by Kirah Nyx
“You didn’t answer my question,” he noted, and glanced at the tome on the floor; the tome about Shifters and how to recognise them. “You’ve taken quite a fancy to cursed creatures, I see. Going through a rebellious streak, are you?”
“No,” she scowled. “I’m doing research.”
“For which class?”
“This is just independent research.” Ivy paused and looked up at him. “What do you know about them that I don’t?”
“Many things, I’m sure.”
She glanced at the book thoughtfully. Domenic observed her peculiar behaviour and watched as she scooped up a pile of paper from the floor.
“What about these?” she asked, and handed the thick bundle of parchment to him.
Domenic flicked through the loose pages and assessed each drawing. Over the weeks since she had seen the paw print in the woods, Ivy had taken the liberty of sketching the image from the little she could remember. Each time she sketched it, it looked different to the last.
“You drew these?” he asked as he scanned each drawing. He seemed perplexed, troubled, and a little impressed.
“I used to take art,” she said. “I saw a paw print in the woods a few weeks ago. But, I when I went back, it was gone. I know you’ll say it was probably a bear paw-print, or a Yeti’s, but I have this gut feeling about it. I tried to pencil it from memory, but it won’t come out right. That one’s the closest—” Ivy plucked out the bottom sheet of paper from the pile and placed it on top for his viewing pleasure. “—The front two toes are longer than the outer toes, and the palm was almost as big as my head. Do you know anything about it?”
“Yes,” he said as he raked his dark eyes over the charcoal image. “I know that you are starving, and bloodlust side effects—”
“Great, thanks,” she interrupted, and snatched the drawings from him. “I don’t need to hear that again.”
His angular eyebrow arched. “Again? Who else have you told about what you think you saw?”
“My friends,” she mumbled. “I thought you would believe me, though.”
“I believe that you believe you saw it,” he offered.
Ivy whined huffily. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“There are many things in those woods,” he sighed, but his tone had taken a cautionary tone. “Things we cannot smell, feel or even see. Things we know only in the pages of these books around us. And, then, we have ordinary beasts, like wolves and bears. You may have seen something, Ivy, but keep in mind that those woods are not to be trifled with, nor taken too seriously. I saw a centaur while I was patrolling, which astounded me because they’re extinct. I investigated it for days, and when I finally found it, it turned out to be nothing but magical trickery performed by an eleven-year-old Fae.”
“Ok,” she mumbled, and pretended to accept his lecture of reassurance. “Thanks.”
Domenic assessed the concerned expression etched into her pretty features. He raised his hand and brushed away loose tendrils from the side of her face. “I’ll look into it, Sky. I’ll ask around and search in the forest during my patrols, but only on one condition: While I do that, you must practice for that test of yours.”
A triumphant grin twisted at her lips as she nodded. “Deal.”
Returning her grin, Domenic reclined on the beanbag casually. He clasped his hands behind his head and stretched out his legs. “How are you progressing? Any improvements, yet?”
“Nope,” she said, smacking her lips together. “I’ve practiced every day, but nothing’s happened. I can feel power in my veins, but it won’t come out. Like it’s blocked, or something.”
“I imagine you feel worse,” he smirked. “Considering you’re so starving your skin is turning grey.”
“Well, yeah,” she laughed, but subconsciously touched her greying cheek. “I feel terrible, but I know that’s the hunger. It’s not from my magic draining me.”
“It’ll be fine,” he winked, not a care in the world. “Whether you pass or fail, it’ll work out.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you pass, that’s great. You will have what you want, and use your power for whatever purpose under the laws,” he explained through a stifled yawn. “If you fail, that’s fine, too. You’ll come back to the Academy and practice until your final year either way.”
“It’s not that simple,” she frowned. “If I fail, everyone will know. I’ll be a blemish on my ancestry, an embarrassment to my family, and a pariah to my people. These powers are the most important thing in my life, Domenic.”
“But they aren’t,” he laughed nonchalantly. “Your life and wellbeing are of far greater importance than spirit magic. You’re alive, wealthy, and a Vampire. What more could you want?”
