Bloodlines b-1

by Richelle Mead

“Are you sure? I could’ve sworn you were named after someplace in Australia.”

  “Well, my first name is Sydney,” I said, not sure if I should be encouraging her.

  “Ah. Then I’m not crazy. Not yet, at least. What can I do for you, Miss Melrose?”

  “I wanted to ask you . . . well, you see, I have a gap in my schedule because I passed out of the language requirement. I wondered if maybe you needed another teacher aide . . . like Trey.” The aforementioned Trey was already there, sitting at a desk allotted to him and collating papers. He glanced up at the mention of his name and eyed me warily. “It’s last period, ma’am. So, if there was any extra work you needed . . .”

  Her eyes studied me for several moments before she answered. I’d made sure to cover up my tattoo today, but it felt like she was staring right through to it. “I don’t need another teacher aide,” she said bluntly. Trey smirked. “Mr. Juarez, despite his many limitations, is more than capable of sorting all my stacks of paper.” His smirk disappeared at the backhanded compliment.

  I nodded and started to turn away, disappointed. “Okay. I understand.”

  “No, no. I don’t think you do. You see, I’m writing a book.” She paused, and I realized she was waiting for me to look impressed. “On heretical religion and magic in the Greco-Roman world. I’ve lectured on it at Carlton College before. Fascinating subject.”

  Trey stifled a cough.

  “Now, I could really use a research assistant to help me track down certain information, run errands for me, that sort of thing. Would you be interested in that?”

  I gaped. “Yes, ma’am. I would be.”

  “For you to get credit for an independent study, you’d have to do some project alongside it . . . research and a paper of your own. Not nearly the length of my book, of course. Is there anything from that era that interests you?”

  “Er, yes.” I could hardly believe it. “Classical art and architecture. I’d love to study it more.”

  Now she looked impressed. “Really? Then it seems we’re a perfect match. Or, well, nearly. Pity you don’t know Latin.”

  “Well . . .” I averted my eyes. “I, um, actually . . . I can read Latin.” I dared a glance back at her. Rather than impressed, she mostly looked stunned.

  “Well, then. How about that.” She gave a rueful head shake. “I’m afraid to ask about Greek.” The bell rang. “Go ahead and take your seat, then come find me at the end of the day. Last period is also my planning period, so we’ll have plenty of time to talk and fill out the appropriate paperwork.”

  I returned to my desk and received an approving fist bump from Eddie. “Nice work. You don’t have to take a real class. Of course, if she’s got you reading Latin, maybe it’ll be worse than a real class.”

  “I like Latin,” I said with absolute seriousness. “It’s fun.”

  Eddie shook his head and said in a very, very low voice: “I can’t believe you think we’re the strange ones.”

  Trey’s comments for me in my next class were less complimentary. “Wow, you sure have Terwilliger wrapped around your finger.” He nodded toward our chemistry instructor. “Are you going to go tell her that you split atoms in your free time? Do you have a reactor back in your room?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with—” I cut myself off, unsure what to say. I’d nearly said “being smart,” but that sounded egotistical. “There’s nothing wrong with knowing things,” I said at last.

  “Sure,” he agreed. “When it’s legitimate knowledge.”

  I remembered the crazy conversation with Kristin and Julia yesterday. Because I’d had to take Jill to Adrian, I’d missed the study session and couldn’t follow up on my tattoo questions. Still, I at least now knew where Trey’s disdain was coming from—even though it seemed absurd. No one else at school had specifically mentioned my tattoo being special, but a number of people had approached me already, asking where I’d gotten it. They’d been disappointed when I said South Dakota.

  “Look, I don’t know where this idea’s coming from about my tattoo making me smart, but if that’s what you think, well . . . don’t. It’s just a tattoo.”

  “It’s gold,” he argued.

  “So?” I asked. “It’s just special ink. I don’t get why people would believe it has some mystical properties. Who believes in that stuff?”

  He snorted. “Half this school does. How are you so smart, then?”

  Was I really that much of a freak when it came to academics that people had to turn to supernatural explanations? I went with my stock answer. “I was homeschooled.”

