by Liz Meldon
The vampire shrugged, frowning at me. “Because it’s fact. They can’t all be winners, despite what it says on the academy’s website—”
“We’re barely into the first month,” I snapped, instantly on the defensive, my innate protective instincts kicking into overdrive. “Don’t judge a kid until they’ve had time to prove themselves to you.”
There was that smirk again. “I do believe that would be the pot calling the kettle black, no?”
My eyebrows shot up. Was he suggesting that I had, what, judged him before I’d gotten to know him? Something tightened in my chest, and I turned stiffly and skipped down the rest of the steps to the ground level, hands in fists, Calder at my heels.
If I had just embraced a vampire, treated him like any other colleague, then I’d have been a moron—possibly a dead moron, or a moron locked deep inside some government lab by now. I pushed through the door out of the stairwell, then marched down the corridor toward the main entryway.
Calder might not be here to bag himself a wolf shifter, but my initial reaction to him, my fear, had been perfectly justified.
The sass he received in the days that followed came courtesy of his sparkling personality.
“I’m going to go check on the boys’ dorm,” I muttered when he strolled up to me, hands in his pockets, his expression annoyingly expectant. If he was waiting for a retort, or some segue into a real conversation about our shifter-vampire dynamic, then he’d be waiting a long time. “Stay here. Continue to make the rounds—sometimes they sneak out when they think we’re done. Text me if something is wrong.”
Not that I had willingly given a dead man my phone number; at our last staff meeting, we had all been instructed to put each other’s numbers into our cellphones, an order straight from the administration to heighten security measures after all the local disappearances.
“But, Miss Kingsley, you’re supposed to be showing me the ropes.” Calder followed me through one of the front doors, but he lingered there, holding it open and leaning against the bar in the middle. “I think I require more thorough tutelage.”
I glared from the bottom step when he grinned and sauntered back inside, the door falling shut heavily behind him.
“Ugh.” Massaging my burning cheeks, I stalked down the cobblestone path to the boys’ dorms, noting that many of the windows still had lights on long after eleven.
While both usually needed a reminder of lights-out times and curfew in general, the boys’ building tended to be a little louder, a little smellier. The janitorial crew did an excellent job at keeping the dark hardwood floors spotless, the windows smudgeless, and the carpets in the rooms lintless, but the very potent scent of teenage-boy body odor was something nobody could get rid of, no matter how hard they scrubbed. Naturally, the girls’ dorms had a smell too, but it was more flowery perfumes and body lotions, which, under the right circumstances, could be just as upsetting to my shifter nose.
Still, the sense of smell was the fastest of all the senses to adjust to a new status quo, and I forgot all about the deadly combination of B.O. and liberal cologne usage as I made my rounds. Footsteps thundered on the floors above me, students scampering as word spread that a teacher was in the building, and I was pleased that I didn’t need to order anyone off to their room. Only two lights out, guys on the sophomores’ floor.
Just because their lights were out, however, didn’t mean they were in bed, dead to the world. These days, students had laptops, cellphones, and a plethora of other tech to entertain themselves well into the morning. While it was in our policy manual that we enforced strict curfews, it wasn’t like we could stick our heads into each room for the duration of our night patrol just to make sure everyone was asleep. At some point, personal responsibility fell on the kids. If they stayed up too late, they’d suffer the next morning. No one could teach them that like themselves.
I could hear most of them, their conversations, through the walls. While muffled to humans, if I stopped and concentrated, I could make out distinct words through the wood and concrete. However, I had learned years ago that listening to private, personal teen conversations could only get you in trouble. Most of the time, the subject matter was something you did not want to hear.
Not if you ever wanted to look said teen in the eye again.
Just before starting my third sweep of the building, I paused in the stairwell to check my phone. Nothing from Calder. My brows knitted as I tucked my phone back into the top of my tights, wishing designers built these things with pockets. It shouldn’t surprise me that I hadn’t heard from him; night patrol wasn’t exactly difficult—more tedious and boring, honestly. Friday and Saturday nights offered a higher likelihood for shenanigans, but so far, it had all been quiet.