“What’s the point in being a Vampire if my magic is jammed?” she retorted crossly. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re not like us.”
“I think I understand perfectly,” he replied crisply. “You’re frightened of a perfectly possible outcome, because your society has brainwashed you into thinking a certain way. Spirit magic or not, you are a Vampire, and you are privileged in ways that the others Arcane aren’t. You claim to be practicing constantly, but here you are wasting your time on Shifter books. Forgive me, Sky, but it seems as though you’re expecting your magic to come to you, instead of summoning it.”
“You’re a Videer, Domenic,” she commented rudely, bristled by his tone. “You don’t get it. You don’t understand my people.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” he said curtly. “But I understand you, Sky. And I know when you’re excepting something to be handed to you on a silver platter with jewels and rubies, rather than working hard for it. That’s one thing you’ll never know, princess—hard work and results.”
“I’m not a princess.”
“You might as well be. You have influence with your status, and what will you do with it? Will you concern yourself with politics and equality among the Arcane? Or will you shop, get manicures, and forever complain about how life is so unfair because your spirit magic didn’t emerge?”
That was it.
Her blood boiled, her adrenaline burst through her veins, and, worst of all, her heart ached. He used the ultimate insult against her—a complete dismissal of her true self in favour for a superficial stereotype.
It was something Samael would use against her, something that he had used against her on many occasions.
Her upper lip curled to reveal her fangs and she hissed, “You don’t know a damn thing about me or my life. I will literally be sold to the highest bidder as a wife, and you dare tell me I’m entitled and privileged? You don’t know my struggle, so don’t pretend to.”
Grabbing her things from the floor, Ivy scampered to her feet, and glowered scathingly at him. He only returned her stare with an icy glint. Ivy’s jaw ticked before she spat, “Just because some people have it worse, don’t mean my struggle isn’t important. I thought you would understand that, but you’re just like everyone else—blinded by hate and stereotypes.”
She stormed off. Domenic didn’t stop her from leaving, and truthfully, she had wanted him to.
There had been many reminders of the differences between Domenic and herself throughout their short friendship. This wasn’t the first, but it was undoubtedly the most awakening for her.
Their relationship could never reach romantic places; that, she knew and had accepted some time ago. However, their friendship couldn’t flourish when he made no attempt to understand her hardships in a society than appeared privileged to the outsiders.
Thoughts of the unattainable wish she harboured vanished from her mind as she shoved through heavy doors. In the den, the cocktail bar was crowded by jubilant students, the study desks were packed with hard-working eleventh year pupils, the couches were teeming with babbling Vampires, and the stairs were packed with gossiping youngsters. Her heated eyes swept the area in search for one of her two friends as she stood in the doorway. The door had b
ecome impatient, however, and made a throat-clearing sound to usher her inside. It worked; she gave the metal door an apologetic glance before stepping further inside and continued to search for Penny and Addie. Unfortunately, her gaze met with familiar white eyes, and she breathed a tired sigh.
Samael Valac pushed himself from the mantelpiece he had been leaning on, and strode through the busy room toward her. Adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder, Ivy’s posture visibly slumped as he reached her.
“Please, Samael,” she began before he could even speak. “I’m really not in the mood today.”
“I wonder why,” he drawled, snatching her arm. He hauled her over to the cocktail bar, where he rudely shoved a fifth-year student from a bar stool. A flick of his hand gestured for Ivy to sit. Eyeing him suspiciously, she jumped up on the barstool and waited for his malicious and mysterious ploy to unfold.
Samael didn’t have to summon the ghoul behind the cocktail bar; the rotten creature staggered over immediately. The ghoul had a noticeably deathly scent about it. Ivy resisted the urge to spray perfume in its direction.
“Strawberry blood,” Samael ordered as his calculative gaze stayed on Ivy.
The ghoul quickly returned and placed a lovely copper mug of alluring strawberry blood on the bar before lurching over to another student.
“Drink it,” Samael ordered, and pushed the copper mug toward her.
