Deaths and Vampire Girls (Misfit Academy Book 1)

by A. Vers

  Pushing the cracked door open with my foot, I tucked the box on the small desk and surveyed the mess.

  The curtain was an old sheet in a horrible shade of yellow, material doubled over to help block out the early morning sun on this side of the house. A few old newspaper articles helped cover the holes in the sheetrock. The bed was stacked mattresses on the floor. No sheets. Just a pillow and old army blanket.

  My lip curled.

  No doubt the supes at Lokworth had quite the set up. They probably had posh bedrooms and game systems. Short of the blood drinking and turning furry, they had it made. But then, so did the rest of the kids from Saint Philips.

  None of them knew who I was. Or what. And I had to make sure it stayed that way.

  I dropped onto the edge of the mattress and pillowed my forearms on my knees. My eyes burned. Between the briefing last night and hiding my true identity all day …

  Everything was off.

  Eliza should’ve still been alive. We shouldn’t be on their territory. And I shouldn’t have been plotting how to get Morgan to really open up. By whatever means necessary.

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew I had been gifted in the looks department. Between Dad’s easy, muscular build and Mom’s flawless European features, I got my fair share of looks from the girls my age and older. Training since I was ten left my body in peak physical shape. Most humans spent hours in a gym to get what I had amassed easily. Effortlessly.

  My eyes dropped to my hands and I took in the calluses and nearly invisible scars. But I didn’t want to use my looks or body for this. Never had.

  Despite the fangs, Morgan was still a girl. She bled, breathed, slept. I knew what Dad would tell me to do. How I should get close enough to get the answers we needed.

  But could I do it?

  I groaned and flipped myself back onto the mattress. The paneled ceiling glared dismally down at me.

  I already knew the answer. And I hated myself a little bit more because of it.

  Chapter 11

  Morgan

  After true dark fell, I slipped from Lokworth with Ames in tow. He was quiet, less pompous than normal, and almost formal in every response he gave. The small white scars on his throat told me he had healed with a little sleep and a willing donor. I didn’t want to ask who opened a vein.

  We walked in silence through the trees along the edge of the road. If he had been so inclined, Ames could’ve flitted the entire distance to the edge of Easthaven. But I knew he was saving his energy and strength if the meeting was a trap. Not that I had even thought that.

  I sighed.

  I had. A million times over since waking up around midday.

  Ryder was a human. Though he hadn’t given me any reason to believe otherwise, I wasn’t so sure I could trust him.

  But I wanted to.

  So we kept going, pushing our way through brush and low-lying branches. Even under the cover of nightfall, August was hot in Easthaven. My hair stuck to my neck and coupled with my heightened senses from Ames’ blood, my frustration soon reached its peak. He remained unruffled beside me, his loose locks untangled and his gold eyes fixed forward.

  “You don’t feel the heat at all, do you?” I asked finally, unable to bear the silence or the tension any longer.

  He peered down at me. “Nor the cold.”

  “So ... Nothing?”

  His lips lifted a bit. “I feel warmth,” he admitted. “But it’s like a nice bath. Soothing more than hot.”

  I mulled that over. “Is your skin not as sensitive now?”

  He turned his head and looked at me. “I feel, Mor. If you touch me, I feel it. A knife would still hurt me. Fire would still burn. But the elements do not affect my internal system as much.” He clamped his lips closed, and I wondered if I had unwittingly crossed a line.

  Biting my lip, I searched the side of his face in the shadows of the trees. “I’m sorry,” I said, “if that was too personal.”

  He stopped walking. “I am older than you, Mor. Not just in years, but in experience. If you have questions—ask. I cannot say that I will always have an answer, but I will try to always be honest with you.” He watched me as he fell silent, waiting.

  “On anything?” I teased. I was so used to his ready arrogance that this more serious side was almost disconcerting. And yet, he was still Ames.

  He sobered. “Mostly on anything.”

  I snorted. “That’s what I thought.”

