Jealousy sa-3 Page 14

  It was the most personal thing he’d ever said to me. I got the idea he didn’t like talking about how he ended up squatting in a back office at the mall. And, you know, I had my own personal stash of stuff I never wanted to share. Most of it involved Dad and the various jobs we’d done all across the States. Some were from schools a long time ago, when I hadn’t been so practiced at sliding by unnoticed.

  I pushed my hand off the edge of the bed. It hung in space as I stretched, my fingers touching emptiness.

  “She hates me. Because Christophe bit me.” I almost whispered the words into the pillow, kept my arm out straight. My cheeks burned. If he could see me, he could probably tell something from the way I was blushing. The fang marks in my left wrist tingled faintly, but the sensation receded.

  When his fingers laced through mine, it was both a shock and a relief. Warm skin, a gentle touch. He absorbed this, and then he said the last thing I’d expect.

  “Girl like that won’t believe you don’t like him.” He coughed slightly. Guess he was wishing for another cigarette right about now. “Jesus.”

  “I don’t like it here.” I sounded way young. And scared. “I’ve got some money. We can get supplies.”

  He thought about it.“At least you’re not being attacked by vampires anymore. That’s something.”

  “You told me it was us against the world.” You were holding my hand then, too. “I figure we can get out of here. Run and keep running. I can teach you how to—”

  “They know things you don’t. And Shanks and Dibs watch out for you when I can’t.”

  He had a point. Still . . . I considered tugging my hand back out of his. “Have you changed your mind?”

  I didn’t mean to sound like a toddler with a toy taken away. I really didn’t. He sighed, heavily.

  “No. If you’re serious about getting the hell out of here, Dru, I’m going with. But . . . it really does seem safer here. That girl’s just a petty bitch. Why let her run you out?”

  Someone here wanted me dead. That’s why we were stuck at the other Schola. That’s why the other Schola burned down. The words stuck in my throat. I’d been counting on him wanting to come with me. “You didn’t see her.” I couldn’t put it any clearer than that. “She really meant it.”

  His fingers slipped away from mine. I tried not to feel bereft. He moved around, and the next thing I knew, he was pushing me over so he could lie down on the bed. He stretched out, moved around and got comfortable, his hands laced behind his head. His eyes glimmered, little green gleams. I breathed him in—salt and male, the tang of loup-garou like silver in the moonlight.

  “I think you’re safer here. I’m learning all sorts of stuff. Even you said you didn’t know enough.”

  “I know how to run.” How to get cash and how to keep our trail clear—hopefully. But he was right, sort of. If I could stay here long enough, learn enough, when I bolted I would be better prepared.

  Or I just might leave too late and end up dead.

  I wish Dad was here. The thought was like probing at a sore tooth. A thin thread of anger worked its way around inside my chest. Why did he have to go and get himself killed?

  It wasn’t really fair, I guess. But why was he going after Sergej anyway?

  I could guess. For Mom. He missed her at least as much as I did.

  “Don’t leave without me. I’m just sayin’, Dru. We might stand a better chance if we stick around here for awhile. Get our hands on some more stuff, find out more.”

  I rolled away, turning my back on him. “Okay.”

  He waited a little bit. “What?”

  Was he deaf? I sighed, half-pushed myself up, turned my pillow over, and dropped back down again. “Okay. You’ve got a good point. We’ll stay here for awhile.” I just hope I live to see us leave.

  Contemplating your own gruesome demise is a sure way to make you definitely un-sleepy. But there hadn’t been an attack the entire time we were here. I could just stop going to Council meetings and stay out of Anna’s way. Sometimes bullies just got tired of it and left you alone after awhile.

  Except I was the only other girl in the whole Schola. It wasn’t like I could blend. I wished there were some wulfen girls around, but they don’t come to the Prima. They either stay at home to help protect the compounds, or they attend satellite Scholas as day students. Still, it would have been nice.

  Though with my luck, they’d probably hate me, too, for some reason. I’ve never been the girl other girls like.

