“Age is a rude thing to ask, because I’m not a child, and this isn’t a joke, Nova.”
“You’re a dwarf, then.”
Madeline’s vermilion brightens, the sand tumbles quicker for a moment. She reaches inside one of her incognito pockets and produces a key ring. “You drank the blood as I told you to, I see.”
“That was blood?” My eyes widen. “What’s with the key ring on that chair if you have one on you?”
“Ah, that is nothing but a relic. Decor, you could say.”
“You like to torment your prisoners.”
“You’re not a prisoner.”
Madeline carefully inserts a key into the lock. She makes sure not to touch the zapping bars. Then, with a soft click, my cell opens. I hesitate. Freedom’s one less step away, but I don’t know what else is out there, meaning I can’t be hasty.
“I’ll give you a tour on our way,” Madeline says, “but most of that tour will have to wait until after orientation. We can’t keep the other students waiting since you’ve arrived just in time to attend with them. You have impeccable timing, Nova.”
It has nothing to do with my timing and everything to do with them kidnapping me. I don’t say that, because nothing has gotten me anywhere so far. I’m tired of wasting my breath. And my stomach is killing me. I’d hold it with one of my hands at all times, but it just makes me feel and look weaker than I already am.
I haven’t felt this sick since I had a really bad flu as a kid.
Madeline picks up the glass bottle and hides it away. “I’ll get you more blood after orientation. In an insulated bottle to keep it cold.”
“Sure, thanks,” I say, itching to go.
Madeline’s legs are short, short enough that I’ll probably have to shuffle behind her. Then she starts walking, and that idea gets shot to hell. She’s fast, already at the foot of the staircase. I have to practically run to keep up with her.
I squint when we ascend the wide stairs. Each step gets brighter and brighter until the torches are left behind for normal electric lights. Instead of only plant-infested stones, the floor here is lined with royal-purple carpets.
And we’re not alone. Giggles break out down the long hall, and uniforms matching mine disappear around a corner.
“We have several main halls like this on several different levels,” Madeline says. “The castle is bigger than we strictly need as Nightshade is young. Most things are kept on the base floor, which we’re walking now.”
Castle. I’m really in a castle. And there are windows now. I slow my pace, bit by bit. When Madeline doesn’t turn around, I tiptoe to one of the windows. Indoor plants try to hide the view, but I push them aside.
It’s dark outside, and there’s a thick wall of trees in the distance. Other than those, I can’t see much. There’s an opaque fog behind it all. Strangely enough, the dark isn’t as dark as I remember. I shouldn’t be able to see that far out, especially with the contending inside lights. Weird.
I pinch off the leaf tickling my nose and roll it between my fingers. Its faint brown Color disappears, cut off from its lifeline. What’s with all these plants, anyway? Especially ones like this, with the shiny black berries. Deadly nightshade is the only thing that comes to mind. Why else would this place be called Nightshade?
This is unhelpful. What I need is a door. One that leads outside.
“Come along, Nova,” Madeline says.
More laughter sounds from close by. My skin prickles as I press myself flat against the stones, and one of the many plants grabs on to my skirt. I nearly trip over—is that a potato?
“Running late, are we?” Madeline says to the group loitering in the halls.
A girl pulls a blue lollipop out of her mouth and exclaims, “Mads!” Her Color is a sunny orange. It’s fresh and new like spring.
I don’t bother looking at the rest. Seeing so many Colors at once is doing terrible things to my stomach. Or maybe it’s the smell, like several different foods that don’t go well together. Maybe they’d smell good on their own, but together they’re a broken sewer line.
I inch along the wall and slip around the nearby corner. I don’t think Madeline’s looking my way at the moment. Her vermilion is steady, and she’s talking to the group.
Pulses grate on my ears, hearts beating like an out-of-sync band.
My hand brushes against a doorknob. I twist it and sneak inside, my back leading the way. More bright rainbow Colors flit by me, like the ones I glimpsed in the dungeon. One’s as big as a robin, though, and butterflies really shouldn’t be this bright. They’re brighter than the brightest Colors I’m used to, the ones that come from people.
