by Mana Sol
“I see you’re upset, Miss Kaine.”
No shit. And standing here was making me even more upset. “I’m fine, sir.”
“I say this out of respect because I would like us to be on favorable terms with each other. But Miss Kaine, please do recall my kind can sense human emotions particularly well.”
Yeah, I bet. Vampires were predators, after all, and humans their primary source of nutrition. Sensing our emotions was part of their arsenal of weapons against us. How could I have ever imagined Octavius was anything but an enemy? I couldn’t believe I’d come here with my prim superiority and manners, intent on playing nice for him just because he was faculty. He wasn’t just faculty. He was a war general, picking soldiers to go fight and die. Or in our case, treating us little better than bait dogs to throw into the fray.
“Miss Kaine, do you have a moment to speak with me?”
“I just came back from the infirmary to get new charmed dressings. Nurse Willat told me I shouldn’t strain myself.”
He gave me a long look. “And you’re not avoiding me for any other reason?”
“Avoiding?”
“Ever since you spoke with Headmistress Olisanna, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve made an active effort to avoid all interaction with me. I heard from Professor Pompey and your other instructors that you’re quite different in their classes. At least, until recently.”
I had to hold myself back from bristling, though he probably noticed it anyway. Vampire empathy and all. I wanted to stab something. “Have I offended any of the faculty? Am I being reprimanded?”
“…No, you haven’t.” He sighed. “I’m only concerned.”
“Concerned?” The word shot out of my mouth with a disbelieving wrench I couldn’t hide. Didn’t want to, either. Not anymore. “Professor, two weeks ago I asked about my odds of survival out there and got a very clear answer. I think whatever concern you have for us is -” I broke off and breathed in, deeply. I was angry, but railing at this vampire would only make me look pathetic and useless. Being cold was the smarter thing to do. “I’m fine, Professor,” I said with a smile I didn’t even try to hide was forced. “Concern isn’t necessary.”
“You have it nonetheless. Let’s speak in my office, Miss Kaine. There’s plenty of time before curfew. You’ll be back with more than enough to spare.”
I considered saying no. What would he do? Tell me I was a bad soldier, a bad student? I wished he would.
But there was an almost supplicating gleam in his red eyes that took me off-guard, and I nodded at last. “Yes, sir.”
I followed him down the hall.
22
I thought Professor Octavius would have some elaborate office space to himself high in one of the tower structures attached to the Academy. Instead, he led me farther toward the rear - to the Alchemy wing. Did he really have his office there? I frowned. He was the head of the department and was Deputy Headmaster, too; there was no need for that. He could have a cushy place to himself far from the students so they were more likely to bug some other professor instead with their endless questions.
But it became clearer with every step that wasn’t the case, and finally, I found myself in a small office occupied only by a desk, some filing cabinets, and a few chairs. There was a couch crammed into the corner that looked strangely out of place, cushions rumpled and worn. It didn’t seem like something befitting the wealthy vampire elite, but who was I to comment? I turned back to Octavius, who gestured for me to take a seat on the other side of his desk. We both sat down.
Well, I wouldn’t crack first. He had been the one to ask me here. I had no interest in making friends with a man who’d put on a pretense of hospitality and helped construct the scam that had trapped me here. Trapped all of us here. How could he stand himself? How could any of them? When they had looked at Addy, Genie, and me, had they simply nodded like they were picking out a nice round ham at the butcher’s, or had they had a moment where their conscience had made them doubt?
“You’re upset. And understandably so.”
Ah. There he went. Empty nothings. He would apologize for the discomfort he caused, then offer his condolences for uncontrollable events, upon which he would wait for me to grit my teeth and say something bitter before dismissing me for the evening. I sat back in my chair, already categorizing everything I expected to hear. It would go nicely with the collection of absolute fucks I gave about his understanding.
“I see that was the wrong thing to say,” he added after a brief pause, then sighed. “Please allow me to start over.”
All these manners. All these affectations of respect and grace and hospitality. All fake. “I’m sure I wouldn’t have much of a choice,” I said. “So please, whatever suits you, sir.” My tone was prim, proper; my words far from it. Yes, I was out of line. But I wasn’t the one who had conscripted three seventeen-year-olds into a war they hadn’t even known existed.
“Then I hope what I say will clear the air a little between us,” he said. “I think your Deputy Headmistress might have neglected to tell you certain things.”
“That’s all right, sir.”
“It’s not. And I wouldn’t expect it to be. But let me rectify that now.” He folded his hands over his desk, which I noticed for the first time was small. Small enough that I could sit across from him and feel too close, the instinctive fear of prey before predator. And yet I didn’t entertain the slightest fear he would lean across it and sink his fangs into my neck. There was something soft about him, I decided. Maybe it was an act, but at least for the sake of that act, he wouldn’t do anything to me here. “Deputy Head Olisanna was never a professor. She has always been one of the commanders who lead our forces in the Wastes, but she also excels at identifying potential, growth. So she’s been here at the Academy much more lately because she’s facing a dire lack of both in our existing army. But she was never an instructor, nor does she want to be.”
“Unlike you, sir?”
