Night's Cold Kiss

by Tracey O'Hara

  The lights dimmed further as the boy stopped. He wore jeans and a leather Academy bomber jacket over a white T-shirt. Odd choice. He seemed to prefer looking good than wearing something more practical. The boy began rotating his head, hopping up and down and shaking out his arms and legs to loosen them.

  Antoinette had a little chuckle to herself. He may think he was ready but he was in for a rude shock. The student who showed the most potential in the class was always the first through an exercise to teach the rest that talent was not always a guarantee of success. The Academy tradition of making an example of the best and brightest was well-kept from the new students.

  Antoinette had been top in her class too. Already unpopular with the other students because of her aloofness, the fall she suffered in front of them had been the most humiliating experience she’d ever had. But it taught her to never get too overconfident and never take anything for granted.

  Some of the screens showed two different views—including an infrared shot. A door on the other side of the pit opened and a dark figure slipped inside. She couldn’t tell if it was male or female as it wore a jacket with the hood pulled down low, but from the speed and the way it moved it definitely wasn’t human. Then she realized that it was the same hoodie with faded lettering she saw the dreniac in the cage wearing.

  She sat forward in her chair. Surely they wouldn’t put an unseasoned boy in with a real dreniac—that would be insanity—that would be murder. She tried to stand but Lucian put a hand on her forearm.

  “I thought you said this was his first time,” she whispered.

  “He’ll be fine.” Lucian leaned his face closer to hers. “Trust me.”

  Trust. She’d never trusted anyone except her family, and he was a perfect stranger. Yet—Something in his tone and his expression made her relax. She felt she’d known him longer than the little time they’d spent together. And surely they wouldn’t let the boy come to any harm this early in the term. She sat back in her seat, her stomach still churning with nerves.

  The boy’s face loomed larger than life on the screen above the arena, his smug half-smile firmly in place as he indifferently twisted his wooden bokken. Wooden—it wasn’t even a real weapon and he was facing a dreniac. Lucian leaned forward as the dark shape stepped from the shadows a few feet from the boy. Antoinette held her breath.

  It was female with the typical twitchiness of an addict dying for a death-fix. The boy’s smile hadn’t slipped—in fact it grew even cockier as he casually fell into position.

  The dreniac hissed, showing her long white fangs and before the boy, or anyone else, was ready, she attacked. Antoinette tensed and shocked gasps rose from the other students as the female slammed the boy on his back. Sitting on his chest, she opened a shallow cut on his cheek with one of her long talonlike fingernails and, with a purr of pure pleasure, licked the blood.

  The boy’s smug grin disappeared, replaced by a mix of horror and revulsion. The dreniac laughed and leapt away, disappearing behind the cartons again. She obviously wanted to play with her prey before she finally killed him.

  The boy rose to his feet and picked up his wooden training sword. The tip shook ever so slightly in his white-knuckled grip. He touched his fingers to his cheek and brought them away, his face growing pale as he gazed at the smear of blood. Then his expression steeled, out of fear or anger, Antoinette couldn’t be sure.

  The boy shook off the jacket, the first smart thing she’d seen him do, but it snagged on his wrist ruining the effect. He flapped his arm impatiently. Antoinette sighed. Fear would’ve been so much better for focusing his instincts—anger would only cloud his mind and make him prone to stupid mistakes.

  This time the boy went much more carefully, cocking his head from side to side, listening to locate his elusive attacker. His grip on the wooden bokken was rigid and stiff, his lips were drawn into a tight thin line. He was too tense.

  The dark figure circled behind him. Antoinette wanted to shout out and warn the boy as the dreniac climbed the crates to his right. He turned, from the screen close-up Antoinette noticed his nostrils flair and he lifted his head. He had the scent. Good.

