Haven

by Kristi Cook

  “Out where?”

  “I don’t know. A club. Webster Hall, maybe? Roseland?”

  “Nah, if you don’t mind, I’d rather stay in.” I had to share him at school, but not here. Not now. I wanted to spend every possible moment with him—alone but for Trevors, who was so discreet that it was easy to forget his very existence.

  Aidan nodded. “Whatever you want. Which train did you plan to take tomorrow? We’ll need to make sure you’re at the station on time.”

  “We’re not going to go back together?” Disappointment shot through me.

  “I don’t think we should. You’re supposed to be visiting your stepmother right now, remember?”

  “Yeah. It’s a good thing I never called her to tell her I was coming. But Dr. Blackwell will know the truth, won’t he?”

  “Yes, because I’ll tell him.”

  “Why would you do that?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Because he needs to know that you’ve learned the truth. I can’t keep something like this from him, not after all he’s done for me.”

  “The two of you are pretty tight, I guess?”

  “I suppose you could say that. We’ve known each other a very long time, and he’s given me the opportunity to pursue my research without interference.”

  “Can the two of you speak telepathically? Like we do?”

  He nodded. “All vampires can communicate with one another telepathically, if they want to. But it’s not really true telepathy, psychically speaking. It’s more like . . . a vampire channel. Which is why it’s so strange that it works between you and me. Have you ever tried it with anyone else?”

  “Yeah, Suzanne Smith. She’s on the fencing team with me, and she’s a telepath, so we gave it a try once. Oh, and her friend, the tall redhead—I tried with her, too. Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t get it.”

  He reached for my hand and turned it over, tracing the lines on my palm with one finger. “Me either. There’s a lot about you and me I don’t get.”

  “But you can read anyone’s mind, right? Not just mine.”

  “Sure, anyone who doesn’t block it. Any mortal, that is,” he clarified.

  “So, you just walk around all day, hearing everyone’s thoughts?”

  He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “No, it takes effort. It’s almost like there’s an on-off switch in my head. Otherwise, it would be sensory overload, all that noise. It’s something I use sparingly.”

  “But what about other vampires? Can you read one another’s thoughts?”

  “No, a vampire can’t breach another vampire’s mind. It’s kind of hard to explain, but mind reading and telepathy are two very different skills.” The clock on the wall chimed the hour, and we both looked toward it. The day was slipping by far too quickly. “Anyway,” he said, releasing my hand, “not to change the subject, but I’ve got to go out later, after you go to bed. I might be gone till dawn. I just . . . I thought you should know.”

  “Out to . . . you know . . . drink or whatever?” I mumbled.

  He smiled sympathetically. “Yes, Violet. To feed. Before I go back to Winterhaven.”

  “But didn’t you just . . . you know, with that junkie last night?” Would I ever be able to say the words? Feed. Drink blood.

  “Yeah, but I have to get what I can, while I can. It’s easier here. The more I feed, the longer I can go, and the less elixir I need. It’s as simple as that. Anyway, I didn’t want you to come looking for me and find me gone without an explanation. You’ll be safe here with Trevors.”

  Great. So I would lie awake all night, imagining him out hunting murderers and rapists instead. Yeah, that was comforting.

  Something else was bothering me too. I hated to give voice to it, but after what I’d seen in my vision the night before, it seemed kind of necessary to bring it up. “You’ve been alive more than a century, right?”

  “I’m not sure I’d call it ‘alive,’ exactly, but yeah,” he muttered. “Why?”

  “Well, you know . . . isn’t it kind of weird, being in school, surrounded by kids all the time? I mean, the age difference between us . . .” I trailed off, shrugging.

  “No, that’s another one of vampirism’s cruel tricks,” he said with a grimace. “You’d think that with immortality would come maturity, wisdom. Instead, you’re basically stuck with whatever level of maturity you managed to reach as a mortal. More than a century of life experience, and I’m stuck forever with youth’s impetuousness, with the mind of a boy.” He shook his head. “Trust me, there’s a marked difference between a vampire who was turned at seventeen and one who was turned at seventy. We don’t just even out eventually, no matter how long we go on living. Seventeen—that’s all I’ll ever be. I guess I should consider myself lucky that I wasn’t turned at ten instead.”

