Cold Blood

by Heather Hildenbrand

  I could hear Wes’ words now when I told him about the message from Miles. There would be lots of “don’t worry, we’ll find him, you’ll be safe.” And then some, “What?! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me he’s called once before.” Still, I missed him enough that hearing him rant about protecting me sounded pretty good right about now. I started to hit the button that would dial his number and then stopped.

  Low voices drifted up from somewhere below me. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone sounded a lot like Vera. I crept forward, following the sound. I turned the corner and then stopped. There, below me, standing on a balcony, was Vera. Standing with her, and taking in every word, was Victoria. I dropped low and peered over the edge, close enough to make out the words now.

  “I’m sure you understand the need for secrecy in this matter,” Vera was saying. “It is against school policy to use a student younger than a senior in a mission like this. It’s dangerous and there’s always a risk.”

  “I understand.” Victoria sounded completely serious, almost to the point of reverent.

  “We are trusting you to keep your involvement quiet. Arrangements are being made. We leave in two days. You’ll tell your friends you’re going home for a weekend visit.”

  Victoria nodded. “No one will question it. I get special permission all the time.”

  The way she said it, like that made her such a catch, made me want to gag.

  “You understand, also, that we are relying heavily on your skills here. If at any time you are unsure of a direction, say so. It would be better than trying to bluff.”

  “I understand. I won’t let you down.”

  “Good girl. Get back to your room and we’ll talk in a couple days.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Victoria disappeared back inside, and I jumped up, heading for the door. What could Vera possibly want with Victoria? And why was Victoria basically drooling over her? She didn’t strike me as the peace-loving type; I’d heard her make remarks about the Cause already. Only one way to find out. I slipped back inside and down one flight of stairs, guessing in the direction of the balcony where I’d seen them. Somewhere in the stairwell below me, I could hear the sounds of descending footsteps, and I knew it must be Victoria, trying to sneak away.

  I stepped into the hallway and was glad that the lights were dimmed here. I stayed in the shadows and moved slowly towards the door I’d guessed as Vera’s. I was almost there when the stairwell door swung open behind me. I felt my heart jump into my throat and bolted. I made a left at the corner and ducked into a recessed doorway, praying whoever it was wouldn’t come this far.

  A few seconds later, I heard someone rapping lightly on a door. The door opened. I leaned out of my hiding spot and peeked around the corner in time to see a scarred profile disappear into a dark room. Professor Kane. I glimpsed a crown of silvery hair as the door closed behind him. I couldn’t take it. I had to know.

  The term “peeping tom” crossed my mind as I ran back up the stairs and onto the roof to lean over and try to hear what Professor Kane would say to Vera. So did “nosy nellie,” which is what Grandma would have called me. I still had to know.

  I reached the spot and knelt down; peering over the edge and feeling my pulse pick up speed. They were both out on the balcony.

  “You shouldn’t have,” Vera said. She was using a tone I’d never heard out of her.

  I thought I caught a glimpse of red before she set whatever it was aside and came back to stand in front of Professor Kane. He stared at Vera, and I suddenly got a weird feeling in my gut.

  “Jonah, I missed you,” said Vera.

  “I missed you, too.”

  And before I realized what I was about to witness, Professor Kane closed the distance and pressed his lips to Vera’s. I snapped back like I’d been slapped and slumped over against the low wall of the rooftop, trying my best to blink the image away. I felt disgusting and dirty and like… a peeping tom. Eww. Okay, lesson learned.

  “Nobody home tonight?”

  Alex materialized from somewhere behind an air vent and walked towards me in the dark.

  I tensed, hating how guilty I felt at getting caught. The fact that it was Alex who’d caught me was actually worse than if it had been a teacher. Especially when he was headed this way and directly below us was the grossest grown-up make out session ever. I absolutely could not let him catch me spying on that. I stood up and brushed myself off, walking towards him to head him off and praying he wouldn’t come any closer to the edge.

  “Home where?” I asked, trying to keep my mind on the conversation.

  “You said you wanted to go somewhere that got a signal, so you could make a phone call. Here you are, but you’re not on the phone, so I assume nobody’s home.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, that’s what happened.”

  Alex stood directly in front of me now, looking down at me with an amused expression. He’d showered, and I caught the scent of soap and something musky.

  “What are you doing up here anyway?” I asked, hoping to take the attention off of myself.

  “I come up here most nights. It’s a good place to sit and think without interruptions. Unless of course, you’re hoping to be interrupted.” His amusement turned to plain evilness and I already knew where this was going. “By, let’s say, voices on a balcony.”

  He sidestepped me and went to the edge, where I’d been standing. He peeked over and then walked back over to me, wearing a mischievous grin. I’d never wanted to punch anyone more. Not even when I’d lost it with Cindy Adams and busted her nose.

  “Quite a show, huh?”

  “I wasn’t spying. I heard something and–”

  “Are you talking about now or the first time you were up here?”

  I pulled my jaw shut and glared at him, debating whether to break his nose or kick him in his man-parts again. But I could feel the red heat of humiliation creeping into my face, and I knew it would be better if I made a break for it. I spun on my heel and headed for the door.

