Broken Elites (The Vampire Legacy Book 3)

by Rita Stradling

  He looked up at me. “January, I need to know everything else that happened. Please. Why didn’t you feel comfortable being alone with me?”

  “It was that look in your eyes. Mitch said that he was afraid you would hit me, and I didn’t even realize that I was afraid of that too, I guess. You scared me. You also broke up with me…” I paused to steady myself, “The whole school was watching, and you told me that if I went after Mitch, that we were over. I said I needed to make sure he had a safe ride home, and you told me that I was no longer welcome on your property. When I objected, you announced that you planned to get my nana fired for being a shitty housekeeper.”

  “I would never… ever fucking say that.” Justin stood and reached toward me, but again, I felt the need to step away. He dropped his hands. “You know that I would never fucking say that about your grandmother, right?”

  “If it wasn’t you… Justin, then what was it?” I held my father’s letter further out toward him, but he wouldn’t take it. I had to say something to make him read it, but it was very possible that someone was listening in. So, I said in a measured tone, “I wrote my feelings in this letter. I need you to read it.”

  “Wait… are you breaking up with me?” His hand went to his forehead. “I don’t understand… I wasn’t there. I don’t even have a faint memory of this. I just went to bed…”

  He trailed off as I pushed the letter into his hand.

  “Just, take the letter. Please, read it.”

  Justin set his untouched brownie back into the tray and opened the letter.

  Both Mitch and I leaned in, peering over the paper, but there was nothing there.

  Justin glanced over at me with a look of confusion, wrinkling his brow.

  “Mitch…” I gave him a serious look, “Don’t eavesdrop. This is for Justin’s eyes alone.”

  It was just a guess, but the moment that Mitch and I leaned away, Justin’s expression morphed from confusion to shock. His mouth fell open as he lifted the letter up.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” he whispered. “It can’t be true. Where did you get this?”

  “I wrote it, of course,” I gave him a serious look.

  His gaze snapped to mine. “Yeah, I know.” He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. “We need to talk about this, all of us do.”

  A knock came at the door a moment before the door opened. Mark Yates stuck his head in. “I’m so sorry to bother you guys while you’re talking, but can I use the bathroom?”

  “Go for it.” I sidestepped, moving to get between Mark’s line of sight and the letter.

  As soon as Mark closed himself in my bathroom, I leaned in toward Justin. “That’s a very personal letter. I don’t want Mark… or anyone to see that you have it. Can I have it back?”

  Justin passed the note over, but when I glanced at it, it was just a blank sheet of paper. I shoved it back into my sweatshirt pocket. “We can’t talk here tonight, but you’re right, we do need to talk.”

  “January… not just about that. I need to talk to you.” He reached over and wrapped his fingers around my arm, and fear washed into me, feeling like sludge in my veins. “Do you really think I would say that shit to you—ever? Do you truly believe that I’d break up with you a day after…?”

  “Shh.” I covered his lips with my hand to stop him from talking. Widening my eyelids at Justin, I nodded to the bathroom. Slowly, I twisted out of his grip. “We should definitely talk, just not right now.”

  Justin’s gaze looked desperate. “I need you to believe me.”

  “I was hoping that my note would provide some clarity,” I whispered.

  Justin shook his head. “It doesn’t.”

  Damn it.

  “Do you believe me?” he asked. “I need to know.”

  I sat on the bed a few feet away from him and leaned in close. “I believe something fucked up is going on… but we need to keep it quiet, okay?”

  The toilet flushed, and there was the sound of running water. A moment later, Mark emerged, gave us a grimace that was probably supposed to be a smile, and then he headed off back into the other room.

  “We’ll be out in a second,” I called after him as he closed the door.

  “January,” Justin demanded. “I need to know if you honestly think that I fucking said those things to you. I need to know if you think that we’re broken up right now or not. I went to bed, and I woke up, feeling like crap, and then learned that apparently my whole life is falling apart.”

