Cold Blood

by Heather Hildenbrand

  I didn’t say anything. I was thinking about the comment Victoria had made in the lunch room, about having money. But she obviously had money, and I didn’t, so what was she talking about.

  I hooked my bag over my shoulder, dumped my trash into a receptacle cleverly hidden between shrubs, and fell into step between Logan and Cambria.

  “What class do you have next?” Logan asked.

  I dug my schedule out of my back pocket and smoothed it open as we headed back inside. “Lineage, Professor Lopez.”

  “Eww. Boring.” Cambria wrinkled her nose. “I can’t believe they’re making you take that.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a freshman class,” she said.

  “But it’s a requirement if she’s going to graduate,” said Logan.

  “Sucks to be you,” Cambria said. “But it’s on the way to my class so I’ll walk you there.”

  Logan checked his watch. “I better get going. Calculus is at the other end. I’ll see you guys later." He shuffled away with his bulging backpack and disappeared into the crowd.

  I turned and followed Cambria down a different hallway that led behind the staircase. While we walked, she peered over my shoulder at my classes.

  “Looks like we have math and history together, so I’ll meet you after and we can go there together,” she said.

  “What class do you have now?” I asked.

  “PT. Physical Training,” she said. “The rest of us have more physical training than you do. I guess they’re letting you get caught up in all the classes you missed.”

  “I’m sure I’ll make up for it with Alex,” I said.

  Cambria shot me a sideways look, letting her bangs fall away from her eyes, and stared at me. “Alex Channing?”

  “I think so. He’s going to be my tutor. Headmaster Whitfield said I need to work with him to get caught up.”

  “Oh em gee. That boy is magically delicious.” Cambria sighed and leaned against the wall behind her, a faraway look in her eyes.

  “He’s okay,” I said. I didn’t want to admit she was right, that Alex was definitely easy on the eyes, especially after how crappy he’d been this morning.

  She snapped her gaze back to mine. “Okay? He is more than okay and you get to work with him every day. I officially feel no sympathy for you. I wish I was the new kid.”

  She leaned against the wall again, pretending to swoon, and I laughed. Then the bell rang and she straightened. “You better get in there. I’ll see you after. Time to go run off all this tension you’ve given me. Later,” she called, as she jogged down the hallway.

  I slipped into the classroom as the teacher reached over to close the door. A short, balding man with a paisley tie and thick glasses peered at me. His lips were so thin they all but disappeared, but he managed to purse them in annoyance.

  “You must be Miss Godfrey." His voice was surprisingly deep for such a small man.

  “Yes, sir. Sorry I’m late.”

  “You weren’t. If you were, I’d have already closed the door and you wouldn’t be permitted inside.”

  I didn’t really know what to say to that so I nodded and waited while the teacher drifted back towards his desk. Behind me, I could hear a few quiet snickers, but I didn’t turn. I didn’t want to see it.

  The teacher turned back to me and held out a thick red textbook. “I’m Professor Lopez. Here’s your book. You may take a seat and follow along.”

  I nodded and turned to scan for an empty seat. It wasn’t hard to find one. Most of the seats were empty. Only about six were filled. Unfortunately, one of the six was a brunette I’d seen shadowing Victoria. The one with lashes that drooped under the weight of her mascara.

  I took the empty desk furthest from her and turned to the page Professor Lopez called out.

  “Today we are reviewing the Wilhelm line, starting with Jacob Aster. Can anyone tell me what he is known for?” Professor Lopez asked.

  A single hand went up.

  “Miss Lawler,” Professor Lopez called.

  A petite brunette with a French braid spoke up. “Jacob Wilhelm is responsible for coordinating and executing the Boston cleanup of 1868.”

  “Correct,” Professor Lopez said, turning to make notes on the board.

  When his back was turned, a small folded piece of paper landed on my desk. I grabbed it and looked around but no one was looking at me. I unfolded the piece of paper, careful to keep my eyes on Professor Lopez. I had a feeling that passing notes didn’t go over well with him. When the paper was laid open, I slid my book over it and then glanced down, peeking underneath the book to read the words.

  ‘Dogs should be kept on a short leash. Watch your step.’

  I let the book fall back into place and pressed my lips together. I looked up as Professor Lopez turned around again and resisted the urge to scan the room a second time. My money was on the trampy looking minion, but who knew for sure. The entire school felt this way; it could be anyone. I studied the backs of the heads around me, until I was certain I hadn’t had a direct encounter with any of them – yet. Again, that didn’t mean anything.

  When no more notes came, and no one went out of their way to shoot me a dirty look, I tried to tune back into whatever lecture the teacher was giving–something about Boston and cleaning up the streets–but I couldn’t concentrate.

  Instead, I let my thoughts drift to home. I’d only been here for a few hours, but it felt like I'd already been gone for days. Did anyone at school notice I was gone? Were Sam and Angela telling people I’d left? Were they still going to the mall for girl’s night without me? I remembered the phone in my bag, still powered off, and was glad I’d thought to bring it. First chance I got, I’d call them, and gossip for as long as the battery lasted. Once I’d promised myself to call, I felt better, and my thoughts drifted to Wes.