  One long finger brushed down my cheek, and my stomach grew wings. “Mor.” His gold eyes were luminous. “I would never keep anything from you unless I had no choice. I need you to know that.”

  I stared at him. “Ames—”

  “Not what I meant when I said the edge of Easthaven.” Ryder’s voice filtered through the trees and he slipped into view. Ames stepped back, letting his hand fall to his side without another word. If Ryder noticed, he said nothing.

  The human male was out of uniform and dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt that seemed to have been poured over his muscular frame. His tan skin was a rich taupe cast. Far from either mine or Ames’ coloring.

  “But I suppose this works,” he added, peering around at the trees.

  I shifted a bit and dipped my head in greeting. As though he hadn’t walked up and saved me from making an idiot of myself. “Ryder.”

  His mouth curved. “Morgan.”

  Ames made a sound behind me. “What do you want, human?” The classification was a firm reminder that Ryder was messing with a full-blood.

  I wanted to roll my eyes. But I knew Ames would fight on my side if it came to that.

  Ryder? Maybe not.

  Ryder scoffed. “To talk. Just like I said.” He looked at me. “I don’t have a lot of time before I have to catch the bus. But I figure out here we have less chance of being overheard.” He switched his focus to Ames. “We are alone, right?”

  That made me peer over my shoulder.

  Ames wore a rather bemused expression. “That is why you asked me to come along.”

  Ryder shrugged. “You’re full-blood. I know what that means.”

  My head whipped back and forth between them, but Ames never claimed otherwise. Never argued. Instead, he went perfectly still.

  “There is no one within miles but the three of us,” he muttered finally.

  I gaped at him.

  He could hear that far?

  “Good.” Ryder turned back to me. “What do you remember?”

  I blinked. “That’s it?” I asked, incredulous. “We aren’t going to ease into this?”

  “Not really my style,” Ryder said.

  Exhaling, I settled back on my heels and crossed my arms. “The door was closed when I got to the office. But not locked. Nurse McDowell never locks the door though. I went to the refrigerator and keyed in my code—”

  He held up a hand. “Refrigerator?”

  “The blood bank for Lokworth,” Ames said simply. “Morgan is still transitioning. As are quite a few of the younger vampires. We keep donor blood on hand so they can feed regularly without incident.”

  Ryder nodded slowly. “Okay. Continue.”

  “I grabbed a single bag because I know they track how much we drink.” That earned me a brow raise, but Ryder stayed silent. Cheeks heating, I barreled on. “I had finished and was washing up when I realized the smell of blood was lingering in the air.”

  I clenched my arms tighter. “I followed the scent to the desk and my shoe nudged something softer than the desk panels.”

  His face went blank. “Go on.”

  My inhale was shaky, and a strong hand pressed into the sway of my spine. Ames’ scent filtered into my nose a moment later. And I could suddenly breathe easier. I lifted my head and met Ryder’s gaze. “I bent down and that’s when I saw her.”

  “Can you describe the wound?” Ryder asked mildly. “Only what you can comfortably share, of course.”

  My mouth pooled with saliva, but it wasn’t from thirst. “Her
throat was torn. Ravaged.”

  “Any trails of blood? Anything that maybe you didn’t process before then?”

  “There was little blood,” I said honestly. “The wound was caked with it. As was her shirt. But there was none on the floor.”

  Ryder blinked. “Then she was placed there,” he breathed.

  Ames shifted behind me. “Placed?”

  “A wound that size—and I am guessing it was large,” he peered at me and I nodded, “there would be a puddle of blood. It would have formed under her.”

  “Not if she was drained,” Ames said.

  “Is that common?” Ryder asked. “For your kind to drain their victims?”

  We both winced. “No,” I said fast. “We feed on donors only with their permission. That’s why most colony houses have several donors on staff, and a blood bank that supplies what else we need.”

  “So …” he looked between us, “no draining?”