  He took a step toward the crates but the dreniac threw an empty soda can over to the far side of the room. It clattered loudly and the boy turned his head toward the noise. He seemed torn—Antoinette knew from experience his instincts were telling him to follow the scent. He ignored them and turned toward the sound. The dreniac launched from above, landing on his back. She drove her head forward and sunk her fangs into his shoulder. The boy screamed—a damp patch had formed in his jeans near the groin and a crimson stain spread across his white T-shirt.

  The watching class gasped in unison. Antoinette searched the arena for the guardians to intercede before the dreniac killed him, but there didn’t seem to be any—the boy was alone. She gripped the arms of the seat and started to rise but Lucian’s hand stilled her.

  Again the dreniac released him and disappeared. Now the boy was really afraid, the bokken shook visibly in his hand, but his fear had passed straight to terror.

  His eyes darted left and right and after every step he’d turn and check behind. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and his forehead, blood seeped into his shirt and Antoinette knew he was lost. Next time the dreniac attacked, the boy would be dead. She had to stop it.

  Before she could move the dreniac appeared to his right, disarmed him and bent his head to expose his throat. He was so frozen in his fear he didn’t even try to fight back. Antoinette wrenched her arm away, looking for a way to get into the arena. Then the lights came up. The dreniac leaned forward—Antoinette placed both hands on the observation glass, helpless.

  10

  Lessons Learned

  The female dreniac pushed back the hood, the typical Necrodrenia twitchiness gone, and she smoothed her short blond hair as she glanced up at the students above and waved. Instead of opening the boy’s throat, she ripped away his shirt and licked his wounds, sealing them. A cheer went up among the students.

  The two figures left the arena below and a minute later only the female joined the rest of the class in the gallery area.

  “Is he okay?” asked the girl with the hoop earrings.

  “He’ll be fine, his wounds have already healed.” The female turned to the rest of the class. “But it could’ve been much worse if this was more than an exercise. What did we learn from today?” she asked the class. “Can you tell me what Mark did wrong?”

  Hands went up quickly and students started calling out their answers to their teacher.

  “He was overconfident,” one student said.

  “Very good,” replied the teacher, “but what else?”

  A heated discussion started among the students, and the teacher moderated where required.

  “I thought she was a real dreniac,” Antoinette whispered to Lucian.

  He leaned closer. “She’s good isn’t she?”

  “Yes—but—the dreniac scent?” Antoinette eyed the woman. “Even now, she still smells like one.”

  “Some of my finest work.” He smiled and looked at the teacher. “Try again and tell me what you really smell.”

  She closed her eyes and drew in the heavy scent of Necrodrenia. “It has a slight metallic undertone, almost…like ozone.”

  “Most humans don’t pick that up but it becomes more apparent with time. You’ve got a really good nose,” Lucian said. “I manufactured the false scent by accident in the lab, as a byproduct of an experiment I was doing with Aeternus blood. The odor was so close that she,” he nodded his head in the direction of the pretend-dreniac-come-teacher, “asked if she could use it to make her training exercises more realistic. I agreed. She’s one of the best teachers we’ve had here since—well, a very long time.”

  “He let his temper get the better of him,” one of the students yelled out above the rest, drawing Antoinette’s attention back to the discussion going on. “Excellent,” the teacher said. “But what else should he hav
e done? What is a Venator’s most valuable defense mechanism?”

  The students muttered and mumbled, blank looks on their faces.

  “His instincts,” Antoinette whispered under her breath, willing one of the kids to say it.

  The teacher’s head swiveled in Antoinette’s direction. “That’s right—could you repeat that for the class?”

  Antoinette sank into her seat until Lucian nudged her with his elbow.

  She leaned forward and clasped her hands together as eager faces stared in her direction. “The boy should’ve listened more carefully to his instincts and not let his head overrule what his gut was telling him.”

  “Correct.” The teacher’s face broke into a wide smile and she turned to the rest of the class. “Always trust your instincts! They’re your natural defense against danger, so use them. In today’s society, most humans are taught to ignore their instincts—you must unlearn this now.”