  What was he doing right now? Was he thinking of me? The big question was whether I should tell him about the message from Miles. I knew if I did, he’d freak out and maybe even insist on coming up here to be nearby, to protect me. But as much as I missed him and wanted to see him, I didn’t want him out there, roaming the woods day after day, either. The balance between boyfriend and protector still felt off to me and I wasn’t quite sure how to fix it yet.

  Besides, I wasn’t convinced Miles’ message was that threatening. I mean, he didn’t even know where I was. And he’d made it sound like coming to get me was on the back burner until he’d finished doing other things. Who knew how long that would take? For now, I decided to let it go, and not freak anyone out. We all deserved a break after the chaos of the last few weeks.

  The bell rang, jolting me back, and the few kids in the room pushed and moved, heading for the door. Professor Lopez ignored everyone by going back to his desk and burying his face in a paperback with the picture of a cowboy on the front.

  I packed up my stuff, including the anonymous note, and shuffled towards the door.

  “Miss Godfrey.” Professor Lopez looked up from his novel and frowned, like I was the one interrupting him. “You’re coming in late, so there will be a lot of lost time to make up for. Everyone in this class is making up the work so we are on an accelerated schedule as it is, but I will need you to complete some extra credit in order to pass the class and not return to me in the fall.”

  I nodded, already deciding I didn’t want to return to him.

  “You will need to complete a family tree project and hand it in to me by the end of the year. Here are the details.” He shuffled some papers around, and handed me a flyer with instructions.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t thank me yet. You have a lot of work to do and I won’t be giving you a free pass just because you’re a Godfrey, either.”

  “Okay.” I stuffed the paper in my bag, trying to figure out what he meant. This was the second time today I’d been targeted based on my family name.

  Professor Lopez went back to reading his book, signaling our conversation was over, and
I decided to let it go, with him at least. I’d get my answers someplace else.

  Cambria was waiting for me in the hall. “Hey,” she said, pushing off from the wall and falling into step beside me. “How did it go with Loco Lopez?”

  “Is that what they call him?”

  “That and Lonely Lopez, Loony Lopez. There’s a bunch. He’s not really loony… I think. Heony’s really into the past, so he takes his job way serious.”

  “So, Lineage is all about the history of famous Hunters and stuff?” I asked. I was letting Cambria lead the way, since I had no idea where I was going, and I had to dodge bodies to keep up with her.

  “Basically. You also learn about your own family line. Is he making you do a research paper?”

  “Yeah, some kind of family tree thing.”

  “Snooze. You should ask Logan to help you. He’s a pro at that sort of thing.”

  “Writing research papers?”

  “Getting A’s.”

  *

  Math and History were uneventful. Cambria fell asleep in History, while Professor Hugo – who looked like he’d be more comfortable fighting wars than talking about them–lectured about the Cold War. I guess human history was still relevant, after all. I tried taking notes, so I could figure out what I missed, and find a way to get caught up, but I was distracted; either by thoughts of home or of everything that had already happened here. Thankfully, I didn’t get any more hate mail.

  When class ended for the day, Cambria and I were the last ones out. She waited near the door while Professor Hugo gave me a long list of chapters to read and a list of essays due on each one. Apparently, he wasn’t cutting me any slack, either. His thick brows knitted together and became one as he squinted down at me, but I wasn’t sure if it was something he always did, or if he already didn’t like me. I took the handouts from him and assured him I would get to work as soon as possible.

  “So do you want to hang out?” asked Cambria.

  “Sure, I–” I stopped outside the door at the sight of Alex leaning against the wall, arms crossed in a look of impatience. “Hey,” I said to him.

  “Finally. You ready?” he asked, pushing away from the concrete.

  “Yeah,” I said, trying not to sound like I’d forgotten –which I had.

  He started down the hall. I looked at Cambria apologetically, who was grinning like a moron at the back of Alex’s head, and then hurried to catch up.

  “How long is this going to take exactly?” I asked.

  “We’ll train until dinner and then you can eat and have free time.” He didn’t even look over at me as he talked, but stared straight ahead at the almost empty hallway, and kept walking.

  “Until dinner? Every day?” I repeated his words because I wasn’t sure what else to say. If I thought I had a choice at all, I would have argued, but I knew that I didn’t. Just like I had no choice about anything else that was required here, just like I’d had no choice in coming here in the first place. “What about weekends?”

  n huI’ll let you know once I’ve seen you in action.”

  I gritted my teeth, determined to be good enough to get the weekends off.

  I expected Alex to lead me out the front doors and back across the courtyard we’d crossed earlier, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned right and took a door that let us out in the back of the building, on the opposite end as my Defensive Maneuvers class. The door clicked closed behind us, and Alex turned and headed into the trees. There was no sign of a trail or path, and I had no choice but to trust Alex knew where he was going.

  We walked for several minutes, dodging branches and stepping over low bushes, until we finally emerged onto a wide trail and turned right, following it further away from the school. Even on the trail, Alex walked fast enough that he stayed a few steps ahead of me, instead of walking beside me.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Almost there,” was all he said.

