Before I can take more than one step inside my room, the door bangs open.
“I didn’t want to leave you,” Bermon says immediately.
“We had no choice,” Mercy grumbles. “I was about to go after the vampires.”
“She has no self-control,” Bermon adds.
“I was worried! When I’m worried, I grow angry, and when I’m angry, my wolf tends to take over. Not physically.” Mercy scowls.
"You need to practice your meditation more," I tell her, crossing over to the window and staring up at the moon. Somehow, the moon seemed so much closer by her balcony than it does now. How strange, considering the room I sleep in is on the fourth floor of the castle.
“I have more control than either of you give me credit for,” she snaps. “You don’t have to act as if I’m some kind of bloodthirsty monster. I’m not a vampire.”
I ignore her. Bermon says nothing as well. Honestly, how can we respond to that? Although I do hate that she’s using vampire as a derogatory term.
“Speaking of vampires…” Mercy comes over to me. “Julian, can we talk?”
“Isn’t that what we’re already doing?” I ask, still eyeing the red orb in the sky.
Is she still looking at the moon? Has she gone to bed? Does she sleep in a bed or a coffin? I'm sure she has silly questions like that for me, and I want to answer them, but when will I see her again? I will see her again. I know I will, but we have to be smart. I will not allow her to be put in danger, not from the werewolves, not from her kind, and not from her father either.
“How did you enjoy the party?” Bermon asks. “I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
“He ran off,” Mercy says.
“I didn’t run off,” I protest.
“Did you find Bellanore?” she asks.
“No.”
“All of that to see Bellanore, and you didn’t even find her?” Mercy asks incredulously. “What about—”
“The party was… It wasn’t much,” I claim.
Which isn’t a lie, by the way. The party itself hadn’t thrilled me. All that mattered was Romelia, not that I care to talk to them about her.
“You seem happier, though,” Bermon says.
“I am.”
“Not tired, though,” he says with a frown. “We had a really long day, and the night is almost over already.”
“No, I don’t know if I can sleep.”
“Too worried you’ll dream about Bellanore?” Mercy asks shrewdly. I don’t think I care for the way she’s eyeing me.
“No, no, I doubt she’ll be in my dreams.”
“No? Someone else will star in them?” she presses.
Poor Bermon looks so very confused, but I won’t rise to her bait and merely shrug. “I don’t tend to remember my dreams.”
“Is that right?” she murmurs. “Julian, we aren’t fools.”
“Um, in this instance, I just might be,” Bermon interjects, holding up a finger. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Oh, you are,” Mercy says.
I glower at her.
“What did I miss?” Bermon asks.
Mercy opens her mouth, sighs, and then shakes her head.
“Julian made a fool of himself at the party. Luckily, it wasn’t in front of a lot of vampires,” she says, and then she mouths just so I can see, “Just one.”
I cough and rub the back of my neck. “Maybe I am a bit bushed.”
“Are you?” she asks sweetly. “Are your lips a bit swollen?”
“And I’m right back to missing something,” Bermon complains. “How did you make a fool of yourself?”
“I fell,” I claim.
“He fell hard,” Mercy says, her eyes flashing.
I wince. She’s not going to let this go, but I can’t complain too much. If Bermon knew… I don’t know what he would think or do. He would blame himself because the party had been his idea, and then, he would… I really don’t know how he’ll react, and I don’t want to find out. Mercy is going to give it to me as it is the moment she can get me alone.
“Bermon, Mercy, I do think I’d like to go to bed now,” I say, shifting my gaze toward the door.
“Do you?” Mercy coos.
I grimace, not quite fuming, though. Maybe it’s a bit ridiculous, but I’m too happy to be all that upset about anything.
“We’ll leave you to your rest,” Bermon says. “Won’t we, Mercy?”
“Go on ahead,” Mercy says. “I just want to make sure Julian didn’t hurt his head too hard.”
“I have a hard noggin.” To prove my point, I knock my head.
Mercy rolls her eyes while Bermon laughs. If that doesn't highlight the differences between my two friends, I don't know what will.
“Goodnight, Bermon,” I call.
“I’m sorry the party… It seems like it helped, but it wasn’t what you were expecting, though, huh?” Shaking his head, Bermon waves and heads down the hall toward his room. I can hear him yawn before his door shuts behind him.
Mercy crosses her arms and tilts her head to the side. The look she’s giving me… Let’s just say that she’ll be able to straighten out her future pups with just that singular glare.
“Do you care to explain to me what happened?” she asks icily.
“You saw what happened.”
“I saw… Yes, I saw you locking lips with one of them. We came because of Bellanore!”
"You don't even know her. I'm not even sure if you like the idea of her and me anyhow, so what does it matter?"
“It matters very much that you were kissing one of them!”
“But why?”
“Why? Did you forget about what her mom did? What her sister did? Julian—”
“The sins of the mother—”
“Don’t start with that,” she snaps. “Her mother is a demonic vampire, and her father is a demon. How can she be anything but destined for jail? And that’s if she’s lucky and not executed outright one day. Excuse me. One night.”
