by E Hall
“Sounds dangerous. As Jurik said, we’re on probation. We have to be careful.”
Anger flashes across her face. “You just don’t get it.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t get why I’m here. Why you’re here or what’s going on between us.”
“Between us?” Her fork stabs the air. “What’s going on is you don’t understand what it’s like to have to deny who you are for years and years.”
“You’re right. I don’t, but I never asked you to. As of last week, when I became a vampire, I was unwittingly forced to learn how to do that. I don’t like this, Lea.”
Her nostrils flare. “You never asked me what happened that night.”
“Sophomore year? You’re right because I figured it was too painful. None of my business. That you’d tell me when you were ready.”
“But you knew that I wasn’t normal.” She spits out that last word.
“You were always Lea. My Lea. The Lea that I—” I trap that last word in my mouth. I won’t say it right now. Not like this.
“So then you agree. I’m not normal.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” My tone is harsher than I mean.
“After what happened to your parents, I’m pretty sure you became wary of all supernaturals.”
“They were killed by vampires and that didn’t stop me from hanging around your house, which is usually filled with vamps.”
She shakes her head with disgust. “I knew you weren’t different than everyone else. Judging, scorning, and rejecting.”
My brow wrinkles. “How did I reject you? I’ve been by your side all along. I slept on your couch so you wouldn’t be alone, endured your terrifying uncle for weeks after what happened sophomore year. I brought your schoolwork. Sometimes did your schoolwork. Made sure you ate. Taught you how to drive, took you all over Brooklyn. I was there, Lea.” And now I’m here. I hate this conversation and what she’s implying.
Lea doesn’t look at me. “We’re just different, Tyrren.”
“What’s so bad about that?” I feel as if she’s slipping from me.
She shakes her head. “We come from different places. We want different things.”
“No, we both come from Brooklyn. From broken families. Love music. Driving fast. Pizza. Books. Movies. Long walks along the East River. Dreaming of backpacking around the world.”
“No, that’s a life for a nat. I’d been trying to fit myself into that mold. It’s not who I am.”
Then again, I haven’t calculated how any of that might work for a vampire. But I’m not ready to let go of the life and dreams we shared. “What about both? Can’t you have both?” I don’t like the plea in my voice.
“Right now I have nothing,” she says.
The comment wedges between us.
“What about me? What about us? We’re here, locked up together. We have each other.” My chest craters.
“You don’t belong here.”
“That isn’t true.” I pause a beat, trying to read her expression, tap back into how we could always read each other’s mind, and finish each other’s sentences. “Did Emeric make you think all this?”
Fury rolls across her features like thunder. “I can think for myself. I’ve had a lot of time to think the last couple of days. I’m done ignoring that I’m fae. For your information, Emeric didn’t fill my mind with anything, but he did dance with me.” She gets to her feet.
I stand up. “I already told you that I would’ve.”
We’re toe to toe. If this were a different kind of moment, I could count the freckles on her nose and cheeks. I can’t help but stare at her then pull back, realizing what I was unintentionally doing—using my vampire abilities on her. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to how my body and mind have two different agendas now.
“You had four years to ask me to dance,” she says.
“I didn’t know you liked dancing.”
“Exactly. You hardly know me at all.” Lea turns and storms away.
More than a few pairs of eyes stare at us, but I don’t care. What concerns me is that the best thing in my life just left it.
Chapter 11
Leajka
It turns out that it’s possible to be boiling mad and completely flustered at the same time.
I exit the cafeteria after fighting with Tyrren. He’s never stood up to me like that and if the red-hot fire from dancing with Emeric wasn’t still in my veins, I’d have swooned. I’m not the swoony type, but Aina, who I worked with at the bookstore, encouraged me to read a few romance novels. I didn’t hate them.
