by Karen Lynch
Chemistry was Roland’s worst subject. It used to be mine, too, and we used to help each other cram for tests. Chemistry was one thing I did not miss. “Good luck on the test, and thanks again for going to the cave for me.”
“Anytime. No, scratch that. Please don’t ask me to do that again,” he pleaded. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
I hung up and rubbed my damp hands against my thighs. The static was gone and the Coke was back to normal, but that didn’t lessen my anxiety. My power was acting weird, and I had no idea what to do about it. I wished Aine was here, or Remy. He was so knowledgeable and would have helped me figure this out. I let out a ragged breath. I missed him so much.
“Enough of that.” I pushed away from the desk and glanced at the clock. It was a little early for dinner, but I had to get out of this room and stop wallowing in self-pity. I grabbed my laptop, tucked it under my arm, and headed down to one of the common rooms. There were three such rooms where people could hang out and watch TV or talk. They had wet bars if you wanted a drink, and no one seemed to care how old you were. Roland and Peter had been so envious when I told them that part.
TV sounds drew me to one of the rooms, and when I peeked in I found a single occupant, a blond boy named Michael, who I’d met on my second day here. Michael was fifteen, and he was quiet and reserved compared to the other kids here. He was a bit of a computer geek, too, and he spent most of his free time on his laptop, gaming and talking to his friends online. On my third day here, I was struck down by a vicious migraine, and it was Michael who had come to my room to see how I was doing and to ask if I needed anything. The healers said my headache was probably brought on by stress, but it was so bad that even the gunna paste had no effect on it. I lay in bed suffering for the better part of a day before I remembered the tiny vial of troll bile I’d brought with me. I’d planned to destroy it, but thankfully I never got around to it. A single drop of bile in a glass of water was all it took to rid me of the horrible pain.
Michael was sitting in an armchair, engrossed in his laptop as usual, when I took a seat on the couch. “Hey, Michael.”
“Oh . . . hi, Sara,” he stammered, smiling shyly. Poor guy, I didn’t know how he would ever make it as a warrior if he didn’t get over his nervousness. I almost rolled my eyes. Like I had room to judge others. I was probably the worst trainee in Mohiri history.
“What are you up to?”
“Not much, just talking to a friend.” He leaned on the arm of his chair and his face lit up. “Did you hear that they wiped out a huge nest in Las Vegas yesterday?”
“How big was it?” The last time I saw a vampire, he had twelve of his friends with him. I couldn’t imagine facing more than that.
“I heard it was thirty suckers, and it only took two units to take them all down. Of course, that’s because Nikolas Danshov ran the mission. He probably took out half of them himself.”
My mouth went dry. “Nikolas was there?”
His eyes practically glowed from excitement. “Yeah. What I wouldn’t give to see him in action. They say he can take out half a dozen suckers at one time without breaking a sweat.”
“Yep,” I replied absently, remembering Nikolas facing down a dozen vampires and easily disposing of three of them.
“What’s he like? You know him right? Everyone says you even fought suckers together.”
I held back a sigh. It had taken less than a day here to learn Nikolas was something of a superhero among the younger Mohiri. “Nikolas is an amazing warrior.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “I know that. I mean, what’s it like hanging out with him?”
I let out a short laugh. “Nikolas doesn’t hang out. He glares at you and tries to boss you around. Then he leaves. We spent more time fighting with each other than the vampires.”
Michael’s cornflower-blue eyes widened. “No one argues with Nikolas.”
“He might be a great warrior, but he’s still just a person, Michael, and half the time he’s an arrogant pain in the butt.”
“Who’s an arrogant pain in the butt?” asked a new voice, and I looked at the two boys entering the room. Josh ran a hand through his unruly blond hair and elbowed Terrence before sitting beside me on the couch. “She must be talking about you, buddy.”
