Chapter Seven
Chapter
Seven
Local newspapers don’t seem to know anything about last night’s incident, and when I call Penny, she doesn’t pick up.
Astra’s cardigan is lying over my chair.
I still remember the feeling of her hand, cold, as she wrapped the garment around my shoulders.
My heart races in a way it shouldn’t. It’s not my fault that she’s gorgeous.
Who wouldn’t be attracted to her? But I try my best to remember our conversation.
The ease with which she thought she could get rid of me.
I glare at the curtains hiding her coffin and whisper, “In your dreams.”
Sitting on the steps leading down to the Cat’s Tail, I go over everything I’ve mapped so far.
It’s far too messy, but hopefully, once I transfer the scribbles to a larger sheet of paper, it’ll make sense.
Working down in the tunnels may not be the best idea.
They’re cold, damp, and I can hear the sound of my own breath.
But I can’t bear the thought of staying in my room, where I might see her again.
I have my own symbols on the paper. An arrow, pointing up or down for slope, a zigzag for stairs, and a happy face, which I use only once, for flat ground.
In less than an hour, I’ve filled three more pages, and my legs ache.
It’s harder to breathe down here. At least all this discomfort is keeping me from thinking about her.
Until I am thinking about her, and my skin crawls at the memory.
Astra already knew we were roommates. Meaning that at some point, she must have pulled my bed curtains open. She’s been spying on me.
I kick a wall, frustration bubbling in my veins.
Something isn’t right. Why are we roommates? Who put us together? I feel a chill in the back of my neck and swallow hard. No one knows what I am. No one in their right mind would pair the Astra heir with a vampire hunter. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve been forced together on purpose.
By the time I’m sitting in the Integration lecture hall, I’m on my fourth coffee, this one with two shots.
Every muscle in my body aches, reminding me of what I got up to in Inverness.
The bite mark itches under a plaster. Stephan frowns at me, but we both keep quiet as Clemence talks us through the composition of synthetic blood and all its benefits, as opposed to human blood.
“Can anyone name any of the adverse effects?” Clemence asks, and without thinking, I raise my hand.
“Synthetic blood does not allow them to transform into bats,” I say, picturing the monsters I faced in Inverness. “They’re also weaker when they drink synthetic blood.”
“But they’re still able to compel us,” another student chimes in.
When Penny first told me about treaties-abiding vampires, who drink synthetic blood instead of human blood, I didn’t believe her.
Every mission I’ve ever been on has revolved around a vampire’s thirst, their bloodlust, and not once has a single monster shown any remorse towards their victims. The thought that there were vampires out there who would forsake the taste of human blood, forsake their innate powers, just to abide by the treaties, was inconceivable.
And yet I’m now surrounded by those very vampires.
“You look tired,” Ife says later, once we meet in Ambrose Hall.
“Had a bit of a long night,” I say, and at this she meets my gaze, raising a brow.
“Doing what? Found yourself a boyfriend?”
“I’m a lesbian,” I say, and at this, Julia looks at me, blinking with surprise. I narrow my eyes. “Does that bother you?” I ask.
“No,” Julia says, and despite being a vampire, blood rushes to her cheeks. “So am I.”
I look away just as Astra walks into the canteen, wearing a brown suit that matches the screens of Ambrose Hall, which are currently showing an autumnal forest. I watch as she looks up at the sky, shielding her eyes as though the sun is real.
Her arm is linked through the arm of a girl with long chestnut hair.
The one I saw deep in the tunnels, with cuts on her hands. The girl she fucked in the library.
“Astra is also a lesbian,” Ife says, noticing who I was just gawking at. “But maybe a tad out of your league.”
“I’m not—”
“And even if she took a liking to you, it would be bad news, Cassie.”
“I’m not interested in her,” I say, but my cheeks are burning.
“Maybe she has taken a liking to Cassie,” Stephan says, picking up a piece of sashimi. “She’s looking at you again.”
I glance over, unable to help myself, and this time, when our eyes meet, Astra hisses. As in, a vampire’s hiss. Like a fucking animal. The kind of hiss that summons their venom, signalling either fear or aggression. I gawk at her, wide-eyed. What is wrong with her?
“Uh,” Ife says, and soon I realise that quite a few tables have turned their attention towards us. “Did she just hiss at us?”
“You’re seeing things,” I say quickly. Why. Why would she do that?
“Wait,” Ife says. “Is she what you were doing last night?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I say. “Of course not.”
“Why did she look at you again, then?” Stephan asks.
I let out a short sigh. “Well, I was hoping no one would find out, but”—I lower my voice—“she’s my roommate.”
“You’re joking,” Ife says.
“I wish.” I look back over at Astra. A few of the girls surrounding her are still staring at me, but the white-haired vampire is focusing on her plaything, arm around the other vampire’s shoulders as she bends down to kiss her.
“But why is she staying in Tynarrich?” asks Julia, who as usual is keeping her hands busy with her sketchbook.
