by Kirah Nyx
Samael, reclining in his chair, looked around Felix’s slumped back. “She snuck out when you were watching the butterfly.”
Ivy shifted in her chair to look at him. The butterfly incident was well over an hour ago. River had created it, and made it flutter annoyingly around the seated Vampires. She’d been fascinated by its patterned yellow and blue wings, and wondered what it’s blood would taste like. She didn’t think her bloodlust could be restrained much longer if she was drooling after butterflies. Even last night she’d watched a mouse scurry down a corridor, and she was ever-so tempted to hunt it and drain it.
“Did she say anything?” asked Ivy, desperately trying to distract herself from the memory of the juicy mouse.
“Nothing,” he replied coldly. She fleetingly wondered if he ever got tired being so rigid and apathetic all the time. It seemed exhausting.
Ivy hummed disappointedly and slumped in her chair. Officially, she considered Addie to be a betrayer. Unless she’d snuck off to plan something for Ivy’s upcoming birthday, in which case, Ivy was fine with the treacherous abandonment.
Scattered giggles and sprinkled sniggers rippled over the students, particularly the Fae. Ivy returned her attention to the lecturer. Immediately, she discovered what the fuss was about.
“—due to the reproductive systems,” droned the lecturer, “all species of the Arcane are able to breed with each other. Fae and Vampires, Vampires and Videre, Videre and Fae. However, this is forbidden. The laws prevent legal procreation between the Arcane species, but not marriage. Should a marriage between two separate species occur, no offspring shall become of it. What is the penalty for breaking this law?”
Nobody answered, and the snickers had died down. Everyone went back to whatever they were doing before the mention of the reproductive organs.
“Yes,” the teacher said. Nobody had answered. “Execution to the offspring, and banishment to the perpetrators. This is considered extreme by some members of the Committee, but when a hybrid is created by two opposite species, the results are unpredictable, yet unrefutably dangerous. Six and a half centuries ago, Lotus Lilypond, a Fae, and Brunhilde Lanes, a Videre, married with the approval of the Committee. Lanes and Lilypond conceived a boy, who had both the strength of a Videre and magic of a Fae. When the child was eight, his entire city was swallowed up by the ground. Most civilians died, including the boy’s mother, Brunhilde. Later, when the boy was ten, he crushed his father to death by accident, and, thus experienced great emotional turmoil. The strength of the Videre in him poured into his Fae magic, and the results were disastrous. To this day, there are many devoted scholars still in search of the lost city, Atlantis. It is believed that the hybrid boy died, too.”
Ivy’s focus shifted to her brother. He slept, still, but she’d caught a whiff of the object clasped loosely in his hand: a blood-pop. She licked her lips instinctively and scooted closer to him. Foundling blood, she noticed. The scent wafted up from the blood-pop. Saliva gathered in her damp mouth, pooling beneath her tongue; she gulped.
Lecturer Falcon droned on, “The penalty for interspecies breeding remains strict, due to the threat the offspring pose. They are uncontrollable, wild, and stronger than any other Arcane.”
Samael observed Ivy, seeing her black pupils disappear completely and her all white eyes stare at the blood-pop. Her fangs had drawn out of her gums, and the points rested on the plump flesh of her bottom lip. She fell into such a trance that she didn’t hear the school bell clang out through the walls of the Academy. It wasn’t until Felix stuck the blood-pop into his mouth that she blinked out of her daze.
Felix grabbed his things and left, followed by the other students. Ivy had the sudden urge to tackle her brother to the ground and tear the lollypop from his lips.
“I told you before.” It was Samael. He’d stayed behind. “If you don’t feed soon, you’ll—”
“Tell that to Coach Aldon,” she snapped, suddenly in a bitter mood. Bitter … Like the natural flavour of untainted blood …
“I’m telling you,” bit Samael. She swung her bag over her shoulder and they left the classroom. The teacher was still talking by the chalkboard, completely unaware that the bell had rung and the students had left. “Coach Aldon doesn’t control you.”
“No,” she agreed. “But apparently you do.”