  Antoinette sat back and the Aeternus teacher pierced her with a sharp, probing gaze. “And let’s all thank our mystery guest for her insightful answer.”

  As the polite clapping started, Lucian stood with flourish. “Ladies and Gentlemen—Ms. Antoinette Petrescu.”

  An excited buzz rose from the students.

  “This is a special treat,” the teacher said, turning a smile on Antoinette. “Maybe we can get Miss Petrescu to give us the benefit of her experience.”

  The class clapped and cheered enthusiastically. Antoinette held out her hands and shook her head, trying to beg off.

  Lucian grinned and leaned forward. “Go on—they’ll learn so much from you, even if it’s nothing more than how difficult a journey it can be.”

  “I have a feeling I’ve just been set up,” she said.

  “I’m sorry.” His brow creased with worry. “I didn’t think you’d mind—we can leave.”

  The students seemed so excited, and Lucian so contrite, how could she possibly say no?

  She sighed. “Okay.”

  Cheers and whistles erupted from the students as Antoinette rose to join the group. She shook hands with the teacher. “Sorry for taking over your class.”

  The teacher smiled. “It’s my pleasure, it’s not often my kids get a chance to learn from someone of your caliber.”

  “What would you like to know?” Antoinette asked the fresh, beaming faces. She was used to teaching a class or two, but she usually took the younger ones.

  The teacher opened the discussion. “What was the most important lesson you learned after you left the Academy?”

  “That I was nowhere near as prepared as I thought I was when it came to the reality of hunting.”

  “But you were the highest-scoring graduating student in the last century,” a dark-eyed girl in the front row said.

  “Yes, but in the real world you must rely on only yourself. There are no teachers to keep you safe, no guardians to step in when a dreniac gets difficult. The best way to go in is armed with as much knowledge about your target as you can possibly get. Look for their weaknesses and exploit them to your advantage. Always remember they are stronger, faster, and more ready to kill than you are, so any advantage you have can tilt the balance in your favor.”

  A kid in front leaned forward, bright glittery eyes zoning with intensity on her face. Something about the kid was off. “How many dreniac excisions have you performed in your career?”

  “Over a hundred and forty.”

  His gaze wandered down to her chest and then back to her face, his sly grin putting her on guard. He was definitely trouble.

  “Do you get to choose your own missions now?” a girl at the back asked.

  “Yes. But during my probation period I was assigned to missions that suited my experience and I often had an observer along. Still there’s little leeway for error—one mistake and you’re dead. You all know the statistics—over one-third of you will not pass training. For those of you that do, over half of you will either quit or die within the first probationary year. This is a dangerous business. Only the best become career Venators.”

  “Have you ever thought of taking on another Venator as a hunting partner?” the love-struck girl with the hoop earrings asked. “Wouldn’t two be better than one?”

  “Unfortunately, not always. My brother is…was my tech, but I hunted alone. Besides the fact I don’t play well with others, it’s easy to get a partner or yourself killed in a double attack. Don’t get me wrong, there are some very successful hunting teams out there. It’s just not for me.”

  “I heard your probation was much shorter than normal?” the next kid asked.

  “Yes—nine months. By that time I had proven my skills enough for them to start letting me choose my own missions, but I had to work really hard for it.”

  A collective murmur rippled through the kids. They seemed impressed.

  The teacher stepped forward raising her hands. “The usual probation period is two years—only under exceptional circumstances is it any shorter.”

  “How many did you kill during your probation?” the creepy kid asked.

  She could feel him mentally undressing her and swallowed a rather snarky response. No use dropping to his level.

  “As many as I was assigned,” she replied.

  He knew he was getting to her. His tongue darted over his lips and his grin deepened. “I hear some Venators like to fuck after a kill, do you?”

