Nightshade

by Андреа Кремер

  I scanned the index of Sign and Symbols in Human Culture. “It is getting a little frustrating. Not one of the crosses I’ve read about sounds like your tattoo.”

  We both looked at the stacks of books strewn up and down the table. Nothing. We’re finding nothing. This is useless. Frustrated and exhausted, I folded my arms, letting my forehead rest against them.

  “I think we’re back to square one.” Shay slammed a massive art history text shut.

  “And where exactly is square one?” I turned to look at him.

  “Translating the book.” He pushed the art book aside, pulling The War of All Against All back in front of him.

  “You’re probably right about the book.” I rolled my head back and forth, working out the kinks in my neck. “But maybe you should skip ahead.”

  “Huh?” He was already flipping through the pages.

  “Instead of the beginning, look at the end,” I said. “You said the woman sang to you the last lines of the text and then sang ‘Here rests Haldis.’ So, maybe it’s the final section of the book we should read and not the beginning. You said it was the shortest anyway, so at least it will go faster.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” he said, opening the book from its back cover.

  I went back to staring at woodcuts of medieval crosses on the page that lay open before me. Shay cleared his throat. I looked up, but his eyes were fixed on the Keeper’s text.

  “So there was something I wanted to ask you.”

  I frowned at the artificially casual note in his voice. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve overheard a lot of talk at school recently about this thing called Blood Moon.” He picked up the Latin dictionary, fiddling with its pages but not really looking at it. “I guess it’s only a few days away now.”

  “Yep.” Don’t go there, Shay. Please. Please.

  “What’s it all about?” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Oh,” I said with a measure of relief. “Um, let’s see. It’s called the Blood Moon Ball, but everyone just says Blood Moon for short. It’s kind of a weird event, like a Halloween party mashed up with a cotillion. The parents of the human boarders come in for the event before they drag their kids back home for fall break. There’s always a chamber orchestra, lots of booze, and they don’t ID anyone. It’s ridiculous but generally fun. If you’re connected to the school, student or parent, you’re invited. The adults tend to drink a lot, talk about their stock portfolios, and write checks to the school. The students also drink a lot and dance in fancy clothes they’ll never wear again.”

  “Why is it called Blood Moon?” he asked.

  I flexed my fingers like talons. “Because it’s held on the first full moon after the harvest moon. That moon is called the blood moon.”

  He stood up and walked to the window, watching leaves drop like rain. “But why blood?”

  “Because the full moon gives the best light for hunting at this time of year.” My limbs twitched at the thought of a hunt. “It’s the time of the Great Hunt. The blood moon is also known as the hunter’s moon. This year it’s on October thirty-first. It’s late for blood moon, but that’s when it will happen.”

  He turned to look at me. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just call it a Halloween ball? Or do your masters object to stashes of mini- candy bars?”

  My mind stuck on the image of Logan trick-or-treating for a second; I wondered what he would dress as. “No. It’s Samhain, remember. Halloween isn’t the real holiday. The Keepers are suckers for the old ways, their traditions. So it’s the Blood Moon Ball; it always has been.” As soon as I mentioned traditions, my stomach cramped.

  “And everyone goes? Not just the humans?” He sounded more nervous now.

  I nodded and eyed him warily, suspicious of his changing tone. “It’s a good party. Everyone goes. Blood Moon and prom are pretty much the only events that the entire student body socializes at together. I think they exist only to give the humans some marker of normalcy at our school.”

  He drummed out a quick rhythm on the tabletop, and then his words tumbled out. “So, I know it’s really short notice, but I hope you’ll forgive me for being a guy and not thinking about this stuff in advance. Would you like to go with me?”

  My stomach toppled into my shoes. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of.

  “Calla?” I didn’t want to look at him. “Are you going to answer me?”

  “I can’t,” I said quietly, glancing at him.

  He leaned against the table, his mouth cutting into an unfriendly smile. “Why not?”

  “I’ll be with Ren. I’m going to Blood Moon with him, but only for an hour or two. That’s the same night as our union.” I concentrated on the page in front of me. “Just drop it.”

  “I can’t take the union seriously, Cal,” he snapped. “You and your wolf prince mated for all eternity because somebody else says it’s the way things have to be. It’s bullshit and you know it. And Ren doesn’t even realize how lucky he is to have you; he’s too busy screwing all the other girls at school.”

  “He is not! Would you lay off Ren for once?” I sat up, glaring at him. “You’ve been hanging out with us almost every day and he’s been perfectly respectful, despite what you pulled at Burnout and the puppy eyes you constantly throw at me.”

  “Puppy eyes?!” Shay blurted, and lurched to his feet. He shoved his chair aside, slamming books into his backpack.

  “Shay.” I wrapped my arms around my waist, feeling sick again.

  “At least I know how you really feel about me.” His voice shook as he jerked at the zipper of the bag.

  Then I was on my feet, my hand covering his. “Stop, please. That’s not how I—” My voice choked off; I knew that sentence was impossible to complete.

  “Not how you what?” He grasped my hand, pulling me close. His other hand cupped my face and his thumb stroked my cheek, sending curls of heat beneath my skin. I pulled back and fled to my chair, shaking my head.