“I can’t,” she whispered, but her mouth salivated generously at the scent wafting up from the warm blood. “Coach Aldon said—”
He interrupted harshly, “Do what you must to summon your magic, but if you continue to starve yourself like this, you will be unable to control yourself.”
She cocked her eyebrow and steadily met his arctic eyes. “I’ve been doing fine so far, but even if I go into a frenzy, I’ll only attack the Videer. They’re more than capable of controlling me, Samael, so I think I’ll be ok.”
“They can do a lot more than control you in that state,” he warned, and leaned closer to her. “They will have legal grounds to execute you if you try to attack them. Is your life worth less than your powers?” He didn’t wait for a response to his rhetorical question, and instead, straightened himself and gave her a stern stare. “Drink it. End of discussion.”
“Yes, father,” she sassed, but he stalked away without another word.
Ivy scowled at the back of his head as he strode back to the fireplace to join his friends. She even took the liberty of sticking out her tongue at him before pushing the mug of tempting blood toward a fellow student at the bar.
“Enjoy,” she mumbled to the girl before she slipped off the stool. After how long she had endured her thirst, Ivy saw no point in giving into temptation. Not when she was so close to the test, that is.
Perhaps her decision had something to do with Domenic’s accusation that she didn’t work hard enough for results. She didn’t want to prove him right, and if she drank the mug of blood she would be doing exactly that.
Ivy went to her dorm room. Addie was nowhere to be seen, probably with her mentor. Penny sat on her mattress, almost swallowed whole by the stacks of parchment and books circling her.
Ivy didn’t even have the chance to put her bag down before Penny screeched, “Come here! Look! I found something!”
Lazily, Ivy dragged her feet across the carpeted floors to Penny’s bed. She scanned the array of literature swiftly, and noticed that it was all related to Shifters. Dropping onto the bed, Ivy stretched out over crinkled paper. Penny shoved a fistful of cropped articles in her face, and tapped her black fingernail against the top one.
“This one,” she blurted excitedly, “says that Linda Laundelle’s house was invaded in the Stonehenge Village.”
Ivy sighed and took the article, only for another to be pushed against her nose.
“And this one,” rambled Penny, “is about the attack on the Sanatorium in the Apricot Alps. Canyon Clover was abducted, but no one else. He’s a Vampire, too, like Laundelle, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And this,” continued Penny, waving beige paper above them, “is the one for Verato City. No hostages taken. Almost the same as this” — she lifted an article about Ichor — “No hostages, nothing stolen.”
“Ok,” said Ivy slowly. She had no idea why Penny reiterated everything they already knew. Not to mention, she was mentally and emotionally frayed, thus wasn’t quite in the mood for their now-shared conspiracies.
“Don’t you see?” shrilled Penny frantically, shoving piles of books and paper to the side. She tapped her black fingernail against the page of an open book: An atlas of The cloaked world. “It’s all the provinces.”
Ivy pulled the book closer to her as Penny explained, “Stonehenge is in the Pisces Province. The Apricot Alps are in the Centaurus Province. Ichor, the Vela Province—”
“Which leaves the Orion Province,” said Ivy. “Verato City.”
“Or,” whispered Penny secretively, “the Academy.”
“Both are in the Orion Province,” she agreed. “But only Verato was attacked.”
“By one Shifter, who died before he could do anything. He didn’t kidnap anyone, he didn’t steal anything, so why did he attack?”
“But in the Vela Province,” argued Ivy, “Ichor was burned to the ground. Nothing was stolen, and no one was taken.”
Enthusiasm sparked from Penny as she clicked her fingers. “What if whoever did that had broken into the crypts? All the Keepers inside died, didn’t they?” — Ivy nodded. — “A Shifter could’ve gotten into the crypts and kidnapped one of the Videre before burning the place to the ground. But because the whole place is destroyed, the authorities don’t know if anyone or anything was taken. Not yet, at least. But, if I’m right, three provinces have been subject to either theft or kidnappings.”
“Which means,” breathed Ivy, pushing herself to sit up, “either a Shifter is going to attack Verato again, or … the Academy.”