Forget about it.
I stare at the door as it quietly clicks shut. Since the doorknob doesn’t jiggle, and since I hear voices continuing unaware outside, I turn around to see what kind of room I’ve found myself inside.
I’ve barely moved and my nose is practically touching someone’s neck. Chartreuse. Lime green? It’s a very specific shade of green mixed with some yellow. It reminds me of grass somehow, though grass is usually a deeper green. It’s the exact same shade of green as that dog I saw before.
Weird.
Chartreuse takes a step back. He’s a guy, based on the silhouette and height. Not to mention, he’s wearing pants instead of a skirt.
Something pulls my hair. I swat it away, thinking at first it’s this guy, but his hands are at his sides—until he cups them and swipes something out of the air right by my ear.
“Pixies,” he says, opens his hands, and blows at the tiny bright butterfly trapped between his palms. It zooms away and makes a tinkling noise. “Well, they’re all fairies, technically. But pixies are smaller and tend to be assholes.”
Uh, right. Okay. Ignoring that.
My hand itches for my phone. If this guy has the same Color as that dog, I have to know what his face looks like, but I falter. The air is permeated with something sweet, spicy, minty? What is that smell?
“You’re going the wrong way for orientation,” Chartreuse says. I can’t think of a better word for his Color, but I’m not sure it’s right. It’s a mellow Color.
His voice is airy somehow. It’s lower than mine, of course, but it’s soothing like a light breeze. An autumn breeze.
My gums hurt again. My eyes rove over those small splashes of Chartreuse, where his skin is visible, and rest on a point on his neck. My ears throb with a sound that gets louder and louder. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
Something in me screams feed.
CHAPTER 5
The door clicks open, jarring my thoughts, knocking some sense into my brain. It’s Madeline.
“You’re going to get lost, Nova,” she says. “Ah, Kian. Why don’t you join us? I’d like you to sit by Nova during orientation. Actually, I’d like you to take over completely. I need to reach the stage before the rest of you stragglers arrive.”
“All right. I can do that,” Chartreuse, Kian, says.
“Thank you.”
With that, Madeline’s gone, as fast as a spooked alley cat.
“Nova,” Kian says.
“How do you know my name?”
The chartreuse tightens on his face, where his mouth is, like semi-dry paint that just had a finger run through it. “Madeline just said it,” he reminds. “How else would I know it?”
“But you—I’ve seen you before.” And even as I say that, I think that can’t be true. I know I’m not making sense.
He is the exact same shade of green as that dog, though.
I need my paints, my sketchbook. Hell, I’ll even take colored pencils right now.
Kian chuckles, so warm it’s disarming. “We’ll be late if we don’t get going.” He holds his hand out toward the door Madeline left open. “Shall we?”
I step back into the long hall. When Kian starts walking and I try to follow behind, he adjusts his pace until we’re walking side by side. Over and over again he does that, so I give up. He must be keeping an eye on me.
My stomach is killing me, and my teeth feel like they’re full of cavities.
I can’t stop fixating on that one point on his neck.
No, Nova. No. This is all crazy, but whatever the hell is going on, you don’t want to drink this guy’s blood. Okay?
If only my mental pep talk had an effect on these unwelcome physical sensations, then I’d be able to listen.
My hand almost accidentally brushes against Kian’s. He’s walking too close, but I don’t move away. I stare at the Colors in our hands. My Color is pink, pastel pink, soft pink, lotus pink. It goes so well with his chartreuse. I knew it would but this… I think they might be perfect complements.
Time warps. One minute we’re walking down this long, empty hall, the next Kian’s pushing open ancient double doors that look like they weigh a ton. Voices erupt as a throne room is revealed. Or at least, that’s what it looks like at first, until all the rows of chairs and students start to make sense in my brain. It’s like a throne room turned school theater. I take it in for a second, the swirling Colors, a paint palette with all the little dabs touching at the edges, and the white noise of a crowd. Then my eyes are back on that specific point on Kian’s neck.