It’s true, Tyrren has always been there. But right now, I want to be anywhere but here. My thoughts drift to Emeric. The way he looked at me. How he said I’d summoned him. He’d be whatever I wanted him to be. The temptation, the pull to him, was as strong as the magic that simmers inside of me.
Outside, I try to catch my breath. The sun burned away the fog and bathes the stone on the east side of the buildings in a magnificent gingery gold. Last night, while dancing and lost in Emeric’s embrace, I faltered, almost fell. Tyrren was there to help me up but there was no denying Emeric’s hold on me. Possessive. Complete.
I’m on the verge of losing my mind.
What is going on with me?
After returning from the meeting last night, whatever magic seduced me into thinking what I’m doing here made sense, wore off during the long wakeful hours as the clock teased me by not keeping the correct time. I swear it was three in the morning for three hours.
Doubt crept back in, knocking into the shadows of thought. Then irritation grew into straight-up outrage at not having clear answers to—well, to the questions that I haven’t yet asked.
Who am I? Why am I here?
Maybe this is an existential crisis?
If I hadn’t just stormed away from Tyrren, he’d know what to say. But I wasn’t wrong. He doesn’t understand. I’ve never felt like I belonged in my skin or here, in this realm. After learning about Terra and Borea, it’s starting to make a strange kind of sense.
I push against confusion, letting rage back in.
I steam forward along the sidewalk, but my train wreck of thoughts derails when I realize I have nowhere else to go. I stop.
I have no family. No one. I’m alone. A tear escapes, but I quickly wipe it away along with the notion that I can leave this campus.
I shouldn’t have gotten so upset at Tyrren.
A bell signals breakfast is over. I hurry back to the dorm so I have time to change before classes.
First up, I have Magical Management. Within the first five minutes of Professor Porter’s instruction, it should actually be called, Suppress your Magic. I’m good at that. She hardly seems like she enjoys the topic though.
Tyrren stumbles in late. That’s unlike him. Even though he wants to be a blacksmith, his grades could probably get him into most colleges. Even with school, his job, and working at the forge, he also managed to hang out with me. His expression is pure iron and he hardly takes his eyes off the window.
As if reading his mind, I think Yeah. I want freedom too. Maybe some of that will be found in information. I raise my hand.
“Yes, Miss Vladikoff.”
“I want answers.”
Professor Porter adjusts her glasses. “Then ask questions.”
“What is this place? Why are we here?”
“Riker’s Reformatory School,” she answers as though it’s obvious.
“I mean before when this was a place for gifted supernaturals.”
She frowns. “Being called to Amsterdam Island Academy was an honor. You’re right, it was for the intellectually and magically gifted. It was a way for supernaturals to align with, cultivate, and learn how to use their gifts to serve the world.”
“Now, we’re being locked up, taught to restrain our magic.”
“You’re here so you’re kept safe.” Her lips form a prim line.
The bell rings as though calling that out
as a lie. As we file from the classroom, I sense two sets of eyes on me—Tyrren and the teacher’s. I avoid them both.
On my way to my next class, a crowd gathers in front of the common quad. Across the door is the word Faetcher with a big letter X blazing through it.
Rumors spread quickly about the vandalism. I hope this isn’t strike two. Then again, I have an alibi. Professor Porter can testify that I was annoying her in class. I spot Amelia.
“What’s it mean?” I ask. “Rizon used the word yesterday.”
“It’s the worst kind of insult for fae.” Amelia wrings her hands.
“Any idea who did it?”
She shakes her head. “Pick a vamp, any vamp. Hopefully, they’ll still let us have the Fae Court Masquerade Ball this weekend.” She goes on to explain how some of the traditions when this was a magical academy have been maintained. “It’s like prom, but similar to the balls from the Fae Courts of Borea and just about the only fun to be had. Our little midnight rendezvous was a little taste.” She winks.
I swallow, thinking of my recent prom fail. “Do we have to go with a date?”
“Of course, and I know who your date is going to be. Never mind the way Tyrren looked at you. You were practically drooling over a certain hot mage.”
