“I’m sure of that. It’s unfortunate, though. What about your mother?”
I shrug. I don’t know if she ever believed me or not. Maybe she didn’t care. She never took me to a doctor to try and fix me.
“I see. Would you like a proper camera to take pictures? You could print them off, too. By now, I’m sure you know we have technology; it just isn’t part of the world outside.”
“No internet, though.”
“Very true.”
“I’m good with my phone.” I think about thanking her, but I decide not to. What do I have to thank her for? Ripping me away from home? Stopping me from killing someone? That familiar metallic taste hits my tongue at the same time I feel a pinch. I bit the inside of my cheek.
“As you wish. Do auras become more intense when you touch people?” Madeline asks.
“No.” At least, I don’t think so. Some weird shit happened when I drank Kian’s blood and then went back to normal when his lips touched mine, but I’m not going to bring that up. I pinch the fabric of my pleated skirt and ask, “Have you learned anything new about my mom? Have you found her? Anything?”
Madeline’s vermilion flickers, wind disrupting its flow. “I’m afraid not. There’s been no sign of her.”
“She couldn’t have just vanished,” I say with more heat than I intend. My stomach drops at the same time, a feeling reminiscent of those horrible stomach cramps.
“I agree, but someone who’s used to running can cover up their trail quite thoroughly. Though, I’ll admit I find it strange that your mother never went so far as to change your names before. If she continues as she has, she’ll have to turn up eventually.”
Mom is very good at keeping a low profile, but Madeline is right. We never did change our names even with all the secrecy and her weird rules about using cash only and never talking to anyone. Mom never tried to cover up our tracks like she thought someone was actively pursuing us, but she also didn’t want our names everywhere. She didn’t make us ghosts. She watched, ready to move if someone or something did turn up one day, but we were mostly normal. Just reclusive. Flighty.
Mom almost got admitted to a psych ward once. It happened when I was a kid. I barely remember it, but I distinctly remember her “chilling out” after that.
“But what about that man,” I say, “the one you called my father. What happened to him?”
Madeline straightens the cuffs of her already meticulously pressed gothic dress. “There has been no sign of him either.”
“You said he was meant to die. Did you confirm that?”
“No. As I said, there’s been no sign of him either.”
My heart wreaks havoc inside of my rib cage. Lub-dub plays to the tempo of a hyper techno tune. “But you said he’s dangerous. What if he has my mom?”
“The hunters Kyrie and I lured to Eduardo were wiped out. Along with them, many of Eduardo’s vampires were also killed. Remains of both parties have been found, but the fact that all of the hunters died, and not all of the vampires, means Eduardo has likely escaped. Accounting for the remains of changed humans isn’t always easy, though. The sun rose and a good portion of their ashes were lost to the wind.”
I grip my skirt tighter, ready to tear through the fabric. I think I could with my new vampire strength. I can hear the threads snapping one at a time. “I should… I don’t know what I should feel. I know that guy was bad news. I also know I probably would have killed someone if you hadn’t taken me away.” I grab my head, bypassing pink hair to dig at my scalp. Maybe if my nails go through my skull, I won’t have to feel this anymore.
“You should have planned it better,” I say. “You should have taken my mom away first!”
“I understand you’re upset, but unchanged humans aren’t permitted inside of Nightshade. You already know this, and surely you can imagine why. Your short experience as a vampire outside of Nightshade is proof enough. Eduardo came for you. We intended to take him down. It shouldn’t have concerned your mother.”
“But he’s my dad,” I spit. “Why shouldn’t it concern her? If he’s such a bad guy…” I shake my head. My eyes are burning again, irritated. I haven’t seen any fairies in here, so it can’t be fairy dust. I blink rapidly to soothe the sting, but all it does is make my vision blurry.
I grab the stupid insulated bottle I placed on Madeline’s desk when I arrived and I drink. I drink more than I should. I just need the taste of honey, of chai, of mint leaf. It soothes my insides—except for my heart. My heart feels like it’s going to explode.
What if, just like this, I never see Mom again?