“I like to think of myself as one. So I find it imperative that I relate to you as students before soldiers, even if Citadel leadership disagrees.”
“I mean no offense, but with all of this in perspective, I find it a lot harder to worry about quizzes and tests than I used to. I don’t feel like much of a student anymore, Professor.”
“And yet you’re doing as well as ever in your classes. Your performance the last two weeks has been stellar across all of them.”
So he’d been asking around after me, had he? Checking in on my progress? What was the point? All these people needed from me was a warm body to throw over the Wall, eventually. “A waning force of habit, sir,” I said. “Every morning, I wake up thinking a little longer that it’s not worth getting out of bed. I came here so I could stand a chance of getting a worthwhile job in the Central district of the Citadel. It’s a noble enterprise to serve the people, but didn’t we deserve to know first? Especially if we’re probably going to be dead before we ever even graduate, and only because we’re the most expendable bodies you’ve got. While we had no choice.”
“You’re right. You should have had a choice. Demanding someone make a sacrifice for people who’ll never know what you did is unconscionable.”
“And for people who hate us, Professor. There’s not a student here who would shed a single tear for us if we got shipped out to the front.” I laced my fingers together in my lap. “Like I said, it would be noble if we had a choice. But we don’t, so it isn’t.”
He was silent for a moment, and I considered getting up from my seat and walking out, just like that. What would he do if he called for me and I didn’t turn back? What would anyone do if I told them I was done with classes, done with pretending, done with Zedekiel and the bruises and the handprints and wondering why I didn’t destroy as much of the Academy as I could on my way out? How delicious would that be, all that havoc and bitter vengeance against a system that had tricked me into a gilded birdcage I’d only leave when dead?
“Ship
ped to the front,” he said finally. “Is that what you said?”
“Yes, sir.”
He gave me a long look. “Did you know the Citadel learned all it knows about war from humans? That the extent of their expertise in it pales compared to the casual knowledge of it humans possess?”
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s evident even in the vernacular that humans use to this day. Embedded in your language, your ancestry, your identity. In contrast, vampires by nature are solitary. Even vampire clans are so close-knit that they move as a single entity, and back on Earth, wars with other clans were almost unheard of. There weren’t enough of them to fight amongst themselves, anyway. And the Nephilim were - are - even rarer.”
I licked my lips. “The fae were warring types. They fought with humans back in the olden days.”
“Hundreds of years ago before industrialization destroyed their ancestral lands and annihilated their number. They thrive here because humans no longer threaten their kind, but back on Earth, their number dwindled. In fact, the ones that ended up here in this realm because of the transference spell were so out of touch with their heritage that they could offer very little help at all with the Nether beings threatening our safety.”
“And the humans helped instead?”
“No.” He shook his head. “The risk was too great. Give humans the power to exercise such control, and the Citadel was bound to end up the same way as on Earth. No one trusted the humans.”
I sank back into my chair. Yeah. I knew a little about that, how things used to be. Even the older ones in the Tenements spoke both bitterly and wistfully about how humans used to reign supreme. I’d always thought the stories were exaggerated, so I’d never paid much mind to the disparaging way they spoke of the Otherkind.
Otherkind. The fae, Nephilim, and the vampires all referred to everyone as a collective People - but only the humans separated the other races from themselves that way. Otherkind.
Was that what this conversation was about? The human inclination for cruelty, domination, war? Because fine. Maybe the stories were true. But I’d done nothing. I came here for a better life, not to throw myself on a sword and not even have the distinction of being called a martyr.
“History’s important, but I’m seventeen. I’ve lived in the Tenements all my life and lived on ration cards just like everyone else in the Citadel. My family was probably among the people who oppressed Otherkind back on Earth since it’s clear I came from a magical bloodline, I admit it. But I have no loyalty to them. I have nothing against Otherkind that hasn’t resulted from their treatment of me in my lifetime.”
“Yes. So it must feel unfair. And it is. But history taught the ‘Otherkind’ how fatal it is to collaborate with humans, not just once but over and over again. I think you’d agree it would be shortsighted to make the same mistake twice, much less dozens of times. So the Citadel was born. Humans became the outcasts while the remnants of the fae and vampires decided to keep humans in the dark. No war, no fighting. No opportunity for them to take advantage and make things go the way it was on Earth. The Citadel was supposed to be a fresh start. A blessing in disguise. The fae could rebuild their society even if they could never regain the knowledge lost in the decimation. And vampirekind could live in peace without human slayers inventing fresh ways every day to hunt and kill what they saw as mindless, bloodthirsty creatures.”
I said nothing. There were humans still who thought that, but I wouldn’t admit it now. Would be pretty damning to my case if I wanted to argue one.