“Mercy, you shouldn’t judge someone just because of what they are,” I protest.
“And you shouldn’t judge someone because they’re a good kisser,” she shoots back. Her nostrils flare, and she grits her teeth. “Julian, the last attack on our pack happened only twenty years ago! That’s how my father has his lame leg!”
“I… I didn’t know that,” I murmur.
“And you’re going to what exactly? Are you going to date her? You can’t seriously be considering that, are you? Go ask out Bellanore. Go out with me. Go out with anyone else but her!”
“Mercy—”
“Don’t. Don’t ‘Mercy’ me.” She starts to pace.
Her anxious energy usually will make me on edge, but even despite this new knowledge, I can’t and won’t think badly of Romelia. She hadn’t even been born twenty years ago.
I grin, and her eyes narrow.
“Don’t you dare,” she threatens.
“Mercy, have mercy.”
She takes a swing at me, and I catch her fist. Mercy swats at me with her free hand before yanking her fist free.
“You’re the one being violent,” I comment.
“Julian, you’re going against nature.”
“That’s your opinion, and you’re welcome to think that, but I don’t share it.”
“Don’t share it,” she repeats in a low but harsh whisper. “So you do mean to see her again.”
“Do you remember when you were with Armin?” I ask.
"Yes. You hated Armin from the start and begged me not to date him. I should've listened to you. He was crass and rude and—"
“And this is nothing like that,” I say firmly.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because.”
She throws her hands up into the air and starts to pace again, even faster this time. “Because. You do realize how juvenile you sound, don’t you?”
“I don’t care.”
“Another childish phrase.”
“Mercy, I don’t expect you to understand. I’m not asking for you to, but you do trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she says slowly as if she doesn’t want to admit that she does.
“And you trust my judgment.”
“I used to,” she grumbles. “Now, not so much.”
“If you trusted my judgment before, why can’t you now?”
“A red-eyed brunette has turned you into some kind of twisted lovesick pup who no longer believes in his friends.”
“I believe in you,” I protest.
“But not about her.”
“You don’t know her, and don’t you say that you don’t need to know her. Not all werewolves are like Armin, so why are you so quick to say that all vampires are evil?”
She heaves a sigh and faces me. “Julian, I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Right now, you’re the one hurting me because you think I’m ignorant and foolish. Naïve too, I’ll bet. Am I missing anything?”
“No, that about covers it.” She gives me a ghost of a smile.
My scowl deepens. “I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t myself, but I can’t deny that in the hours I’ve known her, I feel happier than I ever have before.”
“Because a pretty girl smiled at you and let you steal a kiss.”
“Because she helped me to understand myself more. She unlocked a part of me.”
“How, Julian? Did you two—”
“I can talk to her about anything.”
Mercy lifts her chin. “Even things you can’t talk to me about? Because I thought you tell everything to Bermon or me.”
I swallow my tongue.
“I see,” Mercy says quietly. “Am I not the werewolf friend you need? Or are you not the werewolf I thought you were?”
When I maintain my silence, Mercy scowls, turns on her toes, and marches out of my room. A few moments later, the front door of the castle slams as she leaves.
As much as I hate hurting my friend, I can’t possibly even begin to try to understand the connection between Romelia and myself. How can I explain the unexplainable to a non-believer?
Chapter 11
Romelia
Only seconds after I can no longer see Julian does Tyra join me on the balcony. I do my best not to give off any signs that anything is out of the ordinary, but a glance at the gold cufflink in my hand has me smiling in spite myself.
Tyra heaves a sigh. “You aren’t still thinking about that werewolf, are you?” she asks suspiciously.
"No, of course not," I say, so very grateful that the bloody folla flower blooms in the tree near my window. It smells a bit morbid, which is saying something considering I'm a vampire, but its scent may help mask that a werewolf had been present here just a few moments ago.
“You’re lying to me.”
“I never did claim to be a fairy,” I say with a grin.
“Ugh. Fairies. They’re almost as bad as werewolves. Always acting as if they’re superior because they can’t tell a lie, yet they use that as an excuse to twist the truth so much with their word games that they might as well be lying! And we all know they’re cursed, and that’s why they can’t lie, so it’s not as if they’re so honest because they choose to be.”
“You’re just angry at the entire world, aren’t you?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light.
Tyra narrows her eyes. “Please don’t. I’m not in the mood.”
“Did something happen at the party?” I repeat a question I asked what feels like a lifetime ago.
In the light of the red moon, Tyra’s normally golden brown hair appears auburn. “Did something happen at the party? You mean in addition to my friend falling for a werewolf?”
She says that far too loudly, and I place a hand over her mouth.
“Yes,” I hiss. “I mean something else. Did someone hurt you?”
Eyes narrowed, she lowers my hand. “Why do you think that your stunt isn’t enough for me to be this riled up?”
“First of all, it wasn’t a stunt. Second of all, I told you already. I had no idea he was a werewolf. He was sweet and kind and handsome and everything I could want in a man.”
“In a vampire,” she snaps.