  Ames stiffened. “It’s taboo. A death sentence by the Council’s decree.”

  “That’s your government, right?” Ryder asked, rubbing his jaw with one hand.

  “Yes,” I answered. “We have a ruling faction in each colony, but the Council overseas them all—” Ames’ hand on my back pressed harder, effectively cutting off my words.

  Right.

  Must not give away all vampire secrets.

  “Interesting.” Ryder began to pace across from me. His expression was distant, and I knew he was processing everything he had learned so far. It was nice to meet a guy that used his brains as much as his brawn. Not that most of the vampires I knew used muscle. We had little reason to fight, even amongst ourselves. We all had our own territory, and a ready supply of blood.

  What more did we have to quarrel over?

  “Could it have been something other than a vampire?” Ryder asked finally.

  “Something?” Ames’ tone was wry.

  Ryder waved a hand in dismissal. “If that offends you, then someone else.”

  “Like a shifter?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “No,” Ames and I said in unison.

  “Shifters …” I tried to work through how best to word this. “Shifters don’t eat humans. Not normally.”

  “There have been a handful in history. Man eaters,” Ames clarified. “Once they get a taste for flesh, they eat their victims. But it’s never through the neck.”

  I gagged slightly at that particular visual, and even Ryder appeared a little green.

  “Good to know,” he said with distaste. “What about anyone leaving the office? Or standing nearby?”

  My head was already shaking before he finished. “Not that I noticed.”

  “But how focused were you, Mor?” Ames asked.

  I glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You were thirsty,” he muttered, jaw flexing.

  My face filled with heat. “It wasn’t that much of a single-minded focus.”

  “No. He has something there,” Ryder said, redrawing my attention to him. “I can imagine you were rushing a bit, right? I mean you ran into me.”

  I crossed my arms again. “And?”

  “How much would you have really seen?”

  “There was no one,” I snapped.

  Ames’ hand was cool on my arm. He tugged lightly and I turned enough to look at him. His gold eyes searched my face but his expression was still carefully mild. “I know how thirsty you can get, Mor, because you wait so long.” His voice was barely a whisper. “And I’m not attacking you for it. But could you have missed someone being near there in your haste?”

  Again, his new serious side knocked me off guard.

  So I forced my pride and discomfort away and really thought about it. “Maybe,” I hedged.

  Ames bent around me. His thumb stroked up and down on the sensitive underside of my bicep as his cheek neared mine. “Always be honest with yourself, Mor. Even if you’re not honest with anyone else. It’s what will help you grow in the end.” His lips caressed my jaw and my body went hot.

  Over his shoulder, Ryder looked away. “So say there was someone else in the hall,” he said without meeting my gaze. “Eliza was a little smaller than you, Morgan. It would be hard to conceal her. So no moving the body.”

  Ames leaned back. “She was killed in the office then.”

  “And drained,” I whispered.

  They both peered at me.

  “No extra blood and she wasn’t moved,” I said, trying not to shift under the combined weight of their gazes.

  Ames grimaced. “That’s a high accusation, Mor. You know what will happen if the Council gets wind of this.”

  I nodded. “Whoever killed her will be executed.”

  Our eyes locked and I saw the same fear in his gaze that was rapidly refilling my insides.

  “That doesn’t give us a lot of time.” Ryder’s footfalls were nearly silent to me, and perfectly balanced. But his spicy human fragrance gave him away as he approached.

  “What do you mean?” Ames asked him, finally moving back from me. “I’m not aware of any time table.”

  Ryder smiled, but it wasn’t happy. “The humans will be out for blood,” he said. “So we need to find the killer before they do or your Council can.”

  He turned to me. “And if we don’t give them the real killer, they may figure out a way to pin this whole thing on the original suspect after all.”

  Me. He meant me.

  Chapter 12

  Ryder

  Lokworth was more dreary than normal that night.

  There was an assembly to honor Eliza, and it was a chance for the students to mourn together. Though touching, Stacy didn’t seem to agree.

