Mirage

by Kristi Cook

  Tyler looked at Aidan curiously, clearly taking note of the possessive gesture, which was totally un-Aidan-like. “Uh, yeah,” he drawled. “I see you two know each other. Hmm, you never mentioned a boyfriend.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him—what, did he think he was going to get me in trouble or something? “That’s because it never came up.”

  “Now, I find that interesting,” Aidan said.

  What was this, some sort of male pissing contest? Luckily, the teacher strode in just then, interrupting all the fun.

  “And here I was worried about Byrne,” Aidan whispered. He dropped his arm and leaned back into his chair, his gaze focused on the teacher who was settling his things on the desk at the front of the room.

  He’s on the fencing team with me, I answered in my head as the teacher scrawled the name “Dr. Charles Michael Andrulis” across the blackboard. I noticed that he wore a pair of thin tan gloves, which I knew by now meant that he was probably some form of clairsentient, able to sense information psychically through touch. “Psychometry,” some called it. I wondered briefly if the gloves were to protect himself from information overload or to protect us from his psychic invasion as he handled things we’d touched. Maybe both.

  “Don’t let these put you off,” he called out, almost as if he could read my thoughts. He held up his hands, palms facing out. “I just prefer a barrier between myself and your teenage angst. Not that I don’t appreciate a little romance.” He laughed, and the class joined in. I glanced over at Aidan, but his gaze was fixed on Tyler, who was drumming a pencil on his desk, a scowl on his face as he stared straight ahead.

  “But occasionally my gift comes in handy,” the teacher continued, mercifully oblivious to our little drama in the second row. “What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on the Mona Lisa. Literally,” he added wistfully. “Perhaps someday. Anyway …” He trailed off, reaching for a piece of paper on his desk. “Let me start with attendance. Then we’ll talk about art.”

  Fifty minutes later the bells began to peal, signaling the end of the period. I closed my notebook and stuffed it in my backpack, trying to ignore the tension I felt crackling between the guys on either side of me. Did Aidan really feel threatened by Tyler, or was it all just posturing? Either way, it seemed pretty stupid.

  “So, fencing’s next period,” Tyler said, rising to stand beside my desk. He tipped his head toward Aidan. “Does he mind if you and I walk over together?”

  “Do you mind if I walk with you two?” Aidan countered. “I’ve got sixth period free.”

  I stood, then immediately reached for Aidan as my vision began to tunnel. Oh no …

  “What’s wrong with her?” I heard Tyler ask, just before Aidan’s arms came around me, holding me tight as the vision took over my consciousness.

  “That’s it,” Cece cried, tears coursing down her cheeks. “I’m out, Violet.” She was tossing things into a suitcase as I sat there helplessly.

  “What do you mean, out?” I asked. My hair was shorter, just barely brushing my shoulders.

  “Expelled,” Cece answered. “God, my parents are going to kill me!”

  “It’s my fault,” I said. “All because I sent you snooping for clues.”

  I blinked hard, my vision swimming back to normal, the hum in my ears receding. I hadn’t seen enough; I hadn’t had time to search for any sort of clues. Cece expelled? It didn’t make any sense. She was a good student, a model student. What could she possibly do to get expelled—and what part would I play in it?

  “How bad?” Aidan murmured, his lips against my hair.

  I let out a sigh of relief. “I’ve seen much worse.” No one had been physically harmed, at least.

  “What just happened?” Tyler asked, his voice laced with concern. “Did you have a seizure or something?”

  If only it were that simple.

  I stepped away from Aidan. “A vision, Tyler. My gift, remember?”

  I quickly replayed the vision in my mind. I’d seen my hair short like that once before, but the memory was just out of reach.

  “You okay to go to fencing?” Tyler asked, taking a step toward me. “Or should I tell Coach you’re sick or something?”

  “Nah, I’m fine.” At least, I would be fine. “I’m coming, just give me a sec.”

  Aidan was openly glaring at Tyler now. “Why don’t you give her some space,” he said.

