Night School: Legacy extract . His voice sympathetic, Mark was trying to read her expression. She knew he'd missed her since she'd gone away to school. Read "Night School: Legacy" by C.J. Daugherty available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first download. 'The ending was fantastic and. Legacy book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. In the last year, Allie's survived three arrests, two breakups and one fami.

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Editorial Reviews. Review. Night School is dramatic and full of great characters, the perfect Download it once and read it on your site device, PC, phones or tablets. Use features like bookmarks, note taking and highlighting while reading. Editorial Reviews. Review. Night School is dramatic and full of great characters, the perfect blend of suspense and romance. * Sophie McKenzie * Full of. Night School Legacy (Volume 2) [CJ Daugherty] on *FREE* shipping on to the last page This was another amazing read filled with excitement.

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Allie whirled around and took off. Behind her she could hear the men swearing and struggling to get through the gate in the dark as she pounded back to the park, across the slippery grass and through the fence on the far side. Then she jumped a garden wall and crawled beneath a hedge.

Rachel kind of looks like him, Allie thought. His question was abrupt but she could hear a touch of fatherly concern underlying the words. I believe you. Isabelle asked me to keep an eye on you. One of us has been there — one of my guys — every day. As hard as she tried to remember seeing him or anyone like him on her street, Allie came up with nothing.

When I came back, though, those guys were just standing around my street. They recognised me. She shook her head. They never touched me. I ran where I thought they might have trouble following me. Now that she was warm and safe, all the adrenalin drained from her body.

Her eyelids drooped. A cool breeze woke her some time later. She sat up with a start. The night around her seemed unnaturally quiet after London. There were no sounds of traffic. No sirens. She could hear low voices nearby — a man and a woman talking quietly.

Sitting up, she ran her hands through her mussed hair. Mr Patel was talking to a woman with light brown hair and fair skin.

(ebook) Night School: Legacy

She could just make out the shape of a building behind them — one light on in a ground-floor room. An open door. The lamp by the bed cast the room in a soft light and the double bed, covered in a lemony duvet, was made and turned down. Make yourself at home. Rachel will come to get you in the morning and bring you down to breakfast.

Sleep well. Allie sat on the bed for a long moment. She knew she should get up and wash her face. Find something to sleep in. Figure out where exactly she was. Instead she kicked off her shoes and lay back against the pillows. Then, rolling on to her side, she curled up into a tight ball and counted her breaths.

In some ways it was bittersweet; the Patels were the kind of family Allie had always wanted. The kind of family hers had almost been once.

The school looked the same as it had in the summer — huge, solid and intimidating. The three-storey red-brick building towered over them — its slate roof a range of Gothic peaks and valleys where wrought iron finials thrust into the sky like an armoury of dark knives. Symmetrical rows of arched windows seemed to watch them as they pulled their bags from the car. The headmistress had pulled her light brown hair back tightly with a clip, and wore a white Cimmeria polo shirt over a pair of jeans.

Hello, Raj. You can leave them here between terms, you know. The others lumbered themselves with luggage and followed her through the grand entryway with its stained glass window, dull on this cloudy day with no sun to illuminate it. Allie noticed the fanciful unicorn tapestry usually found hanging near the door was missing. The dozens of oil paintings that usually brightened the glossy oak wall panelling had all been removed. Without them the space felt oddly naked and, to Allie, disturbingly impermanent.

Ahead, Isabelle was still talking cheerfully but Allie noticed how high-pitched she sounded; she could hear the strain the headmistress was trying to hide. As she trotted after the others, she could hear hammers banging somewhere, workers shouting orders and the sound of something being dragged. Stripped of the art and details that had made it feel like a fairy tale castle it seemed wounded, and she trailed her hand softly up the wide, polished oak banister as if to comfort it.

At the top of the stairs they turned on to a narrower staircase which led them to another hallway and then a second set of steps.

How I love you. Allie stood in the doorway as Isabelle fussed with the arched, shutter-style window, pushing it open to let the watery grey light flood in. The tall bookcase was lined with the familiar spines of her small collection of books. The bed was covered in a fluffy white duvet, and a dark blue blanket was folded neatly over the footboard — just as it had been in her previous room. Everything was exactly the same.