Terrence scoffed as he plunked down in one of the other chairs. With his mocha skin, artfully spiked black hair, and stunning hazel eyes, he was easily one of the best looking guys I had ever seen. He looked at Michael. “Whatcha up to, Mike?”
“Nothing,” Michael mumbled. He gathered up his laptop and stood timidly. “Um, I have some stuff to do. Talk to you later.”
I watched him hurry from the room, feeling bad that we had scared him away. “He doesn’t seem to fit in here much. He’s an orphan too, right?”
Terrence nodded, wearing a sympathetic smile. “Yes, poor kid.” I gave him a hard look, and he quickly added, “Oh I don’t mean it that way. I have nothing against orphans. He’s just never gotten over losing his family.”
I was afraid to ask, but I did anyway. “What happened to them?”
“What else? Suckers got them. He and his brother were living with their mother in Atlanta when our people found them. But the same night they went to get them, the suckers went after them. Only Michael got out. His mother didn’t make it, and the warriors couldn’t find Matthew. The suckers took him.”
“How old was his brother?”
“Matthew was his twin, and they were seven when it happened.” Terrence sank back heavily in his chair. “They never found Matthew, and Michael still believes his brother got away. No one can convince him otherwise. He spends most of his time searching the Internet, looking at missing persons websites, public records – stuff like that.”
“That’s awful.” I’d lost my dad to a vampire, but at least I knew he was dead and I didn’t have to go through life wondering what had happened to him. I’d spent ten years just trying to understand why he was killed, and I could not imagine how hard it would be if he had gone missing like Michael’s brother.
The three of us sat in silence for a minute before Terrence asked, “So, Sara, what did Tristan say to you today?”
“Tristan?” The only Tristan I knew of was Lord Tristan, who sat on the Council of Seven and ran Westhorne. He’d been away on Council business since I got here, and I had yet to meet him.
Terrence shook his head like I had asked who Michael Jackson was. “You know, Tristan, the head honcho? He showed up in training today.”
“Oh . . . which one was he?” I resisted the urge to bury my head in my hands. Callum had wiped the floor with my butt in front of Lord Tristan? After that exhibit, the man must be wondering why Nikolas had wasted so much time trying to bring me in.
Both boys snickered. “He would be that one,” Josh informed me. I looked through the doorway, which gave us a clear view of the main hall, and saw the blond man from this morning talking to a red-haired woman I recognized as Claire, who had shown me around on my first day here. I felt heat rise in my neck. “Oh, him. He didn’t say anything to me. He was talking to Callum.”
The boys looked disappointed that there was nothing more to it, but Josh quickly switched gears. “We heard some things about you, and we were wondering if they were true.”
“And what would that be?” I asked warily.
“Is it true that you actually hung with a pack of werewolves?”
At the downward turn of his mouth, irritation shot through me. I knew the history between werewolves and the Mohiri, and I was well aware of how the two races felt about each other. But Roland and Peter were like family to me, and I would not listen to anyone put them down. “Yes, I hung with them all the time. I even slept at their houses and ate with them. In fact, my best friend is a werewolf.”
Josh put up his hands. “Touchy. Okay, we get it; the wolves are off limits.”
Terrence leaned in. “We heard a lot of other stuff, too.”
“Such as?”
“Did yo
u really kill some suckers?”
“And fight off a pack of crocotta?” Josh asked.
“And rescue a baby troll?”
I looked at their eager faces and shrugged. “Yes.”
“Yes to what?” Josh asked impatiently.
“Yes to all of it. Only there were three young trolls and I didn’t rescue them alone. I did fight one crocotta, but it probably would have killed me if one of my friends hadn’t killed it first. And I did kill a vampire.” I had killed two vampires if I included the one Remy held for me, but Eli was the only one that mattered to me.
“No way!” exclaimed a new male voice, and I looked up to see that Olivia and Mark, two other trainees, had joined us. I hadn’t spoken to Mark much, but Olivia and I had talked a few times and she seemed nice. Olivia was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way with long dark hair, a smattering of freckles, and a sweet smile. Mark reminded me of a grunge rocker with shaggy blond hair that fell into his eyes. He didn’t smile as much as Olivia. I had noticed they hung out together a lot, and I wondered if they were a couple or friends like me and Roland.