“No idea,” I say.
“Has she tried to bite you?” Stephan asks, and Ife makes an affronted sound.
“She wouldn’t be standing there if she had,” I say, a little too quickly.
“I don’t think you have to worry, Cassie,” Ife says. “Your blood smells—I wouldn’t say bad, just not interesting enough for someone to risk a century in prison. No offense,” she says.
“None taken,” I reply.
I shouldn’t feel comfortable sitting next to two vampires. But Ife’s words have finally illuminated why. Without the scent of my S-Type blood, I’m not a rare delicacy. I’m just an ordinary person, not defined by the crimson inside me.
I can’t help but feel distracted during the rest of my classes, dreading going back to my room in case I see her again.
During Gustavsson’s class, the students in front of me turn, whispering amongst themselves.
One of the vampires who glares at me, perhaps even more intensely than the rest, is a girl with short black hair.
And as I stare back, I realise she’s wearing a red ribbon around her throat.
What if the Red Ribbons were involved with what happened in Inverness?
On my way to my next class, I walk straight into a hard chest, and my books tumble to the floor.
“Oh dear,” a man says in a smooth baritone.
He picks up my books, and when our eyes meet, I get the feeling I’ve seen his face before, glacial blue eyes and jet-black hair.
His tweed suit matches his briefcase. I have seen him.
He’s the Night Dean, Faust Nocth. He presses the books back into my hands, taking a cursory glance at them.
“Do forgive me, Miss Smith,” he says. I consider following him.
Asking him why I have a vampire roommate when no one else does.
And why said roommate is Aliz Astra, of all people.
But I’m not in any position to make myself look suspicious.
The next day I take lunch in the candlelit dining room of Tynarrich. As I dip a slice of fresh sourdough into a bowl of Cullen skink, I think of our prisoners. Callisto always leaves a vampire alive when dismantling a blood party, but only to take them back to HQ and gather intelligence.
And after they’ve answered all our questions, we use them to train against compulsion, as well as venom immunity.
Most of our prisoners are Convert vampires, but Callisto never acknowledges their past humanity.
The moment you decide to participate in a blood party, your humanity becomes null and void.
I stir my soup and think of Julia, wondering how long she’s been a vampire.
Does she even remember what it was like to be human?
And although I’d rather do anything else but study, I actually have to pass my Integration subjects, which means handing in assignments on time. Such as writing an essay called “The First Hours of a Newly Sired Vampire.”
I stick to my room. Astra, who never studies, nevertheless keeps her desk in a state of perpetual chaos. A dozen books are sprawled over the mahogany surface, and I’m pretty sure they are just there as décor.
I’ve barely written a page when I hear the clicking of the door, hinges creaking as it opens. As fast as I can, I pull my headphones on, hoping she’ll ignore me.
“I can tell you’re not listening to music,” she says.
I turn, clenching my jaw. The vampire in my room glares right back at me from the door, her arms folded over her brown waistcoat.
“They’re noise-canceling headphones,” I say curtly.
“They’re not very good if you can still hear what I’m saying,” she retorts, a stupid smirk curling her lips.
I grit my teeth. I’ve never wanted to drive a stake through someone’s heart more than I do hers.
I keep the headphones on, taking a deep breath to focus on the words on the pages in front of me.
As death settles, the blood of the sire ties the new vampire to its host. The vampiric germ will first latch on to the corpse’s sinus, followed by—
“Early siring symptoms?”
She rests one hand on the back of my chair, and the other on the page. Her slender fingers are spread out, nails clipped short. On her index is a ring with a small emblem. I don’t want to look up. But she’s intent on annoying me. I crane my neck, and Astra fixes me with her insufferable gaze.
“What?” I ask sharply.
“Are you considering converting?” she asks, her voice too sweet.
“I would rather die,” I say, and I offer her the tightest smile I can manage.
I expect her to back off. Instead, her left hand leaves the back of my chair and yanks down my headphones. “Dying is usually part of the equation,” she whispers, breath against my ear.
My heart thuds painfully against my ribs.
For her own safety, she should run. She should hope I never see her again.
But the spoiled princess remains put, far too close to me, to the extent that I can smell the moss and rain fragrance she carries with her everywhere.
The hand that pulled down my headphones is now on my shoulder, a finger drawing a line over my jumper. Too fucking close.
I grab her hand, crushing her cool fingers between mine. “If you even think about siring me, you’ll live to regret it, Astra.”
I let go of her hand, and she stares back at me in a stupor.
“As if I’d ever bite you,” she says. “I’d rather become parched.”
“You’d do us both a favour.”
“Or maybe I’ll change my mind.” She steps closer. Her skin is flushed. “So maybe you should find a new room, before it’s too late.”
“Make me,” I say. Fight me already. I just need an excuse. Anything to wipe the smug look off her face.
“Don’t worry,” she says icily. “Sooner or later, I will.”