by Kirah Nyx
Samael, not looking up from the crisp pages of the tome, drawled, “Aren’t you on a blood ban?”
Settling herself on the stool beside him, Ivy greedily took the mug of blood that the ghoul handed to her. “I am,” she said indifferently. “What’s it to you?”
Samael turned the page gently and ignored her retort. “Aren’t you a cranky night dweller,” he observed nonchalantly.
“I can’t get any rest around here,” she mumbled into her mug. “Penny won’t stop talking in her sleep. It’s infuriating.”
“She is a clairvoyant, yes?” he asked, forgetting the tome in favour of his drink. “Perhaps she is having visions.”
“I doubt it. She isn’t very good.” Ivy sipped the strawberry blood before adding, “Yesterday, in class, she tried to enter a gnome’s dream.”
“She wasn’t successful?”
“The gnome’s in a coma, now,” she said, shrugging. “Penny doesn’t know what went wrong.”
“You two must get along well,” he commented coolly. “Rumour has it that in that very lesson, you flooded the entire classroom.”
“That was an accident,” sniffed Ivy.
“It always is.”
“I was distracted, all right?”
“By what?”
Ivy rested her chin on the palm of her hand, her elbow pressing into the wooden bar. It wasn’t often she interacted with Samael in such a casual manner. Not since they were children, at least. Ivy wondered if his neutral attitude was due to the absence of his buddies.
“I don’t know,” she admitted wearily. “Everything. The Shifter attacks, my blood ban, sleep deprivation.”
“The attack on the marketplace that you witnessed?”
“And the one on the Sanatorium, and Linda Laundelle, and Ichor—”
She had his full attention now; he twisted around to face her, one foot resting on the floor, the other supported by the footrest on the stool. His fingers drummed on the pages of the tome as he rested his arm on the bar.
“Ichor?” he echoed interestedly.
Suspiciously, Ivy observed his sharp silvery eyes. “That’s what I said.”
“Ichor hasn’t been reported as attacked,” he replied coldly. “The Chronicle merely informed that it was destroyed in a fire.”
Ivy had heard differently from Penny, but she didn’t tell him that. She took credit for it.
“I’m not that gullible,” she lied effortlessly. “It happened around the same time of the other attacks, and Laundelle’s kidnapping. Put the pieces together, and you’ve got a cover-up.”
He smirked deviously at her, a rare sight that stirred nostalgia in the pit of her stomach. When they were friends, back in their childhoods, she had known that smirk all too well. It was a sign of his secrets.
“You know something,” she said.
“Do I?” His smirk remained intact as he lifted his mug and sipped the bitter liquid.
“It wasn’t an accident, was it?” she realised, eyes widening. “Ichor was attacked before it was destroyed.”
Slowly, Samael’s intense eyes shifted to look over her shoulder. She traced his gaze to the door where Felix entered, covered in black blood, a chunk of shiny silver hair dangling in his loose grip.
“Hunting Banshees?” asked Ivy, though she already knew the answer.
Black blood and silver hair could only mean that he’d killed a Banshee. Vampires only ever required Banshee hair to store Fae magic—more than what the body could carry, more than Ivy could imagine.
“Mind your business,” said Felix. “And get lost.”
Nose crinkled in indignation, Ivy slipped off the stool and snatched her mug of blood.
She guzzled it down, slammed the mug on the bar, and stomped out of the den, back to the dorms. Déjà vu tugged her mind. Felix and Samael had always excluded her when they were kids, too. It was one of the many reasons she loathed the prince.
He always took Felix from her.
*
The library was faintly lit as it normally was in the wee hours of the night. Gas lanterns, candlesticks and fireplaces highlighted the brown tones in the wooden walls and floors.
Dust littered the air, born from the many untouched tomes on the shelves. The timber balconies above looked down onto the strict rows of desks; and dark wooden pillars flanked the library, vandalised by students who had etched their names into the wood.
