by Kirah Nyx
Vampires formed a lazy line in front of their stern Houseparent. As always, the Fae giggled, sniggered, whispered and cackled as they skipped into the Hall. They danced in like a fluid rainbow; colours of the day poured in, but each Fae wore the sharpest and yellowest set of teeth. Finally, the familiar, almost satisfying, sound of the Videer marched into the Hall.
Not even the sculpted wooden pillars around the room stood as tall, firm and straight as the Videer. They were the most disciplined, stoic, and refined of all species in the Arcane. Addie had once said that the Videer were born with sticks up their bums. In truth, Ivy wouldn’t be too surprised if that was the case. How else could they have such stiff and perfect posture?
The Videer stopped to the left of the Vampires, clad in cloaks of black, red and brown: Black for the student Knights, red for the trainee Seers, and brown for the aspiring Keepers of the Crypts.
Principal Caesar appeared on the podium. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Silence, the lot of you!”
Everyone went still. He dragged his tedious gaze over the body of students. The students were so quiet, all that could be heard were muffled coughs and shoes scuffing on the floors.
“Greetings,” he said, but his tone was hardly welcoming at all. He didn’t want to be there. In fact, Ivy wondered if he wanted to be anywhere. Sometimes that happened—Vampires lived so long that some eventually chose to end their lives.
“The rules of your second home are simple,” said the principal. “Even for the dimmest and newest of you. Do not stray from the school grounds without expressed permission from your Houseparents. The Videer crypts are completely off-limits from all Arcane, except the Videer. Anyone caught entering the dungeons will be suspended without hesitation. And no parties.”
The Principal allowed his stern eyes to linger over the smirking and snickering rainbow of Fae. They were notorious for their rule breaking, especially when it came to prohibited parties on the shore of the lake by their grottos.
He droned on, “No student is to cross the cliff at the border of the forest, nor are any of you permitted to leave the island. In the exceptionally rare circumstance that a student is granted permission to leave the school grounds, if a Foundling is encountered, no contact will ensue. This is non-negotiable. No Foundling hunting nor baiting will be permitted at the Academy.”
The Principal shot a stern, warning glance at the group of Vampires. Ivy sighed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other impatiently.
“Before you head off to your respective chambers for the evening, I have an announcement. This year, we will be joined by three dozen students from Ichor. I expect you all to make our guests feel welcome for the school year, and assist them whenever need be.”
A ripple of snickers rolled over the Fae. If the Fae were helpful in any way to the new students, Ivy made a mental promise to herself to dunk her head in a bucket of Pegasus pee.
“Prohibited items at the Academy are as follows: Foundlings, alcoholic substances, Class A weapons unless carried by Videer, and Class B weapons unless used for Combat Class.” He paused and raised his hand to check the time on his watch. Sighing tiredly, he dismissed the students with a lazy flick of the wrist. “To know all prohibited items and rules, please see the notice boards in your chambers. Off with you.”
Chatter immediately erupted in the Assembly Hall as the students left.
* * *
The Vampires reached the highest floor in the west wing. Traffic came to a halt at the landing, where the entrance to the den stood in the form of a thick wooden door. Beside mouldy hinges, bolted to the wall, was a large ruby-encrusted goblet. A constant stream of blood spilled down the wall and into the goblet. The blood overfilled the goblet and poured over the rim to the enclosed stone basin, where it pooled and slinked back up the wall. A never-ending stream of blood collected over the centuries.
A senior, Darren Clark, raised his wrist to his lips and bit into his own skin. Blood instantly oozed out of the wound, and he squeezed his wrist over the goblet. The rubies on the ornament hissed and glowed in the dim lobby. Squeaky groans and clinking sounds echoed out as the door unlocked itself. Only Vampires could open the door by offering their blood to prove their species type.