  “Oh,” said Trey thoughtfully. “That would explain it.”

  I sighed.

  “I bet your homeschooling didn’t do much in the way of PE, though,” he added. “What are you going to do about your sport requirement?”

  “I don’t know; I hadn’t thought about it,” I said, feeling a little uneasy. I could handle Amberwood’s academics in my sleep. But its athletics? Unclear.

  “Well, you better decide soon; the deadline’s coming up. Don’t look so worried,” he added. “Maybe they’ll let you start a Latin club instead.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, not liking the tone. “I’ve played sports.”

  He shrugged. “If you say so. You don’t seem like the athletic type. You seem too . . . neat.”

  I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a compliment or not. “What’s your sport?”

  Trey held his chin up, looking very pleased with himself. “Football. A real man’s sport.”

  A guy sitting nearby overheard him and glanced back. “Too bad you won’t make quarterback, Juarez. You came so close last year. Looks like you’re going to graduate without fulfilling yet another dream.”

  I’d thought Trey didn’t like me—but as he turned his attention to the other guy, it was like the temperature dropped ten degrees. I realized in that moment that Trey just liked giving me a hard time. But this other guy? Trey completely despised him.

  “I don’t remember you even being in the running, Slade,” returned Trey, eyes hard. “What makes you think you’re going to take it this year?”

  Slade—it wasn’t clear to me if that was his first or last name—exchanged knowing glances with a couple friends. “Just a feeling.” They turned away, and Trey scowled.

  “Great,” he muttered. “Slade finally got the money for one. You want to know about tattoos? Go talk to him.”

  My thirty-second impression told me Slade was no one I wanted to talk to, but Trey provided no additional explanation. Class soon started, but as I tried to focus on the lesson, all I could think about was Amberwood’s apparent obsession with tattoos. What did it mean?

  When PE came, I was relieved to see Jill in the locker room. The Moroi girl gave me a weary smile as we walked outside. “How’s your day been?” I asked.

  “Fine,” Jill said. “Not great. Not terrible. I haven’t really gotten to know many people.” She didn’t say it, but Jill’s tone implied, “See? I told you I would stand out.”

  Yet as the class started, I realized that the problem was that Jill didn’t stand out. She avoided eye contact, letting her nerves get the best of her, and made no effort to talk to people. No one openly shunned her, but with the vibes she gave off, no one went out of their way to talk to her either. I certainly wasn’t the most social person in the world, but I still smiled and tried to chat with my classmates as we did more volleyball drills. It was enough to foster the sparks of friendship.

  I also soon noticed another problem. The class had been divided into four teams, playing two concurrent matches. Jill was in the other game, but I still occasionally caught sight of her. She looked miserable and tired within ten minutes, without even having done much in the game. Her reaction time was bad too. A number of balls went past her, and those she did notice were met with clumsy maneuvers. Some of her teammates exchanged frustrated looks behind her back.

  I returned to my own game, worried for her, just as t
he opposing team spiked the ball into a zone that wasn’t well guarded by my team. I didn’t have the reaction time that, say, a dhampir had, but in that split second, my brain knew I could block the ball if I made a hard and fast move. Doing so went against my natural instincts, the ones that said, Don’t do anything that will hurt or get you dirty. I’d always carefully reasoned through my actions, never acting on impulse. Not this time. I was going to stop that ball. I dove for it, hitting it into range of another teammate who was able to then spike it back over the net and out of danger. The volley pushed me to a hard landing on my knees. It was ungraceful and jarred my teeth, but I’d stopped the opposition from scoring. My teammates cheered, and I was surprised to find myself laughing. I’d always been trained that everything I did had to have a greater, practical purpose. Sports were sort of antithetical to the Alchemist way of life, because they were just for fun. But maybe fun wasn’t so bad once in a while.

  “Nice, Melrose,” said Miss Carson, strolling by. “If you want to defer your sport until winter and be on the volleyball team, come talk to me later.”

  “Well done,” said Micah, and offered me his hand. I shook my head and stood up on my own. I was dismayed to see a scrape on one of my legs but was still grinning from ear to ear. If anyone had told me two weeks ago that I’d be so happy about rolling around in the dirt, I wouldn’t have believed it. “She doesn’t give out compliments very often.”

