Nightshade Academy Episode 1: Awakened Vampire

by Kestra Pingree

  “Start,” the Crow says.

  CHAPTER 11

  Primary Blue runs. His Color lights up, zeroed in on specific points of concentration: hands, feet, legs, eyes, his center. Kian still doesn’t move. Primary Blue is about to throw a punch at him. I can’t help visualizing that punch connecting, and the two Colors merging together like watercolors, but these Colors don’t work like that. They’ll bounce off each other and stay well within their own containers.

  Primary Blue’s punch flies through the air, but it doesn’t connect. Kian bends over backward, impossibly far, into a bridge. Then he springs back up just as Primary Blue loses his balance and falls forward. Their heads crack—I mean, crack—and Primary Blue howls. He drops to the ground and holds his head in his hands.

  “Shit!” he yells. “How hard is your head, man?”

  “Harder than yours, apparently,” Kian says.

  “Kian,” the Crow walks forward and places his hand on Kian’s shoulder, “that was really unconventional, and not at all how I’ve taught you to fight.”

  “I know, but I also sized up my opponent the way you taught me, and knew I could get away with it.”

  “Arrogance can lead to downfalls.”

  “It wasn’t arrogance,” Oskar interjects. “He needed to feel some pain too, or he’d have really hurt the guy.”

  “Anger can also lead to downfalls.”

  Kian nods.

  “I get it. I appreciate the thought, but I can fight my own battles.”

  Kian nods again. “Sorry, Crow. Won’t happen again.”

  The Crow slaps Kian’s back hard enough to make him stumble forward. “Good man. Let’s get back to it.”

  “These Nightshade weirdos are nuts,” Primary Yellow hisses.

  “Wes, you okay?” Crow asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Go again.”

  Primary Blue’s Color is dubious. It vibrates like it wants to run and switch Colors entirely. It has a purple undertone all of a sudden.

  Primary Blue and Kian face off the same way they did before. This time, though, Kian strikes first. He darts to the side like he’s about to leave the fight, but then he darts back. He assumes a zigzag pattern. Primary Blue tries to match him, but he can’t keep up with Kian’s speed. Then Kian starts adding strikes, a jab with his knuckles, and then a sweep of his leg. Primary Blue goes down hard, but he rolls it off. He’s back on his feet in a second. He catches Kian’s incoming fist, but Kian jumps. He laces his fingers through Primary Blue’s and flips over Primary Blue’s head. Once again, Primary Blue finds himself on his ass. Worse. The back of his head hits the black gym floor with another crack.

  “I’ve seen enough,” the Crow says. “You’ve been assessed, Wes. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Primary Blue winces as he sits up and rubs the back of his head. Kian holds out his hand and says, “Good job. You’re not bad.”

  Primary Blue hesitates for a moment before taking Kian’s hand. Kian pulls him to his feet, and Primary Blue’s Color reverts to its natural state with no more purple. “You too,” he replies.

  “Next pair,” the Crow looks around the room and points, “Nova and Oskar.”

  I balk. Then I scramble for something to say, an excuse, a way out of this. “I can save you the trouble of assessing my abilities. I have zero fighting experience and self-defense knowledge. Just put me in with the newbies.”

  “Sorry, Nova. Everyone has to be assessed. Your natural strength is important to take into account, too.”

  I hold up my arms. “You see these sticks? I’m weak as weak. Moving on.”

  Someone chuckles. At first, I think it’s one of the Primary Colors, but it’s too warm. And then I see Kian’s chartreuse. It’s a deeper green than normal. Oskar’s red, on the other hand, is as prickly as a cactus. He steps up to the center of the gym. My feet stay frozen in place because I am not going over there.

  “Sometime today, Nova,” the Crow says.

  “I really don’t want to.”

  “We all have to do things we don’t want to do.”

  “My mouth is dry. Can I get a drink first?”

  “Hurry.”

  I walk to the west wall, where I left my bottle. Blood is rushing in my ears, different scents tangling in my mind. I’ve gotten used to it more or less, but Kian’s scent is cutting through. For some reason. My stomach is tying itself into knots.

  “Nova, you’re slower than a snail,” the Crow says.

