeat at the hands of Rhys Kelly and the supernaturals. He knew the beings didn’t really care about the Dark God, but they detested the Nocturnal Council and its academies; secret societies that dared to think they could bring order to the multiverse.

      Oradhur began to describe his murderous plan of revenge.

      And the beings, with their many eyes, their countless flashing fangs and talons, their bubbling, rippling bodies and endless, seething tentacles, began to hiss with anticipation at a new feast of destruction of a hated enemy. Finally, someone had managed to unite them in their endless pursuit of chaos.

      The large country town of Appleton, located not far from Wagga Wagga in southwestern New South Wales, appeared on the surface a peaceful place, surrounded by apple orchards and fed by the Brooke River. It would have been like any other town in the state had it not been home to the Australian Nocturnal Academy, the supernatural school that had recently managed to attract all the nastiest demon incursions.

      But for the last few months the town had lain quiet and undisturbed by nothing worse than a handful of drunk drivers and one run-away from Sydney armed with a machete. Police picked him up on the outskirts of town screaming incoherently about being chased from the 7-11 he’d tried to rob by a pack of wolves.

      But this is Australia, kid. We don’t have any wolves here. You must have seen some dingoes or stray dogs.

      No, these was wolves, man! They was flippin’ huge, they was! With teeth like knives! They wanted ta tear me apart!

      Yes, yes. Wolves. Riiiiight.

      On the surface Appleton appeared like any other inland Australian town; high crime rate, high unemployment and a few tawdry attractions to offer the out-of-town tourist, such as the Big Apple, the Appleton Museum, the Appleton Ghost Tour and the Old Cider Factory, recently re-opened for business.

      It also offered all the usual amenities, including the recently constructed Appleton Mall, complete with a massive Woolworth’s supermarket. The Woollies had a rear loading dock that was often frequented by local hoboes and wildlife; mice, rats, cats, dogs, the occasional roo and even, according to one night-fill worker one freaking huge tiger.

      Unusual sightings were common in Appleton, but most tended not to believe them. After all country towns were also notorious for high levels of drug-taking.

      One dark and moonless night, the night-fill worker who’d reported the giant tiger was trundling out a large garbage bin, and hoping the seemingly endless hordes of rats and cats wouldn’t suddenly decide to gang up and attack him. He heard the sound of soft feet against hard concrete and whirled around, his young heart racing.

      He saw, approaching from the left, not a freaking huge tiger, but certainly one of the biggest darn dogs he had ever seen. The thing was a metre and a half tall at the shoulder. And when it lifted its head and peeled its lips back from its mouth, it revealed gleaming white fangs like a whole rack of carving knives.

      A fearsome rumble sounded the entire length of its body. It was like a V-8 engine starting up. A giant brush-like tail stuck up and quivered.

      The young man raced back into the safety of the store and very quickly wrote out his resignation. He wasn’t being paid enough to deal with this sort of rubbish.

      The giant dog looked right and left, making sure no-one else was coming out to hassle it, and then put its long, pointy nose down to the concrete. It started to sniff, looking for the scent that had led it here. It wasn’t actually a dog but a big brown wolf, a werewolf in half-human form, with a ruffle of fur around its neck like a lion’s mane. Something partially hidden in the fur around its throat gleamed in the glow from distant streetlights.

      Placing one enormous clawed paw in front of the other, the werewolf prowled across the carpark. All the small creatures that had been sniffing through the garbage and dumpsters quickly made themselves scarce. The wolf could see the shadows of their small bodies flickering against the walls and floor as they sought to escape the approaching death.

      But at the moment the huge creature wasn’t interested in those tiny morsels. It had a far higher purpose in mind. The old, familiar scent it had picked up was strong now, and flooded its mind with memories, so many wonderful and terrible memories. For a moment the wolf was overwhelmed by all the emotions, and it sat down on its haunches and howled at the dark, cloudless sky.

      However the beast soon recovered its senses – it had been creeping around for a long time after all – and got up. Forcing its tumultuous emotions back, it placed its nose against the ground again and continued following the very familiar scent along the concrete.

      I’ve found him, the wolf thought. At last I’ve found him! After all these years! He’s here, he’s actually here!

      The wolf picked its way across the now silent and deserted carpark, approaching a lone dumpster that had been pushed up against a wall. It had a label on it, saying; electronic waste only.

      It was here the ozone stench was the strongest. The wolf lifted itself up onto its hind legs and poked its nose into the dumpster, where locals tossed all their old, out-of-date mobile phones, computers, laptops and tablets. Most had been removed, only a few forlorn, completely wrecked models remaining at the bottom.

      Yessss, thought the wolf in excitement. I’m close, so close! I’ll find him, I’ll find him tonight!

      But then, from across the township, came the sound of church bells chiming midnight.

      They were coming from Applesauce Lane, from a church that had once been known as St. Michael’s. It was now known as the Church of the Stigmata, and it was presided over by Father Lost and his offsider, Brother Marco Cazadora. The bells always kept perfect time, and these days were diligently rung every hour on the hour, even when there was no-one inside to pull the rope. Locals in the immediate area were starting to complain about the noise, but so far nothing had been done.

      The bells are a warning, proclaimed the mysterious Father Lost.

