Bloodlines b-1

by Richelle Mead

  “Hard not to,” I said, getting out my laptop. I glanced across the screen. “He’s still showing it off.”

  “He’s wanted one for a while but never had the money,” explained Julia. “Last year, all the big athletes had them. Well, except for Trey Juarez.”

  “Trey almost doesn’t need one,” pointed out Kristin. “He’s that good.”

  “He will now—if he wants to keep up with Slade,” said Julia.

  Kristin shook her head. “He still won’t do it. He’s against them. He tried reporting them to Mr. Green last year, but no one believed him.”

  I looked back and forth between them, more lost than ever. “Are we still talking about tattoos? About Trey ‘needing’ one or not?”

  “You really haven’t found out yet?” asked Julia.

  “It’s my second day,” I pointed out with frustration. Remembering I was in a library, I spoke more softly. “The only people who have really talked about them are Trey and you guys—and you haven’t said much of anything.”

  They had the grace to look embarrassed by that, at least. Kristin opened her mouth, paused, and then seemed to change what she was going to say. “You’re sure yours doesn’t do anything?”

  “Positive,” I lied. “How is that even possible?”

  Julia cast a glance around the library and twisted in her chair. She rolled her shirt up a little, exposing her lower back—and a faded tattoo of a swallow in flight. Satisfied that I’d seen it, she turned back around. “I got this last spring break—and it was the best spring break ever.”

  “Because of the tattoo?” I asked skeptically.

  “When I got it, it didn’t look like this. It was metallic . . . not like yours. Or Slade’s. More like . . .”

  “Copper,” provided Kristin.

  Julia thought about it and nodded. “Yeah, like reddish-goldish. The color only lasted a week, and while it did, it was amazing. Like, I have never felt that good. It was inhumanly good. The best high ever.”

  “I swear, there’s some kind of drug in those celestials,” said Kristin. She was trying to sound disapproving, but I thought I detected a note of envy.

  “If you had one, you’d understand,” Julia told her.

  “Celestials . . . I heard that girl over there talk about them,” I said.

  “Laurel?” asked Julia. “Yeah, that’s what they call the copper ones. Because they make you feel out of this world.” She looked almost embarrassed about her enthusiasm. “Stupid name, huh?”

  “Is that what Slade’s does?” I asked, stunned at what was unfolding before me.

  “No, he’s got a steel one,” said Kristin. “Those give you a big athletic boost. Like, you’re stronger, faster. Stuff like that. They last longer than the celestials—more like two weeks. Sometimes three, but the effect fades. They call them steel because they’re tough, I guess. And maybe because there’s steel in them.”

  Not steel, I thought. A silver compound. The art of using metal to bind certain properties in skin was one the Alchemists had perfected a long time ago. Gold was the absolute best, which was why we used it. Other metals—when formulated in the proper ways—achieved similar effects, but neither silver nor copper would bind the way gold could. The copper tattoo was easy to understand. Any number of feel-good substances or drugs could be combined with that for a short-term effect. The silver one was more difficult for me to understand—or rather, the effects of the silver one. What they were describing sounded like some kind of athletic steroid. Would silver hold that? I’d have to check.

  “How many people have these?” I asked them, awestruck. I couldn’t believe that such complicated tattoos were so popular here. It was also beginning to sink in just how wealthy the student body here really was. The materials alone would cost a fortune, let alone any of the alleged side effects.

  “Everyone,” said Julia.

  Kristin scowled. “Not everyone. I’ve almost got enough saved up, though.”

  “I’d say half the school’s at least tried a celestial,” said Julia, flashing her friend a comforting look. “You can get them touched up again later—but it still costs money.”

  “Half the school?” I repeated incredulously. I looked around, wondering how many shirts and pants concealed tattoos. “This is crazy. I can’t believe a tattoo can do any of that.” I hoped I was doing an okay job of hiding how much I really knew.

  “Get a celestial,” said Julia with a grin. “Then you’ll believe.”

  “Where do you get them?”