“This is what the Citadel is,” he said with a sigh. “Survivors who want to make the best of this unknown world but can’t bring themselves to trust the humans who already turned on them time and time again, near extinction after near extinction. A society so mistrustful that they refused to accept humans’ help even though humans are undeniably the most suited to warfare. Human children grew up learning of war, did you know that? Before they left primary school, they were already educated in the existence of it, the importance of it. How their nations were built on top of it. War, war, war. Human children knew more of it than most adults of other races. So the Citadel leadership agreed that it was too dangerous and that they would handle the Nether threat themselves so humans couldn’t exploit their nature and rise once again. But things have changed now. Become desperate. On the brink, now the Citadel is taking a chance with you, Miss Addison Dorne, and Miss Genie Watts. It’s a leap of faith I think you can’t imagine. To them, this could be the beginning of the end. Either humans fail to be of help, or humans succeed in pushing back the threat but take over the Citadel afterward upon receiving the tools to do so. This could be the end of an era. But they did it anyway. And no, they weren’t kind about it, but they despise relying on humans just as much as you despise being used by them. But more than that, they fear it. Do you understand?”
I pursed my lips. I wasn’t going to say anything he could use against me, but I needed more time to think about what he’d just told me…time to decide whether it was worth trusting him. He was calm and rational and empathetic - but he was still a vampire. And an elite member of their society, too. Couldn’t forget that.
“It’s something I hope you ponder in the coming days. It’s neither a justification nor an accusation, simply that it is what it is, and I hope this gives you a wider perspective of the way things are. So if I can offer you any advice, it’s this. Do your best, Miss Blair. The more trustworthy you prove yourself, the more valuable you prove yourself, the more reluctant they’ll be to lose you. It’s not that you’re disposable, Miss Blair. You’re a threat. They fear what you represent, what you could be. They’ll look for an excuse to say this was a failed venture, that there’s no point in training humans to work toward the war effort. But even more than that, they fear you being useless, even if they won’t admit it. Because if you are, if the Citadel has no one else to turn to, then all is lost. So use that against them. Prove them wrong, and you and your friends will find the odds aren’t as narrow as you thought.”
I pulled in my bottom lip, wondering if I should say anything. In the end, I couldn’t resist. “So whose side are you on?” I asked. “You never said ‘we’ in all that time. Not even when talking about your own people. Vampires, they. Humans, they. People, they.”
“It was deliberate, yes.”
“Right. So I’m supposed to believe you’re on my side.”
He smiled.
“There are no sides for me to choose, except the surviving one. Have a good night, Miss Blair.”
23
“Hey. Hey.”
“Addy, if you don’t stop poking me with your foot -”
“Let’s play hooky.”
I ignored her and continued correcting Genie’s homework while she sat next to me and watched my progress. Addy could play hooky if she wanted and skip the combat training we had in half an hour, but I wasn’t going to run away. Not from Zedekiel. After the conversation with Professor Octavius last night, I was determined anew to keep my composure and deal with every nuisance without letting my pride get the better of me, but not with the Nephilim who thought it was so funny to mess with me all the time. I would make an exception for him, and Octavius would just have to overlook it. All of them would, because this thing between Zedekiel and me? Was personal. I wouldn’t keep letting him walk all over me just so I could keep up appearances. Screw him. Screw his wings. His sensitive wings. My chest felt tight as I recalled how he’d leaned in, his warm breath warming my lips, my throat, every part of me, how he’d pinned my hand to the bed and came so close I could almost feel him molded to me -
All of that. He could go straight to hell, but on the way, he’d pass through my fist first. I’d get my payback.
“Blaaaair…”
“I’m not skipping. You can skip if you want.”
“Genie, are you going to come with me? You wanna go burn something down? Let’s go blow up one of the alchemy labs.”
“You’re no
t burning down the alchemy lab.”
“Oh, come on. What, you’re going back to being a teacher’s pet now? Genie, you want to burn down a classroom or not?”
“Genie, if you go, I’m not helping you with your homework anymore.”
She dropped her forehead down on the coffee table so hard I thought I heard one of the legs splinter. “Why are classes so hard,” she muttered against the wood, voice muffled and brown hair splayed out all around her head in a wild corona. “It’s been two weeks and I’m already failing…”
“What does it matter!” Addy crowed. “We’re all doomed anyway. Get Fs in every class and tell ‘em to stick it up their ass.” She paused and poked me with her socked foot again from behind me where she sat in my armchair. “Hey. Did you hear me? I rhymed.”
“Wow, you’re a poet. Now you know what to put down for your specialty, that’s awesome.”
“Okay, you’ve been a massive fart all morning and last night since you came back from the infirmary. Like, even more than usual, which is saying something. Why? If you’re that stressed about getting our butts kicked again, then maybe you should reconsider and come with us -”
The glowing light at my fingertip brightened so much it burned right through Genie’s paper, and a small, smoking hole appeared in the middle of her poorly drawn diagram of joint element spell crafting. “I’m not stressed about anything, much less Zedekiel,” I said calmly. “Don’t ever think that he can make me feel one way or the other. I don’t even need to Dispel myself to resist him. What about you?”
“See, there you go again, doing that thing you do whenever you’re pissed.”
“Doing what thing.”
“Using that tone. But also making everything a competition or whatever. Listen, you might be able to resist Nephilim aura, but you hate his guts so much it’s mucking you up anyway. But that’s fine, I get it. I’m wound up about him too after what he did. You still have a big old knot on your forehead.”