      The wolf flicked its head up. No, no, it thought desperately. Not now, not now!

      It backed off from the dumpster, tucking its long, fluffy tail between its legs. A glow began to emanate from the thing around its throat, which grew brighter and brighter as the bell chimes continued. No, the wolf thought desperately. Not when I’m so close! Please!

      But the light from thing about its neck continued to increase. Miserably the wolf sat back down and the strange illumination engulfed it until its outline could no longer be seen, and only a brilliant white light spread across the empty carpark. But by this stage every other lifeform was long gone, and nothing remained to see the wondrous transformation that overcame the creature.

      Slowly it rose onto its back legs, changing from animal to human. Its coat of thick brown fur disappeared into silky white skin, and its rough mane of scruffy hair smoothed into an ebony veil of luxurious black locks that flowed over its shoulders and down its back. The newly-formed creature turned, flicking its beautiful hair back.

      Oh darn it, it declared with a disdainful sniff. But at least this form can still be useful. It snapped its fingers, and a small bag appeared at its bare feet. It unzipped the bag and drew out a long, shimmering red dress with lacy sleeves and trim. Not caring if anyone was watching, the being slipped on the gown. It smoothed it down with a pair of long, thin hands with talon-like nails.

      Then it underwent another transformation, returning to the form of a wolf. Only this one was smaller than the first, not nearly as fearsome. From the distance it just looked like a large husky.

      The new wolf put its nose to the ground to see if it could pick up the scent again. Of course its sense of smell wasn’t nearly as acute as the other wolf’s, but it knew it was in the right area. And there it was – that ozone smell, much fainter than before, but still able to be followed. Yes, the creature thought in triumph.

      Carefully the smaller wolf made its way across the carpark once more, tracking the scent until it came to an empty space at the very edge. The familiar ozone smell disappeared beneath the stronger odour of machinery; the smell of some sort of vehicle.

      However the wolf did detect another old, familiar odour – the sulphuric stink of Magick. Yes! It was still on the right track!

      Unfortunately, its sense of smell wasn’t strong enough to track the vehicle. And it knew its own Magick wasn’t powerful enough to enable it to follow the machine’s emanations. Knowing its owner, the automobile would be well protected against that sort of thing.

      No matter. It had waited this long. It could afford to wait a little longer.

      No. She could afford to wait.

      She returned to where she had left her bag and changed back into human form. She collected the bag from the ground and shouldered it. Then she smiled, displaying a pair of long, pointy white fangs.

      * * * *

      Chapter 2

      George Dibble and Janice Cooper were finally getting married. Since George wasn’t much of an organiser he allowed Janice to take over all the plans. Janice, who had an enormous surprise prepared, was only too happy to oblige. George had only one request; I want a tuxedo. Full top hat and tails, complete with a cane. I’ve always wanted to dress up like that. Oh, and make sure Alice gets to be one of your bridesmaids.

      Janice smiled. Of course, George. Top hat and tails it is. And of course Alice is going to be one of my bridesmaids! Probably my only bridesmaid, she added, more to herself than George.

      But as her plans started to come together, she found others to join the bridal party. She might have lost all memory of her previous human family, but working for the Nocturnal Academy had provided her with a whole new one. Alice’s friends, Carla and Milly, were only too happy to also become bridesmaids, and Madam Nocturna agreed to be the Maid of Honour.

      Janice arranged for the wedding to take place at a large country estate located on the Great Appleton Highway, on the southwestern outskirts of town. It was a grand old house, built in the 1880s, and it had been recently renovated and upgraded, with a big, beautiful back garden perfect for parties. There was even a vine-covered gazebo for the ceremony to take place in, and more than enough room on the grounds for all the guests and family members to sit.

      One side was occupied by George’s parents and relatives from Scotland, including Malcolm McAllister and his girlfriend, Kim Long. The other side contained a couple of Janice’s friends from the chip shop, but mostly people from the Nocturnal Academy; students, teachers, admin staff and one eccentric who insisted in sitting right up the back. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat, a scarf wrapped around his face and a burgundy leather overcoat of all things. Obviously he wasn’t worried by the warm February evening.

      George still couldn’t believe his senses. Janice had organised all this? His Janice? The flaky woman who had once succumbed to every weird fad and cult around, and even completely lost her memory in the process? Working for Alice’s school had done wonders for her in every aspect, and George wondered how he could ever have doubted that she was the one for him.

      George’s best man and his three groomsmen were all mates from the Bowling Club where he worked. Unlike George, who was totally rocking his top hat and tails, they were exchanging worried glances and trying to hide from the photographer. George couldn’t stop grinning, strutting about and baton-twirling his cane. Since he was no longer wheezing and grossly overweight, he looked rather dapper.

      The bridesmaids and maid of honour appeared dressed in beautiful lacy gowns of deep purple that seemed to flow and shift around their bodies as they moved, drawing gasps of amazement from the more normal half of the audience.

      Then Janice appeared, dressed in a white version of the maids’ lacy dresses. She had grown her normally short, spiky hair into curls for the occasion, enabling the attachment of a long white veil that floated out behind her like a cloud of mist. Strangely enough it never sank to Earth, but remained constantly billowing, forming amazing patterns in the air.

      George could have sworn his eyes

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