  “It’s a place called Nevermore,” said Kristin. “They’re selective, though, and don’t give them out easily.” Not that selective, I thought, if half the school had them. “They got a lot more cautious after Trey tried to turn them in.” There was Trey’s name again. It now made sense that he’d been so disdainful of my tattoo when we met. But I wondered why he cared so much—enough to try to get them shut down. That wasn’t just a casual disagreement.

  “I guess he thinks it’s unfair?” I offered diplomatically.

  “I think he’s just jealous that he can’t afford one,” said Julia. “He’s got a tattoo, you know. It’s a sun on his back. But it’s just a regular black one—not gold like yours. I’ve never seen anything like yours.”

  “So that’s why you thought mine made me smart,” I said.

  “That could’ve been really useful during finals,” said Julia wistfully. “You’re sure that’s not why you know so much?”

  I smiled, despite how appalled I was by what I’d just learned. “I wish. It might make getting through this book easier. Which,” I added, glancing at the clock. “I should get to.” It was on Greco-Roman priests and magicians, a kind of grimoire detailing the kinds of spells and rituals they’d worked with. It wasn’t terrible reading material, but it was long. I’d thought Ms. Terwilliger’s research was more focused on mainstream religions in that era, so the book seemed like a weird choice. Maybe she was hoping to include a section on alternative magical practices. Regardless, who was I to question? If she asked, I’d do it.

  I outlasted both Kristin and Julia in the library, since I had to stay as long as Ms. Terwilliger stayed, which was until the library closed. She seemed pleased that I’d gotten so far with the notes and told me she’d like the whole book completed in three days.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said automatically, as if I didn’t have any other classes at this school. Why did I always agree without thinking?

  I returned to East Campus, bleary-eyed from all the work I’d done and exhausted over the thought of the homework remaining. Jill was fast asleep, which I took as a small blessing. I wouldn’t have to face her accusing stare or figure out how to handle the awkward silence. I got ready for bed quickly and quietly and fell asleep almost as soon as I hit the pillow.

  I woke at around three to the sound of crying. Shaking off my sleepy haze, I was able to make out Jill sitting up in her bed, her face buried in her hands. Great, shaking sobs racked her body.

  “Jill?” I asked uncertainly. “What’s wrong?”

  In the faint light coming in from outside, I saw Jill raise her head and look at me. Unable to answer, she shook her head and began crying once more, this time more loudly. I got up and came to sit on the edge of her bed. I couldn’t quite bring myself to hug or touch her for comfort. Nonetheless, I felt terrible. I knew this had to be my fault.

  “Jill, I’m so sorry. I never should have gone to see Adrian. When Lee mentioned you, I should’ve just stopped it there and told him to talk to you if he was interested. I should’ve just talked to you in the first place . . .” The words came out in a jumble. When I looked at her, all I could think of was Zoe and her horrible accusations on the night I’d left.

  Somehow, my help always backfired.

  Jill sniffled and managed to get out a few words before breaking down again. “It’s not . . . it’s not that . . .”

  I stared helplessly at her tears, frustrated at myself. Kristin and Julia thought I was superhumanl
y smart. Yet I guaranteed one of them would’ve been able to comfort Jill a hundred times better than I could. I reached out my hand and nearly patted her arm—but pulled back at the last moment. No, I couldn’t do that. That Alchemist voice in me, the voice that always warned me to keep my distance from vampires, wouldn’t let me touch one in a way that was so personal.

  “Then what is it?” I asked at last.

  She shook her head. “It’s not . . . I can’t tell . . . you wouldn’t understand.”

  With Jill, I thought, any number of things could be wrong. The uncertainty of her royal status. The threats against her. Being sent away from all her family and friends, trapped among humans in the perpetual sun. I really didn’t know where to start. Last night, there had been a chilling, desperate terror in her eyes when she woke up. But this was different. This was sorrow. This was from the heart.

  “What can I do to help?” I asked at last.

