by J.J. Bonds
**********
I inhale deeply allowing the scents of the stable – hay, manure, horses – to fill my lungs. Maybe I’ll learn to ride. I’ll bet Keegan could teach me. How hard can it be? I decide to check the corral to see if he’s around.
“Foiled again,” I murmur turning the corner to discover that while Keegan is in the corral, Shaye is here once again. Why couldn’t Aldo send me to a larger school? I keep running into the same people everywhere I go. Shaye turned up earlier this week in my Anatomy class. So much for being invisible.
“Hey,” she calls cheerily tipping her chin at the late afternoon sun. She’s wearing an oversized plaid shirt that’s belted at the waist like a dress and a bright red cowgirl hat which keeps her face and neck shaded. She must come out here a lot. She’s certainly better prepared than I am, but I don’t anticipate the late afternoon sun will be an issue. I’ve brought my sunglasses, and, if I start to burn, I’ll return to the protection of the stables.
I step up to the rail and climb to the top, straddling the upper berth next to Shaye.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” she asks.
“I don’t know much about horses,” I admit. “But they certainly are impressive. I was thinking Keegan might teach me to ride.”
“Like I told you before, he’s a great instructor. Very patient. Keegan taught me to ride a few years ago. Before him I was practically a lost cause.”
“Good to know,” I reply, studying his movements. Keegan moves fluidly. He moves in concert with the animal, each anticipating the others’ moves before they’re made. I have no idea what breed he’s riding, but I can’t help but stare in awe. She’s got a shiny black coat and large hooves that could easily crush a human skull if provoked.
“With his coaching I’ve ridden every breed in the stable from the Quarters to the Arabians. If you’re serious, Keegan will teach you whatever you want: racing, jumping, hunting. Most of the students here don’t bother to learn,” Shaye continues. “The horses are just another resource. Here for the bleeding. Keegan’s just another servant to them.” The bitterness that creeps into her voice catches me off guard.
“Something tells me Keegan doesn’t serve anyone but those animals,” I reply. Perhaps it’s not the horses that keep Shaye coming back. I hadn’t given Keegan much thought during my last visit, but her comments make me uneasy.
Keegan must be of mixed-blood. I should have realized sooner. I’d been so wrapped up in myself this week that I haven’t stopped to think much about those around me. The school doesn’t run itself. We are surrounded by support staff. Most of who are likely transfigured vampires performing jobs no respectable pureblood would ever consider. The protection offered by the school combined with the constant blood flow would likely present an attractive and comfortable lifestyle to those without a coven or a strong sire.
“So, how’d the first week go?” she asks, a bright note returning to her voice. “Feel like you’re getting the swing of things?”
“So far, so good.”
“Liar,” Shaye returns, laughing as a gentle breeze tugs at her hair. If possible, she looks even more innocent and juvenile.
“That’s a bold statement.”
“But I’m not wrong.” She shrugs confidently and swings her feet over the side of the corral.
“How can you be so sure?” I ask slightly annoyed. It could be going well. I will not give Shaye the satisfaction of admitting she’s right even though we both know she is.
“I have a sense about these things. Sorry. I should have told you. I always know a lie when I hear it. And I haven’t been wrong yet,” she finishes pointedly. “Not that I’d need to be psychic in this case. I do have two perfectly good eyes, you know. Besides, you’re an outcast by choice, so I won’t make the mistake of feeling sorry for you. With such a powerful uncle, you could rule this school if you wanted to.”
“If only.” I roll my eyes. “This place isn’t really my scene. I’m here to learn because that’s what my uncle wants. I’m not here to climb the social ladder and play politics. It’s never been my strong suit. Aldo says I’m too headstrong for my own good.”
Just thinking of Aldo brings a smile to my lips. Already I miss him more than I would have thought possible.
“Better to be headstrong and independent,” Shaye says.
She doesn’t have to finish the sentence. I know what she means. Better to be headstrong and independent than to be one of them. I study her as we sit in silence. Once you get past her bizarre sense of fashion, we’ve got a lot in common. It would appear we view the world in the same cynical shades of gray. I wonder what’s made her like this and quickly chase the thought from my mind. I know why I’m this damaged, and that’s enough for one soul to bear.
“It’s difficult to lose one you love,” she whispers to the empty corral. “Death isn’t exactly common in our world.”
I wonder if she’s talking to me or to herself when I realize that Keegan has vanished. Yes. We’re more alike than I’m comfortable admitting. Neither of us quite fits the Crossroads mold. I suddenly have the urge to escape. To be free of this connection that Shaye has thrust upon me. Feeling unsettled, I absently rub the gold cuffs on my wrists. I can’t bring myself to leave without offering Shaye something in return.
“I see the life-force of the donor when I drink. Flashes of life. Memories. It’s not nearly as much fun as a lie detector and not nearly as useful, but it’s mine.”
There. Now she knows one of my secrets. Now we’re even.