Chapter 38. Lorena
lorena
Nate and Cisco approach our table with Director Minaro, and she makes each of us introduce ourselves.
“Hello, Lorena,” says Nate, pausing after my name, and my heart pounds in alarm. “Salma, Tiffany, Trevor, and Zach, it’s great to meet you all.”
Nate and Cisco must have been watching me in Hanover. They followed me back to school.
I led them here.
“What does someone do with a history degree?” asks Tiffany. “Become a teacher or a museum curator?”
“What every liberal arts major does—go to law school,” says Nate, and both Tiffany and Zach chuckle.
Salma was right. I never should have kept the existence of vampires to myself.
Now the lives of everyone at Huntington are at risk because of me.
She squeezes my thigh, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. But I can’t look at her because I can’t risk the vampires realizing she knows anything about them.
Why are they bothering to go through this whole performance? Why not just kill or kidnap me?
The bell rings.
“Nate and Cisco are going to be exploring the manor today as part of the research for their theses,” Minaro informs our table as the dining hall empties around us. “When my class ends, they will meet with you to offer their insights and answer your questions.”
We all stand up to leave, and Nate says, “Lorena.”
I grudgingly look at him.
“If you would be a dear and spare us a moment, we would love to get a quick orientation of this place.” He turns to Minaro, and I think he is silently compelling her.
“I’ll stay, too,” offers Salma.
“No, you tell Ms. Floreville that Lorena will be late to class and explain why,” insists the director.
Salma looks like she’s not going to budge, so I say, “I’ll be there soon.”
Tiffany pulls her by the arm, and then it’s just Minaro and the vampires and me. “Don’t keep her too long,” she says to Nate before taking off, my pulse echoing every step of her heels.
Nate can clearly hear my heart, and his grin grows with each beat.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, trying to drown out the gong-like sound of my pulse.
“You came looking for us,” says Nate, moving in until he’s too close.
“For William,” I say, edging back. My bag hits the table.
“Then you don’t know where he is?” Nate manages to keep close, like a magnet, barely giving me any breathing room.
“Nor do you, apparently.”
His eye contact is so intense that I think he’s forgotten I can’t be compelled. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I have a way to lure him here.”
“How?” I ask, dreading his answer.
“I’m going to kill you.”
I sidestep him and break into a sprint, but Cisco’s hand clamps around my arm, reeling me back. I wrestle against his grip, but it’s inescapable.
I suck in a mouthful of air—
“Scream, and Salma dies, too,” warns Nate.
I blow out a hard breath instead. “What makes you think he even cares?”
“You’re his Familiar. When he senses your death, he’ll feel compelled by his outdated code of honor to avenge you.” Nate moves so close that I try jabbing him with my elbow, but Cisco moves even faster, capturing my other arm, too.
Now both my hands are behind my back, and Nate tucks a curl around my ear, trailing his finger down my neck. His mouth twists into a crooked smirk, and he undoes the golden buttons of my blazer. Then he pulls it off my shoulders.
“This is your plan?” I ask, desperately trying to distract him until someone sees what’s happening. Where’s the post-breakfast cleanup crew?
He doesn’t answer. His fingers are now at my throat, and he unbuttons the collar of my shirt.
“Your goal is to lure William back just to turn him into your enemy?”
Nate’s fingers move lower, undoing another button.
“What’s the point of that?” My heart is accelerating like it’s about to take flight, and while Nate’s sickening grin doesn’t wither, I feel Cisco’s grip loosening by the tiniest bit.
“Natalio, she has a point.” Cisco sounds almost worried. “I mean, if he is—”
“Enough!”
Nate’s hand clamps over my mouth, and my heart vaults to my throat as he lowers his fangs to my neck. Tears blur my vision as I squeeze my eyes shut, anticipating the searing pain of his bite—
“He has until classes end today.”
Nate’s voice is a murmur in my ear.
“If he’s not here by then, you die. We will be watching and listening, so if you say a word to anyone—if you write it down, if you whisper it, if you mime it—we will know. Then we will kill all your friends.”
“The history club will be history!” says Cisco when they let me go, and I hear Nate’s low groan as I sprint away.
SALMA STARES at me as I walk into first period, and I shake my head so she’ll know not to ask.
I avoid looking her way when I sit down, and when she tries to pass me a note, I push it away. She crumples the paper, understanding at once, and tosses it into her bag.
I spend all my morning classes trying to think of a way out of this. Last time Nate attempted to kill me, William showed up—and now Nate seems to think that threatening my life will lure William again. That means a vampire must feel when their Familiar is in danger.
But will he come?
When we get to lunch, I barely have any space in my stomach for food. I’m too full of nerves. Salma isn’t eating, either.
“Aren’t you two hungry?” asks Tiffany, scrutinizing us.
I shake my head. Maybe I can tell Salma to come to the bathroom with me and write her a note in a stall. It’s not like Nate and Cisco will follow us in there, right?
“Sal, would you—?”
My voice dies when I see the vampires stroll into the dining hall and walk toward the staff table. Nate’s eyes are already on me, as if he can tell what I’m about to do.
“Um, can I have one of your fries?” I ask instead.
“Have as many as you want,” she says.
“Nate keeps looking this way,” says Tiffany, wriggling her eyebrows at me. “I think he’s into you.”
“He’s gross,” blurts Salma. “Seems kind of full of himself.”
“And dumb,” I add. Across the dining hall, Nate frowns at me as he picks up his plate.
“What did the guy do to piss you two off?” asks Trevor, looking curiously between us.
Nate takes a step in our direction.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “We’re just over this whole history project.”
Hearing my answer, the vampire heads to the buffet table instead.
By the time I approach Minaro’s classroom, my body is trembling at Nate’s imminent deadline. He’s going to kill me at the end of the hour, and there’s no one here who can help me.
I’m trapped.
Desperation claws at my throat as I open the door. Only one student is already seated.
When he sees me, he gets to his feet, as if this were the eighteenth century.
I trace the sharpness of his jaw and the smooth planes of his face, and it feels like it takes my brain hours to register what I’m seeing.
He’s back.