Chapter Six #2
Pale, white-eyed people clung to the wall in a straight-backed single file that stood my neck hairs on end.
Unlike everyone else, the vampires were dressed in clothes from all eras, from the fifteenth century to the twentieth, and all the centuries before and after.
There was nothing to indicate who was in the same coven—if that was even the right word. Even so, you knew who they were.
The vampires were still—so very still—like the suits of armor lurking in every other corridor, but unlike them, their eyes tracked everyone that passed by them... and they didn’t like it.
“What the fuck are you looking at, leech!”
A feathery demon with a waddle and tailfeathers got in the face of one of the vampires, which set the whole row off.
Loud, hair-raising, unsettling hisses erupted from all of their throats.
Lethal fangs glinted in the candlelight, and that was all that was glinting.
Before my eyes, their orbs darkened to pitch black—brought on by hunger or anger, I didn’t know.
But I did know it almost sent me running in the opposite direction.
“Creepy-ass freaks!” The chicken demon threw a punch at his head.
His fist blew through the plaster, getting stuck in the wall. In a blink, the vampire was suddenly five inches to the right, nowhere in reach of that punch.
“Wha— How did he—?”
“Vampiresss are fast, girl,” Sabrina said.
“Faster than werewolves, fae, or demons. And impossibly strong. The lords of hell did not want to recognize the vampires at first. They tried to lump them in with the Others, but after countless exsanguinated assassinations that no one could stop and no saw coming, they were forced to acknowledge that cursed does not equal weak.”
“I see.”
“You must also know they’re starving,” she hissed softly. “Vampires need to feed on blood from a living source, and every creature in hell is either dead or doesn’t bleed true blood. That leaves them only two options: werewolves—who are far from an easy target.
“And you.”
“Me?!” But even as it came out of my mouth, I knew I had to be included. I was a living source with lots of fresh, flowing blood in my veins. I was top of the menu. Underneath my fear, a thought occurred to me.
“How’s their hearing?”
“Excellent. If you weren’t glamoured, they would hear your heart beating from ten miles away, and they’d cross the expanse and rip it out of your chest in less than ten seconds.”
“Once again, graphic,” I muttered, slowly entering the hall. Half a dozen pale eyes latched on to me, probing the depths of my being and coming up empty. “But that tells us something, doesn’t it?”
“What would that be?”
“That they would hear Dora.” I chose my words carefully. “Unless something was stopping them.”
“You mean your nestmate must be glamoured too,” she clarified.
“Undoubtedly. If there were an unglamoured human on these grounds, they would’ve torn her apart and drained her dry before her abductors could so much as think the spell to stop them.
But it cannot surprise you to know she is both hidden and disguised.
Especially if they need her to live long enough to lay eggs. ”
I didn’t bother telling her humans don’t lay eggs.
“I informed you your task was impossible,” she went on. “Clearly, with age goes your hearing and your looks.”
I ignored that too. Rising on tiptoe, I tried to get eyes on the shifting sea of fangs, feathers, and faces. Where are you bastards? And where is my sister?
Sabrina stuck her head out. “Look, girl. They gather.”
I followed her line of sight to the end of the hall. It was hard to make out through the dim light and all the chaos, but there was a small semicircle forming at the back.
I carefully weaved through, scanning every face and tail as I went, and lit on the sign nailed to the wall.
“It’s a class schedule,” I cried. Squinting through the shifting bodies, I quickly scanned the large, bold cursive words scrawled across the parchment.
First Years:
Mess Hall
Class One – The Great Invasion
Class Two – History of Hell
Class Three – Intro to Torture
Mess Hall
Class Four – Stop Being Pussies
Class Five – Haven’t Fucking Decided Yet
Class Six – Why The Mutts, Leeches, and Limp-Dick Fairies Suck Ass
Class Seven – Networking
I stared at the class list, reading it again, and then again to be sure.
Below the first-year list, were the classes for the second, third, and fourth years, and they were equally outrageous.
“I’m sorry, does that really say stop being pussies?
Who the heck titles a class that, and what would we possibly be learning? ”
“How to stop being a pussy of course.” Tristan strolled up behind me. Grasping my shoulder, he bore down on me as he leaned over to read the schedule. “The clue’s in the name.”
A wave of sweet-spicy cinnamon flooded my senses, making me catch my breath.
Goose bumps rippled down my shoulder and arm from where he touched me—bringing a blush to my cheeks.
I’d never been attracted to a guy outside of my species before.