  “Justin, please, we need to stop talking about this… Listen, okay?” I leaned close to Justin and whispered in his ear. “Since last night, I’ve felt hurt and angry and terrified of you. Right now, I’m still feeling that way. It felt so real, and I think I need some time to consider everything so it can stop feeling real.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I sat in my history class Monday morning, trying to keep my eyes open as Professor Abbot paced the length of the room in the glare of the projector. She continuously flipped through slides of gruesome images, illustrations of birdlike creatures feeding on the intestines of screaming people and half-woman, half-snake creatures latching onto men’s necks with the stone temples of Ancient Greece in the background, but I couldn’t focus on anything she said as an all too personal set of gruesome images cycled around my head, jumbling together.

  Waking up strapped to a bed as I was drained of blood. Sebastian Holter with a hole in his head. My father’s contorting body as he faced down seven master vampires. Bodies strewn across the lawn, forming letters in a hideous disregard of the people they had so recently been.

  A day had passed since the latest lockdown, one that had only lasted until half an hour before curfew. First thing this morning, Professor Abbot mentioned that what we saw on the lawn last night was just a foolish, Halloween prank, and the pranksters were caught and facing steep consequences. Then she smoothly transitioned into her lesson.

  Not a single question was raised. No one whispered that it had to be a lie.

  It was as if the school wanted to believe the excuse so much. No one even second-guessed why half of the Hawthorn Group showed up to deal with a foolish prank.

  Slowly, I looked over my shoulder to the back of the room where Justin sat. He stared ahead at the teacher, either not noticing my gaze or studiously ignoring it. A badge with five blue stripes was pinned to the front of his shirt. All of his legacy friends were made fifth-class officers. At least his complexion looked healthier. He had wanted to stay after the lockdown had been lifted last night, but I asked him to leave. Mitch had been waiting outside my room before school without a badge. Only once we were at our lockers did I see that he had his own five striped badge, but he’d shoved his in the front pocket of his backpack.

  “January Moore?”

  Startling from my thoughts, I turned back and blinked at Professor Abbot.

  The petite, white-haired teacher stared down at me through thin-rimmed glasses. Her lips pursed like she was waiting for a response.

  “Sorry?” I tried to focus on the teacher. Professor Abbot wore a pressed pink pantsuit today with a matching shade of blush lipstick. She always looked put together in a way that I had never in my life managed—I doubted few could. Her pink lips twisted. “I understand that things have been stressful for the past couple of days, but I need you all to stay awake. We’re already in October. Who can tell me what happens in October?”

  Several students raised their hands.

  Beside me, Mitch snored, and I couldn't help but notice that the teacher was admonishing me for losing focus while my tablemate was straight up snoring like a hibernating bear. Obviously, Professor Abbot still planned to treat Mitch like he was untouchable.

  “Trent.” Professor Abbot gestured across the classroom to one of the Elites who was holding up his hand.

  The tall boy with dark hair leaned back in his seat and lifted his chin. “Halloween.”

  Professor Abbot looked up to the high ceiling, but she appe
ared amused. “Midterms, Trent, I was talking about Midterms. Ours will be first thing, Monday, October twenty-fifth. Though I'm guessing that Halloween that following Sunday will be forefront in many of your minds. Now that I have your attention, let’s return to the lesson.”

  Professor Abbot flicked to the next image on the display, and an eerily familiar figure filled the projector screen. The creature was bald with long bat ears that led up from its head, a skeletal hole for a nose, and a mouthful of fangs. Their complexion was a pale gray. They had massive arched backs and clawed hands. Spikes led out from their joints. “Can anyone tell me a contemporary creature that shares characteristics with the strzyga demon?”

  “They’re the exact same as master vampires.” I didn’t know that I spoke the words aloud until Penelope turned to me, her hand half raised.