  It took her a few moments to pull herself together. “You’re already doing plenty,” she managed. “We all appreciate it—really. Especially after what Keith said to you.” Was there nothing Adrian hadn’t told her? “And I’m sorry—I’m sorry I was so bitchy to you earlier. You didn’t deserve that. You were just trying to help.”

  “No . . . don’t apologize. I messed up.”

  “You don’t have to worry, you know,” she added. “About Micah. I understand. I only want to be his friend.”

  I was pretty sure that I still wasn’t doing a great job at making her feel better. But I had to admit, apologizing to me at least seemed to be distracting her from whatever had woken her to so much pain.

  “I know,” I said. “I should never have worried about you.”

  She assured me again that she was fine, with no more explanation about why she’d woken up crying. I felt like I should have done more to help, but instead, I made my way back to my own bed. I didn’t hear any more sobs for the rest of the night, but once, when I woke up a couple hours later, I stole a glance at her. Her features were just barely discernible in the early light. She lay there, eyes wide open and staring off into nothingness, a haunted look on her face.

  CHAPTER 11

  BEFORE CLASS THE NEXT DAY, I left a message with someone at the Alchemists’ office, telling them I needed “Mr. and Mrs. Melrose” to send a note excusing Jill from PE—or at least from outdoor activities. I hoped they’d move quickly on this. The Alchemists were fast when they wanted to be, but they sometimes had odd ideas of what took priority. I hoped they didn’t have the same attitude toward Jill’s misery as Keith did.

  But I knew not to expect any action that day, so Jill had to suffer through another PE class—and I had to suffer through watching her suffer. What was really terrible was that Jill didn’t whine or try to get out of anything. She didn’t even show any sign of last night’s breakdown. She came in with determination and optimism, as though maybe this would be the day the sun wouldn’t affect her. Yet, before long, she began to wane just as she had last time. She looked sick and tired, and my own performance faltered a little because I kept watching her, afraid she’d pass out.

  Micah was the saving grace. Once again, he fearlessly switched teams—this time from the very start of class. He covered for her just as he had last time, allowing her to escape the notice of teacher and classmates—well, except for Laurel, who seemed to notice—and get annoyed by—everything he did. Her eyes flicked angrily between him and Jill, and she kept flinging her hair over her shoulder to get his attention. I was a little amused to note that Micah’s attention remained solely on keeping the ball away from Jill.

  Micah also jumped immediately to her side when class ended and had a water bottle ready, which she accepted gratefully. I was grateful too, but seeing his concern for her dredged up all my old worries. She was good to her word, however. She returned his attentions in a friendly way, but you definitely couldn’t call it flirting. He made no secret of his intentions, though, and I still worried that it would be better if she didn’t have to deal with them. I’d meant it when I said I trusted her, but I couldn’t help but think it’d be a lot easier on everyone if he laid off in his advances. This would require A Talk.

  Dreading what I had to do, I caught up with Micah outside the locker rooms. We were both waiting for Jill to finish up, and I took advantage of the alone time with him.

  “Hey, Micah,” I said, “I need to talk to you . . .”

  “Hey,” he returned brightly. His blue eyes were wide and excited. “I had an idea I wanted to run past you. If you guys aren’t able to get a note for her, maybe you could see about getting her schedule switched around? If she took PE first period, it wouldn’t be nearly as hot out yet. Maybe it wouldn’t be as hard on her. I mean, she seems like she’d like to participate in some of this stuff.”

  “She would,” I said slowly. “And that’s a really good idea.”

  “I know some people who work in the office. I’ll ask them to run some options and see if it’s even possible with the rest of her classes.” He faked a pout. “I’ll be sad not to have her in class, but it’d be worth it to know she’s not so miserable.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed weakly, suddenly feeling at a loss. He really had come up with a good idea. He was even unselfish enough to give up the chance to be with her in order to promote the greater good. How could I have “the talk” with him now? How could I suddenly say, “Leave my sister alone,” when he was going out of his way to be so nice? I was as bad as Eddie, avoiding confrontation with Micah. This guy was too likable for his own good.

