Blood Ties (Darke Academy)

by Gabriella Poole

  The Darke Academy series:

  1 Secret Lives

  2 Blood Ties

  3 Divided Souls

  Copyright © 2010 Hothouse Fiction Ltd

  Produced by Hothouse Fiction – www.hothousefiction.com

  With special thanks to Gillian Philip

  First published in Great Britain in 2010

  by Hodder Children’s Books

  This e-book edition published in 2010

  The author’s moral rights are hereby asserted

  All rights reserved. Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form, or by any means with prior permission in writing from the publishers or in the case of reprographic production in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency and may not be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A Catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 978 1 444 90260 0

  Hodder Children’s Books

  a division of Hachette Children’s Books

  338 Euston Road, London NW1 3BH

  An Hachette UK company

  www.hachette.co.uk

  PROLOGUE

  ‘Hey, kiddo. Are we keeping you up?’

  The voice sounded familiar, but somehow muffled and distant. As if it was coming from the bottom of a well. With an effort, Cassie Bell forced her eyes open and blinked woozily at the sight before her. The table was set with thirteen places. At the centre sat a pasty-looking turkey, clearly only big enough for eight. Cheap supermarket own-brand crackers and a paper tablecloth. Fatty chipolatas and overdone sprouts.

  Christmas, Cranlake Crescent-style.

  Could it really be only three weeks since she was eating exquisite French cuisine from fine china and crystal in the elegant dining room of the Darke Academy? It seemed a lifetime away.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  Cassie refocused on the sandy-haired figure across the table. Oh, yeah. Patrick. Her key worker. The only thing that had made coming back to her old care home bearable. She managed a smile.

  ‘Aren’t you hungry, Cassie?’ piped up Jilly Beaton sweetly from the head of the table. ‘That’s not like you. You’ve been eating us out of house and home for a fortnight.’

  Cassie dug her nails into her palms. Jilly’s bitchy remarks had been increasing ever since she had got back from Paris. Normally, Cassie wouldn’t have given her the satisfaction, but her fuse seemed to be getting shorter every day.

  ‘Yeah, well I just lost my appetite,’ she snapped, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘Cassie Bell, you’re not excused—’ began Jilly, but Cassie was already out of the room.

  Patrick caught her at the foot of the stairs, his face full of concern. ‘Cassie, what’s up?’ he said. ‘You’ve been acting funny ever since you got back from Paris.’

  Cassie paused for a moment. Where would she even begin? Tell him the truth about the Academy? About the mysterious group of students called the Few and their dark secret? About the ancient sprits that shared their bodies, instilling power and beauty but demanding in return that they draw life-force from their ordinary, human roommates? Could she tell him about what had happened to her in that black place beneath the Arc de Triomphe – the interrupted ritual that had left part of the spirit that had lived in the body of Estelle Azzedine lodged in her own mind? Could she tell him about the strange, driving hunger that had been growing inside her ever since, and how she knew that turkey and chipolatas just weren’t going to hit the spot … ?

  Impossible.

  ‘I’m just missing my friends,’ she mumbled. ‘Y’know?’

  An expression of relief washed over Patrick’s face. ‘Of course you are. Have you spoken to anyone today?’

  ‘I had an email from Isabella last night. And one from, um, Ranjit.’

  ‘Who’s Ranjit?’

  ‘Just, uh, a boy in one of my classes,’ replied Cassie, flustered. ‘Why?’

  Patrick’s grin grew wider and his blue eyes glittered. ‘Because you blushed when you said his name.’

  ‘Oh, give over!’ Cassie gave him a playful shove.

  ‘He’s not your boyfriend, then?’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ she said hurriedly.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘No. Really.’ Cassie twisted her fingers into the cashmere sweater that her friend Isabella had sent her for Christmas. ‘It’s … complicated.’

  Ha! That was the understatement of the century. Her few snatched moments with Ranjit at the end of term had hardly given them time to define their relationship. All she knew was that her stomach twisted with longing every time he came into her mind, but that he was back home in India. Thousands of miles away. She’d just have to put up with missing him – missing him like she could die of it. The feeling was so strong Cassie almost surprised herself.