  Graves lay very still. “I think you’re the only person who’s ever listened to me.”

  “The other wulfen did.” I closed my eyes. Sleep was an impossibility, but my entire body was so heavy.

  “You know what I mean.” A restless movement went through him. “Ah, Dru?”

  Now that I knew what I was going to do, I felt heavy all over. I’ve always been like that—the thing that bugs me most is not having a plan. “What?”

  “Can I . . . I mean, do you mind if I sleep up here? If you don’t, I, um, understand. I just—”

  “Yes.” The word bolted out of me. “Yes, please. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep if you’re here.”

  “Okay.” Did he sound pleased? Was he just tired of sleeping on the floor? Did he have something, well, a little more active in mind? Like another liplock? Or was he afraid I’d take it the wrong way if he asked to sleep up here and expect a liplock?

  Sometimes having a pretty active brain is no picnic. Because it starts serving up fifty different what-ifs for the way anyone acts, and having to choose which one to believe revs your mental engine until it wears you completely out.

  We lay there. I listened to the sound of him breathing. I think I dozed after awhile, lulled by that steady inhale-exhale. The last thing I remember is his arm creeping around me as gray dawn came up outside the window. He settled against me. I sighed and he froze, but then I relaxed all the way.

  I finally felt safe again.

  When he spoke again, it was a quiet murmur in the darkness. “Dru? Don’t leave without me.”

  What could I say to that? I said the only thing I could.

  “I promise.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  At lunch I scanned the cafeteria for the rest of them. Leon had been awful quiet all morning, including through forty-five minutes of Aspect Mastery, where—thank God—I wasn’t the one who had to sit in front of the class and make the fangs pop out and retreat on command while the teacher lectured about the physiological changes. My turn wasn’t until later that week, and I hated having people staring at me while the place at the back of my throat where the bloodhunger lived woke up and tinted everything with red.

  It’s damn hard to sit still and just do it when you can smell the fluid in everyone’s veins. I guess maybe that was the point, but I still didn’t like it. Especially when the ampoules of blood came out and we started having to identify them according to the characteristics on the sheet. The other guys got partners. I did each one alone, and everyone stole little glances at me while I did.

  It didn’t help that it was laughably easy. Female. Male. Brunette. Blond. Wulf blood. Djamphir blood. Each one had its own distinct smell, and the touch helped, too, telling me which was which. It would help us track, they told us, and help us identify nosferatu.

  Sometimes they prefer a particular type of prey.

  Lunchtime was always a relief. Getting the first few bites down was hard, though. I was usually so hungry that once I forced myself to start, things went okay, but those first few bites might as well’ve been sand.

  “Jeez, where are they?” I went up on tiptoe as djamphir boys stepped around me, their ranks parting like waves.

  Leon said nothing, just folded his arms. He was probably hungry, too.

  And even though I knew he wouldn’t, I made the offer, like I did every time. “Well, go on. Go get something to eat. I’m in front of a million djamphir; nothing’s going to happen.”

  “Please.” It didn’t even me
rit a shrug from him. “Will you stop saying that?”

  Which was kind of nice of him, unless he was on Anna’s side. Whatever weird side that was. I wondered, each time I saw any of my so-called bodyguards, which one—or ones—it was. All of them? None? Just a few?

  I gave an aggrieved sigh, rolled my eyes, and saw Benjamin across the lunchroom. His face was set, mouth pulled down, and Graves was right beside him. Graves actually leaned in, his mouth moving as he said something fierce and low in the djamphir’s ear.

  Benjamin’s mouth twisted wryly. He made some sort of response, and if I was better at lipreading I might have been able to catch it. As it was, I only caught my name and a shrug with hands spreading. Then something about Anna.

  I stiffened.

  Graves caught Benjamin’s shoulder. For a moment I thought Ben was going to round on him. But no, Benjamin just looked down at Graves’s coppery fingers, then up into his face. They stared at each other for a long, tense-ticking ten seconds. Then Benjamin shook Graves off and nodded. Said something else, but Graves’s gaze had come up and latched onto mine.

