by E Hall
I jerk away, disgusted by what I am.
She pulls away as though realizing this at the same time. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” I echo.
“Are you actually surprised to see me here?” she asks with a wry grin.
“Did you try to get revenge on Lucas?” I blurt, meaning it as a joke.
Her lips quirk. “No. I wouldn’t waste my time on him,” she says, picking up on my exact thoughts. We always finish each other’s sentences.
“Then what was it?”
She gazes at her shoes. “Murder. Two natural mortals. I’m surprised you didn’t hear.”
“No.” I stagger back. She wouldn’t do that. She might be wild and reckless, but she’d never hurt anyone.
For instance, she decorated a statue of some stodgy guy in the school library with glitter, a boa, and ribbons—Gorilla Glue was involved, but it was funny, harmless. She also stole the master copy of a science test as a favor for a kid whose father was in a terrible car accident and couldn’t study, but the teacher wouldn’t budge on making an exception for him. Although, once she got in a fight with a group of girls, but they were seriously evil to a kid with arm braces. Who does that? It was Lea’s double life. A way for her to deal with what happened sophomore year that she refuses to talk about.
“No,” she confirms. “But the police say they have witnesses claiming I did it. I didn’t.”
I fight against reaching for her arm and giving it a squeeze. “I know.” She doesn’t need to say another word. I believe her.
“What about you?” she asks in her husky voice.
“You heard. It’s stupid. I stand accused of being involved in some weapons ring or something.”
“But you’re not supernatural.”
My tongue absently flicks to my teeth. My very sharp incisor teeth—a new feature I didn’t realize I had because I refuse to look in the mirror.
Lea’s eyes widen and she bites her lip, but it’s nothing like the way Jasmin did earlier. I see alarm. Without her needing to speak I know what she’s going to say.
I hurry away as shame spikes me in the heart.
Chapter 7
Leajka
Tyrren fades into the fog. I rub my hands up and down my arms with a shiver. Was he mad at me? It’s not my fault vampires haunt Brooklyn. I’m not one so it hardly seems fair that he’d be upset with me. Ivan does everything he can to protect people from his kind. Then again, why didn’t he protect me?
I will always and forever be a study in contrasts. I’m sad and mad that Tyrren stormed off after revealing that he’s a vampire. Why wouldn’t he just tell me, come to me? Why did he keep it secret? I grew up with vampires. I could help him. But none of this escapes my mouth because rage wins. Who turned him? How? Why would the best person I’ve ever known have to live with this curse?
As I remain on the step in front of the dorm, hoping Tyrren will come back, the weight of all that’s happened locks me in place. Everything went so suddenly wrong I’m not sure it’ll ever be right. I want to get in a car and drive as far away from here as possible, but the high fence beyond the dorm reminds me of reality.
A male and female vampire pair saunter down the path. Their eyes are dull, indicating they’re in need of blood. Their gazes drift over me as though assessing whether I’d be worth biting. The shiver comes again. All my life, I felt safe around the Brooklyn Vampire Club members. The vamps here are different and the lines are drawn between them and me.
I hurry inside.
When I was assigned my room earlier, my roommate wasn’t here, but the sign on the door said, Amelia. This time, she’s lounging on her bed with a book. When she sees me, her smile warms in contrast to the hard wood, cold stone, and sharp edges of the building along with the harsh stares I’ve received from vamps.
She bounces off the bed and twists a purple tendril of hair. “I’m Amelia. Nice to meet you and welcome to the world-famous, classed up, juvenile detention center for supernatural delinquents. I’m fae. You?” She laughs softly. “Silly of me to even ask. It’s obvious. Though you don’t have lavender eyes, meaning you’re not full-fae.”
I pick at a loose thread on my shirt. I try to ignore the thought that keeps winding its way into my mind.
Amelia gives me a half-smile. “I’ve been here going on three years. I’ve had all kinds of roommates. I get it if you don’t want to talk.”
