Safi opened the large padlock, with a magical combination of movements that weren’t letters or numbers but symbols that meant something to the Circle of Quartz. Lorna would change these before the night was through. As soon as we were on the other side of our great estate, the stranger looked up and straight at us.
“You must be Katrina Snow Quartz,” he said. As I sensed his being, I knew he was a werewolf. It was the first time in a while I’d been at this close proximity with his kind. His voice had a southern twang, common around these parts but was deceptively deep for his years. He couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than me, though he had the composure of someone who knew what he was doing and had done for a long time. He turned to face us, trying to decide which of us was destined to go with him.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said sounding throaty. His eyes lit up. Literally. They were the most brilliant tone of amber with the flecks of an open fire. They gave a glow to his entire face, which had the same beautiful tone as Safi’s. He stepped towards us, staying cautiously away from the metallic gate but into the final rays of sunlight reflecting from the horizon so I could see his hair was the colour of chestnuts. His facial features had a ruggedness to them which I took in as much as he did mine. He would have been attractive but for the reason he was here. And that he was a werewolf. The only bigger taboo than being attracted to him was being attracted to a full-on vampire, apparently something my mom hadn’t care less about. From the periphery of my vision, I saw Safi take a step back until she was standing pressed up against the gate.
“I’m Ulric,” he said, shoving his hands into the undersized pockets of his jeans. He ignored Safi’s nervous fumble, continuing to watch me, eyeing my blooming which was giving off such a bright silver sheen that it must have given my arm a halo. “You don’t look part vamp.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment,” I replied. For what seemed like several minutes but was probably much shorter, the three of us stood there in a clumsy game of statues, not doing or saying anything.
“We should get going,” Ulric said breaking the silence.
“Fine, give me a minute,” I said, turning to Safi, who had tears streaming down her face. She looked more distraught than I’d ever seen her. “I’ll be okay,” I said hugging her for what would be the last time in who knew how long. I didn’t really believe I would be okay but didn’t know what else to say. Ulric had shrunk back, presumably to give us some privacy.
“I’ll just stand here until you leave,” said Safi in a small voice.
“No, please go back inside,” I said peering at the coven one last time. No one else was out there in the garden. Not to see me off and not to make sure Safi got back inside alright. “I’m not leaving until you’re at the other end of those bars.”
Safi hesitantly turned her back on me and re-opened the padlock in a way that Ulric couldn’t see what she was doing. Once she was at the other side of the gate, she held onto the long metallic lines. It crossed my mind that she looked more like a prisoner than I did. I no longer really knew which side of that gate bred more hopelessness.
“Are you ready?” asked Ulric, coming a bit closer again.
“Yeah,” I replied, taking my two fingers, touching them to my lips and placing them on Safi’s hand. “How are we getting there?” I asked as the werewolf led the way, away from Safi and all that was familiar.
“We could walk. But if we do, we won’t make it on time for my classes and your registration,” he replied.
“I’m not really in the mood for B.S. right now,” I said.
“Then be glad they sent me and not some D-List blood-sucker on the wrong side of the academy.”
As I followed Ulric down the lonely path lined with a grove of oaks, I instinctively scanned the inky sky to check for the phase of the moon. I already knew in my head, that the moon was waning but still, one could never be too careful walking alone, after sundown, with a werewolf whom I’d known for a solid two minutes.
“I don’t need it to be full to change,” answered Ulric, picking up on my covert glance at the sky. He was astute.
“Where exactly are we going?” I said.
“To my car, of course.”
“Why didn’t you park closer?”
“I wanted to keep it safe from the faery dust you people might have had floating about – that might have gotten into its engine and caused it to go all wonky,” replied Ulric. He couldn’t have been serious. “Here she is, my Little Red Riding Hood.” Cute.
The car was one of those vintage Mustang convertibles that had been restored to its original greatness. Even though it was now getting dark, I could see its shiny candy-apple red paint that looked like it had really been taken care of. Ulric opened the passenger door as if we were about to go on a first date together. I hesitated for a second, then got in. For a werewolf, his manners were better than some warlocks I knew. Then again, it wasn’t to win me over he’d done that, it was to ensure I didn’t try anything. He got into the driver’s side and started up the engine.
“I take it you don’t want the roof open?” he asked.
“Not really,” I said and he rolled down his window instead. We drove in pin-drop silence for about fifteen minutes. I had already started to feel like my time at the coven had been a whole lifetime ago. If indeed, I had a vampire bloodline, I couldn’t help but wonder why a werewolf had been sent to pick me up. What was his rank at the school and how could they trust he’d bring me back?
“I can either put the radio on or tell you a little about St. Erzsebet’s Academy?” offered Ulric when as expected, it was plain that we had nothing in common apart from that we were trapped in the same car together, heading to the same academy.
“I very much doubt we’d share the same taste in music,” I replied, turning my face away as we drove onto U.S. Route 90.