The moment the door opened fully, the students poured inside. The high ceilings of the hauntingly beautiful Vampire den washed over Ivy. It was familiar, a second home to her. Silver and black draped over the room in coloured couches, silk seats, a carved blackwood bar, study desks, and polished fireplaces. Many students trooped to the left of the den, perching themselves around the crackling fireplaces; others bustled to the cocktail bar in pursuit of infused blood snacks; some climbed the spiral staircase to retire for the night in their shared dormitories.
Addie and Penny wandered to the collection of tufted leather sofas by the iron-barred windows. A parade of Vampires lined up at the message board against the wall on the far left, reading the latest announcements, changes to the rules, and posted timetables.
Ivy went to the cocktail bar where a Ghoul served. He had been the bartender in the den since long before Ivy had ever first attended the Academy. Fleetingly, she wondered if Samael Valac could control the ghoul with his blood-powers. After all, his spirit magic was the ability to control the dead, and, even resurrect them—only small creatures, of course; not people.
Slumped over the bar, Ivy waited for the ghoul to approach her. She drummed her naturally black nails on the bar, and heaved a heavy sigh. She winced.
Sharp fingernails had grazed her bare shoulder. The sting of the scratch nipped her skin, deep enough to draw blood. Before she could determine whether it was an accident or not, Samael Valac barged into her, causing her to tumble into the bar.
Scowling, Ivy met his cold eyes as he moved to stand beside her; he was taking her spot as next-in-line.
She didn’t argue—It would only provoke him, and she knew her place in the hierarchy. She glanced at his fingernails and saw that they were not extended or sharpened, but there was a slight stain of blood on his index finger.
Samael placed his forearm on the bar as his cold eyes scanned her black dress.
Ivy scowled at him. The ghoul approached, grunted and swayed on the spot as he watched Ivy. She knew instinctively that he was awaiting her drink order, but Samael had other plans.
“One tumbler of espresso blood and one strawberry,” ordered Samael.
The ghoul grumbled incoherently and staggered away. Ivy stifled a yawn as she watched the rotten creature rummage through the stash of blood in the fridges.
“I doubt you could have acquired that dress at the boutique shops in the city,” Samael commented, glancing down at the lace hem of the little black dress. “Where did you purchase it?”
Ivy’s hand pulled at the hem of her dress; she knew he was referring to the length. She had purchased the dress at the marketplace, and it came mid-way down her thighs.
Samael waited patiently for a reply, his index finger grazing lightly against her shoulder, where she had felt a scratch before he barged into her. The strap of her dress fell off her shoulder.
Ivy whacked his hand away and glared scathingly at him. “Don’t touch me.”
Samael was unfazed.
She noticed his finger still had blood on it. He shifted the shoulder strap back into place.
Ivy frowned at him as the ghoul returned with his drinks. It placed the beverages on a tray.
The bar beast had spilled some blood in the process, but that was expected given the creature’s shakiness and overall lack of coordination. It was dead, after all. Samael kept his eyes on Ivy’s as he removed the tray from the bar, his curious stare freezing her in place. It wasn’t a stare filled with disdain, like she was used to. It was calculating. As though he was puzzling pieces together in his mind.
“Aren’t you going to take it?” asked Samael coldly.
“Take what?”
“The strawberry blood,” he said, and glanced pointedly at th
e copper mug on his tray. “Isn’t that what you were going to order?”
“Yeah,” she said slowly, eyeing him suspiciously.
He said nothing else and patiently waited for her to take the drink. She did, and he didn’t stop her.
“Thanks,” she mumbled reluctantly. He only stared at her in response.
Ivy went to leave, but Samael stepped in front of her and blocked her path.
“You have blood on your shoulder,” was all he said before he swiftly disappeared into the crowd. The moment he’d gone, Harriot Rosado — bully extraordinaire — emerged out of nowhere and slammed her shoulder into Ivy’s. Apparently, her shoulder was quite popular that night.
Ivy stuck out her tongue at the back of the girl’s head. Hesitantly, she stretched her arm around her neck and dabbed at her shoulder skin. Samael was right, there was blood. Ivy inspected the blood on her fingertips curiously before she wiped it on the back of Harriot’s cream blouse lightly. Harriet didn’t feel it. Ivy smirked proudly.