  My fingers shake as I wrap them around the blood bottle. I unscrew the top and take a quick, junkie swig. It hits my stomach like a boulder. My heartbeat focuses in my head, and I know it’s the onset of an awesome headache. My gums hurt again, too. I won’t be surprised if all of my teeth start falling out, because that’s what it feels like is going to happen—it already happened with my canines.

  Kian’s scent wafts past me even though he’s no closer to me than anyone else. Honey-sweet, chai spices, mint leaf. Those three things describe it best.

  I start to salivate.

  “All right, Nova. We’re all waiting on you,” the Crow says.

  I swallow the hunger, the bloodlust, and walk to the center of the gym. When I face Oskar, I prepare to face my doom. If his Color was tangible, barely touching him would slice me up into ribbons. That rose red is sharp. I catch a whiff of his scent, too. When my bloodlust gets like this, scents grow stronger. Much stronger. His has an orange tang. Blood orange. But something underneath is rotten, fermented. Only Kian’s scent is pure.

  “Go, Nova!” Emery shouts. “You got this. I’m on your side, okay? Don’t listen to the Crow. It might sound like he’s being mean, but it’s just his tough love. He’s really a big softy on the inside.”

  “It’s not the Crow she has to worry about.” Oskar cracks his knuckles.

  “Go easy on her. She’s new, and you actually are a big meanie.” Emery turns her attention back to me. “But don’t worry about it, Nova. The Crow won’t let things go too far.”

  That doesn’t make me feel any better.

  “And start,” the Crow says.

  “Wait—”

  Rose red streaks in my vision, bleeding out at the edges like blood. My only reflex is to duck and hold my head, so I do. I become a ball on the ground. I know Oskar’s going to hit me—or something. I’m not sure what to expect.

  Lub-dub.

  Lub-dub.

  That’s not my heart beating. It’s steady, smooth, and so much like Kian’s chartreuse.

  “Nova, move!” Emery shouts.

  My body moves. Before Emery finished, it started moving.

  I roll to the side, scramble to my feet, and run. Most of the time, I’ve been ignored, but whenever bullies did target me for physical assault, I’d run. I’ve never punched anyone in my life. It’s better to disengage.

  “Out of bounds,” the Crow warns, but I don’t stop.

  “Get back here, coward!” Oskar roars.

  When I look over my shoulder, he’s right on my ass.

  Faster, legs. You’ve got to go faster. As if a little positive thought is all it takes to change the world, and my physical capabilities, I speed up. Impossibly.

  Someone whistles, a low impressed whistle that I shouldn’t be able to hear. “She’s fast.”

  Kian. Why do I know his voice so well? Why is everything he does highlighted? Why am I salivating when I just drank some damn blood?

  “Oh. She’s getting faster,” one of the Primary Colors says.

  “Oskar!” Kian shouts, and he laughs again; it’s a pure, warm sound that gives me goosebumps because no one sounds like that. “She’s leaving you in the dust.”

  “Well, this isn’t supposed to be a damn race!” Oskar growls.

  How do I turn these vampire senses off? I hate this.

  I go around and around the gym in record time. The last lap takes only five seconds. The world is a blur of Colors, like everything has turned into an abstract painting, or like my vision lost a
ny ounce of normal it had.

  “Nova!” Someone grabs my arm. I’m moving so fast I drag that person along with me for a moment, but they dig in their heels. We stop. Panting, I look over my shoulder to see the Crow.

  “I’ve seen enough,” he says. He has to pry his fingers off my arm with his other hand. “I think you froze my joints. Sorry about the mark.” He shakes out his hand, and my arm throbs. I can’t see past my Color, but I feel the bruise.

  A roar sounds from behind us. Oskar finally catches up—but he isn’t slowing down. He leaps into the air, like, six feet. The Crow grabs me and tosses us both onto the floor and out of the way just in time for Oskar to make impact. The gym floor groans, cracks, and breaks under his force.

  “Great,” Emery says. “Now our gym has a crater in it.”

  The Crow lets me go and hunches over, looking over the edge of the crater. It’s only about a foot deep. Only. What am I talking about? That’s insane. How did he do that?

