by Nya Jade
A mousey-looking girl said, “He can’t wield elemental power.”
“Correct. And?”
“He doesn’t change back to his human form when killed.”
“That is correct,” Montclaire said. “But that fact isn’t one of the fundamental differences.”
“He only has one functioning heart,” a cadet contributed from the back. “The second one is a vestigial organ.”
“Correct,” Montclaire said. “We will discuss this fact further when we get to physiology. What else?”
“He had a limitless lifespan,” said another cadet.
“Correct,” Montclaire said. She pushed another button on her remote, sending a red pointer beam at the tank. “In this one’s case,” she said. “A diamond-tipped arrow shot cleanly through here”—the beam hovered over where his heart should be—“brought him to his end.”
Everyone stared in awed silence. Diamonds were the only substance hard enough to kill a Vigo. Weapons fashioned from this precious stone killed by piercing a Vigo’s solid heart or slicing through neck muscle and titanium bone for a clean decapitation. Phoebe had never seen any such weapons until she’d laid eyes on the daggers hanging on the wall in the Headmaster’s office. Now she began to wonder what the arrows looked like, or how they’d feel in her hand.
“We’re down to the last and most fundamental difference,” Montclaire said, rounding Phoebe’s desk. “What is it, Cadet Pope?”
Phoebe’s body went rigid and she thought quickly. “We’re born, not made.”
“And how are they made?” asked Montclaire, who hadn’t moved, clearly intending for Phoebe to answer the question.
Phoebe tensed up even more. Montclaire’s words from their first encounter challenged her. I hope for your sake you are a better student than you are a liar.
“When a Vigo feeds on human energy, the venom contained in the bite can initiate a musculoskeletal change,” Phoebe said. “Not all victims turn—a natural selection process keeps the Vigo population in check. But some do.” Phoebe knew that last part was right out of the text book; reciting things verbatim was something she did when nervous.
Montclaire cocked her head as if considering the answer, then stepped back from Phoebe’s desk and addressed the class. “Technically, Cadet Pope’s answer is correct, but it’s missing a bit of detail. What is the human energy she’s referring to? Someone please show me that your education Above counts for something.”
“Mitochondria,” a pig-tailed girl sitting up front answered. “They’re the organelles that provide cellular energy in humans. Vigos use it to power their morphing and heal their wounds. They call it mito for short.”
“Precisely the kind of answer I was looking for,” Montclaire said approvingly. “Mito has an exothermic reaction with Vigo blood, releasing heat that we’re especially sensitive to. That is why the presence of a Vigo is heralded by the fiery burn of our skin.”
Phoebe shuddered as if the words “fiery burn” had singed her entire skin all over again.
A boy with a gelled mohawk spoke. “Can we feel this burn from a Vigo in its human form?”
“Good question. Can we?” Montclaire turned the question over to the class. When no one answered she responded, “Mito is considered dormant when a Vigo is in its human form. But, because it is present in the bloodstream, we still feel a bit of a burn when they’re nearby. It’s just not as searing hot the way it is when an exothermic reaction powers morphing.”
And with that, the bell rang for the end of the class. It couldn’t have been a more welcome sound to Phoebe who was looking forward to her lunch date with Colten. Grabbing her backpack, Phoebe darted out of her seat toward the door, but a footstep shy of the threshold, Montclaire’s ringing voice called out.
“A moment please, Cadet Pope.”
Phoebe turned. By the time the last student had left the room, Montclaire had walked over to Phoebe, pausing just a foot away from her. The instructor wore a searching expression. When she spoke, her breath smelled of mint and coffee.
“I know I’m not the first to say this, but what you did, staying with Cadet Banks, was brave,” she said coolly. “You definitely have the makings of a fine agent.”
Phoebe was a bit staggered by Montclaire’s statement, particularly after Montclaire had judged her so harshly at their first meeting. She nevertheless forced herself to look directly at her instructor and tried to keep her expression inscrutable. “Thank you, ma’am,” she said softly.