  Absorbed in her memories, she jumped at the sound of her ringtone. Pulling her phone from her jeans pocket, Cassie almost dropped it when she saw the name on the display. She felt the blood rushing to her face again.

  ‘Speak of the devil …’ chuckled Patrick as he slipped back into the dining room.

  Cassie winced inwardly at his choice of words. She still didn’t understand what the Few truly were. What Ranjit truly was. Gods and monsters, he had once joked bitterly. So which was he? Cassie didn’t know. She wasn’t sure that he knew himself.

  Pushing her worries out of her mind, she clasped the phone to her ear like a lifeline. ‘Ranjit!’

  He must be able to hear the stupid grin she was wearing, even half a world away.

  ‘Cassandra.’ The soft warmth of his voice made her forget the freezing sleet and even, for a moment, the raging hunger. ‘Happy Christmas.’

  ‘Same to you.’ Breathless, she sat down on the stairs. It was criminal how much she missed him. Criminal, and deeply inconvenient. ‘Oh, it’s good to hear from you.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ He sounded concerned.

  ‘I’m fine. Fine. Just a bit … ’

  ‘The hunger is growing, isn’t it?’

  Cassie was quiet for a moment. It was a relief to speak to someone who knew what she was going through. Ranjit had been there before.

  ‘Yes,’ she said at last, and laughed shakily. ‘You got it.’

  ‘It won’t be long, Cassandra. A week and a half. Will you be all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. Honestly. I just …’ She hesitated, then took a leap of faith. ‘I miss you. A lot.’

  ‘God, me too.’ The vehemence in his voice was shocking, coming from the normally cool and collected Ranjit Singh. He almost sounded relieved. ‘I miss you and I’m worried about you. Have you, ah, heard any more from Estelle?’

  Cassie swallowed. Ranjit was the only person who knew that the ancient spirit sometimes spoke to Cassie inside her head – something unheard of among the Few. ‘Once or twice. But the old bat’s been quiet lately. I hope she’s curled up and died of hunger.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s going to happen, Cassie.’

  ‘Yeah. I know.’

  ‘Take care of yourself. Please?’

  She smiled, couldn’t help it. ‘Course I will. And I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Can’t be soon enough.’ He gave a low laugh. ‘Listen, I have to go. I’ll talk to you again when I can.’

  Tears stung her eyes as her stomach twisted again. ‘Bye, Ranjit.
Merry Christmas.’

  ‘And you. Again.’

  Cassie snapped the phone shut before she started to blub. She buried her face in her hands. Oh, this was ridiculous. She was supposed to be tough. She’d get through this. The hunger to feed, the hunger for Ranjit …

  Stop. Stop.

  The trouble was, she was ravenous. Overcome with a desperate, intangible hunger for something beyond mere food. But there was nothing she could do except wait it out until the new term began. Then she might get some answers. And perhaps the waiting might help. Hell, if you stayed off chocolate long enough, you lost the craving for it. If you lasted a few weeks without cigarettes, you didn’t want them any more.

  Yes, and if you give up breathing for a while, you’ll lose the taste for oxygen!

  Cassie stiffened.

  Well, really, my dear. You do amuse me!

  Ignore her, Cassie told herself. Ignore her.

  Easier said than done. Just the sound of Estelle’s voice in her head was enough to send the hunger sweeping through her with renewed force, so that she almost lost her balance, tipping forward.

  She heard a door open and close. Footsteps. A voice …

  ‘Cassie? Are you OK?’ Patrick’s tone was concerned.

  She leaped to her feet, fists clenched. OK? Why did he keep asking her that? Of course she was OK! His constant flapping around her was really beginning to grate. He should stay out of it, if he knew what’s good for him.

  No! What made her even think that? Patrick was only trying to be thoughtful; he had done so much for her.

  Estelle’s whisper was like the caress of a serpent. And he could do so much more, my dear.

