The aura one sounds kind of applicable to me. There are several examples of what an aura might look like. Colors are one of them. I answer “not applicable” to everything. Telling people I see Colors rather than faces has never done me any good before, and I see no reason to tell these strangers.
I might be a vampire, and I might be dangerous to my mom, but these people still kidnapped me. I don’t trust them.
“Are you done filling out your paper?” Kyrie asks. Or the Crow. All of the students seem to call him the Crow. I can see why. He’s always perched like a bird, and he really does have silky black feathers almost all over him. I’m pretty sure his arms are also wings, like how bats have little thumbs or whatever attached to their wings. His clothes are still baggy, but he’s not wearing layers to hide everything anymore. I’ve never seen a silhouette like his, and if I hadn’t taken a couple more pictures of him, I’m not sure the feathers would have ever registered in my head.
I’d probably stick with the name Turquoise, but the Crow works for me. If it means blending in around here especially. Fading away into the shadows, that’s me. It’s always been me. Even with my “eccentric” look. No one cares to see past that. I get labeled the weird girl, and I’m left alone.
Which suits me.
“Yeah.” I hold up the paper, and the Crow takes it.
“Since this is a period meant for sixth-sense discovery, I’m gonna have you walk around with me for a bit,” he says.
I resist a sigh. There are, like, thirty other students in here, which means there are only about thirty new students at Nightmare—I mean Nightshade—Academy this year. This is a thing students only go through once, and only when they’re new. The Primary Colors are newish, but apparently not brand new since they aren’t here. Maybe they just flunked Vampires 101 last year.
“C’mon,” the Crow says. “It won’t be that bad.”
I stand up and grip my blood bottle. I hurry and take a sip, too. The Crow leads the way to a shiny black podium with a human skull mounted on it.
“So, this is fake, right?” I ask, though I know it probably isn’t. It looks like something that should be in a museum; it’s falling apart.
“Nope, but it is pretty old. I found it outside in the tundra a few years ago, frozen. According to his ghost, he got killed in a polar-bear attack. That was one hundred years ago.”
“Just how far north are we? I thought we were in Alaska and that polar bears lived in the north pole.”
“We’re pretty far north. Polar bears will come down here—not into Nightshade specifically, but outside the borders, sure. You could see one.”
I shiver. Never in my life did I think I’d have to worry about bear attacks, let alone polar-bear attacks.
“Wait,” I say. “According to his ghost?” I throw out my hands to indicate the dusty skull.
“Yes. His spirit refuses to leave this piece of his body. Most of Nightshade is a dead zone for spirits, as we said at the beginning of class. In fact, this is the only one sticking around, and I think it’s out of pure spite. He wants someone to lend him their body so he can explore the rest of the world as flesh and blood. He says it’s no fun when you can’t feel it, taste it, smell it.”
“You’re making all of this up,” I accuse.
The Crow’s turquoise turns warm somehow, like a stone heated by a fire. Based on that shadow on his face, he’s smiling. “Unless Zanza is lying to me, it’s the truth. I can’t see spirits myself. And I certainly can’t talk to them.” The Crow picks up the skull. I don’t mean to put out my hands, but it’s a reflex when he holds it out to me and drops it in them. Gross, it’s grainy like loose sand.
“See anything?” The Crow folds his arms.
“No.”
“Hear anything?”
“Other than you, the other students, and the teachers?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“All right, so ghosts aren’t your thing.”
“Thank God for that.”
The Crow chuckles. “I agree it doesn’t sound like the most peaceful sixth sense to have.” He leads the way to another podium with several stainless-steel spoons laid out across it. “I’m sure you’ve seen this before. Sometimes it’s a trick, sometimes it’s real.” After picking up a spoon, he holds it lazily between two fingers, at the bottom of the handle, while the actual spoon part bends wicked fast. It screeches violently and twists around into something else, like a mini abstract sculpture.
My mouth hangs open and continues to when I try to close it. The latch is broken, folks. Mind is blown.