By the time I reached the fourth floor, the after-midnight dimmed lighting had kicked in, and I paused in the stairwell doorway, frowning at the nondescript blob on the floor down the hall—a blob that hadn’t been there on my last walkthrough. Eyes narrowed, I breathed in deeply. While I didn’t detect a person—hardwood varnish, musky body spray, and pine-fresh toothpaste taking precedence in that moment—it certainly merited investigating.
I huffed a sigh, approaching the blob slowly, cautiously beneath the low lighting. It looked like… a pile of clothes? Who the fuck—? And why? Was it a prank? The SIA males had a penchant for pranks, and last year a number of staff had been on the receiving end, either accidentally or not. This would be a first time for me.
I stopped in front of it, at a loss. As I’d suspected, it was a pile of clean, dryer-sheet-smelling gym clothes.
“What are you doing here?” I murmured, bending over to rifle through it, my knit sweater falling up my back.
The second I was down, a trio of lights flashed behind me, accompanied by the soft click, click, click of multiple camera phones. I shot up and whirled around, eyes wide, and caught three gangly freshmen bolting for the stairs.
Damn it. I shot off in hot pursuit, a blend of rage and embarrassment burning through me. Normally, I was so careful not to give them the chance to sexualize me. No bending over from the waist, which I’d just done. No stretching in a way that would thrust my chest out, which was tucked under a rigid sports bra on weekdays, but of course not now. My gym clothes were polo tees and track pants, hiding my figure, and I tried to keep my casual clothes somewhere in the same realm. And then here I’d gone and walked right into their trap, bending over in tights, my scrunched sweater exposing my lower back, wearing a bra that didn’t squish my boobs down.
Seriously, Emma—get your head in the game.
With teenage boys on the loose, there was no room for error.
Red-faced and indignant, I tracked the sounds of oh my god, go, go, go, go! and dude, run! down the next two floors. The trio seemed desperate to lose me, voices cracking, laughter echoing, as they darted from the stairwell at one end of the corridor all the way across to the other. I picked up the pace, wearing my runners for a reason, and refrained from shouting at them like I wanted. No point in drawing any additional attention to all this—I’d catch them eventually, and I already had a pretty good idea of who was involved.
I plowed through the door to the second-floor south stairwell as it slowly closed, but inside their footfalls had gone silent. Heart beating only a touch harder than it would at rest, I marched down the stairs—only to pause when a velvety smooth Englishman’s voice drifted through the corridor.
“Now, now, now, boys—what’s all this?”
My blush intensified, and I rubbed my cheeks as I stomped the rest of the way down, hoping to diffuse the flush of color by the time I rounded on my panting trio of delinquents—and Calder. Ice blue darted up to my scowl, to my red cheeks, then back down to the three cowering freshmen in front of him. Matt Davies. Elijah Hough. Adil Agarwal. My jaw clenched: precisely who I thought I’d seen, their pimply, shiny faces made obvious in the much brighter light of the stairwell.
“Phones,” Calder ordered, holding out hi
s hands when I finally stopped two steps above them, blocking their escape route should they get the insane idea to run again. “Now.”
“But sir—”
“You can retrieve them from me tomorrow morning at breakfast,” the vampire remarked coolly. He then snapped his fingers, the sound crisp and sharp enough to make me flinch, and the trio forked over their devices.
“And you’ll be running laps tomorrow afternoon,” I added, Matt and Adil jumping like they hadn’t even realized I was there. Did they think I was still combing the upper floors searching for them, like their little plan had been so clever? I folded my arms, glare intensifying when all three burst into protests about tomorrow being Saturday. I arched an eyebrow. They fell silent a moment later, cheeks flushed, and I cleared my throat. “Three o’clock sharp—at the gym. You’ll run until I tell you to stop.”