“Have it your way. St. Erzsebet’s is in the heart of the Crescent City. The school was founded and run by Aramastus Nadasdy over two hundred and fifty years ago when it had to be run in secret. As things have changed the one thing that hasn’t is that he’s still the principal at-large.”
“Has he not heard of retirement or moving on?” I said. Those credentials did nothing for me and I silently noted that despite my criticism, Lorna was no spring chicken either.
“He’d be old if he was a mortal but he’s a born vampire. His bloodline is pure – he’s a Sanguine. They can live across a millennium. The school has three different wings all within one complex. The best one is where the Sanguine vamps live and the other houses the Novus – new bloods who are turned mortals and need to be schooled in all things immortal.”
“And the third is for werewolves?”
“Yes ma’am. And other shifters that your uppity Supernatural Light Alliance hasn’t successfully managed to obliterate. Although, from what I’ve heard we don’t have any of those this year.”
“Wait a minute, are you saying it’s the S.L.A.’s fault that werewolves and certain shifters end up at Bloodline – I mean St. Erzsebet’s Academy?”
“I’m not saying anything. I just think that our choices aren’t exactly unlimited.” Ulric rolled his window up. Silence. Despite there being not much to see, given the route and time, I found myself looking out of the window, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever little piece of the outside world I could.
We rarely left the coven on long sojourns and when we went out, mostly ended up either in the main town of Lafayette, close to the coven, or in some cypress-lined bayou to make magic. Babette called the bayous nature’s playground, as the most powerful magic was rooted in the natural elements. There were other Crystal Covens we’d visit too. It was mostly a formal event that happened every few months with a different sister coven that would host a witches’ circle. It was a way for the High Priestesses to weave some new spells with other seasoned witches but also served as a social gathering for the likes of us. The novices. For us, these were meant to be an opportunity to form lasting bonds with oth
ers.
When a warlock coven was present, these socials mostly fuelled the same rivalries that they would anywhere else. Netflix had taught me that it became more like what might happen at a dance at a high-school then.
Once in the absence of Lorna, Babette had taken Safi and I to ‘Witching Hour’, downtown Lafayette’s only saloon run by an older coven of witches, exclusively for witches. The rest had all been taken over by rambunctious werewolves and most nights the places ended up trashed due to a bar fight. Babette had only been willing to take two witches, out of eleven, as she couldn’t properly protect anymore. All of us had bent over backwards to be chosen. It had been a night that had ended in utter mayhem. The saloon had been raided by rogue vampires and many witches had been killed. Safi had almost been killed and she had been swarmed by werewolves to within an inch of her life. As a result, she was deathly afraid of them and I realized how brave she’d been coming to see me off, standing there, face to face with one. Needless to say, Babette had never taken us out like that again after what had happened a couple of years ago.
“Have you been to New Orleans before?” asked Ulric, turning to me. When he said it, it sounded more like New Awlins.
“No,” I answered. “And I know nothing about the school, apart from the usual that everyone knows.”
“What’s that?” asked Ulric.
“Just what you’ve told me about the students there. I already knew who went there. It’s also well-known that the building the school now uses, once belonged to the Ursuline nuns and was used as a convent for young girls brought over from France.”
“Then you must know the whole thing was just a front, back in the days when supes couldn’t roam freely out in the open.”
“You mean the whole legend of the casquette girls?” I asked. Safi loved the gothic story about how the girls, thought to be of high virtue, had been sent by France to bring civility to the French settlement of Louisiana. The legend said, they’d turned out to be vampires instead. This had all happened in the earlier part of the eighteenth century and even in the supernatural community especially amongst those of non-dark blood, it was still a thing of great mystery and intrigue. For young witches and warlocks, it was a story handed down at the hearth to thrill as well as to warn about the conniving of vampires.
“It’s not a legend. More a vampire heritage story. It’s how they first came to the city and to this part of the world,” said Ulric, his eyes glowed, impassioned by the topic.
“You’re saying the whole church thing was just a guise?” I asked, dumbly wishing Safi were here. She’d have loved to listen.
“Of course. Vampires have always been the most cunning of all the supes and whatever they do, they do it in style. You’ve gotta give it to them,” Ulric softened his demeanour. “You’d obviously know about the witch trials in North America?”
“Obviously. And those in Europe,” I said. Clearly, he did think our covens were all unicorns and ‘faery dust’ as he’d called it.
“Did you know that in parallel to the witch trials, there were ones for werewolves too?”
“No?” That surprised me.
“There were. And there were four times as many werewolves hunted and put to death over the centuries as there were witches. Warlocks remained safe enough throughout the massacres though,” said Ulric, shaking his head.
In our history classes at the coven, Babette had consistently taught us that witches were the most vulnerable to mortals and other supernatural communities. She did touch upon vampires being hunted and staked through the ages but had framed it in a way that it was inevitable for the survival of everyone else
“What about the vampires?” I asked.