“Kian!” a familiar voice calls. “Come sit with us!”
Kian shouts back, “I’m bringing someone with me!”
Stop looking at his neck, Nova. Stop it.
The Colors and sounds make me sicker. The smells, too. There are way too many smells. My nose didn’t use to be so sensitive.
When Kian leads the way into a row, I press my arms down at my sides, doing my best to become a plank. I don’t want to touch anyone, and I succeed.
“So, who is this?” the girl who called to Kian before asks. She’s the same sunny-orange girl I glimpsed before. She’s still got that lollipop, too. It smells like blueberry sugar death.
“Nova,” Kian replies. “She’s new. Madeline just brought her in.”
“Her hair is pink. I love it.”
“She looks like trouble,” a guy says. His Color is red, a deep red, and velvety like rose petals.
That familiar and awful screech of microphone feedback rings out long and loud, silencing everyone. Madeline stands on the dais, wrangling the stand holding the microphone. It’s too tall for her and seems to be having an attitude about adjusting. Someone taller, Color like a turquoise gemstone, takes the mike off and hands it to her. It’s the person who was with Madeline at Elysian Fields. They aren’t wearing so many layers today, but their clothes are still baggy. Also, their shape is weird. It’s almost like they have a bad case of bed head everywhere their Color is visible. When I squint, I think I see black feathers.
“Everyone, take your seats and quiet down please,” Madeline says.
I sink into a folding chair and snatch my phone. This is my chance, while everyone’s eyes are on her and not me. She keeps talking, and I take a couple pictures. Turquoise is first, Kian is last—and he turns my way when my phone is lifted. Busted.
He leans in closer and whispers, “What are you doing?”
God, that smell. I can’t even with that smell. My mouth is watering again, so I keep it sealed shut, afraid my spit will spill over if I don’t.
The guy next to Kian, Rose Red, leans forward, probably to look at me too, now that my picture-taking has drawn attention. His red goes nice with Kian’s green. It’s not a perfect complement, but it’s nice. It’s in harmony and almost Christmas-like.
Kian shrugs and turns his attention back to Madeline. Rose Red stares at me for a moment longer before doing the same. His Color’s velvety texture turns hard as stone, and I decide he doesn’t like me very much.
Madeline continues, saying things like this: she hopes everyone had a good summer (for those who took summer off), that she’s glad everyone’s here, and she hopes they’re ready for another year of learning.
I look at the pictures I just took. Specifically, I look at Kian’s.
His eyes are dark brown. No, they have to be red. It’s subtle. Is he wearing contacts? It could be a fashion choice. He’d fit right in at Elysian Fields—if it wasn’t for the fact that his eyes are the only strange thing about him. He has short black hair that has that perfect mussed look, like a rock-star. Most girls are obsessed with it. Since he doesn’t lack for beauty, he’s probably part of the popular crowd.
His face is youthful, but any baby fat has been ironed out of him, assuming he’s around my age. He’s lean, but I’m sure he must work out to be toned like that. His skin is flawless, naturally tan or a light brown. I’m not sure how I would describe it, maybe golden brown. And he doesn’t have a damn freckle on him. I mean, for whatever reason, my face doesn’t seem to freckle, but my arms sure do.
“Nightshade Academy,” Madeline says, “is a place for changed humans of all ages. It started when our most gracious benefactor gave us this castle and, by extension, this land. Helena doesn’t come here often, but when she does, I expect the utmost respect from all of you.
“Some of you are here for the first time, others are returning. The road to graduation varies from student to student, meaning a newbie could graduate before a veteran. This is all about your needs. The only real requirement we have is that you learn self-control so that you’ll be capable of blending in and living with unchanged and changed humans alike. If you decide to leave Nightshade after that, you must keep your unique nature secret from the outside world. One misstep could be lethal.
“You might feel like the apex predator now, but there are monster hunters who will kill you without a second thought if they find out what you are. Staying hidden, self-control, means staying safe. Only those you trust should know your secret, and I’d argue those people should never include those who are unchanged.