  Can you please stop that? I snapped silently.

  Aidan’s gaze shot toward mine. Stop what?

  I shook my head. This whole weird possessive thing you’re doing. Tyler’s not … he’s just being nice.

  Aidan’s eyebrows arched knowingly. That’s what you think.

  “… going to be late if we don’t get moving,” Tyler was saying, glancing down at his watch.

  I just nodded.

  “I’ll let you two get going, then,” Aidan said, his voice maddeningly polite.

  With that, he turned and walked away from us. I stood there silently, watching his back as he slipped down the aisle and disappeared through the door without a backward glance.

  Tyler’s smirk was unmistakable as he stood there beside me watching Aidan’s exit.

  “After you,” he said at last with a sweeping gesture toward the door. Without a word, I set off, Tyler falling into step beside me.

  It was only later, as we made our way across the courtyard en route to the gym, that the memory I’d been trying to grasp earlier drifted effortlessly into my consciousness.

  I’d had a vision last year—a vision of myself lying in an unfamiliar, antique-looking bed. Aidan had been there in the bed with me, gazing down at me with bloodlust in his eyes. I had looked slightly different—my hair had been shorter, barely brushing my shoulders.

  Exactly like it was in the vision I’d just had.

  8 ~ This Kiss

  Got any plans for later?” Tyler asked, sprawled beside me on the piste. Around us, the rest of the team were packing up their gear, heading out to make the most of what was left of the afternoon. I was too tired to do anything but lie there, staring up at the ceiling.

  “What, you mean tonight?” I swiped the back of one hand across my sweaty forehead. The air was hot and damp, like a sauna. Not for the first time, I wished the long row of floor-to-ceiling windows lining the far wall opened, allowing in fresh air. The studio was stuffy, and it smelled like stale sweat and dust—not particularly a pleasant combination, but a familiar one.

  “Yeah, I mean tonight.” He raised one arm, sniffing his own armpit. “God, I stink.”

  “Yes, you do,” I agreed enthusiastically.

  He reached for the end of my ponytail and gave it a tug. “For the record, princess, you smell pretty ripe yourself.”

  I sat up, eyeing him sharply. “Hey, watch it. And yes, I do have plans tonight.”

  “Ah, with the boyfriend, I suppose. Speaking of Mr. Moody, Jack Delafield asked me to work on a project with the two of them in the chem lab. I guess Jack’s a friend of yours?”

  “Yeah, Jack’s dating my friend Kate. He’s a good guy.” But I was surprised that he’d asked for Tyler’s help in the lab, even if they did share the same psychic gift.

  “Kate’s the cute blonde?” he asked. “Looks like Tinkerbell?”

  I rolled my eyes. “She does not look like Tinkerbell.”

  He shrugged. “Does to me.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a towel, wiping his face with it before stuffing it back inside. “Anyway, Jack says he’s doing some sort of medical research—something about his brother. Weird, isn’t it?”

  “That he has a brother? Yeah,” I agreed. Because pretty much everyone else at Winterhaven was an only child. “Are you going to help out?”

  “Yeah, I thought I would. There aren’t a lot of us here. Micros, I mean. We had more at Summerhaven.”

  My curiosity was piqued. “What was Summerhaven like?”

  “Way more casual than here. None of this ‘Mr. Bennett and Miss McKenna’ crap. I gues
s you could say it’s less traditional. Summerhaven isn’t nearly as old as Winterhaven.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head. “Wasn’t founded till the 1950s or something like that. And the campus is totally different—smaller, for starters. The buildings are all wood and beams, kind of built to blend right into the landscape.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Mostly I miss the ocean. I like to surf.”

  “Are you any good?”

  His mouth curved into a grin. “Hell yeah. I could have competed, if I’d wanted to.” His smile disappeared at once. “But my dad … well, he was a fencer. Just missed making the Olympic team. It was pretty important to him that I follow in his footsteps.”