  I’d gone two steps when I felt a hand on my wrist, pulling me back.

  “Tara.”

  “Let go of me.” I spoke without turning, hoping my tone was scary enough. Apparently it wasn’t. The hand didn’t budge. If anything, it got tighter.

  “I was teasing, you. I’m sorry.”

  I was about to let him have it for grabbing me but those two words surprised me more than anything else he could have said. I turned to face him. “What did you say?”

  “I was being an ass. I’m sorry.” The evil smile was gone; I looked really hard for a trace of it, but his apology seemed genuine.

  “Not the first time.” I allowed my voice to soften by a few degrees. “But thanks for the apology.”

  “You can handle it. I knew that the first time I saw you in that warehouse. Whatever people throw at you, you can handle it.”

  I didn’t really know what to say. The edge in his voice was gone. He was being friendly, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with that. “Thanks.”

  He didn’t respond, just continued to look at me with an openness that left me a little nervous. I felt his hand drop from my wrist, but I didn’t move. He stepped toward me, close enough that I could feel his breath on my face, and I felt my knees tingle. Yeah, of all things, my knees tingled. It was weird enough to clear my head, though, and I stepped back.

  “I should, uh, get back. Before curfew,” I said.

  The moment evaporated, and he stepped away, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking unsure. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I nodded and power walked to the door that would take me back down and out of here. I didn’t stop until I reached my room.

  Chapter Twelve

  It didn’t actually dawn on me until later the next day that I never called Wes. I thought about trying to get away and do it that night, but I was too scared to try in case Alex was there again. I’d seen him at training that afternoon but he’d pretended nothi
ng had happened, and we’d run in silence. I went with it, since I had no idea what to say anyway. Like the day before, he tossed me a water bottle at the end and disappeared into the woods.

  I spent the evening with Cambria and Logan, wandering the grounds and making up names for Cambria’s relationship with Phillipe, like Cam-lippe or Phil-bria. I did my best not to think about Miles, or home, or where Victoria could be going for the weekend. I didn’t see Vera again, or Professor Kane, which was good. I was still trying to get the picture of them out of my head.

  Victoria left on Thursday, which was nice even if it was a mystery. I got a lot of my extra work done since I was able to spend time in my own room without fear of committing murder. I even managed to send an email to Sam and Angela, detailing my social standing and my class load for each of them, respectively.

  I got re-partnered in Defensive Maneuvers, with some kid named Raj, who I could’ve easily beaten in a freestyle – or “street,” as the kids here called it – fight, but since I couldn’t remember the combinations we were supposed to be doing, I kept getting kicked in the shins when I didn’t pivot like I should’ve.

  The only good thing that came out of it was that Raj, along with a couple of other kids, came up at lunch and asked if we wanted to go to some bonfire on Saturday. Cambria and Logan seemed to know what he was referring to, and I let them do the talking about time and place and everything. I watched when he sat down again; one of the girls at his table was the one who’d made a nasty comment about “letting mutts into school” on my first day. When she saw me looking, she smiled and waved and then went back to her lunch. All I could do was stare at her suspiciously.

  Training on Friday went exactly the same as the rest of the week. We ran until I hated my feet, and then Alex handed me water and went on his way. Like before, he acted as if our rooftop moment hadn’t happened. I didn’t press the issue. It was starting to feel like maybe it hadn’t happened, or maybe I was imagining the fact that he might’ve been about to kiss me. Maybe he’d been about to say something or just hadn’t realized he was standing so close. Whatever. I was determined not to think about it.

  After training, I showered and hurried to get dressed. I was due in the library with Logan five minutes ago; we were supposed to start on my Lineage project. It sounded about as much fun as running with Alex. Okay, wait, running was worse. Barely. The Draven was still in my suitcase, buried underneath what was left of my clean pajamas.

  I pushed clothing aside and pulled it out, brushing it off with careful fingers, even though it was already clean. Unlike the one Fee had given me, which had been covered in dust and smelled of mothballs, this one had a leather cover that shone with the evidence of regular polishing. It smelled of oil and crisp paper. I tucked it inside my bag and headed for the stairs.

  Cambria was coming out of her room as I passed. She fell into step beside me, and I caught a whiff of some fruity smelling perfume. She wore a black lace top over a red tank and jeans with faux rips running over the knees and thighs. Her bangs fell over her eye, in their usual place on her forehead, and the rest of her hair bounced and shone from all the gel.

  “Hot date?” I asked, bumping her with my hip.

  “You think I get dressed up like this for just anyone?” I had to smile because, aside from the extra perfume, this was how Cambria always looked. “You’re in a good mood. What’s up?”

  “Maybe because I am roommate free for the weekend.” I’d already informed Cambria of Victoria’s upcoming absence, but with all the homework and training with Alex, I hadn’t had a chance to tell her about the real reason for Victoria’s trip. Or what little I knew of it.

  “Good point. I’ve been thinking about that, actually.”

  “What?”

  “Well, this could be a good time to get some payback in, find out her weaknesses and all that.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “You mean go through her stuff. No way.”