“And this, in case you think I was pulling the wool over your eyes with that one.” The Crow spreads out his fingers, rests the former spoon in his palm, and then it starts levitating. It’s a foot above his hand.
I squint, trying to find an invisible string. I see nothing.
“Telekinesis,” the Crow says. “I can’t do anything extremely impressive, but it’s great for party tricks.”
That was pretty fucking impressive to me.
“This has to do with our demon blood too, right?” I say. “So why doesn’t everyone have a sixth sense or a psychic ability or whatever?”
“Nova, did you listen to the introduction for this period or not? Having a sixth sense is separate from demon blood running through your veins. Unchanged humans can have a sixth sense, too.”
“So we don’t know where they come from.”
“Indeed. Take a spoon.”
I do, hold it at arm’s length, and stare at it like I expect it to jump out of my hand. Other than my palm getting sweaty, nothing happens, and I definitely don’t sense anything out of the ordinary. “I don’t have telekinesis either,” I conclude.
“Not that I doubt you, Nova, but you did fill out the questionnaire truthfully, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, why would I lie?”
“It’s not about lying. I know the circumstances for your arrival here were less than ideal, and I apologize for knocking you out, but I promise we’re only trying to help. At least by now you know we aren’t lying about things like demon blood and the power of a sixth sense.”
I offer a begrudging nod. “How did you find me anyway? Wasn’t the timing a little too convenient?”
“We keep our ears open for troublemaking changed humans like Eduardo.”
“Eduardo.”
“Your father. One of ours tipped us off about what would happen that night, so we were prepared.”
“Who? How?”
“Not my place to say.”
Frustrating, but at least he isn’t outright lying to me about it instead.
The Crow changes the subject. “If you did have a sixth sense, it’d be helpful to pair you up with a mentor who has the same sixth sense. A sixth sense can make a person feel like an outcast. It can also be hard to manage or control. Have you ever heard about the power of crystals and gemstones?”
“Power…?”
The Crow perches. I expect him to lean against the podium, but he somehow becomes a part of it. He’s not standing on it, but… he’s become one with it? A crow indeed.
“Depending on the crystal or gemstone, they can be used for many things. Usually they need to be prepped first. Charging them with sunlight or moonlight is common. They intake energy and radiate it. Some people will wear a charged crystal at all times for its healing benefits. But sometimes it’s best to wear a cleansed crystal, one ready to intake energy—negative energy in this case. Of course, not all of these practices work well for changed humans. Wearing a crystal or gemstone charged with sunlight isn’t often a good idea.”
“Sounds like witchcraft,” I say, half-joking.
“It basically is. It’s a practice that can lessen the toll a sixth sense takes on someone, too. If you can see ghosts, there are crystals that can dull that ability. I hear it gets tiring to be bombarded constantly by the laments of the dead.”
I take another sip of blood—piss more like. “That’s cool
and everything, but I don’t have a sixth sense.”
“That’s fine, too. Also, Nova, better not to use your phone in class. I’m not sure if you have games on there or what, but a teacher might confiscate it if they think you aren’t listening.”
“Noted.”
CHAPTER 10
PE. It was one of my favorite classes in high school.
It wasn’t. That was a lie. And I’m remembering why, now that I’m running laps around this crazy school’s gym. This part of the castle was heavily renovated, the floor anyway. It feels like every other gym floor, but it doesn’t look it. That glossy glaze over wood? Yeah, it has it, but the wood is black, and the lines drawn in for the midcourt line and whatever are a bright white. At least this way it matches the dark gray and black stones making up the walls and ceiling.
Oh, and there’s a chandelier overhead. Or something like one. It’s huge, with fifty bulbous lights affixed to it. It keeps the gym bright where the little windows fail. Though most of us seem to have adept night vision. I think this much light is meant to blind us, or to get us used to life outside of Nightshade Academy. I swear these lights are brighter than any indoor lights I’ve seen before.
They don’t seem to put out extra heat, but I’m dying anyway. My black t-shirt and shorts cling uncomfortably to my skin, like those cheap sticky hands every kid loves.