“What about them? They were the ones that instigated the scapegoating of werewolves and the witches to regain their superior foothold. Did you know that certain shifters believe that even the warlocks were on side with the vamps to get rid of some of the most powerful wolfpacks and witch covens?”
“I – no.” I didn’t know if I could trust him. Maybe he was doing some preliminary brainwashing before I reached Bloodline Academy? That would be wholly possible if he wasn’t trash-talking vampires too. I doubted that would have gone down well with Nadasdy and the others. One thing I did know, was that the witch trials were a sore point to this day between witches and warlocks. When tens of thousands of true witches had been caught up by the hysteria that had once swept the world, warlocks had broken away from us to keep their own secret safe and their covens intact. They had knowingly abandoned their magical sisters, wives, mothers and daughters when help had been most needed. I was starting to see an ominous pattern.
“The casquette girls came over, as the first wave of vampires to North America. And unlike what you might have heard about them being poor, quivering orphans taken in by the church, they were actually from one of the darkest vampiric bloodlines in the whole of Europe. And in true vamp style, they used something like religion, the very mortal instrument that’s always persecuted the crap out of them and other supes, as a perfect guise.”
“Smart,” I said. The werewolf sitting beside me, driving us closer towards my doom every minute, had made me completely question everything I thought I knew. “Are they really that bad?” I asked.
“They know how to survive and do it while giving everyone else the finger. They don’t play by the rules, they make them. And when you find your place amongst them, so will you,” answered Ulric. Instead of freeing me and giving me hope, what he said felt menacing. Inside the car, it was hot and muggy. I still felt a shiver run through me.
“Then why do you – and all the other shifters – attend St. Erzsebet’s?”
“I can’t speak for the other shifters but many of the other werewolves there have been conditioned to believe we were separated from or left to die by our packs.”
“And you don’t believe that?” I asked.
“Like you, I don’t really know what to believe,” replied Ulric, reading me accurately, “But Kane, my alpha at the academy, believes our pack members were murdered by the Sanguine vampires so they could sweep in and train us for their own purposes.” Ulric was sullen.
“Why don’t you run away?” I asked. Take me with you, I thought.
“You think it’s that simple? Once you are called to attend St. Erzsebet’s, even if you make it to graduation, you never really leave.”
What the hell did that mean? Why couldn’t I have been blessed with Safi’s gift of vanishing from one place and re-appearing in another? I felt the dread that I’d somehow managed to stave off since departing from the coven. The coven and those within it whom, apart from Safi, had turned their backs on me in an instant. I reached into my pocket and felt for the crystal. It was my only chance of ever getting out alive.
Chapter 5
New Orleans was bustling, as we pulled into its French Quarter which was illuminated at every stretch by bars, restaurants and nightclubs. The city had always been that way but since the supes had come out properly about their existence (of course it had been the vampires to do so first), it had taken partying to a whole new level. Vacation spots the world over had taken a magical twist where mortals could get up close and personal with different supernatural species. At a passing glance, it was easy to tell who was mortal amongst the crowds as many of them had some or the other brightly coloured badge or lanyard that had been provided by their tour group. They were also the ones stumbling the most from having drunk too much. Werewolves could outdrink mortals a hundred times over and because they held their drink well, it was known that their rowdy behaviour was besides the drinking and not because of it.
The old Ursuline Convent came into view and I shuddered as we drove onto Chartres Street which was completely deserted compared to what I’d seen of the rest of the city. Bloodline Academy in all its dark, creepy glory. The monument was only lit on the outside by sparse lampposts in the street. There was some scattered lighting in some of the windows of the second floor but it still se
emed so vapid. So menacing. The windows on the third floor were all secured shut.
“Crap, we’re late!” said Ulric as he pulled up to the curb next to the whitewashed plaster wall that ran along the outside of the place.
“How do you know?”
“Do you see anyone else out here? Let’s get going before we’re punished.” Ulric leapt out of the car, leaving it right there on the street. I hauled the strap of my bag onto my shoulder and followed him, without thinking that this could have been my only slim chance of escaping, while he was distracted by the trouble he might get into. Ulric looked nervous as he turned back to make sure I was coming. We rounded the corner to old gothic iron gates that framed a lush courtyard that was apparent even in the dim lighting. It led to the main entrance of the academy. I’d expected heavy duty guards around the perimeter of the place but there were none. I wondered if vampires used some kind of magic to seal entrances and exits the way witches did. Before I could ask, Ulric pulled something out of his pocket that looked like a sleek silver pen.
“Ladies first,” he said handing me the instrument.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” I asked taking a closer look.
“You prick your finger and draw your blood. Then you swipe it on the gate.” He said it like it was meant to be obvious. “Because no one attends the school without having been summoned, it’ll be expecting your blood at some point anyway, so it can be on record. As this is your first time, it’ll use the sample to let you in – like an attendance register.” Like that was so normal.
“No way am I doing that!” I protested. “And that’s your personal needle – or whatever it is. I’m not sharing it.”
“Don’t you carry a knife of some sort with you, seeing as you’re a witch?”
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