by Susan Harris
“Ryan Callan, My Liege.”
“Which student completed most of her normal studies last year—a year ahead of her classmates—and could already have taken college classes like some of the current Royal Guard do online?”
“Ryan, My Liege.”
“Atticus, you were top of your own class and served under Tristan Callan yourself. You could have your pick of the new trainees to be your protégée. When the time comes, as it will do soon, who is it you’d want to work alongside you during their first year as a junior member of the guard?”
Atticus tore his gaze from the queen’s and turned to me, holding my own gaze with such a fierce solidarity it made my chest hurt.
“I’d have asked for Ryan,” he said. “I was fortunate enough to learn from both Tristan and Imogen, and Ryan is the best parts of her parents in one body. There is no better person to watch my back.”
I was speechless. The air had been sucked from my lungs. I couldn’t say a word to acknowledge what Atticus had said, but I heard Jack agree with Atticus’s statement with a resounding, “Hear, Hear!”
The blood was still pounding in my ears as Katerina rose from the table, followed by everyone else. I was still glued to my seat, unable to move. Jack set his hand on my shoulder as the queen gave instructions that Nickolai was not to know someone was guarding him. That I was to remain in the shadows and be the epitome of discretion.
I still couldn’t catch my breath as the queen announced this was my final test, that on successful completion of this mission, I would be appointed to the Royal Guard.
I still sat there like an idiot as the council filed out of the room, even as Jack clasped me firmly by the shoulders in a kind of embrace.
With a grin the size of Texas, he said, “Welcome to the big leagues, kid.”
5
I’d dreamed of joining the Royal Guard because I wanted the sense of achievement that came with it.
I joined the Royal Guard because it was what sang in my blood every time I wielded my mother’s sai.
I fought and clawed my way through the minefield of being a woman in the guard to continue my mother’s and father’s legacies.
However, I had not achieved all that I had just to become a glorified babysitter.
For six weeks now, I’d been lurking in the shadows, watching Nickolai to ensure his safety. For about a week, I’d been on tenterhooks, waiting for the prince to out himself, but it never happened. Nickolai was like a chameleon, fitting right in with the humans, making friends instantly with some of his fellow classmates. His carefully crafted alias provided him the appeal of a foreign student with heaps of money.
Nickolai had spent an incredible amount of time learning his backstory and making sure he was ready to blend in. Human-style clothing was purchased, human mannerisms mimicked. The day before Nickolai—and I, of course—left for the exclusive private night school on the fringes of Cork, he was summoned before his parents, the council and members of the Royal Guard to answer questions about the human world.
Like everything else with Nickolai, he excelled and was able to answer questions regarding pop culture, Irish history, and sports. He looked pretty pleased with himself, standing like a proud peacock, arms folded across his chest and the smuggest smile on his kisser. Dressed in dark denim jeans, a faded, slate-gray T-shirt layered with a black button-down shirt left open, and the latest sneakers on his feet, Nickolai looked ever the frat boy.
I’d had my own training to complete—spending as much time as I could watching Nickolai and not getting caught. Everyone knew he was embarking on this mission, but none of the other trainees knew I was going with him. The story we’d concocted was that Jack wanted to take me to see the little village in the west of Ireland where my father had been born.
The instant Nickolai arrived at St. Patrick’s Institute of Education, he’d been made welcome; staff and teachers were waiting for him as he sauntered through the front door. If they could have rolled out a red carpet for him, they would have. Then again, if every student’s parents donated an undisclosed, but undoubtedly obscene, amount of money for their son or daughter to attend a unique night college, they too would have received a fancy assistant walking around after them.
Nickolai quickly made friends with a group of male students all attending the college for various reasons involving sporting commitments. They did the jock thing, clapping each other on the back and grinning like idiots. Most were envious as Nickolai explained he lived just off campus in a penthouse apartment normally reserved for visiting dignitaries and the like.