  “What happened to your dad? I don’t mean to pry,” I added quickly. “Feel free to tell me to shut up, if you want.”

  He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Nah, it’s okay. He had a dinner meeting with clients and was driving home after dark. A drunk driver crossed the center line and hit him head-on. They say he died instantly—blunt force trauma. Course, the stupid fucking drunk walked away without a scratch. On April Fool’s Day—can you believe that?”

  My throat felt tight, my windpipe constricted. “I hope he’s in jail—the guy who hit him, I mean,” I said, my voice tense.

  “Hasn’t been sentenced yet, but everyone thinks he’s going to walk. First-time offender and all that, just out of college. He shows up in court looking like some kind of altar boy.”

  I let out my breath in a rush. “That totally sucks.”

  His eyes looked hard, his jaw clenched. “Man, if I could just get my hands on him …” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I think that’s why my mom wanted to come east, to get me as far away as possible, just in case.”

  I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “I lost my dad too,” I said at last. “Three years ago. He was … murdered. Executed, actually.”

  “Oh God, Violet. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  “It’s okay—I don’t talk about it much. But I wanted you to know … well, that I understand what you’re going through. And it does get easier. At least a little bit.”

  “Do they know who did it?”

  I nodded. “It was in Afghanistan. Terrorists. He was a journalist, and they”—I swallowed hard—“they kidnapped him. There was a videotape, but I had already seen the whole thing. My visions,” I clarified. “I saw … everything.”

  “Fu-uck” was all he said, drawing it out to two syllables.

  “That about sums it up,” I said, refusing to let the images enter my mind. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know, that’s all. If you ever need to talk …”

  He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks, Violet. I appreciate that.”

  I just nodded, pulling my hand from his grasp.

  “I guess we should get going, huh? You’ve got those big plans and all. With the boyfriend.”

  “Are you going to keep calling him that?” I asked with a sigh. “‘The boyfriend’?”

  He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yeah, I thought I might.”

  I stood, brushing off the seat of my shorts. “You are so annoying.”

  “Just part of my charm,” he said with a wink, and then wrinkled his nose. “You really need to hit the shower. Trust me, the boyfriend will thank you.”

  I swung my bag at him, connecting with his arm.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault you stink.” He took a step back as I swung for him again and missed. “Okay, so you and Tinkerbell are spoken for. What about the rest of your little gang? Help me out here.”

  “Cece!” I said a little too excitedly, an idea forming in my head.

  He raked a hand through his damp hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions. “Which one is Cece?”

  “My roommate.” I reached for my bag and hoisted it onto my shoulder with a smile. “How do you feel about double dates?”

  I blinked hard, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark. “That went well, right?” I asked, lowering myself to the blankets on the floor of the chapel’s loft.

  I could hear Aidan digging out the candles he kept in a box in the far corner. He struck a match, and the small space filled with soft, flickering light. “If you say so,” he said.

  I scooted over as Aidan made his way back to the blanket and sat down beside me, draping one arm around me. I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “Well, it was going well till Todd walked in.”

  “Is that what happened, then? I admit, I wasn’t quite following the subtext.”

  “Todd sat down right behind us, even though there were plenty of empty tables.”

  “Marking his territory, I suppose,” he said with a shrug.

  “Yeah, but they broke up, remember?”

  Aidan nodded. “Oh, that’s right. Well, your little friend didn’t seem to notice, if his incessant chatter was any indication.”

  “Oh my God—‘my little friend’? You’re as bad as he is. He calls you ‘the boyfriend.’”

  “At least he knows where things stand. Remind me to congratulate him,” he said with a smirk.

  “C’mon, give the guy a break. He just lost his dad, you know. Back in April.”

  His brows drew together at once. “No, I didn’t know. Does he know about your father?”

  “Yeah, we were talking about it today, after practice. It was … I don’t know.” I shook my head, searching for the right words. “Easier this time, I guess. Talking about it, I mean. Mostly I just felt angry. Really, really angry.”