It was perhaps Ivy’s favourite place in the entire Academy—not because she liked to read, which she didn’t, but because it was a sanctuary of sorts for her.
Ivy bit her lip as her round, white eyes drank in the vast collection of grimy leather-bound books on the shelves.
An old mouldy tome on the third highest shelf caught her attention, ‘Spirit Magic for Novices: Mind Control Edition.’
Ivy grunted as she stretched up, and brushed her fingertips against the spine of the hardback. Biting her lip, her brows furrowed as she tried to reach the book.
After a few muttered curses, she decided to climb up the shelf. She was, after all, very sprightly. But before she could, her entire body froze. A warm puff of air brushed through her hair and tickled her pointed ear.
An olive-skinned hand appeared above her; the long fingers brushed over hers and clutched the peeling spine of the book effortlessly.
With the book, the hand disappeared behind her. But Ivy could feel his breath disturb her hair. She dropped to her feet and spun around to face the unexpected arrival.
Pools of black swarmed her vision. The obsidian eyes stared back at her with a flash of amusement. Ever so slowly, his pink lips twisted into a smirk as his black eyes bore into her questioning white eyes. It was the same Videer from the cellar corridors and marketplace.
He was fast becoming a nuisance.
“You’re welcome,” he said. He handed her the book as his lips spread into a brilliant grin.
“I didn’t say thanks,” Ivy retorted as she plucked the heavy tome from his hand. “And I’m not going to.”
“Hardly surprising,” he said, the grin still plastered onto his handsome face. “Vampires aren’t known for their manners. Case and point, you have run into me twice now, have yet to apologise even once, yet here I am, assisting you without the due gratitude.”
Ivy scowled and hugged the book to her chest. “I don’t want to extend any niceties to you. You have caused me to fall over twice now, but you haven’t apologised. Not once.”
Chuckling, he stepped back and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. “You ran into me, not the other way around. Besides, it was much more entertaining to watch you huff and puff than to help you up.”
Ivy muttered under her breath and shoved by him.
Stomping over to the desk against the window, Ivy flicked her hair over her shoulder and slammed down the heavy dome. Dust particles instantly wafted up her nostrils; she sneezed.
Pretending that it didn’t happen, she seated herself prissily and delicately opened the old, beige, crinkled tome.
The sound of the chair across from her scraping on the tiled floor caused the hair on her arms to stand up. She always hated that noise. It was like nails on a chalkboard, someone slurping their blood, or the screams of a Banshee.
It grated on her. What was more irritating, however, was that the Videer sat across from her at the table, and simply stared at her. Ivy didn’t glance up at him to check if he was looking at her or not; she could feel his eyes sear into her face.
With her gaze glued to the pages she gingerly made her way through, Ivy sighed quietly before she asked, “Can I help you with something?”
“Doubtful,” he replied instantly. Ivy thought his rather smooth, almost as if coated in caramel.
“Then go away,” she sniffed. “This table’s taken.”
“You can’t reserve an entire table for yourself,” he said. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was either grinning or smirking at her. She could hear it in his tone.
“I’m sure the
re are other places for you to sit, and other Vampires for you to annoy,” she said, delicately tracing her index finger down the list of chapters on the content page. “I’m busy.”
“I can see that,” the Videer chuckled. “Mind control spirit magic, I see. Quite spectacular magic. You must be a Balthasar, a Valac, or a Skylar. My shingles are on Skylar.”
Ivy looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, the Valacs and Balthasars don’t have any teenage girls in their bloodlines,” he said as though it was obvious.
And it was.
She immediately blushed, and he grinned as he reclined leisurely in his chair. An arrogant, yet casual demeanour surrounded him. He was rather intriguing, she decided.
“Yet, that’s not what gave you away,” he continued.
She quirked her brow questioningly.
“You’re a bit of a princess. You have to be a Skylar.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” Ivy scoffed, ignoring the book and focusing her vexed attention on the man across from her.