  She stood rigid next to me at the edge of the stage; her face twisted with anger. “They don’t even care,” she snapped. “This is just to save face with the town.”

  A part of me wanted to agree. But I could see Morgan at the front of the students across from us. Ames was near but not as close as he had been in the forest. They both appeared solemn in all black, and Morgan’s pale lavender eyes glittered in the light of the candles.

  She raised her head and met my gaze levelly. Her pink lips pinched together, but she nodded before the first tear fell.

  Morgan crying was hard to watch, though I didn’t understand why. But I didn’t turn away either. I couldn’t. “I don’t know, Stacy,” I told her under my breath. “I think some of them care more than we realized.”

  She didn’t respond, and Harrington’s speech rolled through the crowd.

  There was no procession. No hymnals or ballads in Eliza’s honor. There was nothing but an old photo on a table and a blanket of candles.

  As far as memorial services went, it was closer to human than I expected.

  After it was done, Harrington spoke quickly about seeking counseling to deal with our grief, and how the staff was available anytime. Stacy made a sound of disgust and stormed from the assembly hall.

  I didn’t go after her. But several of the other students did. I urged Thomas and Rhett to follow her, too, as I hovered in the doorway, watching the supernaturals that passed.

  “Mr. Hanlon, a word?” Glancing over, I found Harrington approaching me.

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  She gestured for me to follow her toward the stage. I trailed her at a decorous distance, interested but polite. No sense in giving away the fact I was watching every move she made.

  She stopped and clasped her hands before her. “I would like to offer my condolences to Miss Marks, but every time I get near, she goes the other way,” Harrington began.

  And she would continue to do so.

  “Stacy is dealing with the loss the only way she knows how, Headmistress. She will come around in time.” I doubted it. But I wasn’t telling her that.

  Still, it seemed to appease Harrington enough that her focus shifted back to me fully. “I am aware Professor Giroux has partnered you with Morgan Read for the ambassador program.” He
r gaze was measured.

  “I think he believes—after yesterday—that we would be a good fit,” I said finally.

  “Though your actions were noble, Mr. Hanlon, I must warn you. Ms. Read is rather—like royalty in the supernatural community. I do not know that her family would approve of this.”

  “They wouldn’t want her to partner with me? Or they don’t want her going to a human school?” I asked.

  “Both.”

  I blinked, a bit taken aback by her bluntness.

  Harrington sighed. “I apologize for the inconvenience, of course. But we will find you another ambassador.”

  “And if I don’t want another one?” I was making progress with Morgan. It would be hard to create another ally so fast.

  Harrington’s lips twisted. “You cannot work with Ms. Read, and that is final.”

  There was no arguing with her. I could see it in her eyes. Unfortunately, for Harrington, telling me not to do something only made me want to do it more.

  But what was so wrong with Morgan working with me?

  I didn’t know. But I planned to find out.

  I smiled and knew the motion left my own eyes hollow. Blank. “Of course, Headmistress,” I muttered. “Whatever you say.”

  ***

  By some odd chance or maybe fate, Morgan was in my Donor Life class when I walked inside. She was still in all black, but she had pulled her long hair up into a loose braid.

  Her lilac eyes widened as she saw me. I jerked my head toward the back of the room. Though her face turned pink, her nod was brief.

  Near the rear of the chamber there were several tall stone pillars and a small step up to a few low shelves. I slipped into the shadows behind one column and waited.

  She didn’t make me wait long.

  “Hey,” she mumbled, her rasping voice lower than a whisper in the dark.

  I gripped her by the arm and pulled her deeper into the gloom. “Harrington cornered me after the assembly. She is refusing to make you my ambassador. Care to explain why?”

  Her already flushed cheeks turned rosy, and she pulled away. “With everything that is going on, a vampire may not be the--”

  “She said your family wouldn’t approve, Morgan. There is more going on than Eliza’s death. What haven’t you told me?”