“A what?”
“A mage. The youngest and wisest so I hear. He came here from Borea when we started having troubles.”
“Do you mean Emeric? How did he end up here though?”
“He’s a champion for the fae. Doesn’t mess around. He went on an unauthorized demon-killing spree and destroyed government property in the process,” Amelia says with awe.
Me too, minus the property part. “What about you? Who are you going with?”
Amelia’s cheeks flush.
“What about Tyrren’s roommate, Aaron? He seems like a loose cannon, but not one you can’t handle.” There’s no denying her pink cheeks whenever she sees him.
“More like a missile or a landmine. He wasn’t at breakfast or class today though.” She knocks me in the shoulder. “Anyway, the ball. Despite the divide between fae and vamps, they’re trying to bridge our differences with Fae Court dances and vampire endurance games—if you think that kind of thing is fun. I do not.”
“If it’s a masquerade, what about costumes?”
“Last year I wore a yellow floor-length gown with marigolds stitched into the bodice.”
I waggle my eyebrows.
“This is an event. We get full-on fancy like the Fae Courts in Borea.” She leads me down the path to our next class, sharing all the details, especially how gorgeous I’d look in red.
Rizon and a few of his buddies bar our path.
I fold my arms across my chest and cock a hip.
“We heard you like pranks. Back at your old school, you’d do things like this with your scab friend.”
Anger as deadly as iron rises in my blood. “I. Did. Not. Spray. Paint. The. Building,” I say through gritted teeth. “And don’t use the word scab.”
“Was it you who spray painted faetcher on the quad with a big X across it?” Amelia says, coming to my defense.
He snorts. “Are you sure it wasn’t your scab boyfriend.”
My eyes narrow. “I don’t have a boyfriend and you know nothing about me.”
“We know where you come from and all about Tyrren.” Rizon leers.
I turn to Amelia, “Do you think a mouthful of broken teeth would be an improvement or—?” I rely on Tyrren to finish my sentences, but I think Rizon gets the point.
His pals back up.
“Try it. You’ll break your hand,” he says.
“It’s an unfair fight, Lea,” Amelia says then louder, “Someday, we’ll have our power back and you won’t stand a chance.”
“I’d like to see you try.” Rizon laughs.
Emeric saunters our way with his shoulders back. His expression is smug. He wears a black robe over his uniform—according to Amelia, this is a sign of him being a mage, similar to how Tyrren earned belts in jiu-jitsu. “I suggest you leave Lea and her friend alone.”
Rizon steps closer, posturing. “Is that a threat?”
“Something like that.” Emeric exudes power despite the magic suppression enforced by the school. Maybe it’s different for mages.
Rizon snorts and then storms off.
“You okay, Leajka?” Emeric whispers.
I nod. “Thank you.” I know I can handle myself but something comes over me in his presence.
“Good. I’m wondering if you’d like to accompany me to the Fae Court ball. I enjoyed dancing with you the other night.” His lips quirk.
“I’d be delighted.”
Amelia practically squeals with excitement.
For the rest of the day, all anyone talks about is the graffiti and the masquerade ball. All I can think about is the silence growing between Tyrren and me.
On Saturday evening, I stand in front of a mirror dressed in a black silk gown with an underlay of red feathers. The word that comes to mind is fascinating. The smooth fabric in my hand is like a fluid work of art. I’ve never worn anything like this. Emeric sent it to me as a gift.
Over my shoulder, Amelia smiles approvingly.
“This is so not me. I’m more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of gal.” I swish back and forth.
She laughs and gives me a mask covered with crystals and a plume on the side.
“Is this for real?” I ask.
She holds out a pair of black high heels like the kinds Ivan’s dates wear. The soles are red like the feathers. I teeter to my feet, trying to get used to balancing with the extra inches added to my already tall frame.