Mark took Michael’s vacated chair and stared at me in disbelief, making me want to scowl at him. Olivia was a little more hesitant. “Do you mind if we join you?” she asked.
I shrugged. “The more the merrier, I guess.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Mark began. “You expect us to believe that you did all that with no training whatsoever? I hate to point out the obvious, but from what I’ve seen, you can’t fight . . . at all.”
I flushed at the reminder of my training. “You can believe what you want.”
“Don’t mind him. Tell us about the suckers,” Terrence urged.
Josh leaned closer. “Forget the suckers. I want to hear about the trolls.”
I told them about how the young trolls were kidnapped and we had to find them before they were taken overseas. “They were holding them at this huge house in Portland. Nikolas and Chris went in first to take out the security, and we went in after. We had no idea those guys were crazy enough to work with vampires, and we had to kill a few of them to get to the house. Nikolas, Chris, and my friends took out most of them. I did one, but I had help.”
“So, you found the baby trolls?” Olivia asked breathlessly.
“Yes, they were in the wine cellar.”
Her eyes were like saucers. “What happened next?”
“A bunch of Mohiri warriors showed up and took over and we left.” It was only half the story, but there was so much I couldn’t tell them without revealing things I couldn’t share.
Terrence whistled. “How did you guys know about the trolls in the first place?”
People did not understand my relationship with Remy and I was not in the mood to answer the questions that would arise if I mentioned him. “The werewolves know everything that goes on in their territory.”
“That is too frigging cool,” Josh said, his blue eyes wide.
Mark frowned. “Wait. What did you use to kill the sucker if you didn’t have any weapons?”
“I did have a weapon. I had a knife Nikolas gave me when we met.”
“You have one of Nikolas’s knives?” Olivia asked, and I almost shook my head at the worship on her face.
“Not anymore.” It was either at the bottom of the ocean or somewhere in Faerie, and I wasn’t going to explain either of those possibilities.
“Convenient.”
A girl with a cute blond pixie cut walked up to our group. Jordan was eighteen and, from what I’d seen and heard, the best trainee here. According to Michael, she was the oldest orphan ever reclaimed at ten years old – before I came along.
“What do you mean?” Olivia asked.
“It’s a great story, but I’ve seen your girl here in training.” Jordan scoffed. “If she killed a sucker, it’s probably because it tripped and fell on the knife.”
Terrence smiled at me. “Don’t mind Jordan. She’s actually a nice person when she’s not being herself.”
Jordan scowled, and I couldn’t help but think she would be prettier if she stopped glaring at everyone. She walked away, calling over her shoulder, “Whatever. Make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight, Terrence. You wouldn’t want to lose your grip on your sword again tomorrow.”
Terrence muttered under his breath, and Josh said, “Don’t let her get to you. She got lucky today.”
I didn’t say anything. I’d seen Jordan handling the long thin sword favored by the Mohiri, and I didn’t think luck had anything to do with her skills. That girl was scary good. Not as good as Nikolas, of course, but she might be someday.
My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten lunch. I grabbed my laptop and stood.
“Hey, don’t go,” Terrence protested. “I want to hear about the crocotta.”
“The crocotta will have to wait. It’s dinnertime, and I’m starving.”
He and Josh stood at the same time. Terrence gave me a wide smile, showing off his dimples. “Perfect. You can tell us all about them over dinner.”
Chapter 3
I TOSSED MY sketchpad and pencil down on the bed after staring at the blank page for the last ten minutes. I was trying to draw the hellhounds, but even though I could see them exactly as I wanted to sketch them, my fingers didn’t seem to know where to start.