  It was true. Miss Carson had already been on Jill a number of times and was now halting our game to correct a teammate’s sloppy form. I took advantage of the break to watch Jill, whose game was still in action. Micah followed my gaze.

  “Doesn’t run in the family, huh?” he asked sympathetically.

  “No,” I murmured. My smile faded. I felt a pang of guilt in my chest over exalting so much in my own triumph when Jill was obviously struggling. It didn’t seem fair.

  Jill still looked exhausted, and her curly hair was drenched in sweat. Pink spots had appeared on her cheeks, giving her a feverish look, and it seemed to take all her effort to remain upright. It was strange that Jill would have so much difficulty. I’d overheard a brief conversation in which she and Eddie had discussed combat and defensive moves, giving me the impression that Jill was fairly athletic. She and Eddie had even talked about practicing later that night and—

  “The sun,” I groaned.

  “Huh?” asked Micah.

  I’d mentioned my concerns about the sun to Stanton, but she’d dismissed them. She’d just advised that Jill be careful to stay inside—which Jill did. Except, of course, when school requirements made her take a class that kept her outside. Forcing her to play sports out in the full blaze of the Palm Springs sun was cruel. It was a wonder she was still standing.

  I sighed, making a mental note to call the Alchemists later. “We’re going to have to get her a doctor’s note.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Micah. The game was back on, and he shifted into position beside me.

  “Oh. Jill. She’s . . . she’s sensitive to the sun. Kind of like an allergic thing.”

  As though on cue, we heard Miss Carson exclaim from the other court: “Melrose Junior! Are you blind? Did you not see that coming right toward you?”

  Jill swayed on her feet but took the criticism meekly.

  Micah watched them with a frown, and as soon as Miss Carson was off picking on someone else, he darted out of formation and ran over to Jill’s game. I hastily tried to cover both his and my own positions. Micah ran up to a guy beside Jill, whispered something, and pointed back at me. A moment later, the guy ran over to my team and Micah took the spot beside Jill.

  As class continued, I realized what was happening. Micah was good at volleyball—very good. So much so that he was able to defend his spot and Jill’s. Without seeing any blatant blunders, Miss Carson kept her attention elsewhere, and Jill’s team grew a little less hostile toward her. When the game ended, Micah caught hold of Jill’s arm and quickly walked her over to a shaded spot. From the way she staggered, he seemed to be all that was holding her upright.

  I was about to join them when I heard loud voices beside me.

  “I’m getting it tonight. The guy I talked to swears it’s gonna be badass.” It was Slade, the guy who’d sparred with Trey earlier. I hadn’t realized it out in the sun in the middle of the game, but he was the player Micah had swapped places with. “It better be,” continued Slade, “for how much he’s charging me.”

  Two of Slade’s friends joined him as they began heading toward the locker room. “When are tryouts, Slade?” one of his friends asked. In chemistry, I’d learned Slade’s first name was Greg, but everyone seemed to refer to him by his last name, even teachers.

  “Friday,” Slade said. “I’m going to kill. Like totally destroy them. I’m gonna rip Juarez’s spine out and make him eat it.”

  Charming, I thought, watching them go. My initial assessment of Slade had been correct. I turned toward Jill and Micah and saw that he’d gotten ahold of a water bottle for her. They seemed okay for the moment, so I caught Miss Carson’s attention as she walked by.

  “My sister gets sick in the sun,” I said. “This is really hard on her.”

  “Lots of kids have trouble in the heat at first,” said Miss Carson knowingly. “They just need to toughen up. You handled yourself okay.”

  “Yeah, well, she and I are pretty different,” I said dryly. If only she knew. “I don’t think she’s going to ‘toughen up.’”

  “Nothing I can do,” said Miss Carson. “If I let her sit out, do you have any idea how many other kids would suddenly ‘feel tired in the sun’? Unless she’s got a doctor’s note, she’s got to stick it out.”