She took a swig of her strawberry blood before she made her way through the den.
“Ivy!” called Addie. She and Penny sat on the white leather couches by a simmering fireplace.
Ivy smiled and went over to the couches. Penny sat beside Addie, and they both noticed the fresh stains on her shoulder as she approached.
“What happened?” asked Addie, eying the red smear.
“Samael happened,” Ivy grumbled, plopping down on the armchair beside them. “He bumped into me. Must’ve cut my shoulder on something.”
“Samael Valac,” repeated Penelope breathlessly. “As in, our prince?”
Ivy smiled wryly. “Our very own textbook, dark prince, slash major ass-wipe.”
“I forgot he went here,” said Penny thoughtfully.
“He hates everyone,” said Addie stiffly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he hated his own mother.” She paused, looking a little regretful and nervous. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
Penelope laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Ivy took a hefty gulp of strawberry blood, getting droplets and smears of it on her lips. “Do you know what dorm room you’re in?”
Penelope pulled out a piece of translucent, crisp paper from her trouser pocket and unfolded it. “Level three, Room A9, Bed 3.”
“Oh, that’s our dorm,” beamed Ivy, the strawberry blood staining her now-pink teeth and fangs. “Roomies!”
A spark gleamed in Penny’s eyes as she clapped her hands together. Addie warned, “Ivy snores. It’s quite irritating. Not to mention, she sometimes drinks her own blood in her sleep—just lays there and sucks it from her thumb.”
“That was one time.” Ivy rolled her eyes and guzzled the rest of the strawberry blood. “Come on, Penny, we’ll show you the dorm.”
Penelope and Addie followed Ivy to the spiralling stone staircase in the corner. They climbed the steps to the upper levels where the dorms were. Ivy’s dorm had been the same since she’d started her schooling at the academy, so she didn’t hesitate before she set off down the corridor, took one left, two rights, and a sharp turn at the fourth door on the left.
She pushed through the black door and entered the dorm that Addie and her had shared since the beginning of their schooling. Their names were written in red calligraphy on their bedheads, as was Penelope’s on the new bed.
“Wow,” breathed Penny, gazing around. “This is …”
Her sentence trailed off, but Ivy didn’t need her to finish it. The room was splendid. Ivy had spent years adding her own flair to it. The once plain white walls were now a light shade of pastel pink, white fluffy blankets were draped over purple chaise lounges, the drapes were cream, and the bed frames were pure marble.
Penny’s bed, however, was a ghastly brown. Ivy made a mental note to have it replaced. The dormitory had two windows, and one of them had a window seat, cushioned with thick blankets and feathery pillows.
“That’s Ivy’s,” warned Addie. She pointed at the window seat. “If you want to live, don’t touch it. She might not look like much, but she bites … Trust me.”
Penelope laughed.
“And that,” said Ivy, indicating to the white jewelled door between Addie’s bed and the horrid brown one, “is the bathroom. We share it with the dorm next door, but it’s not so bad. A couple of bathtubs, showers and cubicles.”
Addie herded Penelope over to the door, which led to their communal bathroom. While she showed Penelope the inside, Ivy trotted over to the window, and bypassed her own four-poster bed, adorned with silk drapes and lush blankets.
When she reached the window, she scrambled up onto the seat and made herself comfortable to enjoy the view.
Like each year prior at the school, the window seat gave a prime view of the woods on the school grounds, the glowing moon, and the Fae grottos.
The grottos bordered the lake on the grounds, and even from the window she could see a few of the colourful students splashing in the cold water. A part of her almost wished she was a Fae for a moment—they seemed to have much more fun than the Vampires. Not only that, they were so carefree and wild. They got to live within nature, whereas she had to look out upon it through a window. She adored nature, and everything it offered.
Raking her gaze over the lush landscape and greenery, Ivy observed the beautiful forestry ahead.
