by Sage, May
Chloe looked around. Her place in NOLA had been slightly more spacious, but definitely not nicer.
"That's amazing, thank you."
Blair grinned. "You want amazing? Watch this."
She sat down on the floor in the middle of the room, hands on her lap, eyes closed, and seemed to concentrate. Her pale skin emitted a warm glow. Chloe gasped as her hair moved with a wind she couldn't feel.
"Well? What do you think?"
Chloe was concentrating so hard on the witch that she hadn’t noticed anything at all. But when she looked around, her jaw dropped. The walls weren't purple anymore; they were now beige, with blood-red flowers running through them.
"A little too emo for you?" Blair guessed. "I bet you're a blue person."
Chloe did, in fact, like blue. But she shook her head. "No, that's absolutely perfect. Thanks again. You've been amazing."
"And now you want to rest," Blair guessed. "All right, so Intro is at ten tomorrow morning—mandatory for all newbies, be they freshmen or postgrad. Head over to the main court. You need to choose your courses by the end of the month—between now and then, you're welcome in any classroom. As long as you don't piss off the teacher."
Chloe chuckled. "Levi said that too. Do teachers ban students when they don't like them?"
Blair was too busy staring at her in horror, as if she'd sprouted a second head, to bother answering.
"Blair?"
"Did you just say Levi? You spoke to him? As in, the Leviathan? Or do you just know a random Levi? Like, Levi Smith or something."
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Levi De Villier. I totally thought it was some sort of a nickname, by the way."
Blair resumed her silent, horrified stare.
Well, as her mentor didn't seem to be leaving yet, Chloe went to the wardrobe and found a duvet on a top shelf, as promised. She pulled it down, grabbed some sheets, and started to make her bed.
"All right. Spill. Details."
"There's nothing to say."
Wasn't there, though?
Chloe wasn't inclined to share the things she'd put behind her. The bounty hunters, the witches, the bodies.
"We traveled together from London, that's all."
"You traveled from London with the fucking Leviathan?"
Chloe shrugged. "So what? And what's with that stupid name?"
"That's his name, and whether or not he was born with it, trust me when I say he's earned it. Whatever you heard about the demon of the abyss? That was Levi, having fun with sea familiars in the seventh century."
"Seventh century," Chloe repeated, slowly.
How old did that even make him? They were in the year forty-three of the Age of Blood, so…
"He's over fifteen hundred years old?"
"No," said Blair.
Chloe sighed in relief. The thought of having met something quite that ancient was terrifying.
"He's over two thousand years old. Did you pay attention when I was talking about the first generation of vampires? Well, he's the firstborn son of Arthur Davell, founder of those we now call De Villier."
Chloe thought about how she'd recognized his otherness. She'd pretty much said that she didn't think he was a run-of-the-mill vampire, and he hadn't denied it. The revelation still blew her mind.
"So, he was turned…"
"He wasn’t turned at all. He was born, and then changed," Blair amended. "Most vampires have been turned from human to immortal at some point. But somehow, those who were turned by Ariadne directly are different. They can give birth to children—born vampires. They're extremely rare."
"Born," Chloe repeated, trying to take it all in. "Sometime during the first century of the last era."
"Winter, year ninety-nine. Well, he isn't sure whether it was early in the year one hundred or year ninety-nine. They didn't keep close records in those days. We learn that in Advanced—"
"Immortal History?" Chloe guessed.
She was starting to feel like she should take that class if she wanted to get to know the neighborhood. Which was a crazy notion.
"Right. But my point is, he lives on the hill, comes and goes from Oldcrest as he pleases, and occasionally pops by the Institute's research facility…but he doesn't talk to us. It's like…" Blair attempted to find an equivalent that Chloe would understand but fell short.
"Meeting the president?"
"The president is a lot more accessible than the Leviathan, Chloe."
She was starting to get it.
"So, he's vampire royalty."