“The world outside calls us monsters, but many have successfully graduated Nightshade Academy, chosen to leave, and have proved them wrong. You’re different, yes, but you aren’t lesser or any more monstrous.”
The more she talks, the more she sounds like an evil dictator trying to brainwash all of us.
I glance at the picture I took of her. She’s too far away for it to be great, but it’s good enough. Her face really is like a porcelain doll’s. She can’t be a kid any older than ten. She doesn’t act a thing like one, but she looks like one.
Maybe she is an adult and took a dip in the Fountain of Youth.
“We want you to have the best life and to protect you from hunters,” Madeline says. “That’s our ultimate goal here. Whether you decide to leave Nightshade in the end or wish to stay is up to you.
“In a moment, we’ll assign all new students a tribe. Your tribe is like your family, or a club if you don’t like the word. Whenever you travel, they’ll be the ones watching over you and you them; tribes have proved to be good icebreakers. You’ll also be assigned a partner within the tribe, in which the same things apply, but closer. Your partner is your responsibility.”
My skin crawls with the thought of this forced social structure. Good thing this school is a hack and I won’t be here much longer. If I had had to survive through something like this during high school, well, I don’t think I would have survived.
Lub-dub.
I wish my heart would stop beating so loudly in my ears.
My fingers lace together as my arms rest in my lap. But I fidget. I find my pulse in my wrist, and it doesn’t match up to what I’m hearing.
Sweet, pure and irresistible, hits my nose. It filters through everything else, and it’s all Kian. This heartbeat, too. I think it’s Kian’s.
That point on his neck glows white-hot.
Madeline continues, “For those of you who don’t know, passing through Nightshade’s borders isn’t a good idea. You’ll know them when you see them. A wall of clouds circles this place, and even though the sky might look clear, and some of you can fly, it’s a lie. Our borders extend all the way around like a bubble. If you step into the clouds, you’ll be subjected to the constant storm inside that protects
Nightshade from the outside.
“Fairies lived here first. They’re content to coexist with us, but they’re mischief-makers. Our borders, endless nightshades, everything is because of them. Respect our fairies, but don’t expect them to help you if you do decide to brave the storm on your own. They’re finicky, and you aren’t allowed to leave Nightshade until you’ve graduated. If you do, you’ll just endanger yourself and others. Not to mention, we’re out in the middle-of-nowhere Alaska. You’ll probably freeze to death before you find civilization.”
Fairies? Magical storm? Alaska? These are just crazy stories to keep us inside this crazy place. What a bunch of bullshit.
Lub-dub.
I plug my ears and bend forward. My elbows dig into my thighs. If it’s all a hoax, why do I keep thinking about Kian’s pulse, his smell, his blood?
Because they drugged you, Nova. It… That has to be it.
My gums feel like they’re being ripped apart, like there’s a stick jammed in my mouth and it keeps burying itself deeper.
“If you want to explore outside of the academy,” Madeline says, “all of Nightshade is open to you. Our town has a few shops, but don’t expect anything you’d find in a city. If you’re sun-sensitive, keep daylight in mind, too. The clocks in your dorms will inform you when the sun will set and rise each day. From here on out, the days will keep getting shorter, so that’s something to look forward to.”
I plug my ears harder, until they hurt with the force of my fingers digging into them.
If Kian’s pulse doesn’t stop, I’m going to lose it.
CHAPTER 6
I press my fingers into my forehead. My eyelashes tickle my palms as they flutter. Chairs squeal and flap as they fold up and their previous occupants stampede. Orientation must be over. If I get lost in the crowd, I might be able to find a way out of here. This is the first time I wish I hadn’t dyed my hair pink. I doubt anyone else here has pink hair, not that it’s very easy for me to tell.
“Nova, are you okay?”
I flinch when someone’s hand lands lightly on my shoulder. I even jerk away.
Nightshade Academy Episode 1: Awakened Vampire Page 3