She flipped her hair behind her ear, and stomped down the corridor in a dramatic exit. But it wasn’t an exit, and it wasn’t dramatic—Samael kept her pace with casual strides beside her.
“Advising you,” he said calmly, “to drink blood is hardly exercising or assuming control. The bloodlust is worsening—”
“No it isn’t,” she snapped childishly. He walked beside her and looked down at her hands.
“Is that so?” he drawled sarcastically. “Then, why are you shaking?”
Ivy glanced at her grey hands and saw the tremors assaulting her slender fingers. She hastily pulled the sleeve of her cardigan over her hands and quickened her pace. He kept up easily, and they turned a corner onto the richly carpeted staircase. They melted into the traffic of students and walked down the U-shaped stairs.
“Why do you care?” she mumbled under her breath. He didn’t reply.
Her heels thudded against the thick carpet, and her legs began to quake, too.
“Use the banister,” ordered Samael. She placed her shaky hand on the barrier and balanced out her weight between her trembling legs and the solid wood. “I’m taking you to Coach Aldon.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re transitioning to the next stage,” he said crisply. “If it’s left any longer, you will attack someone.”
She scoffed. “And you care about Videre?”
“No,” he said frostily, glancing down at her. His white hair hung over his forehead, and his chiselled jaw tightened. He seemed to want to elaborate, but he didn’t.
A commotion down at the next landing demanded their attention. From an attached corridor, shouts came, and students parted like a river around a rock. A red bun bobbed through the gap, and Ivy recognised it to the stern bun of Houseparent Mabel. She appeared to be escorting a student through the crowd.
“Move out of the way!” barked Houseparent Mabel. Her tone then softened. “Come now, dear, don’t fret. We will get you to the sickbay in no time. A Shaman will seal that up in no time.”
The sickbay? That was only used for injured students.
Oh.
Ivy smelled the blood. It wafted up in the air, and metallic vapours seeped up into her flaring nostrils. The student was a Videre girl, no older than twelve years old … and she was bleeding.
Blood …
Ivy dropped her bag. Time stopped. She stood still. Nobody moved. The Houseparent was no longer walking. There were no noises—no chatter, no breathing, no footsteps, nothing. Slowly, ever so slowly, Ivy craned her neck. White eyes glazed over.
Fresh blood … so sweet … so bitter …
Gradually, her consciousness slipped away into a dark storeroom in her mind.
Must have …
Time resumed. Everyone continued what they were doing. The Houseparent ushered the Videer through the landing, but for Ivy, time went slowly. Each step of the flowing crowd around her seemed to happen in slow-motion; she could predict everyone’s next move. Samael’s hand went to grab her arm. But she was too quick—too quick and too hungry.
Feed.
A vicious snarl ripped through her throat. Her black nails sharpened into miniature daggers; miniature, but spikey and deadly. Ivy threw herself over the banister, crouched high in the air, above the students below. Samael lunged right after her, but she touched down on the landing first, in front of the wounded girl and Houseparent.
Swiftly, she spun around, looking like a twirl of white vapor clad in smart dress, black stilettos and a black cardigan. Samael landed right beside her, but before he could stop her, she’d tackled the Videer to the carpet. They crashed to the carpet with a sickening crunch.
<
br /> Ivy’s nails tore apart the skin on the girl’s wrists, pinning them down, and her fangs ripped into her neck. The unskilled and untrained Videer screeched wildly, a gurgling sound.
Hands snatched onto Ivy and try to heave her up. But her grip and hunger were too strong. Blood poured onto the carpet from the girl’s neck. Her cries were almost drowned out by the guzzling sounds Ivy made as she desperately fed. Her white eyes stayed alert, darting around at the shouting and alarmed students, but her throat didn’t stop gulping down the sweet crimson liquid she craved. Screams and shouts came from all around her, but Ivy heard only one thing—the frantic heartbeat of her terrified victim.
Suddenly, a muscular arm swiftly coiled around her neck, and another around her abdomen. The arms held onto her tightly and yanked her off the Videer with one hard pull.