  I tried to imagine what it must be like to live all those years and not mature. It didn’t make sense—I just couldn’t wrap my mind around it. “It’s good in one way,” I offered teasingly. “I mean, I don’t think I’d be all that into you if you acted a hundred and thirty.”

  “Sure, it’s fine for now,” he said, shaking his head. “But what happens in a few years when you’ve matured into an adult, and I’m still stuck in this damned eternal boyhood? Like Peter Pan.”

  He was right, and I was an idiot for being so flip about it. The impossibility of our situation—of any relationship between him and a mortal—became crystal clear. I would mature; he wouldn’t. He would live forever; I would die one day. There was no reconciling it. God, no wonder he didn’t have a lot of friends.

  “Wendy grew up,” he said, his voice hard. “And so will you.”

  16 ~ Truth and Consequence

  Hey, earth to Violet!” Sophie tapped on my desk and I looked up, startled. “That was the bell. Wow, you look like your mind’s a million miles away. I hope you took notes for the quiz tomorrow.”

  “Quiz?” I asked a little dazedly. My mind kept drifting back to the weekend, trying to remember every little detail, every—

  “Duh. Were you completely zoned out?” Sophie peered down at me with drawn brows. “Hey, are you okay?” She reached for my hand.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I snatched my hand away, then instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, Soph. Here”—I reached out a hand to her—“go ahead and do your thing.”

  Sophie clasped my hand in hers and closed her eyes, her mouth pursed. “Hmmm. Well, your lymph nodes are a little enlarged, but that’s about it.” Dropping my hand, she opened her eyes and smiled at me. “I’d take it easy for the next couple of days, just to be sure.”

  “Believe me, I’d like to. But there’s a big fencing tournament coming up, and I’ve got to practice.” Already I was the varsity girls’ top-ranked fencer, and I’d go into any tournament as the top seed.

  “Well, you’ll be happy to know that your shoulder felt fine. It hasn’t been bothering you lately, has it?”

  “Nope,” I agreed. “You know, you really are amazing.”

  “Yeah, aren’t we all?” Sophie sighed as she gathered up her backpack and slung it over one shoulder. “Too bad I can’t actually heal, though. C’mon, or we’ll be late for our next class.”

  After lunch I was called to Dr. Blackwell’s office. I figured it had something to do with my weekend, and I was scared to death. I was about to get busted—and by a vampire, no less. I knew I was safe with Aidan, but Dr. Blackwell? Aidan trusted him, I reminded myself. He’d been the headmaster for years, and as far as I knew, he’d never hurt anyone.

  Just as I arrived outside the headmaster’s office, I saw Jack leave, a scowl on his face. He grunted a greeting to me as he passed me in the hall. I just waved, feeling terrible for him. According to Kate, he’d been caught using his telekinesis to manipulate a physics experiment—a pretty serious COPA violation.

  Kate said he was probably going to get benched at this weekend’s football game, and with playoffs coming up everyone was going to be pissed. Poo
r Jack. I imagined it must be difficult to possess the power to make things do what you wanted them to do, and not be able to use it when and how you wanted to. Unlike my useless so-called talent, which basically served no real purpose.

  “Come in, Miss McKenna,” Dr. Blackwell called out, and I hurried inside.

  “Please have a seat,” he said, his voice full of kindness as he gestured toward the chair across from his desk.

  I shut the door and did as I was told, erecting the solid wall around my thoughts. I had to, now that I knew what he was capable of.

  “I’m sure you know why I’ve summoned you,” he began, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded in his lap. “A weekend pass is a privilege, and not one to be abused. I believe the purpose of your pass was to visit your stepmother, was it not?”

  I swallowed hard before replying. “It was, sir. And I meant to visit her. I had every intention to, and then—”

  “Mr. Gray told me what happened when you left the train station,” he interrupted, his voice gentle. “I know you received quite a shock that night, and if you wish to discuss it, do not hesitate to do so.”