  “Very close, Miss Moore. Strzyga demons and master nightstalkers have many similarities and differences. And, as an aside, though many of us call them vampires casually, on your midterm essay, I will expect you to all refer to them by their technical name, nightstalkers. If you look at this illustration of a strzyga demon…” Professor Abbot went to her tiptoes and pointed out all the similarities that I’d recognized immediately. They were easy to recognize. It had only been a week since I’d stood in the school arena across from two master vampires—one of whom was my father. “Their main difference is these large owl wings… here.” She gestured to feathers at their backs. “An invisible difference is that they are said to have been born as humans who possess two souls, during puberty, one soul will die, and the other will live on and prey upon humans and animals, blood and organs.”

  A murmur passed through the class as she pointed out the very gory depiction of the demon eating.

  “While we know that these demons haven’t been seen in centuries, the parallels between modern nightstalkers in their true form and the eastern European demons our ancestors hunted in the sixteenth through the eighteenth century are so close, that the Hawthorn Group theorizes that modern vampires descended from these ancient strzyga demons, as opposed to the other blood-drinking and flesh-eating creatures we will learn about in this class. And for this reason, the strzyga demon will be heavily featured on your midterm. So if we head back to the seventh century when strzyga demons were at their height of power.”

  She clicked to the next image, an ink sketch of a village, but the pale outline of the strzyga stuck in my mind. Except for the owl wings, it was exactly what my father looked like when he'd transformed fully into his master vampire form in the arena. His body had grown larger and hands curled into claws. He'd grown large spikes on his elbows and shoulders that had burst out of his shirt. His face had morphed into those bat-like features.

  A shudder of unease travelled down my spine, and I raised my hand even though I wasn’t completely sure what I was going to ask. I just felt that there was something I needed to know.

  “January.” Professor Abbot pointed at me, and I opened my mouth to ask how the strzyga demon’s first soul died when a knock came at the door to my classroom.

  Professor Abbot smiled and paced across the classroom in her high heels. “Hold that question, January.” The teacher opened the door to an extremely tall man in a suit.

  He was so tall that he had to duck his head to get in the classroom.

  Even though the man’s suit was pressed and clean, the dark circles under the man's eyes made him look as if he hadn't slept in a week. He had high, protruding cheekbones with dark shadows underneath. His white hair parted in the middle and was slicked down against his skull, accentuating the boldness of his features. “Please excuse the interruption,” the man said as he shifted his suitcase from one hand to the other. “I need to speak to January Moore. I'm from the Hawthorn Group. She'll need to grab her backpack.”

  The whole class turned to me, and my heart picked up its pace, pumping so fast, my whole body felt like it was pulsing with my anxiety. Mitch stirred beside me, lifting his head and squinting up toward the doorway. A feeling of impending doom filled me, and I glanced at the back of the classroom where Justin was halfway out of his seat. He looked between me and the front.

  Before I was even to my feet, Justin stood beside my desk.

  “January?” Professor Abbot turned and shook her head slightly when her gaze landed on Justin. “Sit down, Mr. Roberts,” her voice broke halfway through her words.

  “No. January isn't going anywhere with some guy from the HG,” Justin growled as he leaned past me and smacked Mitch. A second later, Mitch stood close to my other side. He squeezed his eyes together, and when they opened again, he suddenly looked half-awake.

  As much as I wasn't a fan of people speaking for me, especially with the way Justin and my relationship was in the past week, I was grateful to Justin for saying what I felt. There was no way in hell that I was going to go off with some unknown man from the Hawthorn Group under any circumstances.

  It really should have been my teacher telling the random man that he needed to provide identification if he was going to take a student out of class.

  Clearly, that wasn't going to happen. Professor Abbot's eyes widened, and her jaw moved up and down like she was tapping her teeth together nervously. I respected Professor Abbot as a teacher. She knew her shit about vampire history, and she taught in a way that I found engaging, but I had no respect for her at this moment.

  The tall man’s dark gaze swept between us, before settling back on me. He seemed unfazed by the fact that we three probably looked like we were squaring up for a fight. “I’m only authorized to talk to you, Miss Moore. Your friends will have to stay here.”