So, I settled into the mundanity of following Nickolai around like a shadowy puppy. I studied my former best friend as he expertly steered his way through the human world, and I hated him a little for it.
I’d never told a soul—not that I had anyone to tell, really—that I had dreamed of going to college like a normal person. Spending so much time alone, I’d watched as many old TV shows as possible. I remembered watching episodes of Saved by the Bell: The College Years and imaging myself there. I loved being a vampire and all, but when I was younger, watching those TV shows or movies where even the loner could be a hero, they made me long for a cure for the world into which I’d been born.
Unfortunately, cures for vampirism only happened in The Vampire Diaries. No, wait—those zompires in Van Helsing had magic cures, too!
Today, I studied Nickolai from the end of the corridor as he fist-bumped one of his new buddies and smiled at a girl who blushed a vivid shade of pink the moment Nickolai glanced in her direction. The human females seemed explicitly drawn to Nickolai, smiling, chatting, and giving little touches to his arm during break periods or between classes.
Thank Eve they didn’t know Nickolai was royal—nothing good would come of any dalliance with a human female who thought she’d found her Disney prince. The mere thought of having to watch Nickolai make out with a girl made my stomach turn.
When the door to the lecture room swung shut, I was left alone in the corridor. This was the last class on the prince’s schedule tonight, and I usually followed him home afterward, making sure he was safely inside before I snuck into the large ventilation shaft above his apartment and dozed.
In the six weeks since we’d left the compound, I’d only slept a few hours, most of which had been on one of the nights Atticus had shown up and he and Nickolai spent the majority of the night playing cards.
Now, coupled with the fact I was well overdue for a feeding, I found my awareness fraying and my nerve endings aching with the need for blood. I was exhausted, but I was solely here to watch over Nickolai, nothing more, nothing less.
Failure was not an option. While the queen was willing to send me to watch over her son, it would seem her husband did not share in his wife’s confidence. Anatoly had cornered me one day after training, telling me that, should I fail in my duties, I would never become part of the Royal Guard and he would make sure I was married off as soon as possible.
I must have had an expression of pure horror on my face because the king smiled, flashing his fangs and leaning in closer to tell me that he hoped I failed. I had made to retort with a snappy tone, but Kristoph cleared his throat in warning, stopping me from saying something that would only solidify Anatoly’s plan.
A chortle of laughter brought be back to the present and pricked my curiosity. I couldn’t help but wonder what the harm would be in sitting in on this one class. I crept along the wall and quietly opened the door, sliding in and closing it without so much as a sound. I ducked my head around the corner, my heart almost bursting. I was actually standing in a college classroom!
It was a typical lecture hall—we had similar ones back on the compound, but this one… this was so much better than I could ever imagine. Seats covered in bright blue followed the path of steps running down until the ground met them, a whiteboard covered the wall behind where the professor was perched on the edge of his desk, his glasses set on his crooked nose, framing eager eyes.
Humans now could pay almost nothing for image enhancers, lenses that fit on one’s eyes and corrected vison. This man was obviously in the rare minority of humans who were authentically themselves, and it instantly endeared him to me.
I spotted Nickolai leaning back in his seat, listening intently to the man, surprised he was taking this so seriously. Most of the girls kept looking at him, and I rolled my eyes. A long strand of hair fell into his eyes, and Nickolai swept it away automatically, utterly oblivious to the drool forming on their heavily painted lips.
Edging my way into the back row, I lay down on the seats, hidden from view, my heart racing as I became engrossed in the debate going on below me.
“As part of your assignment over the break at Halloween, I want you to take one of the theories we discussed regarding monsters in literature and either support or oppose it. You must provide detailed reasoning as to your position. And writing ‘because I said so’ is not a valid answer, Mr. Sullivan.”
The class laughed once again, and I felt ever so jealous I was not a participant in this. Everything we’d done while training had been geared toward how best to serve the crown; our own interests never came into play.