CHAPTER 8
Instead of stopping at my and Emery’s dorm room after my aura talk with Madeline, I go straight to the gardens. I’ll miss out on whatever’s left of the night if I don’t go now. I have to see Kian. He’s my biggest obstacle but also maybe my best chance at getting out of here.
His blood mixed with somebody else’s sloshes around inside of the black insulated bottle I lug around. Who am I kidding? What am I going to do? Ask him for a huge supply of his blood? “Oh, by the way, Kian, I need a large enough supply of your blood to get me out of here and back in Maryland without attacking anyone. Once I find my mom, I’ll contact you again to get more.” Or I could just try to kidnap him.
Yeah, that’d never work.
Why am I going to Kian?
Comforting chartreuse addles my brain, but two bright red eyes pierce through. I shudder. His eyes are intense. Is it simply the color of them, or is he glaring when he looks at me?
Chartreuse, whatever Kian’s green really is, keeps me calm. But his red eyes, when I catch a glimpse of them through his Color, make me want to jump out of my skin. When I buried my fangs into his neck and drank, something happened to both of our Colors and all the others. They’re back to normal now, but what does it all mean?
I swat rainbow Colors away as pixies dive-bomb me from the leafy canopy. They change the strange night shadows into something else, like a neon light show. I pick up the pace to avoid them while trying to ignore the barest hint of green touching the sky.
Pixies swarm around my head, hindering my vision. I almost run into the pond but dig in my heels just before disaster strikes. The grass and dirt underfoot are so soft I’m buried a foot deep into the earth. Now my Converse are disgusting.
Chartreuse crawls slowly through my peripheral vision, and I turn my head to the left. The pixies scatter in a chorus of tinkling bells. For just a moment, it’s me, Kian, and the burbling pond.
“You know how to make an entrance,” Kian says. “Or you angered the pixies.”
“I don’t think the pixies are ever not angry.”
Kian hums and kicks his legs, feet once again submerged. The water is so clear. I can see all the way to the bottom, and it’s at least six feet deep. Flashes of brown, gold, and white flicker underneath its surface. I hadn’t seen the koi before. Some of them are huge, as long as my arm.
Something pushes me from behind. Multiple somethings like a swarm of bees. I start skidding along the ground, digging up more and more mud.
Kian’s eyes flash red through his Color. The skin on the back of my neck prickles, and I think I hear a growl. “Knock it off.” He scoops up a handful of the pristine water. He tosses it behind me, and the pressure stops. More tinkling sounds follow, and rainbow Colors disappear into a bunch of peppers and tomatoes beyond a cluster of deadly nightshades.
I take a step back. Maybe this was a bad idea. It was hardly an idea at all. It was an impulse, and Kian… smells like Kian. His heartbeat finds its way inside of my head.
Lub-dub.
Lub-dub.
Lub-dub.
“Leaving already?” Kian asks.
“Well, you were here first so…” I start rambling like an idiot.
“There’s enough room to share. I’ll even scoot over.” He glances at my shoes. “You might want to take those off and use the plants to wipe off the dirt or something. If Madeline catches y
ou tracking mud inside of the castle, she’ll be pissed. Also, the water is great.” He makes little kicks in the pond, and the fish dart away.
I hesitate, glance at my shoes, look at my hands, and notice how tightly I’m gripping my bottle. My feet aren’t in a hurry to take me away; my knees get weak suddenly and I kind of buckle onto the ground—though I catch myself before I can get my uniform muddy too.
Kian reaches out as if he’s about to offer me his hand, but then he pats the patch of grass next to him. “You won’t get muddy over here—as long as you sit still. You saw for yourself how moist the ground is.”
Do I want to sit next to Kian? It’s a pretty close space if I don’t want to sit on top of a belladonna. I set my bottle next to a belladonna and sit beside Kian. There’s barely an inch of space between us; his hands were down at his sides before, pressed into the ground, but now they’re in his lap. He isn’t touching me, but his warmth radiates off his Color. His skin.
His heartbeat plays a steady lulling rhythm in my head, but then there’s a stutter. It’s got to be his heart. Not mine. He’s the one I’m focused on.