  Patrick looked nervous under Cassie’s steady, feverish stare. Yes. Estelle was right. A good friend like Patrick would always give of himself. She could rely on Patrick. He was strong, young, confident. Full of life. Perfect.

  ‘Cassie?’

  She was just so damn hungry. Her lips stretched into a rictus smile. ‘I’m fine.’

  Don’t talk. Let him come closer. I can smell him …

  Patrick took a pace back, and she thought she saw him shiver. ‘Stop messing about, Cassie. Your dinner’s getting cold.’

  You seem warm enough to me.

  ‘OK, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you in peace.’ He was turning away. ‘Come back when you’re ready.’

  ‘STOP!’

  She launched herself from the step, almost flew after him. Seizing his collar, she yanked him back, spinning him around. Her fingers found his jaw, gripping him, tugging him towards her. He tried to pull away, but he didn’t stand a chance. Not a chance. Since the ritual, she was stronger than she’d ever been. More than strong enough to overpower this … mortal. Cassie laughed out loud.

  Patrick’s eyes were full of terror, and his panicked breath was in her face. She could smell him again: oh, the life of him! Her lips were pulled back when she caught sight of a figure beyond the glass panel of the front door. For an instant, her heart seemed to stop, and she stiffened and growled a challenge. A face snarled back at her, feral and mad, like a rabid animal. And then, with a sickening jolt to her gut, she knew. It wasn’t some monster trying to break into the house. It was her own reflection.

  ‘Oh my God!’ She let go of Patrick so fast he crumpled to the floor. She stumbled back and away from him.

  His terrified eyes were locked on her, the bright blue dilated almost to black. She expected that. But she didn’t expect the words that fell from his mouth.

  ‘Oh God, Cassie. Not you. Not you!’

  What?

  For half a second she stood, hands over her mouth, staring at Patrick. Then she turned on her heel and fled. She didn’t slow down as she took the stairs two at a time, crashed into her room, furiously grabbed a chair and jammed it under the handle. There. That was as safe as it got. As he got.

  Cassie slumped to the floor, exhausted. It could have been worse, she told herself, as her heartbeat slowed. So much worse.

  Who was she trying to kid? She’d lost control. She could have hurt Patrick. Killed him even. Jamming her fists into her mouth, Cassie bit down until she drew blood. A few more days, that was all. A few days and she’d be back at the Academy. Back with its mysterious principal, Sir Alric Darke. He must be able to help her fight this. She’d see no one until then …

  But Cassandra, my sweet, I must FEED!

  The plaintive, angry voice echoed and bounced around her skull, which felt so light and empty. She was dizzy with hunger. But she’d control it. It was just a few days. Only a matter of time …

  That’s right! In the echo-chamber of her head, Estelle sounded vindictive and starved, but triumphant. Oh yes, Cassandra, my dearest girl! Only a matter of time …

  CHAPTER ONE

  The carousel jolted into life as baggage spilled on to it. Cassie stood penned in the crush, overwhelmed with the sheer noise and bustle of JFK, desperate to spot her tatty suitcase so she could get the hell out of there. A tall, sweating businessman on one side, a mouthy old lady on the other, both of them shoving and manoeuvring, hanging like vultures over the turning baggage belt. Neither seemed like prime candidates to feed upon, but beggars couldn’t be choosers …

  Oh, no. Stop that! Cassie wanted to cry but she didn’t have the energy. Tucked tightly into her window seat, avoiding looking at the passenger next to her, she’d seen the dawn come up behind the Statue of Liberty as the plane had circled in, but she hadn’t cared. Hadn’t cared about the symbolism of it – sunrise on her own New World. Hadn’t cared about the beautiful symmetry and skyline of the city. She’d just wanted the plane to land so she could draw a clean breath of air, a breath that hadn’t been round everyone’s lungs already so that it tasted of them. She’d just wanted to be gone from that crush of humanity, crammed into the aircraft like an untidy life-force buffet.

  Well, at least she’d controlled her appetites. Seven hours. That was something to be proud of, wasn’t it? That was an achievement.