“I was wondering,” Montclaire said, her gaze suddenly intense, “if you would tell me what they’ve told you about the motivation behind the attack? Was it random or were you targeted?”
Phoebe startled at the question. “They?”
“Yes, they,” Montclaire replied, her eyes glinting with a kind of dark amusement. She folded her arms over her chest, and waited.
Phoebe shifted about, then spoke slowly as though choosing each word carefully. “I think it’s probably better for Professor Yori to answer your question,” she said, looking over at the Vigo—anywhere but at Montclaire. “It’s not my place to talk about it. Ma’am.”
Montclaire’s eyebrows crept up at this. “I see,” she said, smiling coldly. As they stared at each other, a growing silence between them, Phoebe felt her stomach drop uneasily. In a way, she felt like a hypocrite because she’d told Hayley everything. But somehow that felt different: Hayley was a friend and she needed the support of a friend. Montclaire, on the other hand, was faculty, and if Professor Yori had wanted her to know anything, she’d be informed.
Montclaire eyed her for a moment longer, then pointed her remote at the tank, initiating the Vigo’s descent into the ground. “Since we have nothing more to discuss . . .” Montclaire started as Phoebe took a step back from her, “You should know that they protect the interest of the Royal Court, not yours.”
Phoebe paused for a moment as that sank in, and then left as quickly as she could without breaking into a run, her hearts thumping wildly. Phoebe slowed her pace and allowed her mind to go over her exchange with Montclaire. How did she know that there were Blackcoats on campus? How was it even possible when Professor Yori had said none of the faculty had been informed? Had Montclaire eavesdropped on the Blackcoat conversation after sending Phoebe out of the anteroom? Whatever the case, it was clear to Phoebe that she had crossed some sort of line with Montclaire, though she didn’t know what else she could have done.
She stopped and focused on the painting that spanned the hallway walls. It helped to calm her mind. Overflowing barrels of wine, food laden tables, musicians, and dancing children: the hand-painted mural depicted a Conversion Ceremony in the vibrant streets of ancient Pompeii. Phoebe reached out a finger to touch the astonishingly glorious art when she remembered, with a thrilling jolt, her lunch with Colten. She plunged down the hallway, cut across the courtyard, and disappeared into the narthyx chamber.
TEN
Above ground, birds chirped their afternoon song, a melodious duet with the distant chapel bells. Mist had settled over the campus like damp, white silk tossed aside by a careless wind. Phoebe, who could barely see the sun behind a stretch of clouds, was happy to step into the barn where cold didn’t bite at every inch of her exposed skin.
She scanned the crowded dining hall and spotted Colten in the middle of the room, sitting on the edge of a table, surrounded by a gaggle of girls. Noticing Phoebe’s approach, Colten’s face went from detached to radiant. He smiled at her, said his goodbyes politely and firmly, and then extricated himself from the adoring group. Phoebe watched him cut a path toward her through clusters of ogling girls, narrowly dodging a few arms that shot out to touch him.
Phoebe chuckled and waited for Colten to reach her. Nervous, she twisted her camera strap around her fingers. Her smile slipped slightly when she caught the glare of the girls Colten had left behind, eyeing her with something more than curiosity. And then, just as Phoebe switched her attention back to Colten’s approach, she heard he
r name being spoken with a note of disgust. Phoebe’s skin tightened defensively as she reflexively tuned in to what the girls were saying.
“—I’m sure that’s her,” she heard a girl say. “She’s a new sophomore. Phoebe Pope.”
Another girl snickered. “Too bad she’s not so Pope-like.”
“What? What have you heard?”
“My friend caught her at the boathouse with this guy. At night. Let’s just say—”
Phoebe could vaguely hear Colten saying her name, but the girls still held her attention.
“Hey there,” she heard him say again, much closer this time. She finally turned her focus to him. Phoebe forbade herself to dwell on what she’d heard, instead filing it away to brood over later. She was having lunch with Colten, and she was beginning to notice that although she was acutely aware of his fame, something about him eased her tension.
“Hey,” she said quickly, finding herself under Colten’s appraisal. “Sorry I’m late.”