  “Did you break your hand?” The Crow’s turquoise bristles a little, the dark blotches growing.

  Oskar stands, shakes out his hand, and winces. “Maybe.”

  “You need to learn to control that temper. Also, have fun repairing the floor. You break it, you fix it.”

  Oskar huffs.

  My hands touch the floor as I think about getting to my feet. But it burns. Like the ground is on fire, or like it’s been baking in the sun. I recoil, pressing my hands to my aching stomach. Now my ass is on fire too, but there’s no reason for it. I know that. The floor is fine—except for the spot Oskar demolished.

  Kian’s scent wrecks my nose. My nerves are on overdrive, and I can’t breathe.

  I think I might be having a panic attack.

  Then something touches me. My hand, specifically. It pulls, rips through my skin like dry ice. I fling my hand back reflexively, like I’m slapping away a bee or something, but the touch doesn’t leave. It’s heavy, chartreuse, and I just launched it over my head. I fall back too, into an awkward backbend.

  Kian’s hand is on my wrist, yanking my arm nearly out of its socket. He’s in a backbend too, except his feet are actually planted firmly on the ground, while my wrist is the only thing keeping his head from touching the ground.

  “God,” he says, “I forgot no touching. I was only trying to help you up. Sorry.” He lets me go, but his head never touches the ground, because his core is apparently made out of steel. He bounces like a spring, suddenly on his feet. “I think you stole my move.”

  “Nova, sit out,” the Crow orders. “You’re done for today. I’m putting you with the newbies.”

  Which was what I told you to do in the first place. At least the floor isn’t burning anymore. Weird.

  I’m about to get up, but Kian holds out his hand to me. “The offer still stands.”

  “No thanks.” I doubt taking his hand would do anything to me in particular, but with the way he turns on my bloodlust, I don’t want to chance it. It’s better to stay away from him. His scent is killing me. He’s like an entire buffet, and I’m hungry enough to eat the whole thing.

  That’s really gross.

  “Emery,” the Crow says, “you’re up. Patty, you too.”

  I go back to the wall with my blood bottle, slide down it, and take another swig like it’s whiskey. Hey, Mom. I’ve become a drunk. You never saw that coming, did you? Or maybe you did. Either way, you wouldn’t care if I came home with alcohol, underage or not.

  I hug my knees into my chest. I rest my nose in between them and ignore the heartbeat pulsing in my head.

  “Do you need to go to the infirmary?” Kian asks as he and Oskar approach my wall.

  “Nah,” Oskar replies. “If it’s broken, it’s a fracture. It’ll heal on its own soon enough.”

  “Not that quickly.”

  “What are they going to do for me?”

  “Probably nothing.”

  “Exactly.”

  Kian wraps his arm around Oskar’s neck, though he’s shorter, and rubs his knuckles against his head. “Maybe they won’t let you go to Barrow with the rest of Belladonna now, you troublemaker.”

  “Of course they will.” Oskar catches Kian’s hand and twists out of his hold. “You won’t have a buddy otherwise.”

  “Emery buddied with us since we got here. Maybe it’ll be me, her, and Nova this time instead. The New Musketeers.”

  Oskar huffs. “Don’t even joke about that. It’s like your fantasizing about the beginning of your very own harem. It’s gross.”

  “C’mon. I’m not a harem kind of guy.”

  “Emery would kick you in the balls if you made a move on her anyway.”

  “Luckily, for everyone involved, that’ll never happen.”

  Oskar’s red is calm when he’s with Kian. It takes on some of the chartreuse stillness. Not the Color, just the stillness. They must be close. I’ve seen this sort of thing before between the Colors of friends and lovers. Parents and children.

  I wonder what that’s like, because Mom and I don’t have it.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Seatbelts on. We’re taking off.”

  I haven’t gone outside once since the sun burned the hell out of me in Madeline’s office. Now I’m sitting inside an airplane—yes, an airplane—and staring out the window. This thing is on a landing strip pointing straight into the clouds marking the borders.

  “Here we go!” Emery exclaims. She’s sitting next to me. She insisted on it, and I guess someone had to sit by me since the plane isn’t big. It’s a private plane with no defining designs. It’s a shiny jet black.