At twilight, Emeric meets me at my dorm. He looks regal in a velvet frock coat, trousers, and his hair loose around his face. We walk along the path leading to the common quad. Glittering lamps guide the way flickering on the cement.
“I’m surprised Jurik didn’t cancel it after the second instance of graffiti,” Amelia says, catching up to us.
“I’m surprised she didn’t blame Tyrren or me.” I tell them about being called into the office and probation.
If they’re shocked, they don’t show it as we enter the parade of couples and small groups crowding into the entryway. Emeric grips my hand as if showcasing me as his date. My cheeks warm.
I realize Amelia is probably looking for Aaron—he hasn’t been in class. I watch for his roommate. My heart sinks at the possibility that he has a date. I want him to be happy...and that’s not with me.
If I still lived a normal life it would be my high school’s actual prom night. I wonder how much fun Lucas and Saundra are having. But it’s nothing like the kick in the gut when I see a tall blond named Jasmin on the arm of a guy wearing a black suit with tails and a gold mask with Romanesque flourishes. Jasmin leans in and says something to Tyrren. He tosses his head back with laughter.
I plaster on a smile. Music that’s nothing like what the DJ spins at regular prom plays. Instead, it’s the plucking of strings and a melodious whistle.
“Back home, dances like this would happen every weekend. The fae are a festive bunch,” Emeric says. “Even though at RIP Jr we’re meant to assimilate to be more like natural mortals, we get this one little indulgence.” He winks. “I hope you like to dance, Leajka, because I don’t plan on letting you go.”
And he doesn’t. Not as hours pass and we dance and dance. I lose myself in his arms, his whispers in my ear, and the revels surrounding us.
It’s only when there’s a pause between songs and someone taps me on the shoulder that I stop. “Excuse, me, can I have this dance?” Tyrren asks.
His expression is stony and there’s a hunger in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Then again, he’s a vampire now.
Chapter 12
Tyrren
I press through the crowd, not in the mood to dance or even be here, leading Lea away from Emeric—the so-called fae king at RIP Jr. I whip around when someone bumps into me. I’m ready an
d loaded to fight—to feel something other than the prickly discomfort in my chest.
The person doesn’t apologize as they sweep onto the dancefloor.
Lea’s eyes are dark. Her lips pursed in question.
“Will you dance with me?” I repeat.
Her gaze holds mine. As the seconds pass and she doesn’t answer, the gulf between us widens. I have to be the one to cross it.
I grip the back of my neck. “I’m sorry about how things went. I’ve had to clear my head.”
“What’s cluttering it?” she asks, most certainly unused to seeing anything other than my moderately cheerful self, at least when we’re together. She doesn’t see me pounding the heck out of metal, taking out my frustrations with the hammer and anvil.
“A lot of things. Namely becoming a vampire, getting sent here, being accused of vandalism, you, and—” I close my mouth but not before I gesture in the direction from which we came. “And my roommate, Aaron, seems to have lost his mind and pulled a knife on me after telling me there’s a war coming. He’s fae. You could say there are a few things cluttering my head.”
Her brow wrinkles. “Where’d Aaron go?”
I shrug, suddenly feeling awkward. Not knowing what else to do with my hands, I catch hers in mine and begin to step right, left, right-left, leading her around the dancefloor to the otherworldly music.
We don’t quite find the rhythm. She doesn’t smile or wear a happy, carefree expression like she did at the diner.
I bite the inside of my lip. “It’s loud in here. I don’t really feel like being around people.” Controlling my urges is getting harder not easier.
Her brows lift. “Glad I don’t qualify as people. Do you want to go outside?” she asks.
“What about your date?” I ask, hoping she dismisses him as unimportant. Ugh. I sound ridiculous.
“I’m sure he won’t mind if we’re gone for a few minutes.”
He won’t mind? When has Lea ever cared about a guy minding what she does with her time?
“You and I need to talk.” There’s command in my voice.