"Technically, yes. The vamp queen who rules the northern half of Europe is one of his nieces, Bella De Villier. But even she defers to him. Very few things as old as him are alive in this world."
Chloe grinned. "Do I detect a crush?"
"No." Blair was adamant. "I have a crush on a history and a combat teacher, on a bunch of actors, and the prince of Spain. Levi is practically a god. I'm fucking terrified of him."
Chloe could tell she wasn’t kidding.
She paused, wondering about her own sense of self-preservation, because after the first moment in front of Rose’s Coven, when she'd rightfully believed he might want to harm her…she hadn't been afraid of him.
Not at all.
"Interesting," was the only reply she could bring herself to make.
A Stranger in the Night
Before departing, Blair told Chloe she'd better avoid casually mentioning Levi around the school. As she definitely didn't want a repeat of her mentor's reaction, Chloe decided to heed the advice. She wasn’t one to purposely bring attention upon herself.
Chloe thanked her mentor for the beautiful flowers on her wall, and they wished each other goodnight.
The moment the witch left, Chloe's smile disappeared. A good night wasn't likely, now that she was alone with her thoughts.
First things first. The temperature was warmer inside the dorm, but she was still feeling cold. Chloe finished making her bed, then went to draw a bath in her small en-suite.
Small but delightful, with a cast iron sink and a clawfoot bathtub. She wished she had a bubble bath soak, but she’d only traveled with a small shower gel. She’d have to see if the handful of Adairford shops stocked any. She had a notepad in her backpack she should use to start writing down everything Blair had said, along with a shopping list. First item: decent outerwear.
Fresh towels had been left on a rack. She got undressed, dropping her clothes on top of the toilet, and wrapped the towel around her chest before returning to her bedroom.
She would have sworn she'd left her bedroom light on, but the room was now dark. Frowning, she reached for the light and turned it back on.
Chloe's heart jumped, and an uncontrollable spasm made her shiver from head to toes. A dark figure was standing right in front of her, his back to her.
He was dressed all in black with a leather duster—the sorts of things a bounty hunter would wear. Chloe wished she could scream, but she was frozen in alarm.
Then he turned.
Recognizing him, she yelled at the top of her voice, "You fucking moron! You could have given me a heart attack."
She wasn't sure he hadn't.
Levi just seemed amused, as was apparently his way. He lifted a small object in his hand.
"I promised, I deliver. I'm nothing if not a man of my word."
On closer inspection, the object was a flask containing a clear liquid.
"What the hell?"
Chloe had no clue what it was.
"Sleeping draught," he said. "After this morning’s unpleasantness, I promised I'd have my alchemist concoct something so you can sleep."
Right. Now that her heart wasn't beating at a billion miles an hour, she remembered something to that effect.
"Cool. Next time, knock like a normal person."
Only he wasn't a normal person. Everything Blair had just shared came back to her.
Two thousand years old. Frightening. God.
She didn't see it. Oh, he was intimi
dating enough, and if power were a scent, he’d be wearing it in spades, but he just seemed…
"Yeah," he said with a laugh. "I wonder how that'd go down with your dormmates."
If they were anything like Blair, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.
"Right, of course. I heard the whole 'Leviathan is the Big Bad Wolf' thing."
"Oh no. Plenty of big bad wolves in the woods. I'm a step or two above that."
He seemed downright smug about it.
"And no doubt you enjoy it," she said, rolling her eyes. "Well, thanks for the…draught thing. I was about to take a bath so I don't freeze to death."
"Is it cold?" he wondered. "Very well. Enjoy your ablution. The draught is to be taken when you're quite ready to sleep, and I recommend you set two or three alarm clocks, to be safe."
"I will. Thanks ag—"
She never finished that sentence. One instant, he was right there in front of her. The next, there was shadowy smoke, and then nothing at all.
Well, he certainly knew how to make an entrance. And a departure.