  “I mean, you can find a way to get back at her.”

  I shook my head. “No way. I’m not going down that road.”

  “Oh, so you’re just going to wait for her to piss you off so much that you haul off and break her face? That’ll work out really well.” She rolled her eyes.

  I sighed. “Good point.”

  We were both quiet until we reached the top of the stairs.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Yes!” Cambria clapped like she’d won something. “Okay, meeting in your room tomorrow. Before the bonfire. We’ll strategize.”

  “Whatever.” I was pretty sure I already regretted this idea. I shifted my bag higher up on my shoulder and caught sight of the time on the wall clock overhead. “Crap. I gotta meet Logan. You coming?”

  “Eww. Allergic, remember? And I have plans.” She winked and then headed for the lobby.

  I turned and went up the stairs, bypassing the cafeteria and walking all the way to the end of the hallway. Large double doors sat propped open on my right, and I hurried in, scanning for Logan. There were a few empty tables near the front, a high counter to my right, and rows and rows of floor to ceiling shelving blocking my view of anything further.

  I spotted an older lady behind the counter, so short you almost missed her. She threw me a polite smile and went back to stacking books. Other than that, the place was basically deserted. I scanned the reference signs and headed for the ‘Lineage’ section, passing markers that read ‘Hunter History’ and ‘Weaponry’. Not your typical human library, although there were sections marked Fiction that displayed Harry Potter books on the end caps. Some things transcended race.

  The lighting grew dimmer in the back of the stacks, and I found Logan at a table in the corner, between “Lineage” and the “Reference” section.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said, sliding into a chair and setting my bag on the floor.

  He looked up from a massive volume that lay on the table in front of him and waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I got caught up.”

  It was sort of funny, seeing a tan-skinned, hat-worn-backwards, surfer looking guy with his nose in a book, all alone in a library on a Friday night. Talk about a contradiction. I looked down at his book and he spun it around so I could read the title. “Physics, As It Relates To Battle Technique,” I read. “Wow. Light reading before we get to work?”

  “It’s interesting. You could probably use it to perfect your sparring defense. Not get kicked in the shins so much.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “Yeah, if it was in English. Two words in and I feel like I’m reading Russian or something.”

  Logan shook his head and closed the book, sliding it away. “Okay, where is it?” He held is hands out.

  “Oh, right.” I reached into my bag, pulled the Draven out, and handed it across the table.

  Logan took it and stared, running his hand carefully over the cover. “Wow,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “It’s really cool to be holding a book like this.”

  “Aren’t all Dravens pretty much the same?” I was looking at Logan like he’d lost it, but he didn’t notice. He was still staring down at my book like it was the Bible, original print, or something.

  “Well, the first sections are. They all talk about our history and famous battles and basic fighting techniques. But after that it gets pretty personal to the family it belongs to. Not only family tree stuff but information about each generation and their role in our society. What they accomplished in their life, their legacies, special abilities, stuff like that. You feel how heavy this is?” I nodded, but he wasn’t looking at me. “Your family line must be traced back pretty far. My Draven is only about half as thick as this one. Yours is definitely a lot older, too.”

  “Fascinating. Which means this family tree project is going to take twice as long, isn’t it?”

  “You’re supposed to go back as far as you can.”

  “Right. Let’s do this.” I pulled out a notebook and a pen.

&nbs
p; Logan opened to the page that listed my family line and read off the first few generations. “Elizabeth Godfrey, born 1971, daughter of Edith Godfrey, born 1948. Married to Lowell Godfrey, born 1945.” Logan paused and scanned the page. “Huh. That’s weird.”

  “What’s weird?”

  “Most Dravens list marriages and deaths, at least when the family remembers to update them. And yours is pretty well-kept because I see where they listed your grandfather’s death in 1991, which was right around the time you were added. But it doesn’t mention your father, or his parents, which is tradition since it lets you know where to go to trace his family’s Draven…” Logan trailed off and looked up at me, his face reddening a little in the dim lighting. “Oh, yeah. Your dad wasn’t a Hunter.”

  “Let me see,” I said, ignoring his reaction. I refused to feel embarrassed about what I was, even with Logan.

  I took the book and twisted it around so I could read the names. Sure enough, there was a line drawn from my mother’s name, but it led to a blank spot. I shoved the book back across the table, confused. “I wonder why, though. I mean, Grandma has always seemed fine about it all. Neither of them talks about him much, but I get the impression he was accepted by my grandparents.”

  Logan cleared his throat, looking awkward again. “Typically, this project includes a section about your father. I guess you can talk to Professor Lopez about it if you want.”

  “Logan, I’m not going to be embarrassed about who I am. If I act ashamed, it will give people like Victoria more ammunition. I know my father’s name was Jeremiah De’Luca. I’ll have to dig up what I need to know on my own.” I stopped. Logan’s eyes had gone wide. “What?” I demanded.

  “Your dad was Jeremiah De’Luca?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “We learned about him in freshman history. He was a founding member of The Cause and a kick ass scientist. He did a lot of research on the differences in DNA between Hunters and Werewolves. It led to a breakthrough in the way we use metal against Werewolves.”