  A few minutes later, the path opened up and the trees disappeared and we stood at the edge of a large clearing, bordered by tall pines and oaks. The grass was cropped short, like it had been mowed recently but it was still nice and green.

  “This is where we’re going to train?” I asked.

  Alex walked further out into the field and turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “Yes.”

  I wandered out to where he stood. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Touch your toes.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Touch your toes. You need to stretch out before we start,” he explained.

  “Oh, right,” I mumbled.

  I dropped my bag and bent down and touched my fingertips to my sneakers, holding them there until I felt the pull in the muscles behind my knees. Alex did the same.

  I followed him through a few more stretching exercises and then straightened, waiting to begin.

  For a long moment, Alex looked at me. His head was tilted to one side and even though his eyes never left my face, I had the feeling he was taking in my entire body, down to each individual muscle. When he spoke, his voice was brusque, and I wondered if maybe he didn’t like what he saw.

  “Before we can get into technique or positions, I need to see you move,” he said.

  “Move how?”

  “Attack me.”

  “Seriously?” I stared at him. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Come on.”

  I took a slow step forward, unsure what to do. Alex watched me, his expression teetering on boredom.

  That did it. I might not be able to move like the kids here, with all their power yoga and kung-fu kicks, but I’d taken down more than one Werewolf in my time. He didn’t have the right to look bored.

  I squared my shoulders, bent my knees, and ran at him. The moment my body was in motion, Alex tensed. Not nervously, but in a way that said he was readying his muscles for action. He didn’t move forward to meet me, though; instead choosing to wait and let me come to him. When I was two steps away, I leapt, closing the distance in the air, with my arms extended in front of me.

  I swept out with a fist, knowing he’d swerve to miss it, and came around quickly with the other.

  He was fast. He managed to swerve and duck out of both punches.

  I fell on him, the impact sending us both to the ground.

  He tried to roll away from me, but I pushed hard against his shoulders and let myself become dead weight against him, pinning him momentarily in place. I raised my fist, ready to bring it down on his jaw, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see his free hand already coming around to knock me loose.

  So I did the only thing I could to win.

  I brought my knee up as hard as I could–into his groin.

  His eyes rolled back, and he let out a guttural groan.

  I rolled off, knowing the fight was over, and sat up, feeling incredibly guilty for the low blow. I wasn’t even sure why I’d resorted to it except that I’d needed to prove I wasn’t completely useless, and I knew if I’d lost the fight, it would permanently ingrain me as a loser in Alex’s mind. My self-respect–or temper–wouldn’t allow that.

  Alex rolled away from me and writhed on the ground. He was groaning and making me feel even worse. “I’m really sorry,” I said.

  No answer.

  After a minute, he finally rolled back over and managed to sit up. He was breathing heavily and glaring at me. A vein in his temple stood out against his sun-tanned skin and it made me think of a cartoon character whose eyes were drawn like they would bulge out of their sockets at any moment. The image was enough to make me smile but I held it back, knowing that would be a mistake.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said, through gritted teeth.

  “Are you sure? I couldn’t think of any other way to avoid your fist.”

  His eyes narrowed, but some of the heat in his expression diminished. “You saw that?”

  “Yo
ur hand coming up? Yeah, why?”

  He sighed, seeming to come to some internal decision, and slowly got to his feet. “I can’t fault you for doing whatever you could to win. And your instincts and awareness under pressure are good if you saw my hand coming up. Most people wouldn’t have from that angle. I know from personal experience. Let’s agree that from now on, a hit like that is off limits. Deal?”

  I scrambled to my feet and faced him, relieved at how easy that had been. “Deal,” I agreed before he could change his mind.

  We got to our feet, and Alex walked a few steps away, stretching his leg muscles carefully. I waited, not wanting to make it worse by asking if he was okay again. It was probably best not to bring it up anymore. And I was still distracted by his sort-of compliment about my fighting skills. He didn’t seem like the type to dish out praise very often.

  “Okay, I think we should work on technique,” Alex said, returning to the center of the clearing. He looked ready to go again which was kind of impressive. I knew my strength was more than that of a normal seventeen year old and he had to still be feeling the effects of my knee. But he didn’t show it. “You’re attack was basically head on, which is okay. I mean, it tells me a lot about you.”

  “Like what?” I asked, not quite sure I was going to like the answer.

  “Like the fact that you’re impulsive. You like to act first and think later. And you’re slightly overconfident. You don’t really care if I see it coming, because you’re convinced you can win.”

  My chin came up, and the glow of his compliments faded. “But I did win,” I pointed out.

  “Which is why I said slightly and not completely overconfident. Your reflexes are good, though, and so are your instincts. We can build on that. And from what I’ve been told, that warehouse fight wasn’t your first encounter with Werewolves, and you managed to not get killed up ‘til now, so I have to assume there’s some raw talent there.”

  He paused, eyeing me in a way that seemed to suggest he was planning what to do with me next. A ripple of excitement shot up my back under his gaze, and I clamped down on my muscles, mortified that he’d somehow see it and say something.