Also, Kian is in this class.
He’s ahead of me, with fairies buzzing around his head, though he’s finally managed to get most of them to leave. There’s one more small one being stubborn, pulling at his hair. The pixies really are assholes. Kian tried to be nice, slowly shooing them away with softly waving hands. But he finally flicks this one, hard, like the bug it is. It works since it disappears into one of the cracks in the walls.
Kian’s fairy-free.
I’ve unconsciously kept a certain pace to keep this specific distance between us. It’s because I can stare at his chartreuse this way without anyone accusing me of it. I’m just looking ahead of me. You’ll trip on your own two feet if you don’t watch where you’re going. No one can say it has anything to do with Kian.
Sneakers squeak, and Emery matches my pace. She already ran a lap around me. With those long legs, she could do it again. I don’t know why she’s slowing down, but I hope it isn’t to talk to me.
“You might want to take it down a notch,” she says.
I frown. “What?”
“Your vampire death stare. You’ve been watching Kian for a solid minute, hardly even blinking. Those baby blues must be dry as heck by now.”
“I’m not—”
“I’m way better-looking anyway, an absolute treat. Model quality.”
That gets me to tear my gaze away for a moment. Orange assaults my eyes like the sun. This girl is too bright for me. “How do you keep your figure and your skin so perfect when you eat so much candy?” I ask, because she’s sucking on a hard candy. She’s been making it last.
“Obviously because I got the good genes. My metabolism is flawless.”
I turn my attention back to Kian. Chartreuse and rose red at its side. Whenever Kian and Oskar are in the same place, they’re inseparable.
Why does Kian’s green command my attention? I usually skim over Colors, but Kian’s is different. It’s too smooth. No, there has to be more to it than that. It doesn’t seem to fluctuate, though. It didn’t when I went batshit crazy on Emery, while we’ve been running, every time I’ve seen him… Does nothing bother him?
Emery interrupts again. “Seriously, Nova, chill out. Oskar keeps glancing back here, and I think he’s going to actually kill you.”
When I focus on his Color, I think she’s probably right. It’s bubbling like boiling water, glass shards poking up here and there. There’s always a possibility that rage isn’t directed at me, but I think that’s too good to be true, based on past experience.
The Crow blows his whistle. “All right, everyone, gather over here. Show me how many push-ups you can do. Go beyond your limit, until your arms physically can’t hold you up anymore.”
The Primary Colors come to a screeching stop just past me and Emery. Primary Yellow hisses under his breath. “I’d like to see how many push-ups that fatso can do.”
I’m not sure if the Crow is fat or if his feathers make him fluffy, but wow. Malice much? Based on the way Primary Yellow is wheezing, I’d put my money on the Crow out-push-upping him any day.
Primary Blue mutters, “Is the Crow even a dude? He’s a harpy, right? I thought harpies could only be females.”
These three don’t know when to shut up, and Primary Red is just quietly chuckling along. I almost want to say something, but it’s not like I know the Crow that well. Also, he’s a teacher. He doesn’t need me to stick up for him. No one’s ever stuck up for me anyway.
My eyes go back to Kian. They’d be glued to him if I didn’t manage to look away once in a while; they’re pretty much glued to him regardless. His Color isn’t like his Color all of a sudden. It’s chartreuse, but the gradient is like an actual gradient now: dark green at the bottom, lighter at the top. It’s a subtle change, but it’s more unnerving than Oskar’s churning red.
The Primary Colors must be pissing him off. Chartreuse is taking on yellow, like it’s burning, and the Primary Colors are oblivious. They’re whispering about the Crow, laughing at his expense behind his back.
“Push-ups, people,” the Crow reminds.
We all lower ourselves to the ground in a line, and the Crow walks around as we lift and lower. I leave my knees down at first because I expect push-ups to be as hard as they usually are for someone like me with literal noodles for arms. But I do several with my knees lowered and don’t feel the burn. No strain. Nothing.
Did I become stronger overnight? I bet bodybuilders would love to be in on this secret—whatever it is. Vampirism, I guess. Too bad it comes with constant stomach cramps.