  Of course, my dear! And you were so right. I’m glad we restrained ourselves. Airline food. So dry and tasteless.

  Cassie spluttered a tight laugh out loud despite herself.

  ‘Hey, honey, wanna move along there?’ The businessman barged her out of the way to seize his case.

  If she hadn’t staggered sideways into the resentful old lady, she’d have fallen over. Now she could feel herself swaying, her reserves of strength almost gone. The man’s stale perspiration was overwhelming. The sour-and-salty tang made her nostrils dilate. It was only sweat but it was infused with the vitality of him. He was hot and his overburdened heart was pounding: she could hear it, feel it. Oozing out of his pores, his scent clung to her nostrils like … a plate of chips. Yes, that good. Cassie licked the upturned corners of her lips, focused on his, watched his breath pant out and in …

  Cursing, he pushed past her, banging his case on her shins, and was gone. Missed her chance. Tears sprang to her eyes, and Cassie didn’t know if they were tears of relief or fury.

  Missed! No! We missed him! Estelle sounded half-demented. Find someone. Find someone NOW!

  Vaguely, Cassie was aware that her own case had just swept by, held together with a recognisable old bungee of Patrick’s, but she took no notice. She was scanning the crowds hungrily now, and she wasn’t worrying about anything any more. Anything except—

  That one! That one, quick!

  Turning dizzily on her heel, she locked on to the figure Estelle meant. It was young, strong, female. Slender but toned, and striking in a dark Mediterranean way. It had a child with it but the child was passed into its father’s arms with a kiss and a word and a smile, and now the young, strong female was turning with a click-click-click of heels and making for the toilets.

  Not it, she! yelled Cassie inwardly. She! She’s a human being—

  Yes, yes. Whatever. She! Quick! WE’LL MISS HER!

  Backing up swiftly, hunger jarring against the thrill of the chase zinging through her veins, Cassie
pushed her way through the crowd and followed the click-click-click. Funny that she could hear it so acutely through the noise and the bustle and the endless distorted public announcements. It was as if her whole being was focused on the sound of those heels, every nerve in her body locked on to the female. A little way ahead, it – she – swung open the door of the toilets. Click-click-click. Cassie quickened her step, silent in beaten-down trainers. Almost there. Almost there!

  HURRY!

  Yes, Estelle, we’ll feed. We’ll FEED!

  ‘Cassie!’

  The shriek of greeting penetrated her concentration. Just. Her purposeful steps wavered.

  ‘Cassie Bell! Darleeng!’

  A mosquito. Buzzing, bugging. She wanted to swat it, kill it. Leave me alone, she wanted to scream. I need to—

  Something barrelled into Cassie, knocking her off-balance and enveloping her in a warm, expensively scented hug. ‘CASSIEEEE!’

  For a fraction of a second Cassie fought the embrace, throwing a starving glance at the toilet door as it clunked gently shut on the human and its life-force.

  Then she came back to herself with a jolt that was almost painful. What had she done? What had she nearly done!

  ‘Isabella?’ Close to tears, Cassie returned her tight embrace, hanging on to her best friend as if she was all that was keeping her sane.

  Yes, this one, then! She’ll do! She’ll do, I tell you!

  NO! Her inner snarl was fierce enough to shut Estelle up. For now.

  ‘Oh, Isabella. Am I glad to see you.’

  ‘And I you! Did you come off the London flight? It landed five minutes before the one from Buenos Aires! Serendipity! Wonderful!’ The girl was still talking in constant exclamation marks, thought Cassie fondly as Isabella tossed her glossy mane of silky brown hair. ‘And Jake is waiting for us! I have texted him, he is outside, in the terminal!’

  ‘And you stopped to say hello to me?’ Cassie raised her eyebrows weakly. ‘I’m flattered you didn’t run over me to get to him.’

  Isabella had doted on the handsome New Yorker ever since he’d joined the Academy. Having finally got together at the end of last term, the pair had barely had a week together before Isabella flew home to Argentina (first class, natch). If she was impatient to get her hands on Jake now, it was hardly surprising.