  “Please don’t. I can’t.”

  I swore as I swept away hot trickling tears from my cheeks. I didn’t know what was wrong with me; I never used to cry and now I was constantly fighting off tears.

  “Calla.” When I looked up at him, I saw how horrified he was that I was crying. “God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  We returned to our work in strained silence. Shay put in earbuds, blasting music so loud I heard the scream of guitars from where I sat.

  The sky behind the stained glass windows was ink black when Shay abruptly pulled the earbuds out. I looked up at him questioningly.

  “The union is the night of Samhain?” he asked. “The same night as the ball?”

  “Come on, Shay.” I rubbed my temples. “I really can’t talk about this anymore.”

  “No, it’s not about you.” He gestured to the Keeper’s text. “It’s about the date.”

  “Yes, the union will happen at Samhain,” I replied with a frown. “October thirty-first.”

  The furrow of his brow deepened. “And why is it then?”

  “Well, it’s one of the eight Sabbats—the days of power for the Keepers,” I said. “Samhain is one of the strongest Sabbats.”

  He tapped his fingers on the pages. “When the veil between the worlds thins. I remember you saying that.”

  I nodded and he looked back at his notes; his expression grew worried.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s kind of ironic. There’s a ritual involving the Scion that is supposed to happen the night of Samhain. I’m not sure what exactly it is, but it seems to be the event that this whole section, Praenuntiatio volubilis, is focused on. There’s a word I’m having trouble with; it means ‘gift’ or something similar. The context it’s in is really strange.”

  “Gift?” I repeated.

  “Or something,” he said, turning back to the dictionary. “Whatever it means, the Scion is connected to your holiday.”

  “It’s not really my holiday, Shay, it’s ju
st the day the Keepers picked for the union,” I said. “You’re saying their book describes you being there too?”

  “Well, that’s the thing. What I’m reading here doesn’t seem like it’s about a union. I’m not sure what it is,” he said. “A lot about two worlds and darkness.

  And there are several references to the Scion. It mentions some kind of gathering that has to do with this ‘gift,’ but I’m having trouble making sense of it.”

  “So how do we figure out what it means?” I asked.

  “Maybe you need to dump the search for my tattoo and read more about Samhain, find out what other kinds of rites might take place other than your much-anticipated union.”

  “Ren said something interesting about Samhain last week,” I said.

  He glanced at me. “So we’re sharing information with Ren now?”

  “Not about our . . . project; I’m just trying to find out more about the Sabbat myself,” I replied. I felt like I was going into the ceremony blindfolded and I hated it. “Anyway, he said that it’s a dangerous time. That the spirit world is unpredictable because it’s more powerful when the veil thins.”

  “How does Ren know anything about that?” he grumbled.

  “Lay off, Shay,” I snapped. “His mother was killed by Searchers during an attack that happened on Samhain. That’s why he knows.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” He tapped his pen on the table. “Searchers killed Ren’s mother?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How old was he?”

  “It was on his first birthday,” I said.

  “Man, that sucks,” he said. “Though it does explain a lot about him.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” he said quickly, getting up from the table and heading for the stacks. “We should get back to work.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE NEXT MORNING SHAY WANDERED INTO homeroom with a haunted expression on his face. When the bell ending the period rang, I waved Bryn off, heading over to Shay, who remained at his desk and watched me approach.

  “Hey, Cal.” Dark shadows lay under his eyes; it looked like he hadn’t slept at all. “Can I convince you to skip your next class?”

  “If it’s important,” I replied, fear settling in my bones.

  I walked alongside him to the school’s student lounge, which was quiet and empty. He sat down, pulling up another chair next to him. When I sat down, he put his face in his hands and sat silently for a moment.

  “What happened?” I could barely hear my own whispered question.

  “You know how you told me that Searchers killed Ren’s mother in an ambush?”

  I nodded.

  “Was her name Corinne Laroche?”

  “Yes.” Why is he asking about this?

  His jaw tightened briefly. “I went through the Haldis Annals for the year after you and Ren were born. I wanted to know if anything had been recorded about that attack.”

  I watched him in silence, feeling a bit irked that he’d ignored my request to leave the books alone but curious about what he’d discovered.

  “There was no attack,” he said quietly. “Corinne Laroche was executed.”

  It felt like time slowed, as if the air had been sucked out of the room, making any reaction impossible.

  “It’s true, Calla.” He spoke in hushed tones. “She and some of the other Banes planned a revolt against the Keepers. The Searchers were helping her.

  The Keepers discovered the plot and she was punished.”

  My muscles slowly came back to life, shaking.

  “They killed her, Calla,” Shay said. “And they laid a trap for the Searchers who were coming to aid the rebellion. When the Searchers showed up, the

  Keepers had a force assembled that slaughtered almost all of them.”

  “But Ren . . .” I choked, unable to finish the horrifying thought.

  “They lied to Ren about what happened,” he murmured, sounding like he might be sick himself. “From what the entry said, it sounds like they lied to all the wolves who weren’t involved in the plot and eliminated those who were.”

  “It can’t be true.”