“No problem.” Colten examined Phoebe more closely and cocked his head to one side, “Wanna leave the fishbowl and go somewhere else for lunch?”
Phoebe looked up, surprise competing with relief on her face. “Where else is there to eat?”
“You’ll see,” Colten said mysteriously. “You game?”
Phoebe nodded. In a barely perceptible movement, Colten placed a hand on the small of Phoebe’s back, ushering her toward the door. The touch was unexpected and shot a jolt of electricity up her spine. She spared a moment to memorize it. For a fleeting second, Phoebe let her mind wonder how that would translate to the effect Colten’s lips could have, and then promptly mentally kicked herself.
They set off together in the direction of the open campus fields, their arms sometimes brushing and sending tingles up Phoebe’s neck. She wondered if perhaps electric shock treatment from Colten’s company could help keep her mind from her problems. She rather liked the idea of that: Colten therapy.
“How do you do it?” Phoebe asked breathily, breaking the silence of their walk.
“Do what?”
“Deal with your life being a constant fishbowl. Everyone always wanting to look at you, be with you?”
“Is that true? Everyone?” Colten peered sideways at Phoebe and grinned as what he was really asking her slowly dawned on her.
Phoebe didn’t look at him when she answered. “I agreed to lunch, didn’t I?” she said mockingly and he laughed, a sound Phoebe found distractingly sweet.
Colten nudged her arm playfully with an elbow, and Phoebe felt a sudden inexplicable need to touch him. She nudged him back, clenching her hand to keep it under her command.
“You get used to the madness eventually,” Colten said, lightly. The sun caught the gold highlights in his hair, brightening his features. “After a while it just becomes a buzzing in the background.”
“I can’t imagine living in the public eye like that,” Phoebe said. “To have no privacy, no secrets—”
“I have my secrets,” Colten cut in. And giving Phoebe a penetrating stare, he added, “We all have our secrets.”
Phoebe took a discreet breath at that; those words rang truer for her than Colten could possibly realize. She frowned at the thought that he could never imagine the things happening in her other world; it would make his hair curl.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car horn blaring. Quite suddenly, Colten seized her upper arm and yanked her to the side. Phoebe looked around, surprised to see that they had been walking along the campus’s main road; she’d been too absorbed in their conversation to notice where Colten had been steering them.
A moment later, a vintage white VW Beetle cruised to a stop beside them. The driver’s window slid down, and Karli stuck her head out smiling, eyes on Colten, ignoring Phoebe entirely.
“I have room if you want to head off campus for lunch,” she said, in a tone of voice that implied the invitation was meant only for Colten.
“Thanks, but we already have plans,” Colten said smoothly.
Phoebe’s hearts jolted. He’d said “we.” It was then that Phoebe realized Colten hadn’t let go of her arm, something Karli’s eyes had just made a quick jealous note of.
Phoebe felt suddenly emboldened. “Maybe next time?” she said sweetly, not wanting to give Karli the satisfaction of making her feel invisible.
Karli narrowed her eyes slightly, but continued as though Phoebe hadn’t spoken. “We’re still on for Friday night, right Colten?” Karli smiled suggestively at Colten and Phoebe couldn’t help but search his face to see if it was having the desired effect. She found him unreadable.
“Yes,” Colten said politely, tipping his baseball cap at Karli.
A triumphant smirk curled her lips. “Great,” she said. She then turned to Phoebe, smiling broadly. “Nice to see you again, Phoebe,” she said in saintly voice. Karli honked and waved, and as she sped off, Phoebe finally noticed the two other girls in the car. They were all laughing.
The pressure of Colten’s grip loosened and Phoebe’s hand slipped free. She stroked where he had held her, feeling the lingering warmth of his touch and fought the urge to ask him about his Friday night plans with Karli. It was none of her business.
As they resumed walking, Colten fought to stifle a grin, then gave up and chortled openly.
Phoebe cut a sideways glance at him. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m surprised your eyes didn’t spin out of their sockets each time Karli spoke,” he said, using an index finger to draw a circle around her face. “Is there a reason you don’t like her?”