  “No, I . . . uh, I’m okay.”

  “Mr. Gray is certain of your discretion on the matter, and therefore I don’t need to remind you . . . well, never mind. His assurance is all I require. Anyway, where were we? Oh, yes. The weekend pass. I’m afraid I’ll have to give you a demerit, as using the pass for purposes other than those for which it was issued is strictly against the rules. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said miserably. I couldn’t help but study his incisors. They looked pretty normal to me.

  “Rule breaking aside, I must say how pleased I am to see you and Mr. Gray getting on so well. He works too hard, pushes himself . . . well, far more than is necessary. I’m happy he’s found a friend at last.”

  Dr. Blackwell stared at me expectantly, obviously waiting for me to say something.

  “I’m happy to be his friend,” I said, wincing at just how lame it sounded.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. I realize there are certain complications with . . . well, with the situation as it stands. As it was, he was robbed of his youth, and in all these years he’s never once recovered it. I guess what I’m trying to say, Miss McKenna, is that I hope you’ll help him find that youth again. After all, despite a lengthy existence, he’s still a teenager at heart—that’s the way our condition works, you see. He spends far too many hours in the lab working on . . . well, I’m certain he’s told you of his work. I’d like to see him out more, enjoying himself instead.”

  “But his work is really important to him,” I mumbled, not quite sure what to say.

  He waved one hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, of course. Still, he has all the time in the world for that, doesn’t he?”

  He doesn’t think Aidan will ever find a cure. All I could do was nod mutely.

  “Good, good. Well, I believe our business is concluded, then. I’ll inform Mrs. Girard of your demerit. I’m sure it won’t happen again, now, will it?”

  “Definitely not,” I said, relief washing over me as I stood and reached for my bag. I wanted to get out of this office, and fast.

  “Excellent.” Dr. Blackwell rose, smiling warmly at me. “I’ll see you fifth period, then.”

  It was odd that the first vision I had after spending the weekend with Aidan didn’t involve him or anyone at Winterhaven, but Lupe. It happened just before I walked into fifth period, and luckily Aidan was able to catch me as I stumbled, helping me, to lean back against the wall until it passed.

  It lasted only a few seconds—it was a quick one, as far as my visions went. I did everything Sandra had taught me too. Studied clues, looked for specifics. I was armed with everything I needed to prevent this one from coming true. Which was good, because I hadn’t yet mastered summoning a particular vision, no matter how hard I tried.

  As soon as sixth period let out, I hurried back to my room and quickly changed out of my sweaty fencing clothes. I had to do this—had to at least try. My cell phone clutched in one clammy hand, I sat on my bed and stared at the clock. 3:14. I’d wait one more minute, just to be safe. Gran played bridge at the club every Monday at 3:00 p.m. That meant Lupe would be home, and I needed to talk to her—alone.

  Taking a deep breath, I hit the speed-dial button and connected the call. It rang three times before Lupe picked up.

  “Hey, Lupe, it’s Violet,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

  “Violet! Is everything okay?”

  I should have figured that my call would alarm her. After all, I always called on Sundays, right after dinner. I looked forward to that call every week, to that connection with home. But I never called during the week.

  “Sure, everything’s fine. I, uh, I just wanted to talk to you about something, that’s all. Do you have a minute?”

  “For you, m’ija? Of course.”

  “Well, it’s just that I heard on the news that you’re going to get some bad weather on Saturday,” I improvised. “And . . . you know, the paper boy might miss the porch. And if you’re not careful, you could . . . um . . . slip going down the stairs trying to get it. You could break your hip.”

  I’d seen it happen, exactly like that. And I was sure about the timing, because I’d managed to see the date on the paper.

  “M’ija, are you saying that if I go out to get the paper on Saturday, I’m going to slip and break my hip?”

  I let out my breath in a rush. How was I going to explain it? “I know it sounds crazy, Lupe, but just trust me on this. Forget the paper on Saturday. Just leave it, okay? Stay inside where it’s dry and safe, that’s all.”