  I realized I was clutching my mom’s locket, warm silver metal under my fingers. My eyebrows went up, and my entire face must have been shouting, What the hell is going on?

  “They won’t agree,” Leon said quietly. “It’s not in Benjamin to listen to a wulfen, even a prince like the loup-garou.”

  “What are they arguing about?” I had a right to know, didn’t I?

  Leon just shook his head. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starved.”

  And what could I say to that? He could give lessons in polite rudeness, just like Babbage.

  I hitched my bag higher up on my shoulder. “Fine.” And stamped for the steam tables.

  It should have weirded me out, but the Schola Prima was like the other one. The food appeared from behind a fog of something weird, a billowing vapor hiding shadows and suggestions of shapes. Lunch monitors took the pans to the steam tables. Everyone had a turn working during lunch.

  Everyone, that is, except me. I didn’t kick too hard about that.

  All the same, I would have liked to see who was cooking my food. I was missing my own kitchen more and more. Industrial food is okay, especially when they spare no expense for the linen napkins and fresh ingredients. But I wanted my mom’s cookie jar. I wanted the spatula I always used for grilled cheese.

  I wanted my life back. The kitchen implements were just a symbol.

  Eating with the Council had been a whole different level of uncomfortable. Mostly because I’d been watching the door, waiting for Anna to come in, and also because they kept looking at me like I was some exotic creature. Good thing I wasn’t planning on doing it ever again.

  I felt the eyes on me again. Was everybody looking?

  A flash of red caught my attention. Kir, across the lunchroom at the entrance to the hall leading to the teachers’ wing. He inclined his head slightly, drew back into the shadow of the hall’s entrance, and vanished. Had he noticed that I’d seen him?

  A faint taste of waxed oranges slid across the back of my tongue.

  What the . . . I stared at the empty archway, my fingers still glued to the locket’s curve. The metal cooled under my fingertips. My thumb rubbed across the spidery symbols etched on the back, their edges suddenly scraping-sharp.

  I knew he was definitely on Anna’s side. What was this, then? A message? Just to throw me off or scare me?

  It worked. My heart was pounding, and my palms were slippery.

  Leon made a short annoyed sound. “Don’t stare. You think we’re the only ones watching you?”

  “No.” I found my voice. “No, really, I don’t think that at all.” Chew on that. I headed for the steam tables again, but the funny thing was, I’d lost my appetite.

  Graves and Benjamin appeared as I set my tray on the table that we’d claimed my second day here. I tried asking what the hell that was about, but neither of them answered. Instead, they both tried so hard to amuse me I was able to just make noises and let them circle each other verbally. I shoved my food around with my fork, and afterward I couldn’t even remember what I’d been not-eating.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A couple of weeks went by, and no Anna. I stayed as close to Graves and the wulfen as I could, and I noticed some of them—tall boys with muscled shoulders and a habit of dropping their heads and stepping aside when I glanced at them—showing up in the halls and sticking around. Benjamin said nothing, but I caught him and Leon exchanging glances. The blonds seemed oblivious, but their shoulder holsters were now in plain sight instead of quasi-hidden under jackets.

  I kept hoping Graves would decide to come back up on the bed. But no. He went back to sleeping on the floor in his sleeping bag, and he moved the bag a little farther away each night until he ended up almost at the door.

  So I just went to class, kept my eyes and ears open, did my homework, and endured Aspect Mastery as well as I could.

  It was the only school I’d ever been to where I actually looked forward to gym class. At the other Schola the directive had been to stop me sparring with anyone. All part of the plan to keep me dumb and vulnerable, and poor Dylan hadn’t known what to do. I hadn’t been there long enough for him to figure out how to go about breaking the rules over me either.

  Here, though, things were different.

  I hit the mats hard and bounced up, warmth flooding my body as my teeth tingled. “Very good!” Arcus yelled, teeth white against the darkness of his face. “Turn, turn turn!”