  “Hey, Crypt-Keeper, just tell us who you are and what you want.” Mitch crossed his arms over his chest. “If you’re not going to tell us, why don’t you just go ahead and scurry off so I can go back to bed.”

  “Mitch, please don’t insult people on my behalf. Thanks.” I vaguely knew who the Crypt-Keeper was, some animated skeleton from a television show in the nineties, but it was a rude thing to call someone who looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a year.

  The man didn’t appear insulted, though, and his gaze didn’t waver from mine. His weary features gave off the impression of being just too exhausted to deal with Mitch and Justin’s attempt at intimidation.

  “Did Mr. Yates send you?” I asked.

  “No. The council did, but I can’t say any more than that in present company. Who I am and what I'm here to do is confidential as you are a minor, Miss Moore. With your permission, Professor Sharp has agreed to be present for our meeting as your adult representative.” He stepped back and gestured into the hall. “If you feel more comfortable, I can walk ahead of you, and we can meet in the office.”

  Holy shit. He was a social worker... or whatever equivalent this world had to it. My stomach dropped when I remembered that as far as this world saw it, I was under the guardianship of Sebastian Holter.

  “As long as we don't leave the Academy, I'm okay with going with you,” I muttered as I grabbed my backpack from the floor. When I tried to squeeze past Justin, he blocked me in. I looked up into his livid face, but he didn’t look back. “Justin, get out of my way, please.”

  “Not without me.” He clenched his jaw as he glared at the tall man.

  “Okay…” I spun toward Mitch, who smirked down at me before crossing his arms over his chest.

  “No can do, Dirtbag. I’ve been rehired as your babysitter, remember?”

  “Fine.” I climbed onto my desk and clambered ungracefully over the other side. Thankfully today, I’d elected to wear pants as I’d had no energy for shaving in the shower this morning. As I landed on the floor, a few people snickered around the classroom, though I didn’t have the energy to look back and see who was laughing at my predicament. They were undoubtedly the same people who stood around and watched as Justin publicly humiliated me and my nana. When I made it to the door, the tall man stepped out of my way.

  “Your f
riends need to stay here, Miss Moore,” he said as he looked completely over my head.

  Sure enough, when I glanced back, I found that both Justin and Mitch had followed me to the doorway.

  I threw up my hands. “Sir, I really don’t have the power to control their actions, and I also don’t have the energy to fight a losing battle. And…” I sighed, “We were all kidnapped by a member of the Hawthorn Group recently. I’ll be honest, if you called either of them out of class, I’d probably be standing where they are. The Hawthorn Group has lost our trust in a big way.”

  “Yes, I know, and rightfully so,” the man said with a nod. He offered me a large hand. “I’m Greg Walters. The Hawthorn Group assigned me to your case. I’ll go into more detail as soon we have privacy.”

  I took his massive hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  He gestured down the hall. “After you.”

  Mitch and Justin trailed us all the way to the office, walking just a few feet behind us with their arms crossed over their chests.

  Justin’s wary yellow-brown eyes didn’t waiver from me, and part of me was relieved that he was acting like he was still my boyfriend. I didn’t know what scared me more, him or the fact that I still wanted him even though something about his cruel behavior and memory loss deeply unsettled me.

  Mr. Walters led me toward the front of the school and into a large space where light filtered in through tall windows and dust motes danced through the air. I had never entered the tempered glass doors of the Blackburn Academy administration offices, and my stomach squeezed as Mr. Walters turned the knob and held the large door open for me.

  A woman I didn’t know looked up from behind the front counter. She was probably mid-fifties with brilliant green hair that matched the shade of her eyes. Professor Sharp leaned over the desk, deep in conversation with the woman.

  The young professor of Mystical Arts rolled her eyes as her leg bounced up and down. “Patrols are always dangerous, Mom.” Her voice sounded strangely younger than it was in class, with just a little petulance in it. “You want me to abandon my team?”