Dark Secrets (Dark Heritage #1)

by Samantha Hoffman

  *****

  In the morning, Ezra and Tanya came for me, and they took me down to the cafeteria for breakfast. I couldn’t see Finn, but I knew he was probably around somewhere, watching and waiting for me to do something he could get me in trouble for.

  Holly joined us this time. She didn’t eat anything, but she sipped quietly at a water bottle full of a dark red liquid that could only be one thing. I knew it was probably not polite, but I couldn’t help but stare at her as she took another sip. When she pulled her lips away from the bottle, they were stained red with blood, and she licked them appreciatively.

  Tanya began talking rapidly, trying to keep my attention off of Holly, but it didn’t work. I just sat there and watched her slurp down someone else’s blood like it was a juice box, and my stomach started to roll, threatening to bring back everything I just ate. I closed my eyes and fought the urge to puke, and I almost succeeded.

  Until Holly said, “Mmm, O negative is the best. Hey newbie, want some?”

  My stomach clenched painfully and I just barely made it to the nearest trashcan in time. Tanya held my hair for me while I puked, and I could practically feel her glaring at Holly over my head. “That wasn’t funny Holly. You should know better than to torment someone so new.”

  When I was done, Tanya led me from the cafeteria. “I’m sorry about her. She’s a little…crude…sometimes. It’s a part of being a vampire. She is going to live forever and she’ll probably feed from a million people during that time. It gives you a weird perspective of death and blood. But I’ll talk to her about not upsetting you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’m just not used to all of this yet.”

  “I know, and I told her that she shouldn’t be mean to you. She was new to all of this once before too. She should have known better.”

  Tanya led me down a series of halls until we got a large steel door. When I put my hand out to touch it, my fingertips burned at the freezing coldness the door exuded. I hastily pulled my fingers away and when Tanya opened the door, I could see my breath exhale in a cloud of mist. “Where are we?”

  “The freezer room. It’s for necromancers.” She looked uncertain and a little frightened. Her reaction to the room was not helping my nerves any and I felt my heart begin to race. My palms were suddenly clammy, and I wiped them dry on my jeans. “Well, your teacher will be waiting for you in there. Good luck,” Tanya said, gripping my shoulder. “If you need anything, just ask around for me. Finn should probably know where I am, and he can point you in the right direction.”

  I looked over my shoulder and spotted him just down the hall a ways, flirting with the redheaded girl from earlier. Shaking my head, I walked into the freezer room, and was not surprised to find that it was almost like walking into a walk-in freezer at a restaurant. The frigid temperature caused bumps to rise all over my skin, and I rubbed my arms, trying to bring some warmth back into them. Fighting the chattering of my teeth, I looked around the nearly empty freezer room, and it suddenly dawned on me.

  It’s a morgue…

  As I took in the rows of closed doors that would be holding dead bodies, a scream started to build in the back of my throat. Oh, god! What the hell is wrong with these people? I backed quickly away from the metal doors in the wall, and I tripped over a stool, going down hard on one elbow. After only a few seconds, I was back on my feet and racing for the exit.

  I don’t care what the Council said; I’m leaving and I’m doing it now!

  A hand clamped down on my arm, and I gave up trying to hold in the scream. My loud shrieks echoed off the walls, and I twisted and turned, trying to pull away from whoever was about to murder me in a freezer full of dead people. The hand shook me gently, and everything pulled slowly back into focus.

  Two dark green eyes with purple circles under them stared worriedly at me from beneath thin black eyebrows. It was just a woman a few years older than me, and my heart started to slow and return to normal as I took in the rest of her features. She had long black hair that fell into her face, hiding prominent cheekbones, full pouty lips, and a nose that was on the larger side.

  “I’m sorry,” she said politely. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you alright?”

  I took a minute to catch my breath, and she didn’t rush me. Finally, I nodded my head. “Yeah, I’m alright, but I need to get out of here. It’s a morgue!”

  “Relax. Take a deep breath. There are no human bodies in this room, I promise. Those cubbies only hold recently deceased dogs and other small animals. They’re used to help train new necromancers, because it’s safer and easier than trying to get them to raise a human body. Plus it tends to freak them out less.”

  My eyes found the nearest cubby, and I couldn’t help but picturing some dead dog that probably had its intestines hanging out, and I shuddered. “There are seriously dead animals in those cupboards? Don’t they dislike being forced back into their bodies? Don’t you feel bad about keeping them here to play with?”

  “It’s not playing,” she said defensively. “They don’t feel pain, and most of the time they don’t even understand what’s happening to them.”

  “Most of the time? So there’s a chance that some poor dog you raise from the dead is going to realize what’s happening to it? Do those ones feel pain? How do you even know they don’t feel anything? Maybe they do and you just don’t know it!”

  She put her hands up to stop me. “I know, because I’ve spoken to ghosts before. Any ghost is incapable of feeling pain, including the ghosts of animals.”

  “But you can’t talk to animals,” I pointed out. “How do you know the same rules apply to them? You could be wrong, and you could be torturing these animals by putting them back into their bodies. Would you want someone playing with your spirit like that?”

  She looked at me, completely unruffled by my outburst. “It doesn’t hurt them. I’ve been doing this for longer than you. If you had as much experience as me, you’d know I’m not making this up. Now, do you mind if I introduce myself? Or are you going to keep arguing with your teacher?”

  Finally, I realized that this was the first time I’d really spoken to another necromancer, other than Nancy Puckett. Nancy didn’t look like a necromancer though, with her blonde hair, gray eyes, and yellow sundress. This woman looked much more like what a necromancer should be: black hair, serious eyes with dark circles under them. She was also dressed entirely in black, complete with black nail polish on her fingers.

  “Do most necromancers look like you and I do?” I asked, noting that we had the same black hair and dark green eyes. The only differences between us were slight: I had noticeable dimples, she didn’t. I had shorter black hair, she didn’t. I had a small, curved nose, and she didn’t. but I shared the same basic hair and eye color, and I too had the dark purple circles under my eyes, no matter how much sleep I managed to get.

  She nodded. “Most of us have dark hair and dark eyes, though that’s not always the case. You and I have green eyes, but most have dark brown eyes, and sometimes they even turn black.”

  “What do you mean turn black? Eyes don’t just change color.”

  “Ours can. Some of us have a stronger affinity for death than others. Some weaker necromancers can only see the dead; they can’t actually communicate with them or raise them. Others are more powerful, and can actually raise an entire army of the undead. Some things we do, like raising an army, draws on our inner power. We gradually take on the characteristics of the dead after using so much power for so long. We get hollow-looking eyes, shambling gaits, pallid and sunken skin, and a foul smelling odor. Power-hungry necromancers often look like death themselves.”

  I shuddered. “The Council thnks I’m trying to raise an army of the undead. If I did, would that happen to me?”

  She nodded. “You’d take on a more grotesque apparance that would be irriversible. Just don’t raise an army, and you’ll never look like a living corpse. Now, stay here. I’ll b
e right back, and we can begin your first lesson.”

  She left me sitting on a small stool in the middle of the freezer room, and I rubbed my arms nervously. There were raised bumps there, reminding me of how cold this room was. When I exhaled a nervous breath, it swirled in front of my eyes in the form of mist. I’m about to try and raise the body of a deceased animal. What is wrong with these people?