“Tell me, class, of some of the alternative mythologies from TV or movies we’ve discussed where monsters are concerned.”
“Fairies are evil,” a voice called out.
“Yes,” the professor replied. “It is widely known the fair folk are notorious tricksters and masters of word manipulation as they cannot lie. Even in Irish literature, fairies and leprechauns are quite different from how they’re painted in many films.”
“Mermaids,” a female voice said. “I mean, in The Little Mermaid, Ariel is just a girl who wants to be where the humans are.”
Same, Ariel. Same.
“But in the original story,” the student continued, “the mermaid endures tremendous pain to become human and is unable to make the prince love her. The suffering she endured was for nothing. In the end, she dies.”
Well, this got dark very quickly…
“Good, good. Anyone else?”
“There are always lots of theories on vampires. I mean, girls have been lusting after vampires for years.”
It was a different girl’s voice this time, quiet and unsure, as if she rarely spoke out in class.
“Tell me more, Krista.”
“Vampires will always hold more appeal than other supernatural creatures. Their mythology is endless because each variation is so believable.”
“Except Twilight!” someone shouted, earning a laugh from the class.
“Twilight was believable in its own way because it made vampires accessible to teens. Parents preferred they read or watch Twilight over, say, Lost Boys or The Forsaken, where vampires were bad to the bone and the stuff of nightmares.” The girl Krista knew her stuff…I liked her.
“What about shows like The Vampire Diaries?” The professor asked.
Krista was excited now, I could hear it in her voice and the sharp inhalation of breath she took before launching into another statement. “The Vampire Diaries created complex characters with possibly good intentions, but who had to make a conscious decision to switch off their humanity so as not to feel the enormity of human emotion. If you compare those vampires with, say, Buffy vampires, the soul plays a huge part in what makes a vampire evil. Both Angel and Spike were murderous fiends until they got their souls back, albeit in different ways.”
“They were then,” continued Krista, “plagued by the weight of their actions, and it even made Spike crazy for a time.”
“Excellent, Krista. Now, as we’ve delved into vampires, what of their origins? In The Vampire Diaries, vampires were created by a witch’s spell, creating an original vampire and thus introducing lines of sires. In Buffy, you had The First. In modern literature, Stoker’s Dracula is considered the first vampire novel; however, Jeaniene Frost tells a different story of Vlad the Impaler than Stoker did.”
Damn, I was really starting to fall in love with this teacher. I loved Jeaniene Frost’s books. And yes, I was a vampire reading vampire novels. You can stop smiling now.
“In Supernatural,” the professor continued, “all vampires are descended from an Alpha vampire. These vampires are grotesque, evil monsters. Who here would prefer to watch or read about those types of vampires than, say, the inhumanly handsome ones?”
Laughter erupted from around the room, and I longed to see for myself what was going on. A smile curled up my lips as someone commented on Ian Somerhalder’s hotness as the bad boy of Mystic Falls.
“Let’s get back to Jeaniene Frost’s novels. Her vampires consider themselves descended from Cain, so what about the theory Cain was the first vampire? I know we try to leave religion at the door; however, it’s important to consider this idea as well. Mr. Sullivan, care to remind your fellow students of the legend of Cain?”
The boy groaned, taking his time before replying, and I found myself fascinated by the ways his answer differed from the histories we’d been taught as young vampires.
“Cain committed the first murder, killing his own brother out of jealously. God then expelled him from Eden and punished him by making him the first vampire.”
I snorted—I couldn’t help it. It was ludicrous to think Cain was the first of my kind. Of course, it just had to be a man.
Just then, I realized all conversation had halted and the classroom was silent. My heartrate kicked up a notch and panic flared in my chest; I should have just stayed outside. Or learned to keep my mouth shut.
“No point in hiding, my dear. Let us see you.”
The teacher’s voice was kind, so I only lay still for a couple of heartbeats before sitting up with a sheepish grin on my face. I noticed, but tried to ignore, the white-hot glare Nickolai was sending in my direction.