I exhale slowly. “I didn’t realize he wasn’t what he appeared to be, but everyone else thought the same. No one else knows that a werewolf attended the ball. You’re the only one who knew! And it’s because of your hatred for the werewolves. That’s why you knew. Tyra, I know you’re worried about me because I spent a few hours talking to a werewolf, but I am worried about you. You’re the one running off near their academy to provoke fights!”
“So now you’re on their side? I want to make sure that none of those mangy animals come to close to our land!”
“We are not at war with them!” I cry.
“Maybe we should be.” Her red eyes flash, looking darker than ever and maybe even a little inhuman.
“Are you going to see to that? Why? Because you can’t find a vampire who wants to date you?”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I know that’s precisely the wrong thing to say. Tyra stiffens, as still and unmoving as a tree, acting as if she’s a statue.
“I’m sorry.” I hurry to hug her, but she remains immobile. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just—”
“He’s already tearing us apart,” Tyra says harshly. “Can’t you see that?”
“If you could be happy for me, you would approve of my happiness if nothing else.”
"Of course I want you to be happy," Tyra explodes, "but not with a werewolf! With one of your own kind! You don't belong with one of them!"
“Tyra, it was only a few hours,” I say to placate her. “I had no idea he wasn’t what he appeared to be.”
“And now that you know, you still don’t hate him, do you?”
“Tyra, I am not my father. I don’t hate anyone.”
“You should,” Tyra says stubbornly. “There are some who would kill us if they knew what we are, and when the war comes—”
“What war?” I cry.
“There will be a war. Whether between the vampires and the humans or the vampires and the werewolves, there will be war, most likely in our lifetime, and what then? What side will you pick then?”
“I am not picking a side in some fictitious possible future war!”
Tyra steps away from me. As still as she stood earlier, she’s not now. Her entire body is trembling.
“Tyra, please. Forgive me. I honestly didn’t know—”
“You know now, and you still fancy him, don’t you? He took some kind of potion to pretend to be a vampire. He wanted to deceive us, and he deceived you! What other secrets is he hiding?”
I duck my head to the side to try to conceal a small smile. He’s hiding from everyone the depth of his feelings for me. I can hardly wrap my mind around the notion that we share a soul, but it would explain our instant connection. I spoke to him about matters I haven’t dared to mention to anyone else before. Why had I done that? I have no regrets, not one, although I do hate that Tyra is so alarmed.
“I won’t see him again,” I say suddenly.
Tyra narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Are you certain about that?”
I nod. I am taking a wing from a fairy and am twisting my words. I won’t see Julian as a vampire again, but I do hope to see him all the same.
“But I ask for something in return,” I say slowly.
“What is that?” Tyra is guarded beyond measure, and I suppose I can’t blame her for that.
“Stop provoking the werewolves. Don’t go near Moonstone Academy again.”
“I went to the forest—”
“You wanted to start a fight, and we both know it.” I eye her. “Tyra, talk to me,” I plead. “I know something else is bothering you. What is it?”
“Nothing,” she says too quickly.
“Pretend you’re a fairy and try again,” I say sweetly.
She scowls. “You aren’t going to get it ou
t of me.”
Tyra turns and enters my room then leaves it and walks to hers. I follow, which she pretends to only notice when she goes to shut her door.
“I’m tired, Romelia,” she claims.
“You aren’t,” I retort, and I push her door open more and breeze on by. “Now, you know that I spent some time talking to a handsome stranger I thought a vampire but was mistaken about. It’s your turn to tell me what has been troubling you.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “So it does trouble you that he was deceitful?”
I shrug. "Maybe," I say, hoping this will be enough to appease my friend. I am dreadfully worried about her. She hasn't been acting like herself lately, and I hadn't realized until now, too busy trying to remove myself from under my parents' shadow. I came to the academy to live my own life, but my parents are trying to stick their claws into me regardless or else to use strings to maneuver me like a puppet.
“A few weeks ago, I was in the forest. Not to try to find the werewolves, I swear. I had to collect a barrowroot petal for a class.”
“Which one?” I ask, puzzled because I never heard of that particular plant before.
“Fog Generation. I don’t have an aptitude for it. My being assigned to the class is a mistake in my opinion, but the professor is trying hard to see if I can at least generate a fog, although most everyone else in the class already can and are working on turning themselves into fog. Anyhow, I was trying to find the petal when I saw a young child high up in a tree. He was wailing, and I thought he might be scared and stuck, and I went to help him.”
She crosses over to the window but turns her back to it and leans against the sill. When she doesn't continue her story, I walk over. Her dress is a mixture of black and red—red bodice, black sleeves, and a dark full skirt with a red lace overlay. It's precisely the style of dress I had in mind to wear, and Mother had been right. Most of the girls wore either red or black or both.
"I climbed up the tree to the boy," Tyra says haltingly, "when a dozen wolves crowded at the bottom. I was terrified, more for the boy than myself, but then he nipped me! He bit me, and I fell out of the tree, and the wolves descended. I don't know how I got to my feet without being trampled to death, but I used my speed. By the time I returned to campus, I had healed up."
Blood Haven: Year One: A Mayhem of Magic World Story Page 7