  There was a moment of silence, though I could hear Lupe breathing, so I knew she was still there.

  “I understand,” she said at last.

  But did she? “And I’d really rather you didn’t tell Gran about this. It would just upset her.”

  “Sí, Violet,” she said on a sigh. “Your mama, she was just like you, you know.”

  “Wha—what do you mean?” I stuttered. Was she . . . was she saying what I thought she was saying?

  I could hear Lupe drumming her nails against the table, like she always did when she was thinking something over. “She had . . . intuition. Good instincts,” she said at last. “Like you.”

  Tears burned behind my eyelids. I tried to picture my mother in my mind’s eye, but the image was fuzzy, indistinct. I glanced over at the photograph I kept on my bedside table—my mom, my dad, and me. I couldn’t have been more than two. That image of her—sitting beside my dad, smiling happily, me on her lap and her hair blowing behind her—was the only one I could see, no matter how hard I tried. I’d forgotten her, I realized. I had no solid, concrete memories of my mother, none whatsoever.

  “Thank you, Lupe,” I murmured, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. “For telling me that about my mom. It . . . it really means a lot.”

  “Of course, m’ija,” she replied. “Can I ask you one thing, though? One favor?”

  I cleared my throat. “Of course. Anything.”

  “The necklace—the cross I sent you. Promise me that you’ll wear it every day.”

  The clasp was still broken. I had to get it fixed, right away. “Of course. But . . . but why?”

  “I had a dream,” she answered, her voice nearly a whisper now; I had to press the phone against my ear to hear her. “A nightmare. Evil things, there at your school.”

  I shook my head. “I’m safe here, Lupe.” The key rattled in the lock—Cece was home. “I’ve got to go. Just remember . . . Saturday.”

  “Sí, Violet. I’ll remember. And gracias.”

  “’Bye,” I murmured, then snapped the phone shut.

  Mission accomplished.

  17 ~ Down the Rabbit Hole

  Hey,” Cece called out as I walked in and plopped down on my bed. “You look exhausted.”

  “You have no idea,” I said with a groan. Fencing practice ha
d lasted two full hours, and I hurt all over. “And I’ve still got to study for a trig test. I think this is going to be an all-nighter.”

  “That sucks. Want me to go get you some coffee?”

  I sat up and smiled at my roommate. “Would you?”

  “Sure! I’m too lazy to walk to the café, though, so the coffee from the lounge will have to do.”

  “Trust me, any coffee will do.” I reached across to rub my sore shoulder—a dull, throbbing ache was radiating from the joint, all the way down to my elbow. “Man, it’s killing me today.”

  She pursed her lips, her brow furrowed with worry. “You go take a hot shower, and I’ll be right back.”

  “Thanks, Cee. I owe you big-time.”

  As soon as the door shut behind her, I stripped off my clothes and reached for my robe.

  When I returned from the shower, Cece was back, two steaming Styrofoam cups beside her on the desk. “Here you go,” she said, handing me one. “Hey, your cell phone was ringing when I came in.”

  “Thanks.” I’d check it in a second; right now I needed my caffeine fix. Still wearing my robe, my hair wrapped up in a towel, I sat down on my bed with the cup clutched in one hand. Opening the lid, I blew on the dark liquid, then took a sip.

  “Blech, this stuff is awful,” Cece said, setting down her cup. “I thought I got hazelnut.”

  “I think it is hazelnut.” I took another sip, trying not to grimace. “Or at least it’s supposed to be. Anyway, how was your day? Better than mine, I hope.”

  “Okay, I guess. I’m thinking about joining the debate team.”

  “Debate team? Why?” She’d never mentioned any interest in debating before.

  She bit her lip, eyeing me sharply. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  “C’mon, give me some credit here,” I said with a scowl. “You did just buy me a cup of this craptastic coffee, you know.”

  She smiled at that. “Because Todd’s on the debate team, that’s why. I don’t know, I thought it might be fun for us to do something together.”

  “Todd?” I asked, trying to remember when I’d heard his name before. “As in Todd from the Halloween dance?”