“That is true,” he nodded, his grin fading into a smirk. “But both times I have met you today, you’ve only exuded snootiness. I would correlate that with the Skylar family, given that they’re the only family with mind control spirit magic and a daughter spoilt enough to be as you are. The Balthasars and Valacs are far too strict to spoil their offspring.”
Her slitted eyes narrowed up at him. “Spoilt?”
“Precisely,” he smirked unashamedly. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re a Skylar.”
Eyeing him curiously, she asked, “Who are you?”
“Forgive me, where are my manners,” he said with mock shock. “I’m Domenic Marroc, and you must be Ivory Skylar.” Ivy nodded. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Ivy plastered a false smile onto her pretty features. “The pleasure’s all yours.”
He chuckled. “Still having troubles with your spirit magic, I presume.”
“You know a bit too much about me.” She returned her attention to the book laid out in front of her. “It’s kind of creepy.”
“We know about all Arcane, and what they’re up to,” Domenic said, his lip quirked at the corner. “It’s in the job description.”
A thought struck through her at what he said, and her eyes lit up spectacularly. Ivy pressed her elbows into the open book and leaned over the table as a sly smile twisted her lips.
“What do you know about the Shifters?” she whispered sneakily. “Specifically, the attack on Linda Laundelle and the Ichor Institute.”
“Ah,” Domenic laughed lightly. His hands rested on the arms of the chair, and his neat fingernails drummed on the wood as he considered her. “Aren’t you a nosy little Vampire.”
It wasn’t a question. They both knew it, so she remained quiet and hoped he would answer her prying query. But after a few seconds passed, she realised he wasn’t going to give her the information she wanted, so she slumped in her seat with an air of defeat.
“What about the Shifter in the marketplace?” she asked, studying his unreadable coal eyes. “I saw you there.”
Humming, Domenic reclined in the chair and made himself comfortable.
“Fine. Don’t tell me.”
He winked and replied, “I won’t.”
Rolling her eyes, Ivy’s slender fingers carefully turned the page in the book as she slowly searched for Chapter 12. According to the content page, that chapter offered details and advise on latent magic.
Domenic picked invisible lint on his black combat sweater. It was tight-fitted, and she struggled to not let her eyes wander to the definition it showed. “Do you come here often?”
She glared at him. “Is that a serious question? That was beyond pitiful.”
“Just trying to make conversation.”
She glanced down at the book and flicked the page. “Why? Videer aren’t known for making friends, especially not with Vampires.”
“Perhaps I’ve never fed into that rift between our species.” Briefly, she looked up at him and noticed that he was still picking lint from sweater.
“You have a lot of Vampire friends, then?” she asked sarcastically.
“Not yet, but I’m in the market for one,” he said. “Every group needs a token Vampire. Interested?”
“Honestly? I wouldn’t be interested even if I was the last Vampire in all of the cloaked world,” she sassed smartly. With a glance up at him, she saw that he observed her quietly. “How come I haven’t seen you around?”
“Oh, you know us,” shrugged Domenic casually. “We keep to our own. That, and I’m from the dearly departed Ichor.”
Ivy’s cheeks flushed as she cleared her throat. Really, she should’ve guessed that he was from Ichor. “So, what brings you to the library? Just out to harass unsuspecting Vampires?”
“Unsuspecting,” he echoed with amusement. “I think we both know you’re not as sweet and naïve as you like to pretend. And, if you must know, I was headed to the water nymph section.”
“Oh?”
“I have an assignment on their nonbinary biological makeup,” he explained and inspected his neat fingernails. “It’s almost finished, but I feel like it’s missing that certain … je ne sais quoi.”
“And here I always thought the crypts had the best and most mysterious libraries in the Northern Hemisphere.”
“Indeed, they do. Perhaps I hoped for a diamond in the rough up here with the commoners. Perhaps I found one.”
Ivy averted her eyes to the book she had barely read.
“So, your spirit magic,” began Domenic, stifling a yawn. “Dormant, I take it?”