A shooting pain careening through my middle demands a belly flop. I give in to that, but I resist the urge to bury my fist into my stomach.
“All right, I’ve seen enough,” the Crow says. “We’ll do a couple more warm-ups, and then we’ll test your fighting skills.”
I have to assume this is for us newbies. Emery, Kian, Oskar, and at least a few others here must be veterans of this school, based on the fact they weren’t in Sixth Sense Discovery.
We continue with the typical PE warm-ups: sit-ups, lunges, you name it. So far, this is the most familiar class at Nightshade Academy—minus whatever this fighting bit will entail.
When we’ve all finished the sets the Crow insisted on, Primary Yellow doubles over. His hands clamp just above his knees, and sweat drips down his brow with a fury. “Why do we have to learn how to fight anyway?” He says this loud enough that he must mean for the Crow to hear him this time. “I thought Nightshade Academy was supposed to teach us how not to be monsters.”
That’s the first thing one of the Primary Colors has said that I can relate to. Maybe they aren’t from Nightshade after all. But it’s weird. They weren’t at Sixth Sense Discovery.
“You need to be able to protect yourselves,” the Crow says. “No point in complaining, Craig. You could have been well past these beginner classes if your parents had enrolled you sooner instead of fighting us each step of the way, dipping their toes into our way of life, even though the stipulations for allowing you entry after you all came crawling to us, begging, are quite clear. Nightshade isn’t a place of convenience for the changed to run to when times get hard outside. We expect you to learn and adapt.
“But ultimately what you get out of attending the academy will be up to you. Your primary concern should be to graduate.”
Primary Red hangs back as Primary Blue folds his arms all defiant like. Primary Yellow pouts; I can tell by the way his yellow droops, like wilting dandelions. But Primary Yellow springs back to life when he says, “At least we’ve never attacked anyone and tried to drink their blood like Pink Hair.”
/> Oh. That’s me. I think he’s glaring at me.
“Because you three are sixth-generation vampires. You can stomach human food for more than half of your needed daily intake. It’s not so easy for a second-generation.”
I shiver, because I hate the spotlight.
But Kian’s chartreuse has stilled again. It kind of makes me feel a little better.
No, it’s just barely moving, alive but slow like puffy clouds drifting across the sky. You don’t notice them move unless you watch them for several minutes.
“Why don’t we show them what we can teach them, Crow?” Kian says.
“Indeed. Kian, you’re up. Boys, which one of you three is the best fighter?”
“Wes is.” Primary Yellow and Primary Red shove Primary Blue forward. “Teach them a lesson, Wes.”
“Them,” the Crow echoes. “If you can beat Kian, I’ll give you a chance to teach me a lesson, but if you can’t get past him—”
“You won’t get past the Crow,” Kian finishes. Those subtle shadows on his face shift, and I’m sure he’s smiling. He tilts his head my way. At first, I don’t think anything of it, but then I realize he’s probably looking at me.
Time to avert my gaze.
This is why people get the wrong idea about me. I often miss “easy” social cues. In school, teachers excused me as being… different. No one had an exact label for me, but everyone knew about my lack of social skills. It was the same story at every school I went to. Over and over again, people would learn I’m the socially inept girl, and so I got to the point where I didn’t care.
It’s a lot of work to pretend to be normal.
“Spread out,” the Crow says. “You two, Kian and Wes, front and center. Face each other. Come on, step back a bit. There you go. Wait until I say go, then it’s a free-for-all.”
“Free-for-all?!” Primary Yellow whines.
“Obviously they’re not allowed to maim or kill each other, but yeah. Anything other than that goes.”
Primary Blue makes a motion like he’s pulling up his sleeves, even though they’re already short. He must be pumping himself up, a mental psych-up. Kian stays still, and I decide his chartreuse reminds me of moss. The texture is subtle, but I think if these Colors were physical, it’d be soft and maybe spongy.
Nightshade Academy Episode 1: Awakened Vampire Page 6