  I did, instinctively throwing an elbow up to catch his strike. My arm went briefly numb; his fist headed for my face. I ducked aside instead of back, grabbed his wrist with clumsy fingers, and pulled. My teeth stopped tingling and ached, a bolt of warm sensitivity crackling along my jaw, and the fangs would have dimpled my lower lip if my mouth hadn’t been open while I gasped for air. Sweat flew as I helped him fly past me, my knee bolting up. The strike had no weight behind it because I had to fall back and get my balance.

  He whirled on the balls of his feet, the change rippling under his ebony skin. Wiry dark hair sprang loose, crawling up from his flesh like a fast-forward of plants growing. He was built like a football player, and pretty graceful too. His wide nostrils flared, taking in quick sharp breaths. “No! Press your advantage while you can!”

  “Don’t have the footing!” I snarled back. “You’d knock me over!”

  “Then you shouldn’t lose your footing, girl!” He spread his arms, the crackling of bone receding as he dropped back into human form, hair retreating along his cheeks.

  I skipped back half-nervously, hands up and ready. Watched him.

  He feinted; I didn’t fall for it. Moved closer, looked like he wanted to close with a jab or two, but I faded to the side. As long as I had plenty of room I wasn’t doing too badly. He hadn’t pronounced me completely hopeless, at least, which I’ve heard he sometimes does.

  They had me sparring with wulfen teachers here because the happy stuff in a svetocha’s blood—the same stuff that will make me eventually toxic to suckers after I hit the girl version of the drift and bloom—tends to drive djamphir a little crazy once it hits oxygen. Wulfen can smell it, sure—but it doesn’t drive them nutzoid.

  Not any more than just-plain-human blood does. Which is to say, just a little. But I wasn’t bleeding yet. And Arcus was careful.

  All the same, I wondered why Dylan hadn’t just had a wulfen teacher start training me. But he’d been a by-the-book sort and terminally indecisive as well. I couldn’t hold it against him, though. Seeing as how he’d done the right thing and given me the unedited transcript.

  And seeing as how he was probably . . . dead.

  I ignored that thought, too. While I was fighting I didn’t have to think about any of that. It was pure action and reaction, and sometimes I even forgot what was going on and thought it was Dad pushing me to work harder, be faster, think better.

  And at the end of gym class, I
could usually steal ten minutes or so for t’ai chi in the locker room’s echoing damp-fogged space. The familiar movements soothed me, and after the first half-minute I didn’t care so much that I was basically practicing in a bathroom. Do it where you gotta was one of Dad’s mottos.

  Or was it a mantra? That’s one of those questions that’ll drive you crazy.

  Arcus blurred in, with the spooky streak-on-glass speed wulfen use, and I went down hard. But my sneaker came up, socked a good one into his midriff, and he tumbled over me with a short growl of surprise. I rolled, gaining my feet in a graceless lunge, and skipped back some more. A curl had worked loose of my braid and fell in my face, blonde veining along its length as the warm-oil feeling of the aspect flooded me in fits and starts.

  It was doing that more and more lately. I was closer than ever to “blooming” and having the real fun begin. When I hit my drift, I’d suddenly be faster, stronger, harder to kill. I’d become toxic to suckers. I might even get a bit taller or have my weight distribution change, which I figure was a fancy way of saying might get more breasticles maybe. My face might change, too. It would happen over a week or so, and afterward the real fun would start.

  Yeah. Couldn’t wait. Not.

  Arcus should have been coming after me like a freight train. Instead he’d frozen, looking up over my shoulder. I didn’t snap a glance to see, but the silence filling the long windowless room wasn’t normal. Usually, this gym is full of first-year students learning katas or doing light sparring. The mats covering the floor are in good repair, and there are even bleachers pushed up against the walls, ready to be pulled out for basketball games.

  I hear wulfen are really big into hoops. Hadn’t seen a game yet, though. Djamphir are supposed to play polo or lacrosse. I mean, what the hell? I’d rather watch werwulf basketball any day.