What was the rule with this? Should I be scolding myself or giving in?
Neither. This guy is an NPC to you. He’s just another person you’ll be putting in your rearview when we find Dora, and get her out of this place.
“It’s vulgar,” someone spat.
I tipped my head up, and up, and up. I gasped... then stopped breathing entirely.
A golden crown sat atop his golden crown. Gilded curls weaved through the laurels, leaving all who stared to wonder what was him and what was pure gold.
A chin like granite set in a hard, unforgiving line. Full, plump lips curled in distaste. Sharp, diamond-cutter cheekbones stretched tight over perfect, blemish-repelling skin, and his eyes... were two lily pads floating in a milky river—that was bubbling over.
“This is what passes for a school for these worthless demon cunt fucks?”
All visions of cherub baby angels burst into confetti.
“Can’t believe the elders agreed to let a single fae set foot in this shithole,” the beautiful fae man said with his dirty potty mouth.
“Just because they were shot out of hell’s oozing anus, those demons think they’re fit to walk the same halls as us?
Ha. Give us a week. We’ll be running this place, and the rest of the inferiors and mongrels will be gone. ”
Beside him, his fae brethren nodded in agreement.
I did not.
“Excuse me?” I tugged his sleeve. “I know it’s not right to refer to you as a limp fairy on an official sign for all to see, but please don’t make it worse by referring to anyone as inferior. You know as well as I that no one is inferior to another.”
A mess of wide, disbelieving eyes slowly turned on me.
“School—especially this school—is tough enough, so why don’t we all make an effort to get along and support each other?
” My chirpy voice was spreading through the hall, because everyone in the hall was falling silent.
“If we do that, I think we’ll all be pleasantly surprised to discover that our similarities outweigh our differences. ”
The flaxen-hair potty mouth stared at me with a sort of frozen look on his outrageously handsome face.
“I’ll start.” I extended my hand to him. “Hello, my name is Charlie, and I like chocolate, fluffy pillows, and Gothic architecture.” I kept my answers to the stuff I’d actually seen in hell. I didn’t want to give myself away by naming an interest that didn’t exist here. “What’s your name?”
Potty Mouth gaped at me—horror darkening his expression with every word that fell from my mouth. “By the gods,” he croaked, “what is this thing? Why is it talking to me?”
I went rigid. “Well, that was rude,” I forced out. “I know I’m not the most attractive demon, but there’s no need to be—”
“Ugh, it’s disgusting!” Potty Mouth bellowed, making my cheeks catch fire. “It’s infected. It’s diseased! Get it away from me!”
His fae buddies surged around him, lunging at me.
“Get away from Prince Ravenscar!” High above the wings, a fist flew at my head. “You filthy—”
Crying out, I raised my hand to block—already knowing I’d be too late.
Wham!
The hit struck dead-on and rebounded through hard, solid muscle—but not mine.
Tristan filled my vision. Leaning over me like he did before, one solid, strong hand held me tight to his chest while the other clamped on the fae guy’s fist—stopping and holding it in mid-air.
My knees went weak. I felt the momentum of that hit rebound through his body and jolt me. Just how strong were fae... and how much stronger was the man holding me?
“Cool it down, fly boy.” Tristan tossed his fist away. “I know this one’s a freak, but he’s with me. Back off.”
I started, blinking up at Tristan. I’m with him? Really?
I’d never been interested in the roided-up, musclehead jock types who for some reason found it impossible to find shirts that weren’t two sizes too small for them, but then... none of those guys jumped in to defend me without a second thought. Even while calling me a freak.
Fly Boy clutched his hand to his chest, looking at it like he couldn’t believe any more than I could that Tristan stopped his hit. “How dare you?” he hissed, color leaking into his bronze cheeks. “How dare you touch me, you filthy mongrel!”
Anger swelled in my chest. Politeness and kindness were in short supply in hell, but everyone spoke slurs in the same language of hate, and that didn’t fly with me in any realm. “Hey! Don’t speak to him like—”
Tristan’s laugh cut me off, echoing in the crowded space. “That’s funny, man. Guess you knew this already, but your mama likes to call me a filthy mongrel too—when I’m fucking her up the ass.”
The faeman’s face flushed a nasty, mottled purple.
“Mama and son like the dirty talk, huh?” Tristan’s smirk was hellish. “How about next time you get in there and slap my ass while my thighs are slapping hers?” Tristan acted it out for the benefit of us all—pumping his hips and smacking against my backside.