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Millwood Academy – First Term

Tanya Dawson

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.


First edition. November 27, 2020

Copyright @ 2020 Tanya Dawson.

Written by Tanya Dawson


First Term Copyright 2020 by Tanya Dawson. All Rights Reserved. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. Cover designed by Andreea Elena Vraciu

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing: November 2020

Tanya Dawson


Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Copyright Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

The End

About the Author

Join Tanya Online

Chapter 1

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

Her screams woke me from a deep sleep, then my forehead hitting the bottom of the top bunk made sure that I was awake. “Not again” I mutter. I try to soothe my pounding head, but the heavy chains wrapped around my wrists limit my movement. For a brief second, I forgot about them. I forgot I was in this place altogether. In my dreams I could be wherever I want to be and that meant anywhere but here.

I flop back on my bed, further annoyed by the moonlight that glows through the curtain-less window filling the room. It was as nice as any supernatural prison cell could be, I guess. The latest shade of white with a splash of dirt and grime mixed in. I didn’t dare touch my feet to the bare floor. If I had to guess, it hadn’t been washed in decades. I spent countless hours, trying to determine the original pattern of the tile through the scuffs and grub. The highlight of my Friday nights.

I move to my side, pulling my pillow over my head as best as I could. I wanted to drain her voice from my ears. This is the third night they took her from her room. Her chains scrape against the floor as they drag her down the hallway. There is something about the desperation in her voice that never leaves me. It reminds me that one day they’d come for me.

I close my eyes and pretend I’m home in my bed. The familiar smell of Nelly cooking burned pancakes for the house, at two in the morning, when we returned from a hunt. I’d never complain about her food or the work that we had to do again, if I could get out of here. I hated hunting, but I enjoyed my freedom.

My eyes drift to the wall where I mark each day that I’m held captive. Thirty-six lines, with one more to be added in the morning. I was about to lose my shit being in this small room. I pull my arms up, determined to break the chains tied to them. Nothing happens. They drained me of any power I’m entitled to with daily injections, darted from the small jail window on my door.

I fling myself back on the bed, frustrated I had let my guard down that night. It was a celebration – for him. Hazen sold me out to these monsters, with no thought.

The memory of his long blond hair, how it always hung over his eyes. How many times I had run my fingers through it, pulled on it, held on for dear life...

I flip over on my other side and slam my fist into my pillow, but the chains stop any relief I need. I must forget him. He wasn’t wasting any of his time wondering where I was. If I was even still alive. My only hope was Nelly. She loved making money off me. If anyone were looking for me, it would be her. And she’d be determined.

I try one more time, my daily attempt, to break free of the chains. They are clearly magical, so I don’t have a hope in hell of smashing free of them. This was the only time I had regret in not learning more about my bloodlines capabilities. Obviously, these monsters knew more than I did, and I doubted they would educate me.

I close my eyes and count breaths. I had to calm myself. Getting mad in here wouldn’t do me any good. I’d never show them a weakness they could use against me. My eyes flicker over to the sound of a camera, up on the ceiling, as it moves. They’re watching me.

I grab my blanket and cover myself. Something I had done ever since I’d been taken from my family when I was three. I struggle to remember them. I wasn’t sure if my memories are real, or if I imagined everything. Did my mother have beautiful wavy long red hair? Do I have my father’s bright yellow eyes? Is the memory in the park, having a picnic with them and my brother real? Or did I create it?

I snap back to reality and wipe away the tears I didn’t notice had fallen. This place is breaking me down, slowly day by day.

“I’ll find you.” I nod my head under the blanket. A private conversation just for me. A promise I’d never break.

Suddenly my door swings open for the first time. I jump from under the covers and land on my feet, with my back against the wall. All but one of my chains remain. My gums burn as my fangs explode through them. A hiss grows from the pit of my stomach and rumbles its way through my vocal cords and out of my mouth. My pupil's

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