  She kept her expression neutral, but her fingernails bit into her palms. Antoinette tried not to react to his obvious goading, partly because it was true. Sometimes, she needed to reaffirm her humanity with sex after a hunt was done, but always with some random bar pickup she wouldn’t have to explain things to. As she tried to formulate an answer Lucian appeared at her side, taking her elbow.

  “I think that’s enough for today.” Then he leaned toward the creepy kid and his tone lowered. “And that was your last chance—you’re out.”

  “You can’t kick me out, you’re not even a teacher,” the boy sneered.

  “No—but I’m on the board. I know you’re already on probation and you’ve been warned several times. The board will back me on this.”

  The boy jumped to his feet and came nose to nose with Lucian, neither one backing down. Finally, the student broke off, snorting his contempt as he made his way to the exit.

  “Please thank Ms. Petrescu for her time.” The teacher’s voice was just as tightly controlled as Lucian’s had been.

  The rest of the students rose and made their way to the exit after him, talking in hushed tones, throwing glances over their shoulders at Lucian as they left.

  “I appreciate you giving the class your time,” the teacher said. “But I’m so sorry about that.” She squeezed Antoinette’s hand in both of hers then she followed her students.

  Antoinette sucked air back into her lungs and let out a shaky breath. “There’s something really wrong with that boy—he’ll never have the discipline to be a Venator.”

  “I know. We’ve known for a while now but needed just one more demerit to get rid of him.” Lucian sounded a little sorry, but then he brightened. “Let me make it up to you. Are you staying nearby?”

  She nodded.

  “Good, I’ll buy you dinner.”

  Eventually it always came to this, men. She waved him off. “You don’t have to do that, I’ve dealt with worse before.”

  “Please! It’s the least I can do. Besides, I know a really wonderful little Italian restaurant.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Just when she was really starting to enjoy his company.

  Lucian straightened. “Oh—hang on. I don’t mean that kind of dinner. All innocent, I promise. I just don’t often get to have dinner with someone famous. Please. I promise to be the perfect gentleman.”

  Her hands relaxed and she gave him what she hoped looked like a smile. “All right then, that’d be nice.”

  After a few red wines and some incredible pasta Lucian walked Antoinette along the almost em
pty streets back to her hotel. She felt relaxed for the first time in days. Thanks to Lucian. He’d been true to his word, no passes, not even flirting.

  He was smart, funny, and had a way of instantly putting her at ease. She didn’t feel like a fish out of water around him and he seemed to genuinely enjoy her company instead of just looking for a way into her pants.

  “So—did you like Gino’s?” he asked.

  “Yes, very m—” A rough hand closed over her mouth from behind and a cold sharpness pressed against the side of her throat.

  “Don’t scream or your boyfriend gets a bullet in the ribs,” a harsh voice growled in her ear.

  Antoinette chanced a sideways glance. Lucian was flanked by two hooded figures, both wearing sunglasses. One held a gun to Lucian’s side. She sensed more behind them and inwardly cursed. She’d been so lulled by the dinner and her companion she’d let her guard down. But she needed to assess the situation before acting or she may get Lucian hurt…or worse.

  “Back this way,” said the one squeezing tight on her upper arm. There was something familiar about him but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  They were led back to a darkened alley. Obviously the men had been waiting there for potential victims.

  The last thing she needed to do now was panic or lose her temper. This situation called for a cool head and clear thinking.

  The alley hooked around to the right so they couldn’t be seen from the main street. Lights hung on the walls of the flanking buildings, but most were either broken or flickering dangerously close to blowing. Debris littered the alley and it stank of stale booze and urine, a home away from home for a Venator.

  The men whispered among themselves, but Antoinette couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “My wallet is in my coat pocket,” Lucian said. “You can take it all, just let us go.”

  Antoinette glanced his way, his voice had a slight tremor but he showed no outward signs of fear. The hooded figure to his right laughed, pressing the gun harder against Lucian’s ribs. However the gunman had a slipshod grip on the weapon and she’d easily be able to disarm him if their positions were reversed.