Rolling off the bed, I went to open the window and listened to the heavy silence of the valley. It was too quiet here at night. I’d give anything to hear the familiar sounds of the waterfront or open my door and hear Nate clicking on his keyboard. I missed Daisy’s three-legged gait and Oscar’s motorboat purr. Hell, I even missed the imps scratching and chattering behind the walls. I missed everything.
It was too early for bed, and watching TV alone in my room didn’t appeal to me for once. I opened my door, wondering if any of the other trainees were hanging out downstairs. Seeking out company was a new experience for me, but I’d never really felt lonely before I came here. I’d enjoyed having dinner with the others tonight, instead of eating alone like I normally did. For the first time since I arrived, it felt like I’d connected with other people. I hadn’t realized how much I missed that until today.
The common rooms were empty except for a warrior I didn’t know watching an old black-and-white movie in one of them. I stood in the main hall and debated where to go. The north wing and west wing housed mostly living quarters like my own, so there was nothing to see there. The first floor of the west wing was training rooms and I’d seen more than enough of them already. The south wing held the offices, meeting rooms, security, and the living quarters for Lord Tristan, some of the senior warriors, and important visitors. That left the east wing. During my tour, Claire had pointed out the medical ward on the first floor. She’d also told me there was a sick warrior recuperating in the wing. I stayed away from the first floor so I didn’t disturb him, and I was very quiet when I took the stairs to the second floor.
Strolling down the long second-floor hallway, I ran a hand lightly along the dark paneling, struck for the hundredth time by the grandeur of my new home. The walls on this floor were hung with beautiful oil paintings and ornate wall sconces that had been converted from gas to electric. I had not asked anyone how old the building was, but I suspected it was well over a hundred years old. The Mohiri lived for centuries, so it was no surprise for them to hold onto their homes for a long time. What was it like to live that long and to witness the coming of electricity, automobiles, and the age of technology? What wonders and changes in the world would I live to see over my own lifetime?
At the end of the hallway, light spilled from a room with the door slightly ajar. I pushed it open and I could barely contain my excitement at the sight of the shelves of books lining the walls from floor to ceiling. There was a large library off the main hall, but it didn’t hold a candle to this room. This one looked like something out of an English manor with dark walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a large fireplace at one end of the room. Two high-
backed chairs faced the fire that crackled in the hearth, and a lamp on the small table between the chairs cast a soft glow over the room. It looked like someone had just stepped out of the room, and I hesitated, worried they would mind my intrusion. I turned to leave, but one more look at all those books changed my mind.
The only problem with so many books was choosing one. I liked a lot of the classics, but I had tons of them in the boxes of books that had come with me from home. I inhaled the smell of old paper, and a smile spread across my face. I had a feeling I was going to be spending a lot of time here, and I couldn’t help but think that my dad would have loved this room, too.
I scanned the titles to see what treasures the little library held. Automatically, my eyes searched for the Bs because something told me there had to be some Brontë on these shelves. I found what I was looking for high above my head, and I had to roll the squeaky wooden ladder over so I could reach the books. Reverently, I pulled out the copy of Jane Eyre and fingered the cloth-covered spine. My copy was a dog-eared paperback that was falling apart from too many readings. I opened the cover to the first page and felt my eyes bug out. A first edition Jane Eyre in perfect condition!
I shouldn’t be touching these. Regretfully, I reached up to slide the book back into its place on the shelf. My old copy would do just fine. I’d be too nervous about damaging the rare book to enjoy it.
The thought had barely passed through my mind when my hold on the ladder slipped. I let out a loud gasp as I lost my grip on the precious tome and it fell to the floor with a thud. I grabbed the ladder again, just in time to keep from falling. Climbing down, I picked up the book, relieved to see no damage to the cover.
“If you are quite finished making a racket, I’d like to get back to my book now,” said a voice in clipped English from behind one of the chairs.
Startled, I almost dropped the book again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
“Well, now you do. There is a perfectly nice library downstairs where you can bother someone else.”