Phoebe was flustered. She didn’t like how Colten’s searching eyes made her feel transparent. She worked on arranging her face in a more even expression and refrained from saying, “I find her club blatantly opportunistic.” Instead she said, “I don’t know her enough to have an opinion of her.”
Colten glanced at her, and then looked at the path ahead. “Okay,” he said, in a tone that conveyed he didn’t quite believe her. “I just thought,” he continued, “that I’d get your opinion before I met with her and her group on Friday. We’re discussing some event they want to throw to raise funds for a charity I’m involved in.”
Phoebe said nothing to this. She only swallowed, feeling both relief and regret in equal measure. She wished she’d conveyed her thoughts more frankly.
The path they were on had just gotten steeper and Phoebe could see a rectangular building some distance away. She was about to ask if that was their destination when Colten said abruptly, “I don’t make you uncomfortable, do I?”
The question threw Phoebe off guard. Colten watched as she twisted her hands and bit down on her lower lip.
“No,” she said. “Well—I mean, I’m as comfortable as someone can be around a . . .” She let the rest go unsaid.
He frowned, considered her words and then pulled his mouth to one side with a slightly forlorn look. “You’re going to have to start seeing me as just Colten,” he said firmly.
That’s easy for you to say, Phoebe thought but said, “Well, nice to meet you, Just Colten.” She extended a hand to him in jest. “I’m Just Phoebe.”
Colten laughed and took her hand in both of his. “That’s something I can get used to,” he said, rubbing the inside of her wrist with his thumbs. “Just Colten and Phoebe.”
Colten and Phoebe. Phoebe turned it over in her head and absorbed an accompanying flicker of warmth and an unexpected swirl of butterflies in her stomach.
“We’re here,” he said, releasing her hand.
Phoebe’s eyes widened. Colten had brought her to a greenhouse. She didn’t even know that Green Lane had one. Behind them, the cluster of buildings that made up the school was barely visible and Phoebe realized that in her campus exploration to date, she had yet to wander out this far. The large building was rectangular and steeply roofed. Through its glass walls, Phoebe could see aisles of greenery and bright flowers that rose from the ground climbing upward toward the sk
y beyond.
Phoebe looked between Colten and the building. “We’re eating here?” she whispered hopefully.
“Come, I’ll show you.” He took her hand again as though it was the most natural thing to do and pulled her through the door he held open for her.
Immediately Phoebe’s nostrils were filled with a collision of scents so rich and complex that she felt she could taste each one. Beside her, Colten chuckled at her absorbed expression.
“Maybe you should join my class,” he said.
“What class?”
“I’m taking an elective in sustainable farming,” Colten answered. “I’m learning how to nurture vegetables and keep them alive.”
Phoebe was impressed. “Show me your stuff.”
Colten steered Phoebe by the straps of her backpack and moved her playfully through the many rows, coming to a stop in front of an aisle of vegetables.
“Which ones are yours?” Phoebe asked, bending to read the names written on empty seed packets that had been stuck in the dirt.
“These.” Colten pointed to vines at the end of a row of tomatoes.
Phoebe stared and struggled to keep her composure, but she couldn’t stop herself. She bent over in a fit of laughter that even bringing both of her hands to her mouth failed to stifle.
“I’m sorry but—” Phoebe gasped. She could hardly breathe for laughing so hard. “But these are some sad, sad tomatoes.” Ordinarily Phoebe would have found a gracious way to be tactful, but where every other vine had round vibrant tomatoes, Colten’s were withered and looked like they were suffering from severe sun burn. There was no getting around the clear contrast.
“I’m glad you’re not in my class,” Colten said, feigning hurt feelings.
Phoebe opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. Instead she was overcome with another fit of giggles.
“All right, all right. Enough already,” Colten said.
Phoebe didn’t know what had come over her exactly, but she felt a huge rush of relief to see that Colten Chase was not perfect at everything he did. Maybe she could actually think of him as “Just Colten.”