  “There’s more.” He took my hand. “When I read about Ren’s mother, I went back through the War of All Against All looking for other revolts. That’s how I learned about your history. Your real history.”

  Clasped between his warm fingers, my skin felt cold and lifeless. “What do you mean my ‘real’ history?”

  “I worked through the later sections of the De proelio, the part that described that last major conflict in the Witches’ War, the one you call the Harrowing.”

  “But I know all about the Harrowing,” I said, frowning. “It was a terrible time of bloodshed, many Guardians were lost, but it was still an important victory for the Keepers. One that almost rid us of the Searchers.”

  “No, Calla. That isn’t what happened.” He took my other hand in his, forcing me to meet his eyes. “The Harrowing wasn’t the annihilation of the

  Searchers. It was when the Keepers quelled a Guardian revolt. The Searchers attempted to aid the rebellion, and the Keepers staged a devastating counterattack. They culled Guardians and Searchers alike. And the Keepers created a new weapon that helped turn the war in their favor, something called the Fallen. I’m not sure what it was, but it made the rebellion fall apart. Any Guardians and Searchers who managed to escape went into hiding.”

  I pulled my hands from his grasp, wrapping my arms around my chest.

  “The revolt instigated a new policy with regard to Guardians,” he continued, not taking his eyes off my face. “Smaller packs, no turning of humans, closer regulation, with more-severe punishments for disobedience and the production of strong family ties so as to prevent the likelihood of revolt. The Keepers believed that Guardians wouldn’t risk their families, even for the cause.”

  “What cause, Shay? Why did so many Guardians revolt in the last century?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “Freedom,” he said. “The Guardians revolted because they could no longer bear to be slaves.”

  “We are not slaves,” I whispered, digging my nails into my sides. “The Guardians are the Keepers’ loyal soldiers. We serve and they provide everything for us, education, money, homes. Everything. Our calling is sacred.”

  “Open your eyes, Calla,” Shay snarled, pacing through the room. “It’s called hegemony. Antonio Gramsci. Look it up. A system of rule whereby the oppressed are convinced to support the system of oppression, to invest in it, believe in it. But it still means at the end of the day, you and the other

  Guardians are slaves.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I said, rocking back and forth. “I can’t believe any of this.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “But you can read about what happened to Ren’s mother yourself the next time you come to Rowan Estate. As for the rest of it

  . . .”

  I heard rustling. When I opened my eyes, he held out a stack of pages ripped from a notebook. “I knew it would be hard for you to hear. I stayed up all night and transcribed the entire section so you could see it word for word. I’m telling the truth.”

  I held up my hand. “I can’t take those. Keep them.”

  “Why would I lie about something like this?” He pushed the papers toward me again, eyes filled with anger. “We already know they executed Ren’s mother. It’s who the Keepers are, Calla; this is what they do.”

  I opened my mouth, ready to scream at him, but then I was sobbing. “I know it’s true, Shay. I know you’re telling the truth.”

  He knelt beside me, pulling me forward into his arms. My body shook as tears seared along my cheeks. Shay cradled my head against his chest, stroking my trembling shoulders and back. His lips pressed gently against my hair.

  “It’s going to be okay, Calla. I’m going to find a way to get you out of here. I promise.”

  I laid my face against his neck and sobbed again. His arms tightened aroun
d me.

  “What exactly is going on here?” Lana Flynn’s voice lashed from the double doors that led to the commons.

  My blood turned cold as her eyes moved over my tearstained face and then gazed at Shay, who returned her glare with a steady calm. He rose, clearing his throat, and stood just in front of me to shield me from her view.

  “I’m sorry, Nurse Flynn. We had a fight. She’s going to Blood Moon with someone I don’t care for, but I handled the situation poorly. I owe Calla an apology.”

  I blinked in amazement at his smooth lie.

  The nurse’s lips parted in a smile that revealed her delight in our mutual agony.

  “Ah yes, unrequited love is such a torturous thing. No wonder you despise Renier. That kiss I witnessed him bestow on this girl was quite stirring indeed. The passion of youth is just so . . . delicious.”

  The blood drained from my cheeks as I watched Shay take in her words. Flynn’s smile widened when she saw the tense, throbbing vein in his neck.

  Fear gripped me. Don’t change, Shay. Please don’t change.

  She strode forward until she stood face-to-face with him, running a long-nailed finger along his cheek, down his throat, and then her entire hand trailed over his chest and abdomen. I stifled a gasp as she hooked her finger in the waist of his jeans and jerked him close so there was barely space for air to move between their bodies.

  “Don’t worry, my handsome, golden boy. There’s still good work left for you in this place.”

  He remained stone still while she turned to face me. “Logan will hear of this, Calla. A lady of your stature should use more discretion.”

  She released him and strode from the commons.

  Shay let out an explosive breath. “She’s not just the school nurse, is she?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m not sure what she is. Sabine once referred to her as a spellwarder, but I don’t know what that means.”

  I walked to his side and he stiffened. “You never told me that he kissed you.”

  “I also never told Ren that you kissed me.” I sighed. “What do you want me to say? Do you really want to have the fight you just told Flynn we were having?”