Ivy shrieked savagely, like a manic beast, flailing wildly in the arms of her preventer. Her feral eyes stayed on the crying girl bleeding on the floor. Her maddened trance snubbed the armed Videer pulling their weapons out, prepared to attack her should she break free of her restraints.
“Shh,” hushed Samael softly. He was the one holding her back. Her legs kicked out wildly and she squirmed relentlessly in a desperate attempt to get back to her meal.
A savage cry tore through her own throat, but she didn’t hear it. She heard only the cries of her prey. She saw only the girl she needed to feed on, and smelled the blood coating her own mouth and chin.
Addie appeared out of nowhere, shoving through the crowd.
“Ivy!” she shouted, but her voice was drowned out by the chaos. “The Gods! What happened?”
“What do you think?” growled Samael, clearly disinterested in anything but restraining Ivy. He hauled her over his shoulder, Ivy writhing fiercely, and secured her in place with a strong hand against the small of her wriggling back. “Get her bag,” he barked at Addie. Before she could obey, Samael barged past her, leaving her behind, and made his way swiftly through the crowd. He growled at any Videer who dared come too close. The Videer backed off immediately.
Samael took her down to the cellar corridors.
*
Above Ivy, flowers blossomed on the coiled and twisted vines that slithered from branch to branch. At first, she thought she was in the Blood Forest, or even the grottos. But as she blinked the scenery sparked recognition—she was in the sickbay in the depths of the cellar corridors. Two colourful Shaman tended to an unconscious girl at the far end of the room. Sparrows fluttered around them. The Shaman whacked them out of the way as they tried to heal the patient.
Propping herself up on her elbows, Ivy squinted at the girl, recognising her with a nauseating pang of guilt. It was the Videer girl she’d attacked.
Ivy gulped, her dry throat burning in resistance, and dropped back down onto the bed. The roughly carved wooden bedframe groaned at the impact, and a cluster of pixies suddenly soared out of a rotten hole in the wood. She had disturbed them.
Ivy gazed up at the ceiling, but it was obscured by bent trees that began at the walls, and curved outwards. Green vines and pink flowers draped from the trees, wrapped around the bedframes, and slithered up the pillars. The vine directly above her dipped down from the weight of a blood bag draped over it. Ivy’s gaze followed the tube from the blood bag down to her arm, where a needle fed the nutrients into her veins.
A branch snapped.
She craned her neck to the side, and peered through the gaps between leafy curtains. A figure advanced, moving steadily toward her. Hands slid through the leafy drapes and parted them to the side. Coach Aldon entered.
Shamefully, Ivy burned red and averted her gaze from her mentor’s softened eyes.
“Ivory,” he greeted. Ivy remained silent and stared up at the tree branches. Aldon settled himself on a toadstool beside her bed. “Do you know why you are here?”
Her hair rustled against the feathery pillow as she nodded. Images of what she had done flashed in her mind; she shuddered discreetly, but her mentor noticed.
“You cannot blame yourself,” he assured gently. “If anyone is at fault here, it is me.”
Hoarsely, Ivy whispered, “You didn’t almost kill a little girl, sir.”
“No,” he agreed. “However, I misjudged your willpower, and enforced a strict blood regiment on you. I did not take into consideration the added stress it would cause, which ultimately led to an assault. I accept my part in it.”
Her pale fingers fiddled with a loose thread on the woollen blanket covering her body. “Am I going to be suspended?”
“Suspended?” he echoed, stunned. “Heavens, Ivy, of course you won’t be suspended. If you had succeeded in killing Archer, then perhaps suspension would be delivered by Principal Caesar. As it stands, however, he believes that removing the blood restrictions from your diet is the best response.”
Was it awful, repulsive, and loathsome that she smiled a little? Ivy thought so. But it didn’t stop the corners of her lips tugging upwards. “So, what’s my punishment, then?”
“Oh, I’m not certain that a punishment is necessary,” he dismissed. “You may resume your regular diet, and take your mid-year test at full strength.”