She could almost smell the allure of dirt, trees and branches through the window. She could look through that window all night, but sleep was calling her. Her eyelids were heavy, and her mind was beginning to relax. Before she moved away from the window to retire for the night, something caught her attention.
Narrowing her eyes, Ivy leaned closer to the window and peered out at the trees. She couldn’t be sure, but there seemed to be something there, hidden in the shadows between the thick trees.
Tilting her head, as though it would aid her vision, Ivy watched the space where she had seen movement. A light gasp escaped her as two small glowing orbs flickered between the shadows of the trees. The orbs were yellow from what she could tell, almost like a pair of eyes staring right at her—
Ivy inhaled sharply and scrambled away from the window.
She raced over to the line of candles flickering on the walls and blew great big puffs of air at the flames. Once all the candles were extinguished, she ran back to the window and frantically searched the forest border for the glowing orbs. With the dormitory dark, her sight would be enhanced. Vampires could always see better in the dark; they were moon children, after all.
But as she gazed out onto the woods, she realised that the little spheres of light were gone.
Chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully, Ivy lingered by the window for a while, and waited for another set of spheres to appear in shadows of the forest. But no such thing happened. Nothing at all happened.
Perhaps what she had seen had merely been a trick of the moonlight? Maybe she was simply tired, stressed, and a little unnerved by the Shifter attack? It made sense to her.
Even more likely, it was possible that it was merely a bunch of Fae getting up to mischief in the woodlands, thus she only saw traces of their magic.
Ultimately, she decided that she had an overactive imagination that day and retired to bed. Penelope and Addie re-emerged from the bathroom and went about preparations for bed, too.
They all needed good night’s sleep before they tackled their gruelling year at the Arcane Academy.
4
Each staircase in the old English manor ended at a landing where corridors met and another staircase began. The banisters were crafted from solid blackwood, sculpted centuries ago, and reeked of rich varnish and musk. The carpets were red and patterned with the golden threaded symbols of the individual Arcane, and smelled faintly of musky smoke and traces of dirt.
The clacks of Ivy’s shiny T-bar heels were muffled by the runner rugs as she pranced down the stairs. The hallways and landings were swamped with students congregating in chattering clusters. Pen
ny and Addie had gone down to breakfast early, but Ivy, being the lazy vampire she was, slept in as late as possible. Using the bannister for support, she skipped down the steps and hummed to herself.
The hem of her black dress swayed, and the strap of her satchel hung over her shoulder, touching the white collar poking out from the neck of her dress. As she jumped onto the landing, and spun on her on heels, Ivy’s merry expression hardened abruptly. She’d come face-to-face with the Academy’s resident shrew, Harriet Rosado.
Ivy stepped to the side, but Harriet mirrored her movements. Again, Ivy side-stepped, and, again, Harriet blocked her path.
“Can I do something for you?” asked Ivy curtly.
White eyes as hard as marble spheres bore into Ivy’s lazy gaze. Slowly, Harriet lifted her hand, palm upwards, to between their faces.
“You’re so weird—” Ivy’s words were cut off as Harriet suddenly blew a big puff of air at her palm. Blue smoke billowed right into Ivy’s face.
Sputtering and coughing, Ivy stumbled back and furiously waved her hands in front of her face. The smoke cleared, but it was too late.
Ivy shrieked, “What the heavens is the matter with you!”
“You ruined my blouse with your stinking blood last night,” sneered Harriet. “I know it was you. Payback’s sweet, isn’t it?” As an afterthought, she smirked and added, “Or, is it blue?”
Harriet swept away down a corridor without another word.
Shrilly, Ivy cursed profanities after the hag. It didn’t help. Ivy looked down at her hands and dress—blue powder coated her from head to toe. She knew this magic. In a matter of minutes, her skin would be stained midnight blue for weeks.
“Damnit,” cursed Ivy, balling her hands into fists. A few onlookers sniggered and giggled at her expense, but they were Fae, so it was expected. Amidst the Fae, Ivy spotted a familiar face; River Ridge. He was somewhat of an ally.