One Step at a Time
The hot water was delightful, breathing life back into her frozen limbs. Chloe remained in the tub long after her skin had begun to wrinkle, until the scalding hot bath was lukewarm. Finally, she forced herself to get out. The bedroom's temperature seemed quite adequate now that she wasn't in danger of frostbite. She sat on her bed and took the translucent flask in her hands, eyeing it mistrustfully.
She'd tried melatonin, valerian, and various sleeping aids in the past. After her father's arrest, her doctor had even prescribed her the stronger stuff. Nothing had worked.
"Oh well."
There was no harm in trying. Already, she was replaying the events of the day, and she could feel it happening. The trembling hands, the flashes through her mind. Her brain was an asshole. It always replayed traumatic events so accurately, as if trying to show her things she should have done, details she'd missed the first time.
Like the smell. The corpse's smell had been heady and sickening, but also strangely…intriguing.
Chloe uncapped the flask and drank it in one go, throwing her head back. It either would work, or it—
She groaned, feeling around herself for the offending device screaming in her ear. Opening her eyes to see what she was doing might have helped, but she did her best to keep them closed as long as possible.
Finally, fingers closing around her phone, she peeked at it with one squinted eye.
An unknown number was calling. Chloe sighed. This was a brand-new phone with a sim card from the UK. Surely, spammers hadn't gotten their hands on the number yet.
Reluctantly, she pressed the green icon.
“Miller.”
“I'm your alarm clock,” said an unknown, irritable, and somehow menacing male voice.
“What?”
“You're welcome.”
On that note, the rude stranger hung up. Chloe stared at the phone in disbelief for a good half second. Then, her eyes actually took in the time displayed on the screen, and she jumped to her feet.
Shitty cake! Nine-thirty. Walking from the Institute to the dorms had taken a good half hour with Blair the previous day. She was late on her first official day.
Chloe brushed her teeth with one hand and her hair with the other. She didn't have time to check the mirror above the sink, so the likelihood of having toothpaste in her hair was high. She grabbed the first pants and top from her bag, along with the satchel where she kept her wallet and notepads, and her jacket.
Bursting down the staircases and out of doors, she stopped on the threshold, her mouth falling open. Sometime overnight, the world had frozen into a winter fairy wonderland. Oldcrest had seemed beautiful the previous day, but covered in fresh snow, it was the most enchanting place in the world. All right, she might not have seen much of the world, but the picturesque scene was hard to beat.
She didn't have time to appreciate it. Nine forty-seven. She had thirteen minutes.
“What are you doing?” a guy asked from the threshold.
She hadn't noticed him standing there. She took him in with a glance. He was her age, perhaps slightly older, and wore gray suit pants, a black tank top, and a halter fitted with two guns.
A billion questions came to mind—such as, aren't guns illegal in England?—but she didn't have time for them.
“Preparing,” she replied, crouching down to stretch her legs.
“What for?” the guy asked, but she was already twenty feet away, so she just waved her hand in the air as a goodbye.
Shit, she was going to regret running without any proper stretching. Not so long ago, the two and a half miles heading up the castle would have been child's play, but Chloe had stopped running track right after high school. Her poor muscles protested against the effort, and her breathing was labored, weak. But she pushed through, forcing her legs to leap as fast as they could through Adairford’s main street, onto the drawbridge, and then past the strange translucent gates.
She'd made it. Chloe glanced at her phone. Four minutes to spare.
She grabbed hold of her knees and tried to catch her breath before looking around the courtyard.
Unlike yesterday afternoon, it was mostly empty except for a small gathering. Chloe forced herself to stand upright, like a civilized person, and smiled.
“Hi there. Sorry I overslept. Did I miss anything?”
The group was diverse in every way—age, size, color, and breed, no doubt. Chloe would have sworn she was the only regular here, although she would have a hard time telling whether the redheaded guy playing with a knife was a shifter or a witch. Next to him stood a gorgeous ebony-skinned woman who was wisely wearing long pants and a ski jacket. Definitely not a shifter, as they didn't tend to be affected by the cold. She could be a witch, or something else altogether. There was also a young boy who couldn't have been much older than twelve. He had jet-black hair and pale skin. The last member of the group was a bald woman with tattoos on her scalp; she was as short as the teenager but looked to be in her forties.