The trio nodded glumly.
“All right, off to bed,” Calder insisted, stepping aside and motioning for them to pass. “If I see a light on when I come by your rooms in the next two minutes, you’ll go from detention with Miss Kingsley straight to detention with me for the rest of the day. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yup.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Understood, sir.”
They were off like a shot, scrambling down the remaining stairs and bolting through the doorway. Their pounding footsteps echoed as the door slowly swung closed, followed by the frantic sounds of locks opening and suite doors shutting. I ran a hand over my hair with a sigh, and Calder swiped his thumb across one of the phone screens.
Then smirked.
“Oh, Miss Kingsley—”
“Give me that!” I snatched the phone and hastily deleted the photo with trembling fingers. While it wasn’t a great shot of me, it was obvious where the camera had focused. Right on my ass. Presented on a platter for a trio of gawky teens who had set me up. Not exactly my proudest professional moment.
Nor my proudest shifter moment, either.
Unfortunately, the other two phones were password protected when Calder pressed the unlock button. He glanced up at me, but his smirk fell away the moment our eyes met.
“I’ll have a talk with them tomorrow,” the vampire said brusquely as he slipped the two phones in his back pockets, then took the third from me. “And ensure they delete any additional photos.”
“Right.” I leaned against the dark wooden railing, arms crossed, adrenaline fading. “Thanks.”
Calder scratched at the back of his neck, lips briefly parted. We stood there for a moment, more awkward than necessary, until he cleared his throat. “So, are you… all right?”
“What? Yes.” I pushed off the bannister and shrugged, somehow both annoyed and pleased that he had asked. “Teenage boys have been gross little pervs since the dawn of time. I’m fine.”
The corners of his mouth lifted. “Right.”
“What are you even doing here?”
“I’m afraid I missed the pleasure of your company.”
“Well, we should really try to have one of us in each building,” I insisted as I slowly made my way around the smirking vampire, taking a wide berth. “That’s kind of the reason there are two people assigned every night. Two buildings. Two people. The math behind it will blow your mind—”
“Shall I stay here, then?”
I paused and glanced back at him. “Why?”
“Well…” Calder gestured from me to the bottom of the staircase, as if that explained everything. When my eyes narrowed, he let out a weak chuckle. “You know…”
“I can handle the boys’ dorm.”
“Can you?”
And just like that, any ounce of pleasure I might have felt about Calder asking after me was gone. Lips pursed, I faced him and hoisted my middle finger. He crossed his arms, biceps on display, and sighed.
“Very mature.”
I carried on down the stairs backwards, hoping I didn’t fall flat on my ass, still flipping him off.
“Really, Miss Kingsley, you’re an educator—a role model.”
Without breaking my stride, I raised my other hand, both middle fingers flying high, before disappearing around the last staircase curve.
Though I could have sworn, before I lost sight of him, that Calder had actually smiled.
Not a smirk.
Not a thin grin.
A smile.
Tummy in knots, I marched off to confirm that the trio of miscreants were back in bed, and by the time I checked that stairwell again, the vampire was gone.
5
Calder
What on earth was that godawful racket?
Crouched in front of my office minifridge, I grabbed the first blood cooler in the row, then nudged the door shut and stood. As I cracked open the thin, narrow canister, mouth watering at the familiar hiss, the din just outside my window grew louder.
Dogs. Yapping, yipping, barking, howling—dogs.
With one hand in my pocket, I strolled toward the large bay window overlooking the academy’s main entry point, slurping down a gulp of chilled AB-negative on the way. Just as I’d suspected: dogs. A whole crew of them, tugging at their leashes, a number of familiar senior faces at the ends. They appeared to be making their way over to the roundabout in front of this building’s front doors, Emma bringing up the rear.