  Before I could manage a response, Micah then went off in an unexpected direction. “You really should get her to a doctor, though. I don’t think she has a sun allergy.”

  “Oh?” I asked in surprise. “Have you not been watching her suffer through class each day?”

  “No, no, believe me, she’s definitely got an issue with the sun,” he assured me quickly. “But she might be misdiagnosed. I read up on sun allergies, and people usually get rashes with them. This overall weakness she gets . . . I don’t know. I think it might be something else.”

  Oh no. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” he mused. “But I’ll keep researching theories and let you know.”

  Wonderful.

  PE also gave me my first glimpse at one of Amberwood’s metallic tattoos in action. Greg Slade was impossible not to watch during class, and I wasn’t the only one who got distracted. Just as Kristin and Julia had said, he really was faster and stronger. He made dives no one else was quick enough to react to. When he hit the ball, it was a wonder we didn’t hear a sonic boom shortly thereafter. This earned him praise at first, but soon, I noticed something. There was a sloppy edge to his game. He was filled with ability, yes, but sometimes it was unfocused. Those powerful hits didn’t always help because he’d blast the ball out of bounds. And in running to make a shot, he rarely considered those around him. When a guy from my English class got knocked down flat on his back, simply for being in the path of Slade and the ball, Miss Carson stopped the game and roared her displeasure about Slade’s aggression. He took it in with a sulky smirk.

  “Too bad Eddie’s not in this class,” Jill said afterward. “He’d be a total match for Slade.”

  “Maybe it’s better no one notices,” I remarked. Eddie, from what I’d heard, was already a shining star in his PE class. It was part of a dhampir’s natural athleticism, and I knew he was actually working hard not to be too good at everything.

  I checked in with Ms. Terwilliger after PE, happy to find my teacher fully stocked with coffee of her own. I spent most of the period going through the book and taking notes on my laptop. Partway through, she came over to check my work.

  “You’re very organized,” she said, looking over my shoulder. “Headings and subheadings and sub-subheadings.”

  “Thank you,” I said. Jared Sage had been very particular in teaching his children research skills.

  Ms. Terwilliger took a sip of coffee and
continued reading the screen. “You didn’t list the ritual and spell steps,” she pointed out moments later. “You just summarize them in a couple lines.”

  Well, yes, that was the point of note-taking. “I cite all the page numbers,” I said. “If you need to check the actual components, there’s an easy reference.”

  “No . . . go back and put all the steps and ingredients in your notes. I want to be able to have them all in one place.”

  You do have them in one place, I wanted to say. In the book. Notes were about condensing the material, not retyping the original text word for word. But Ms. Terwilliger had already wandered away, staring at her filing cabinet absentmindedly as she muttered to herself about a misplaced folder. With a sigh, I flipped back to the beginning of the book, trying not to think about how this was going to set me back. At least I was only doing this for credit and not a grade.

  I stayed past the late bell in an effort to make up some lost time. When I got back to my room, I had to wake up Jill, who was sound asleep after her exhausting day.

  “Good news,” I told her as she blinked at me with sleepy eyes. “It’s feeding day.”

  Definitely words I never thought I’d say.

  I also didn’t think I’d be excited for it. And sure, I certainly wasn’t thrilled about the idea of Jill biting into Dorothy’s neck. I was, however, feeling pretty bad for Jill and was glad she’d get some nourishment. Being on such a limited supply of blood had to make things doubly hard for her.

  We met up with Eddie downstairs when it was time to go. He looked Jill over worriedly. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said with a smile. She looked nowhere near as bad as she had earlier. I shuddered to think what Eddie would’ve done if he’d actually been in our class and seen her at her worst.

  “Why is this still going on?” he asked me. “Weren’t you going to talk to Keith?”

  “We’re a little delayed,” I said evasively, leading them to where Latte was parked in the student lot. “We’ll make it happen.” If the Alchemists didn’t come through with the note, I was going to try to act on Micah’s suggestion and get her switched into morning PE.