“And fail,” she added. “That’s my punishment, I guess. Failing.”
Coach Aldon pressed his hands against his thighs and pushed himself to stand.
“Ivory,” he said gently. “Your magic is within you. Whether it emerges now, or two years down the track, one thing is certain. It will awaken at some point.”
He paused and turned to look at the leafy curtains. Not a second after, they swept to the side. Felix sauntered into the nook, a box of Ivy’s favourite treats tucked under his arm.
“Coach,” he greeted, inclining his head.
Coach Aldon smiled and flickered his gaze back to Ivy. “I will see you at our next session, Ivory.”
She waved goodbye and he left. Exhaling a sigh of relief, she propped herself up against the pillows as Felix jumped onto the bottom of the bed and sprawled out.
“Is that for me?” asked Ivy with a sneaky smile. Her sharp fingernail tapped the corner of the box.
“Chocolate cockroaches,” declared Felix pompously, “marinated in the best swamp monster blood that money can buy. Just for you, greedy guts.”
Ivy wrenched the lid off, but before she could take one clump, Felix had grabbed three and shoved them into his mouth.
“They’re mine,” hissed Ivy, yanking the box closer to her.
“I deserve at least half,” he said whilst chewing. “I bought them for you—”
“Exactly,” she interrupted. “You bought them for me.”
Felix shot her a chocolatey grin. “I also,” he continued, “took it upon myself to save your ass.”
“What’d you mean?” she asked sceptically.
“I sent father a letter.” Felix laughed as her eyes almost popped out of her head. “Don’t worry. It’s better he learns of this from me than from Principal Prick.”
“What did you say?” she asked, snatching the last chocolate cockroach before Felix could take it. He’d already eaten half the box.
“I told him the truth. You’ve been stressing yourself to the moon and back about your grades. You try you hardest in class, but can’t manage to perform well. You were starving, and simply snapped, like every other Vampire would eventually.”
Edmund, her dad, would be swayed by Felix’s support of her, and, most importantly, his expressed sympathy. If she was lucky, she would escape the threat of punishment. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
He sighed and slid off the bed. “I have things to do, magic to steal, and people to prank. It won’t happen on its own, you know.”
“Who are you going to prank?” she asked.
A mischievous glint sparked in his secretive white eyes. “You’ll be discharged in the morning,” he said. “Come to breakfast, and you’ll see.”
A brilliant beam spread across her face as she nodded. Her misery was in a
dire need of relief, and Felix’s pranks were sure to deliver the remedy.
After Felix left, however, Ivy’s fleeting relief dispersed. How could she be happy when the poor Videer girl lay in the bed down the sickbay? Ivy thought about approaching her and apologising. But, really, she didn’t know what to say. Ultimately, she decided to let the girl sleep and heal in peace. A kind choice, but a wholly selfish one, too.
13
After her discharge from the garden sickbay, Ivy had witness Felix’s prank. As it happens, the prank wasn’t aimed at a student, but at the entire faculty. Ivy had been enjoying a generous jug-full of fresh blood when the teachers, shamans, and Principal suddenly erupted into song. Some even stood from their chairs and shimmied their chests in a manner that had Ivy choking on her blood and giggled madly. She guessed that Felix slipped some magic into their food and drinks before they’d arrived in the Assembly Hall. Yet, she suspected that he hadn’t used a great amount of Fae magic to orchestrate the prank. It had reminded her to talk to him about the excessive magic he’d been stealing around the school.
Unfortunately for Ivy, Penny had become obsessed with their other suspicions. During her short time in the sickbay, Ivy hadn’t had the pleasure of Penny’s company. It wasn’t until after she was released that she learned why. Penny hadn’t left the dorm in days. At first, she’d said she had period cramps. Now, she made no excuses at all, and merely buried herself in piles of literature about Shifters, transformative magic, and Shifters. Each time Ivy tried to focus on her homework, Penny would shove articles and books in her face. But then came the best day of the entire year. A day to be celebrated by everyone. According to Ivy, at least.