I homed in on the shifter, dressed in a pair of jeans and one of her thousands of knit sweaters. Once, I had walked in on her knitting in the staffroom, surrounded by our coworkers, chatting, smiling—until she saw me. I’d kept my distance, especially when the wolf was armed with steel knitting needles, but I couldn’t help wondering if she had made all those shapeless, slouchy garments she seemed so fond of wearing in her free time.
And if she made them slouchy and shapeless on purpose to hide what I knew to be a rather fetching little body underneath. My mind flashed back to our first night patrol—those black tights clinging to her shapely legs had been enough to make me want to act on a few of my more suggestive, intentionally incendiary comments.
Scowling, I swallowed another mouthful of AB-negative as a dab of self-loathing twisted my insides. Honestly. Being physically attracted to a shifter, of all things; she was a novelty. In time, I’d be accustomed to her looks, to her gorgeous smile and intriguing eyes, to her bouncy ponytails and lilting laughter. Then, finally, this unnatural hold she as a woman had over me would diminish—and her blunt personality would quash whatever sentiment remained.
Whistle around her neck, she called something to the group, then motioned them toward the roundabout. Arctic dogs of varying shapes, sizes, and colors skipped along next to their handler, barking, mouthing at their hands, at each other, their paws splashing across puddles. The rain had held off, offering us the only sunny day all week. Naturally, I much preferred the rain and the misery; while vampires didn’t melt under sunlight, it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. The great orb was too bright for us, our skin sensitive to its rays. Any burns we sustained healed instantly, but I found it a rather taxing ordeal overall. The weather, no matter how dreary, was certainly a factor in my accepting the academy’s job offer. By the end of October, there would be more dark than light, and it would last for months. Bliss.
For now, I could put up with the odd day of sunlight, its glow usually broken up by clouds ushering in the next rainfall. Three weeks into September, the temperatures had dropped markedly. Most of the students down there were out in layers, only a few still in uniform, many wearing hats or gloves—designer labels, of course, the offspring of the global elite.
And then there was Emma in her jeans and baggy dark green knit, sleeves smooshed up to her elbows, her hair swept back in a braid with wisps of blonde catching the light of the setting sun. With classes done for the day and only about twenty minutes left until supper, the street lamps outlining the roundabout had already flickered to life, bathing the odd, rather noisy group in a soft yellow sheen.
I took another sip of my blood cooler, watching her d
irect the organized chaos. She appeared nonplussed by all the noise, calling out commands to the group, which the students responded to immediately. This must be that rescue dog program I’d heard so much about but had yet to see with my own eyes. In fact, in the month I had been living on campus, I’d only heard a bark here and there, and hadn’t once seen any of the dogs. A part of me had thought it didn’t exist, despite knowing there was a large building, a kennel, next to the gymnasium on the west side of campus.
Perhaps I ought to pay it a visit one of these days.
The gymnasium too. I had yet to step foot in Emma’s domain; she had been rather testy about my being here in general, and the thought of encroaching further on her territory, as ridiculous as the notion was, had been too bothersome to consider these last few weeks. After all, outside of my lingering tension with Emma Kingsley, I’d still needed to settle into a new school, acclimatize myself to a new breed of student, and adjust to SIA’s somewhat rigid, long-ingrained rotating schedule.
The dogs, all sixteen of them, finally started to settle once the students walked them to their designated places around the paved ring. Emma called something out again, arms swinging at her side as she sauntered between the human-dog pairings, her smile effortless, warm, pleasant—a look unlikely to ever be directed at me, even if we were a good night-patrol team. Seconds later, the students got their dogs to sit, some taking longer than others, and then looked back to Emma expectantly.
Curious, I set my cooler on my now too-full desk, papers and texts and assignments neatly piled everywhere, and grabbed my jacket off the back of my chair. Seeing the shifter in her element, doing something that put her so visibly at ease, was worth a closer look.
Can of blood in hand, the label nondescript to onlookers, I marched out of my second-floor office and made my way downstairs.
Only to stumble into Robert Howard, a great hulking bear of a man, as he was leaving his empty English classroom just outside the stairwell.