Isabelle was already heading out the door. She was back where she belonged. This homecoming was so different from last term, when she first arrived at Cimmeria. Back then it had seemed intimidating and hateful.

Most of the students had treated her like a gatecrasher at an exclusive party. They just drove her here and dropped her off. It was only then that she discovered its bizarre rules — all electronic devices were banned, and nobody could leave the school grounds — and the elite group known as Night School, which gathered secretly after curfew and took part in strange training rituals other students were forbidden even to watch.

But despite all of that weirdness, only two months later, this felt like her real home. She opened the wardrobe and lugged out the small suitcase her parents had sent. Several books, all her notebooks, a few changes of clothes and.

She smiled. There they are. Right on top. Her red, knee-high Doc Martins. She caressed the scuffed, dark red leather with one hand, with the other she held the note her mother had put in the case. She scanned the rest of the note — it said nothing about what had happened in London that night.

Nothing about Isabelle or Nathaniel. Nothing that mattered. So they were back to pretending again, then. A life in which everyone was at war. Now she was in the line of fire but had no idea who was doing the shooting.

Although she was beginning to learn who to trust. She hurried to empty the rest of the suitcase but it all seemed to take too long, and the case was still open on the floor when she ran out of the room.

Allie felt that she could tell Rachel everything and not be judged. And she could tell her anything and know that she could trust her. A clatter of hammering emanated from the classroom wing, and through the open door they could see workers tearing out damaged plaster.

Blackened panelling leaned against a wall awaiting removal; a scorched desk was discarded nearby. Workers hustled in and out in a busy stream. Scaffolding scaled the walls in silvery mesh. Elsewhere, though, things looked better. The dining room was undamaged, and the common room looked just as it had before the fire. Stepping into the Great Hall, they saw that it was in good shape but so filled with furniture they could only just squeeze inside.

Clearly furniture was being stored here from rooms being repaired. Rachel made her way gingerly past the legs of a chair which rested on its side under a desk.

Startled, he lost his footing and the rug swung wildly. Allie and Rachel ducked out of the way as he struggled to regain control, finally dropping the rug on to the floor with a dusty thud. In the silence that followed, Allie noticed how his dark wavy hair had tumbled over his forehead. His tawny skin glistened from exertion. She nearly jumped when Rachel spoke. Welcome back.

I mean. How are you? But that was then. As their awkward conversation continued, Rachel backed towards the door. When she was gone, Allie took a step closer to Sylvain, trying to read his guarded expression. I never got a chance. To thank you, I mean. After the fire.

Yanking her hand free with a yelp, Allie jumped backwards, tripping over the rug. Sylvain grabbed her arm to steady her, but quickly let go and stepped away from her. Not a clumsy oaf stumbling over rugs and electrocuting him with her skin. The colour rose in her cheeks. I have to. When she was safely around the corner she stopped and leaned back against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut.

Replaying the scene in her mind, she banged her head rhythmically against the wall behind her. Laughing, he lifted her off the ground. A smudge of white paint marked his forehead endearingly. His hands were strong and warm on her waist.

After her awkward encounter with Sylvain, just being with Carter was like a balm for her soul. The kiss spread warmth through her body, and she parted her lips to his, tightening her arms around his shoulders. When Isabelle told me what happened in London. I was. Jokingly, Carter shook his finger at her. I just hate him back. She squeezed his hand with sudden happiness. His lips trailed down her jaw to her neck, raising a Braille pattern of goosebumps.

She pressed her fingertips tightly into the lean muscles of his shoulders and he gave a small gasp of pleasure, raising his lips to hers. There you are. As soon as they neared the library door, though, her mood changed.

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Dropping his hand, she slowed her steps, finally coming to a halt. A step ahead of her, Carter stopped to look back, concern in his dark eyes. Not one bit. This is where they keep all the knowledge.It was fun to try to guess whodunit, but sadly, it will keep you guessing and leave you hanging till the next installment.

It was much more less confusing. She was almost there when she saw them — four men standing outside her house.

Motion detector sensors became her enemy; if she ran on the pavement porch lights clicked on as she passed them — simultaneously blinding and exposing her. Find something to sleep in. It is a bad example for young girls out there and ugh.. The only bright point has been her new life at Cimmeria Academy. I adore the idea behind it, I adore the teachers and I desperately want to be an advanced Night School student How are you?

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