  “Isn’t this exciting, Nova?”

  I don’t know why Emery still bothers to talk to me. After that first day of school, I resorted to silence; I haven’t said a word to Emery. I’ve talked when I’ve had to, and Emery doesn’t count for “have to.”

  The engine fires up, and the plane rolls forward, jerking me back into my seat. I stare out the window, watching as the trees in the distance disappear. There are so many plants. The gardens almost look nice, groomed, but the fairies and pixies are a deterrent. So is the sun. Technically, I could explore on the weekends. I’d have the whole night to myself, and I’ve thought about it, but what’s the point?

  My bloodlust won’t chill out, no matter how much of this piss I drink.

  I itch for my blood bottle, but we’re not supposed to have any items out until we’re well into the air. The bump of the plane’s wheels rolling up inside of it signals that first wave of weightlessness. The scenery outside my window quickly disappears as fog takes its place for a split second. Then it’s dark clouds and lightning: a growling storm.

  Madeline wasn’t lying about this either.

  BOOM!

  Holy shit. We must have just missed that streak of lightning, but the aftermath of its thunder is brutal. I’ve never been this close to a lightning storm, and I’ve certainly never flown in one.

  I cover my ringing ears with my hands and say, “We’re going to die.”

  Emery whips her head around so fast her long hair hits me in the face, micro-braid after micro-braid of a mini whip barrage. “So you haven’t lost your voice after all. I was beginning to wonder. It’s been two weeks since I’ve heard you say a thing. Two. Weeks.”

  She’s been keeping track…

  Lightning flashes so bright I can’t see. The world is a blinding white, and thunder rumbles through my body. When I blink away the white, I expect to see fire, but I don’t; the plane isn’t damaged.

  “We’re safe,” Emery says. “The fairies and Madeline have an agreement about this plane.”

  “Tell that to the lightning three feet away from us,” I retort.

  “I can’t believe you’re talking to me again. Is that how it is with you? When you’re used to something, you’re silent, but when you’re nervous, you spit out a string of sarcastic remarks?”

  Lightning flashes again. I grab my seat, fingers digging into velvety purple fabric. Little specks
of light flit around outside. At first, I think it’s my vision recovering from another intense flash, but then one gets close to the window. A fairy, its Color brighter than any human’s. It sticks its tongue out at me like a two-year-old and flits away. A pixie, then.

  I press my hand to the window. Gray passes by in wisps, replaced with white, and then there’s nothing but a clear night sky. I can see the clouds behind us, contained and tidy like a wall. Above me, there are stars as far as I can see. Below me, there’s what must be the flat remains of summer tundra. It just keeps going.

  “See? We lived.” Emery holds up my blood bottle. “You look like you could use this.”

  I take it from her and drink. One gulp, two gulps.

  I should be used to this perpetual stomachache, but it’s really starting to wear me down. It makes talking even less appealing than it already is.

  Turning away from Emery, I rest my head near the window and take off my seatbelt. I close my eyes, cradle my blood bottle like it’s a precious baby, and close my eyes. When we get to Barrow, I’ll hopefully have cell reception, and then I can at least call my mom. Madeline said she’d take care of things. She even reported back a week later and said that the house has been abandoned and that she couldn’t find a way to get in contact with my mom; she left without a trail. Do I believe the very short vampire? No. No, I don’t.

  Or, at least, I don’t want to.

  “Nova, wake up.” Something binds me and clicks. Emery just put on my seatbelt. “We’re landing.”

  I resist the urge to groan. My stomach feels worse. It’s slowly been getting worse. Does that mean I’ve been drinking too much blood? But I’ve made it last the day like Madeline told me to. This sucks.

  Emery’s pointer finger flies up just below my nose and beyond, until she’s practically sitting on top of me—if not for her seatbelt restraining her. “Whoa. Check out that aurora.”

  I lean as far back as I can manage, doing my best not to touch her, and glance out the window. Green and pink swirl and dance in the air like a humongous ribbon. I’ve seen pictures in books, on the web and in school, but they don’t do this justice.