“No matter, Miss Miller,” the short woman said, her voice distinguished and authoritative. “You're right on time for the introductions, if you'd lead the way.”
Chloe grimaced. Right. Introductions. She didn't even know what to say. Who was she, really? For the last few years, she'd defined herself as either someone's daughter or a waitress. Before then, she would have listed her clubs, activities, her GPA. Now, none of that applied.
“Okay…my name is Chloe Miller and I'm from Colorado. I left the state when I was eighteen, and I've traveled through ten different states since, but I've never been outside of the USA until now. For the last few years, my home was NOLA.”
“I've been to NOLA,” said the brown woman, beaming. “It's pretty awesome. And the witches there are hardcore.”
“Good. Very good.” The small teacher inclined her head. “I believe Miss Miller was sponsored by the NOLA coven. The Institute isn't only a place where you're expected to learn. You will also network, make connections that can serve you for the rest of your life, long after you leave us. Next time you're in NOLA, Miss Kanye, you may want to give a call to Miss Miller and see if she could get you an introduction to the witches, for example.”
The woman looked hopefully at Chloe, who nodded. “Sure. I can ask.”
“This,” said the teacher, “is the very heart of the Institute. We are a powerful force because we have alumni in every corner of the world. Miss Kanye, you're next.”
Miss Kanye’s first name was Gwen, and she introduced herself as a witch. “I have a strong link to one element, but I'm pretty useless at controlling it.”
The guy with the knife chuckled. “That's one way to put it. I've seen water witches call a bit of rain, but that much snow? I think all of Oldcrest is covered.”
It was impossible to tell considering her complexion, but Chloe would have sworn Gwen blushed.
“Yeah, well. Miss Paxton ask
ed me to show her my limits.”
“And did you reach your limits, Gwen?” the teacher, who must have been Miss Paxton, asked.
The witch shook her head. “I don't think so? Not sure.”
Miss Paxton smiled kindly. “Well, we'll certainly establish that in the next few years. Read, your turn.”
“I'm Easton Read, huntsman. I graduated ten years ago, and I'm back here for my master’s.”
Short and sweet. Everyone seemed suitably impressed. Chloe cleared her throat and lifted a hand. “Sorry. Huntsman?”
All eyes turned to her.
“Ah, yes. Miss Miller is a regular,” said Miss Paxton.
The expressions ranged from surprise to indifference, but the young boy seemed downright angry.
“Huntsmen are an authority with a worldwide reach. When a rogue supernatural creature steps out of line and becomes a danger to those around them—human or regular—the huntsmen intervene. I understand the United States attempted to create their own institution.”
“The PIA,” said Chloe, nodding.
The Paranormal Investigation Agency was well known, particularly since their head office blew up a couple of years back. They pretended everything was fine, but rumor was they'd lost most of their power.
“Yes, that's it. Well, your agency was built specifically to protect regulars. The huntsmen act for the good of all.”
Now Chloe was rather impressed with Easton Read, too.
“Speaking of.”
Miss Paxton had seemed rather severe until then, but she broke into a sunny smile, hand outstretched as she gestured to something behind Chloe. She turned with the rest of the group to see the guy who'd been in front of the dorm a little while back. He was now wearing a jacket, but Chloe could still see the outline of his two guns.
“Jack, if you please.”
The man approached Miss Paxton and bent down to drop a kiss on her left cheek.
“Mimi. Beautiful as always.”
“Oh, you devil.” She chuckled before returning her attention to them. “Mr. Hunter is a legacy here. His family has trained among us since we began admitting huntsmen among our fold. While he is officially a student like any of you, he was raised in these walls. If your mentor isn't available, I recommend you seek his help.”