  I thanked her and went to join Jill and Micah. As I approached, I heard Micah saying, “Get cleaned up, and I’ll walk you to your next class. We can’t have you fainting in the halls.” He paused and considered. “Of course, I’m totally happy to catch you if you do faint.”

  Jill was understandably dazed but was with it enough to thank him. She told him she’d meet him soon and walked to the girls’ locker room with me. I eyed the grin on Micah’s face, and a troubling thought occurred to me. Jill seemed stressed enough so I decided not to say anything, but my concern grew when we left for last period. Micah walked with Jill, as promised, and told her that later, when evening came, he’d tutor her in volleyball if she wanted.

  As we stood outside the classroom, a girl with long red hair and a haughty attitude walked by, trailed by an entourage of other girls. She paused when she saw Micah and tossed her hair over one shoulder, flashing him a big smile. “Hey, Micah.”

  Micah was engrossed with Jill and barely glanced in the other girl’s direction. “Oh, hey, Laurel.” He walked away, and Laurel watched him go, her expression turning dark. She shot a dangerous look at Jill, whipped her long hair over her shoulder, and stormed off.

  Uh-oh, I thought as I watched her stalk down the hall. Is that going to come back and haunt us? It was one of those moments when I could have used a lesson in social cues.

  I went to Ms. Terwilliger’s classroom afterward and spent most of that initial meeting setting up the semester’s goals and outlining what I’d be doing for her. I was in store for a lot of reading and translation, which suited me just fine. It also appeared as though half of my job would be keeping her organized—something else I excelled at. The time flew by, and as soon as I was free, I hurried off to find Eddie. He was waiting with a group of other boys at the shuttle stop to go back to their dorm.

  When he saw me, his response was the usual: “Is Jill okay?”

  “Fine . . . well, kind of. Can we talk somewhere?”

  Eddie’s face darkened, no doubt thinking there was a legion of Strigoi on their way to hunt Jill. We stepped back inside one of the academic buildings, finding chairs in a private corner that enjoyed the full force of air conditioning. I gave him a quick update on Jill and her sunny PE misadventures.

  “I didn�
�t think it would be this bad,” said Eddie grimly, echoing my thoughts. “Thank God Micah was there. Is there anything you can do?”

  “Yeah, we should be able to get something from our ‘parents’ or a doctor.” As much as I hated to, I added, “Keith might be able to expedite it.”

  “Good,” said Eddie fiercely. “We can’t have her getting beat up out there. I’ll go talk to that teacher myself, if that’s what it takes.”

  I hid a smile. “Well, hopefully it won’t come to that. But there is something else . . . nothing dangerous,” I amended quickly, seeing that warrior look cross his face again. “Just something . . .” I tried not to say the words that were popping into my mind. Horrifying. Wrong. “Concerning. I think . . . I think Micah likes Jill.”

  Eddie’s face went very still. “Of course he likes her. She’s nice. He’s nice. He likes everyone.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. He likes her. In the more-than-friends way. What are we going to do about that?”

  Eddie stared off across the hall for a few moments before turning back to me. “Why do we have to do anything?”

  “How can you ask that?” I exclaimed, shocked by the response. “You know why. Humans and vampires can’t be together! It’s disgusting and wrong.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Even a dhampir like you should know that.”

  He smiled ruefully. ‘“Even a dhampir like me?’”

  I supposed I’d been a little insulting, but it couldn’t be helped. Alchemists—myself included—never believed dhampirs and Moroi worried enough about the same problems we did. They might acknowledge a taboo like this, but years of training said that only we humans really took it seriously. That was why the Alchemist job was so important. If we didn’t look after these matters, who would?

  “I mean it,” I told him. “This is something all of us agree on.”

  His smile faded. “Yeah, it is.”

  Even Rose and Dimitri, who had a high tolerance for craziness, had been shocked at meeting the Keepers, rogue Moroi who intermingled freely with dhampirs and humans. It was a taboo the three of us shared, and we’d worked hard to tolerate the custom while with the Keepers. They lived hidden in the Appalachian Mountains and had provided excellent refuge when Rose was on the run. Ignoring their savage ways had been an acceptable price for the security they’d offered us.