For better or worse, she does plenty of that, starting with her life story. “My mother died, leaving Dad to raise me and my four older brothers. Between all their pranks and capers, I had to be on my toes. Eventually, I got pretty clever myself.” She winks. “Regretfully, some would argue that’s what landed me here.”
Curiosity must replace the gloom in my expression.
“I’ll only tell you why if you say something,” Amelia says.
“Something,” I repeat.
She dissolves into laughter.
I hadn’t meant to be funny.
“One day I’m going to get out of here and move to Scotland. In the meantime, here. I don’t share these with just anyone.” She passes me a can of a drink called Irn-Bru. “It’s a kind of Scottish soda. I have a friend overseas who sends me a monthly care package. Of course, the CAs go through it, but they let me have my soda.” She bends the tab back and forth on hers and silently mouths the alphabet. Her shoulders slouch. “G,” she says. “All the guys here whose names start with G are gross. Your turn.”
I vaguely remember doing this at a birthday party once. The letter you say when the tab comes off is your true love. It comes loose when I reach the letter T. At least it wasn’t L for Lucas.
“T.” She tilts her head in thought. “There’s Tony, Tommy, and a guy named Tilbert or Tenley or something. Whatever. As I was saying, my parents fled here with us from the Southlands in Borea when I was a baby.”
“I’ve never heard of it. Sounds like another world.” I gaze out the window. I want my world back.
Amelia nods. “It’s a parallel realm. All I know about it are stories from my dad.”
I set aside the soda, wondering if I should believe anything she says. But that pesky voice inside me, the one that knows the truth and can attest to my true identity, wants to lean in and learn more.
Amelia describes the Southlands with its opulent buildings, lush greenery, and statues winking from alcoves, adorned with vibrant flowers and flickering candles. It’s a world away from the buildings in the city, the stew of people scrambling to get by, and the elite whose cars I was thrilled to drive.
“Then there was the Cosmic Conflict. Or CosCon. They say it was a solar flare, part of the sun, that fell from the sky and set everything on fire, turning it to ash. There was chaos, riots, shifts in power.” She shakes her head. “Everything was destroyed. Blown apart buildings, casualties, and people made prisoners.” It’s a stark contrast to the beauty and peace she’d previously described. “Those who didn’t flee the Southlands, like my parents did, were brought to their knees.”
“That’s awful.” My attention drifts because she’s probably made that up during long hours of boredom here at reform school.
What’s also awful is being here. Across the East River is home, life as I knew it. I too feel brought to my knees and like my world was blown apart. And I can’t do anything about it.
“The Southlands, like RIP Jr, had two distinct seats of power. There was the Nefral Palace where the vampires did their thing and the Fae Court of Fire and Iron,” Amelia explains.
“Iron?” I ask, adjusting the slim iron bracelet around my wrist that Tyrren made for me.
“Yeah. There are loads of fae courts in Borea. Let’s see, the Court of Briar and Knoll, Sky and Shoal, oh and I can’t forget Ice and Stars. But the Court of Fire and Iron was the first to fall under Bortimal’s reign.”
I’ve heard Ivan mutter that name in late-night dealings, which skips me back to something else she mentioned. “What were you saying a
bout Nefral Palace?”
“Picture the most lavish palace you’ve ever seen. Now, multiply it by a billion-ty. Seriously. There weren’t just gems and gold here and there. The entire thing was constructed of precious metal and materials.” She goes on to describe the lavishness in great detail.
My thoughts dart from Ivan to this supposed realm to Tyrren’s arrest—the Nefral Weapons Trade.
Amelia’s voice floats back to me. “Almost three years ago, there was a fire in a gorgeous old chateau. It had hidden rooms and a staircase that looked like a princess would float down wearing a gown as the clock struck midnight. I mean, not Nefral Palace level fancy, but still pretty nice.” Her lips form a slim line. “I burned it down. Fire Fae.” Her fingers twitch. Then she adds, “with my family inside.”
Growing up with the Brooklyn Vampire Club, I’ve seen and heard some grisly things. I just barely stifle my gasp.