“Yep,” she said, her lips smacking together at the ‘p’. “My mentor put me on a blood ban.”
Domenic raised his perfect brows. “That can’t be safe. Especially for a young Vampire.”
“It isn’t,” she agreed. “But he hopes the hunger will amplify my emotions and awaken my magic.”
“Who’s your mentor?”
“Coach Aldon.”
“He’s talented, and has a notable success rate. I don’t believe he’ll allow you to reach a bloodlust state, so you needn’t worry.
“You better hope not,” Ivy smirked, wiggling her brows. “Videer are the only species in this school whose blood I can drink. If I get into a frenzy, it won’t be good for you. You might be unlucky enough to become my dinner.”
“I think I could I take you,” he replied arrogantly.
“I dunno,” she sang. “I’m pretty fast.”
Domenic clasped his hands behind his head and snickered. While they jested, they both knew Domenic would triumph in a fight between them. Videer were trained their whole lives to fight other beings, and had weaponry that would bring her to her knees in a matter of seconds.
And Ivy never bothered with Combat Class after it became optional.
Faint cackling echoed out and reached the two sitting at the table. The pair turned their gazes to the window as the cackles continued. Clearly, it came from outside on the grounds.
“That’s my cue.” Domenic sighed, pushing himself from the table. “Someone’s got to keep an eye on those Fae. Always up to no good at night.” He paused, and added, as an afterthought, “They’re never up to any good, day or night.”
Nodding slightly, Ivy’s face fell at his announced departure. She had surprisingly enjoyed his brief company. But, as a Videer he had duties to attend to. One of those duties was frequent patrols around the Academy grounds.
The students really couldn’t be trusted to behave.
“It was nice meeting you,” Ivy smiled genuinely. He flashed her a wide grin, and a light blush crept up her stark white cheeks.
He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. “I thought the pleasure was all mine?”
“Maybe,” she mumbled. “Maybe not.”
Domenic’s grin widened even further, and revealed an enviable set of straight, pearly-white teeth, that contrasted
flatteringly with his deep olive complexion.
Ivy’s gaze followed him as he strolled around the table and approached her. But the moment his hand reached out and tousled her combed hair, her face contorted into a scowl.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he teased before he disappeared into the maze of shelves.
Straightening out her disheveled hair, Ivy’s scowl softened, replaced by a blissfully tranquil smile. Perhaps Videer weren’t so dull and stiff after all. And maybe, just maybe, her school year wouldn’t be as awful as she had first anticipated.
*
Ivy stomped down the stairs until she reached the foyer.
Her heels clacked against the wooden ground as she scurried to the opposite staircase. Her throat buzzed with the Fae tune she hummed atrociously.
Felix had always said she sounds like a throat-clipped siren when she sings, but Ivy enjoyed the toneless disaster regardless.
Her foot froze on the first step. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as her whole body stiffened. A deep threatening growl thundered through the foyer.
Eyes swarmed with panic, Ivy turned to face the empty atrium. Slowly, she scanned the area. She took a few steps to the side to peek around a corner into another corridor, but saw nothing. Only darkness lived there, and the shadows that stretched up the walls.
“Hello?” she croaked.
A soft patter replied, akin to a dog trotting. The gentle thuds, ever so quiet, seemed to draw nearer. Goosebumps prickled her skin as a shudder rippled down her stiff spine. Ivy slinked closer to the corridor and peered into the shadows. The candles bolted to the walls were all extinguished, she realised.
“Is anybody there?” Her whisper shook as much as her trembling hand pressed flat against the wall.
The patter stopped. The shadows drowned the passageway. A savage growl rumbled out. Ivy inhaled sharply, and backed up into the foyer, eyes wide, lips parted.
Replacing the feral snarl was her own erratic heartbeat, thudding against her chest, pounding in her ears. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and coiled in the depths of her stomach. Her alarmed gaze darted around as her fangs extended instinctively.
“Who’s there?” she asked and retreated farther. The bannister of the staircase dug into her back.