One of the boys sitting in front of Nickolai whistled, leering at me, and I restrained a chuckle as Nickolai smacked his friend upside his head.
“Welcome to my media class, Miss…?”
It took me a minute to realize he was waiting for my name. I cleared my throat, sitting up straighter. “Ryan… just Ryan.”
“Well, Miss Ryan, tell me what was wrong with Mr. Sullivan’s interpretation of the story of Cain.”
Oh yeah, like I could just spill the secrets of vampire origins to a group of humans and not look insane. Although… I’d rather look insane than stupid…
“It’s always a man,” I said finally. “I mean, God, Jesus, Cain—all men. No one considers it may have been a woman who started it all.”
The teacher smiled warmly as Nickolai stood, shaking his head at me. I shrugged as the teacher told him to take a seat before motioning for me to continue.
“Where I come from, according to the lore—”
“All right, Sam Winchester.” The boy Sullivan joked.
Well… I walked face-first into that one.
The group laughed, causing my cheeks to heat and my fingers to curl into fists in my lap. The teacher clapped his hands to hush the room.
Mustering my courage—or maybe my stubbornness—I ran my tongue over my lips and continued before I could chicken out. “Cain was not the first vampire, he was the first vampire to be born, and his hormones and bloodlust resulted in the death of his brother Abel, who was, as Adam’s only legitimate child, human. Cain was actually the son of Eve and Lucifer.”
The class regarded me as if I had lost my goddamn mind, apart from Nickolai, who looked like he wanted to strangle me. I’d fucked up royally, but if I was going down, then I might as well go down for something noteworthy.
“Lucifer fed Eve blood apples from his own garden,” I continued, “and this gave Eve a thirst for blood. She grew fangs and drank from both Lucifer and Adam, who still loved his wife. Cain was cast out of Eden for draining Abel of his blood in a fit of rage. Cain spent an eternity wandering the world, sleeping with humans until enough born vampires were alive to create trueborn vampires.”
&nb
sp; Sullivan’s eyebrows furrowed. “So basically, you’re saying Eve was a slut and Cain even more so, and that’s why vampires exist? Puh-lease.”
I was beginning to hate this Sullivan guy more and more.
“Miss Ryan, this is not a mythology I’ve ever heard before. Where did you hear it?”
Biting my bottom lip, I decided to answer as truthfully as I could. “It’s an old tale passed down from my mother’s people. She was born in a small village in Iceland.”
The professor nodded. “Interesting. Now how did you happen upon my class? You are not a student in my class.”
My eyes darted to Nickolai’s and back to the teacher, and then I flicked my hair like I’d seen the Heathers do and smiled. “I came to surprise Nickolai. I was travelling through to visit some people and said I’d drop in to say hi. I was waiting outside to surprise him, but the lecture sounded so interesting I couldn’t help but sit in on your class. I’m sorry. I just wanted to see my friend.”
The word friend tasted like sandpaper in my mouth.
The boys were looking at Nickolai with envious eyes, and I knew what they were thinking. They assumed I was an ex of his who’d stopped by in hopes of a hookup. Nickolai, at least, had the good graces to look disgusted as lewd suggestions were thrown about under their breaths as they assumed I couldn’t hear them.
A chime sounded as class ended, and I was up and out of my seat, fleeing the room and frantically wondering how I could talk my way out of this. Maybe if I begged hard enough, Nickolai would neglect to tell his mother I’d given away my presence and the entirety of our species’ origin story because of a snort.
Once outside, I waited on the opposite wall as students began to pile out and gawk at me. I could feel Nickolai’s rage as he stormed out the door, his eyes darting left and right until his gaze landed on me. Striding toward me, I expected him to grab my arm and drag me off somewhere so his dad could force me back to court and up the aisle, but he didn’t.
Stopping inches from me, I swallowed hard and said, “Hi.”