“I don’t remember doing it. I had no reason to. The police came, arrested me. Now, I’m here. When I turn eighteen in three months, I’ll be heading over to RIP—Riker’s Penitentiary.”
“Yeah, I know what it is.”
On the surface, Amelia seems bubbly and innocent. But beneath that, I’m not sure who she is. Then again, I didn’t kill two natural mortals so maybe she didn’t kill her family either.
I lift my gaze to meet hers. She blinks a few times and gives the slightest shake of her head. I take it to mean that she didn’t do it. I know with a kind of certainty that she is innocent just as I believe in my own.
“We should study. If we show that we got our homework done, the resident correctional assistants, CAs, will let us have a free hour.” She laughs at the irony.
“What do we study?” I ask.
“Regular stuff like in high school as well as learning more about our kind and vampires.” She frowns. “They’re trying to make us allies instead of enemies.”
I’m about to explain that Ivan helps all kinds of supernaturals—then again, he didn’t keep me from being locked up.
Amelia keeps talking. “Daily life looks like this. We have workouts in the morning alternating between running and the gym, then classes, lunch—the vampires don’t eat, but whatever—more classes, activities, dinner, study hour, and free time if we’re good. Then lights out.”
“Sounds straight forward.”
“What would be really cool if it was like the old Amsterdam Island Academy. Along with regular learning, students would train to be guardians or warriors. There were several such schools throughout Terra, but I think the only one left is an academy in Concordia. Have you heard of the Alpha Guardians and Warriors? Who knows, it could be a reform school now. There was suspicion that the shadow on the sun was caused by supernaturals. That was about when everything started changing, the demons, the vamps, we all got lumped together.” The girl can talk.
I toe off my boots.
She giggles. “What’s with the mismatched socks?” Her mouth drops and she stares at the bracelet from Tyrren. “Wait? Are you superstitious?” She eyes my wrist then the polka dot sock on my left foot and the one with pink and red stripes on the other. “For your information, those will not ward off fae.”
I bunch up my toes and sink back ever so slightly.
“You don’t seem like the kind of person to be superstitious or buy into the anti-fae self-discrimination. Be fae. Be proud.” Amelia gets to her feet. “I never understood that. Listen, we’re not the problem. Never have been. I mean, sure, unseelie fae can pose certain issues.” She snorts.
I flinch at the word unseelie as memories try to filter to the surface.
“Overall, fae exist more in the light than in the shadow. That’s facts. The oppression we’ve faced in the last couple of decades here in Terra and before that during Bortimal’s reign in Borea was just wrong. Before my dad died, he talked about a cursed vampire who picked up where Bortimal left off, bent on scourging the realms of fae. All fae.” She’s quiet for a moment. “And there was a rumor about a prophecy or prediction or something. The four would change the score. I don’t know. Unseelie rhyme nonsense that I’d be cautious not to repeat. It went on like his doing will be his undoing.” She shifts uncomfortably as if the words themselves have power.
“Cryptic.”
“Curses, fae, and our entire realm are at risk. Your superstitions won’t help.”
I swallow hard because I didn’t officially know I was fae until sophomore year. I mean, I had suspicions but kept them locked away in the deepest vault in my mind. As for the socks and iron, I figured it was better to be prepared than sorry.
“You can go back to wearing regular socks unless you like the fashion statement. The iron around your wrist is foolish. We’ve never been appetizing to vampires for the same reason iron is said to repel our kind. Well, iron objects. Vamps prefer a certain concentration of iron in the blood. We don’t have any and in fact, it’s said to repel us because it’s poisonous, but only if it pierces the skin—cold iron. Swords, knives, and other blades would repel just about anyone because if there’s one thing supernaturals don’t like is having their blood spilled but especially fae.”
“So I shouldn’t let my bracelet cut me?”
“That is if you’re full-fae. I am, but—” She looks into my eyes. “You’re not.” Amelia opens her book. “Anyway, superstitions are rubbish. Oh, but do leave out cream and sweets because fae don’t mind a midnight snack.” She winks.