“And you saw that paw print,” she pointed out. “Connect that with the dreams you’ve been having … I think you were onto something, Ivy. I think there’s a Shifter in the woods. The same Shifter spotted in Stonehenge, oddly enough.”
“But,” she said, frowning. “Why? I mean, why would the Shifters attack every Province? Why are they abducting people? What are they after?”
Penny slumped back against a pile of stacked books and gave her a look that said ‘I don’t know’. But the understanding between was clear—they wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.
12
As Ivy drew closer to her mid-year exams, the weight of her failure had begun to crush down on her. Coach Aldon wasted hours of her week, asking pointless questions, and offering worthless advice, all the while continuing her blood ban. It didn’t help in the slightest when it came time for Spirit Magic.
Instructor Clarence had said, “Remember, class, you must perform your exams publicly. These are not theory tests, unlike those for most of your other classes. These will be practical assessments, and you will be scored in three areas.”
At the front of the damp classroom, he waved to the left, where a chalkboard appeared out of nowhere. Instructor Clarence’s spirit magic was conjuring—a blanket term used when a Vampire had the ability to steal objects from other places and transport them instantly to wherever they were. “Firstly, you will be assessed on the time taken to complete your tests,” he said, as a piece of chalk scribbled his words onto the board. “Secondly, the overall delivery of your magic will be scored, and, finally, the accuracy of the result.”
Ivy had spent the rest of the lesson watching Felix at the table behind her. He aced the practice test without so much as a hiccup. His test instrument was a troll, which Felix had no problem controlling with his magic. Yet, Ivy had been given a swamp-roach, which, when she tried to control, hummed before it melted into a steaming pile of wet leaves.
When it came time for Health class, Ivy’s mood hadn’t improved. Like Spirit Magic,
the class was all-inclusive, shared by every senior student who had selected the subject. Ivy sat at a four-person desk at the back of the classroom, between Addie and Felix. Unfortunately, Felix and Samael had decided to join them. Penny suffered cramps, so she stayed in bed.
A colourful collection of species smeared across the classroom, sitting at the rich wooden desks, or in some cases, sitting on the floor. The Fae preferred to sit on the floor with bunched up blankets and feathery cushions, and the lecturer for Health Class allowed it. Or, he didn’t notice. He was an oblivious man, yellow skin wrinkled with age, faded orange hair, and tired violet eyes.
“—Magnolia are therefore imperative ingredients in the medicinal balms created by our Shaman,” Lecturer Falcon droned tediously. His back faced the students as he wrote on the chalkboard. Most students napped, either on the desks, beneath the desks, or on the cushions spread out randomly. “Who can tell me the second vital ingredient in these remedial balms?”
Nobody answered. Felix drooled on the table and snored lightly, much like Ivy did when she slept. Maybe it’s hereditary, she mused as she observed his slack face. She was struck with the image of her father drooling and snoring in his sleep, and barely stifled a giggle.
“That’s correct,” said Lecturer Falcon, yet no student had answered him. “Vampire blood.” He wrote the words on the dot-pointed list on the chalkboard. “It heals most wounds, and can save any Arcane species from the brink of death, but they are an endangered species. Hunted to near extinction by the Arcane, Shifters, and Foundlings. Only an estimated 100 vampires still exist in nests within the Foundling world—”
As the teacher waffled on in his dreadfully monotonous voice, Ivy pushed her arms up high and stretched her tired limbs. The bloodlust was brewing dangerously within her, and aching her every muscle and fibre of being. Daydreams of blood were becoming constant, and far more difficult to ignore.
Felix murmured something in his sleep and continued to drool onto his open book, his face pressed side-ways on the pages. She looked to her left, and saw that Addie had disappeared. Her books and belongings were gone, and her chair was pushed neatly under the desk. She must’ve snuck out stealthily. Too stealthily; Ivy hadn’t even noticed her leave. She felt a pang of anger at her friend. Addie could’ve easily escaped with Ivy, but had left her behind in the trenches of boredom.