  He pulled me closer. “I think that’s normal, Vi. Especially in a situation like this, where there’s no justice.”

  “I swear, just knowing that they’re still over there, thinking they’ve won …” I shook my head. “It makes me sick.”

  Aidan reached for my chin, tipping my face up toward his. “You know, if it would make you feel better, I could take care of it. They deserve to die, and I would take great pleasure—”

  “No, Aidan. Oh my God, the very idea of you anywhere near them …” I swallowed hard. “Just no, okay?”

  “Violet, I’m a vampire. What do you think they’re going to do to me? I could end them all in a matter of minutes, with no risk to myself whatsoever.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the mental image of Aidan taking on my father’s murderers. A shudder snaked up my spine. “You would want their blood inside you, Aidan? Tainting you? They’re evil—pure and utter evil. Just … no.”

  “Of course,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I know. It’s okay. I appreciate the sentiment, trust me. They do deserve to die. I just don’t want their blood on your hands, that’s all.”

  “Understood. Anyway, back to Tyler. He seems like a pretty okay guy,” he conceded.

  “He is, and I think he could use some friends. Jack seems to like him.”

  “Yeah, he said as much. He thinks Tyler can help him with his work in the lab. Which is good, because I’m pretty preoccupied with my own lately. And speaking of which, guess who stopped by today—to check on the progress of my work, she claimed?”

  “Who?”

  “Nicole,” he said, and then corrected himself. “Mrs. Girard. Our esteemed headmistress. I’m pretty sure she’s never set foot inside the science wing before.”

  “Hmm, that’s kind of weird.”

  “I thought so too. I don’t want to get too complacent about her—she’s definitely not to be underestimated.”

  I nodded. “Right, the chairwoman of your vampire court. They’re all females, right?”

  “Actually, there are two males on the Tribunal, Luc and Goran,” he said. “Impeccable pedigrees, those two, turned by the Impaler himself.”

  “You mean … Vlad the Impaler?” I said incredulously. “He’s real?”

  “Definitely.” There was a trace of amusement in his voice. “He’s like a rock star in our worl
d. Probably the most revered male vampire ever.”

  “Wow. That’s … I don’t know, surreal. Where is he now?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Around. He’s pretty much a recluse these days.”

  I couldn’t believe how blasé he sounded. I mean, Vlad the Impaler? He was only the most famous vampire ever. Well, except for Dracula, but I’d read somewhere that Stoker had actually based Dracula on Vlad, so I guess they were really one and the same. “Okay, so who else is on this Tribunal?” I asked.

  “Let’s see, there’s Nicole, Luc, and Goran.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Adele—she’s pretty scary—and Melina. That’s it, besides the Eldest.”

  “The Eldest?”

  “Yeah, the eldest living vampire, Isa. Nicole’s the chairwoman, but that’s more like an administrative position. All the true power lies with the Eldest, though it’s a dangerous position. Isa’s been in power as long as I’ve been alive, but every couple of hundred years or so, there’s unrest among the ancients. Imagine a king with hundreds of younger brothers, all desperate for the crown—only with no familial ties to keep them in check.”

  “That sounds crazy. And dangerous,” I added. “So what’s this Isa like?”

  “Pretty much exactly what you’d expect from a thousand-and-something-year-old female vampire. The only real difference between her and the Propagators is that Isa is far more concerned with quality than she is with quantity. While the Propagators are indiscriminate, Isa sees vampirism as a gift only to be bestowed on the most deserving—the smartest, strongest, bravest. She’s far more calculating, more cunning, but just as dangerous.”

  “Do me a favor and try really hard not to get sent to the Tribunal this year, okay?” I still felt ill when I thought about those three days he’d spent in their clutches last year—being tortured, apparently.

  “You got it. Things are pretty stable right now, but you never know who’s plotting what and with whom. Which is why I prefer to stay out of the politics and why Mrs. Girard poking around the lab makes me nervous. Especially after Jenna’s little revelation about Blackwell.”