Two hours later, Amelia shows me to the common quad—a building in the center of an open space in the middle of the campus. Large windows make up two walls. When she opens the door, loud music pours out like a splash of cold water. We walk into a cacophony of students hanging out, popcorn sailing through the air, and arms slung around shoulders. I wonder what Headmistress Jurik would think of the chaos and comradery. She strikes me as someone adamantly against anarchy or fun.
Several students greet Amelia. A tall guy with his hand pressing into the wall above him leans over a girl with long blond hair and even longer legs. She whispers something in his ear and then giggles.
Amelia plows her way past the couple.
They emanate whorls of energy like a wood fire, reminding me of the forge on the corner of Franklin and Kent. I scan the room for Tyrren.
A chair crashes onto the floor in front of us. Amelia kicks it back in the direction it came. With her hands on her hips, she glares and then tilts her head.
“Sorry about that.” It’s a voice that I’ve listened to talk late at night, early in the morning, and wish I didn’t hear now—only because it means Tyrren is locked up here too.
As he bends to pick up the chair, his muscles flex under his shirt—the colors stark against a golden tan. His profile reveals a strong jaw and full lips. Tyrren’s brown hair is short but hopelessly messy. I want to hug him again, hold tight—a beacon of certainty in this craziness. However, after he walked away earlier, I don’t dare.
A kid with a rash of blemishes on his cheeks kicks the chair again.
“Cut it out, Aaron,” Amelia says to him.
He smooths his shirt as though slightly embarrassed. “I still can’t find my studies in ethics text.”
“And repeatedly kicking a chair helps how?” Tyrren’s voice is sweetly deep, but not gruff. He turns to me.
I get my smile. Well, his smile, but it’s the one he only ever shows me. I melt a little inside. Maybe he just needed to cool off earlier. He’s always the even-keeled one. Even after he lost his parents, he returned to a state of equilibrium pretty fast. I imagine being turned into a vampire shook him up. Unlike what Amelia was saying about the division between vamps and fae, I’ve never experienced that. Vampires have always been my family. He’s no exception.
“Lea, meet my roommate,” Tyrren says.
I glance at the guy who moments before was practically having a tantrum and has since adjusted to casual-cool.
“Tyrren, this is Amelia, my roommate,” I say, introducing her.
When she tugs her gaze from Aaron, her cheeks are a soft shade of pink. “Wait. Do you know each other?”
Even standing a foot apart from Tyrren, there’s no denying our familiarity. He’s seen me at my best and worst. I’ve only ever seen him at his best because that’s how Tyrren is. He works hard at everything he does whether it’s school, his apprenticeship, or our friendship.
The obvious question forms on my lips. Why is he then? Instead, I say, “Yeah. Best friends since fourth grade.”
“You both ended up here? How?” Amelia’s brow wrinkles and her eyes dart between us as though recognizing I’m fae and he’s a vamp.
Tyrren scrubs his hand down the back of his neck. “I went to the forge—I’m a blacksmith’s apprentice.”
Amelia eyes the bracelet around my wrist.
“The police busted in. Arrested me. There’s no one to help.”
“What about Huxley?” I think back to the night of the basketball game, placing myself in the room with the ash and fire, the bellows and the mighty blacksmith who told me Tyrren wasn’t there.
Tyrren shrugs.
“Your brothers?”
He snorts.
“The fact that you were turned into a vampire?”
“You’re newly turned?” Aaron steps back slightly.
“Yeah. Over the weekend.”
“How are you not tearing everything apart?” Aaron asks.
“What? Like you?” Tyrren eyes the chair.
“I’m not a vamp for your information. But all the new vamps I’ve ever heard of are monst—” Aaron cuts himself off when Tyrren cuts him a glare.
“Monsters,” Tyrren finishes for him. “So I’ve gathered. I felt like one after I was bitten.” A shadow crosses his expression. “I am one.”
“But you’re talking to us,” Amelia says. “Three fae.”