Unless it was just the sound of the water cutting through for a minute there.
Again.
Lub-dub—a stutter.
Is… is Kian nervous?
I stare at his Color, at that point on his neck without realizing it. It’s not because of that artery I get so fixated on. His Color is bright at his collar, that anemic yellow. I think he’s nervous. He swallows. I’m barely aware of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the slight change in Color.
“You’re staring,” he says. “At my neck.”
“I’m not going to bite you. Why would I when you’ve been giving me your blood already?” I take my bottle and shake it. Then I rip off my shoes and discard them at my side. I’m tired of holding my feet above the water to avoid getting them wet. Worse than muddy Converse are ones that have been soaked through.
Cautiously, I dip one toe inside of the water, distorting Kian’s and my reflections. It’s crisp, cool, and tingly all at once. I submerge my foot farther and add the other. Koi swim up to investigate. One even tries to take a bite with a toothless mouth. I flinch back because it tickles, and the fish swim away again.
“Why are you giving me your blood?” I ask.
Kian runs his hand through his mussed hair. “I dunno. You were all freaked out on the blood Madeline was trying to give you before. You’ve been better since you’ve had my blood, right?”
“You don’t even know me.”
He kicks out a leg again. I don’t think he means to do it, but his foot brushes against mine. Just for a second. I kind of wish he’d do it again. His green and my pink look so nice together. And I kind of don’t mind when he touches me. I also like that he listened to me when I told him not to touch me—except for when he was concerned and when he saved my life…
Kian is genuinely nice, isn’t he?
I decide he definitely must be when he says, “Sorry. I didn’t forget. I just… Hell, I’m bad at not touching you. God, that sounds bad. I didn’t mean it like that.”
His heart loses its rhythm. For a minute, it flutters like a hummingbird’s wings, then it resumes its natural flow.
People like Kian aren’t supposed to be real. They’re the heroes in fiction. He must have an ulterior motive.
An ulterior motive for being nice to you, Nova? What does he have to gain?
My… trust?
“Kian, why did you call me bright yesterday?”
His heartbeat misses a beat again.
“You’re different, like I said. You stand out.”
“Stand out how?”
“I’m clairvoyant. I often see visions of the future.”
“And this has to do with me because?”
Kian threads his fingers together and stretches out his arms. “Because I see you the most often in my visions. Ever since I was a kid, actually.”
My blood runs cold and my fingers dig into my thighs. What am I supposed to say to that?
CHAPTER 9
“I saw a vision of you in that alley behind Elysian Fields. How that guy bit you. That was the first time I saw your location, an address, vivid scenery. It was a long vision. I saw you before that too, when you were serving tables. Since I knew the location and since you were in trouble, I told the Crow, and he told Madeline.”
So, Kian’s the one the Crow was hinting at before. Another student is responsible for me being here. “How does Madeline even know Eduardo?” I ask.
“Eduardo?”
“The man who bit me in the alley.”
“I didn’t know she did. I also didn’t know his name until right now.”
I purse my lips. “Why’d you tell them at all? Because you wanted to help me?”
“Well, yeah. And I couldn’t do it on my own.”
Kian’s heartbeat keeps doing strange things. This isn’t like him. He got mad at the Primary Colors once—once—but now he’s all kinds of bothered.
“When I came to Nightshade, I started going to the Crow with my visions. He was easy to approach and seemed to get me. Most of the time, he’d just patiently listen since my visions aren’t usually very informative. Just unsettling.” Kian folds his arms tightly, like he’s trying to hug away a bad feeling, or like he’s trying to put pressure on his stomach to relieve a stomachache. “Getting you here is the first time my sixth sense has been worth anything.”
“You said,” I swallow, “that you’ve seen visions with me in them since you were a kid.”
“That’s true. You were blond back then.”
My face gets hot. Really hot. “You know that sounds stalker-y, right?”
He laughs, but because his heartbeat doesn’t match up, I decide it’s a nervous reaction. “Definitely, but so is your random photo-taking.”
“I can’t see past Colors.”
“Colors. You said something about that before, too. Oh, and I’m an aswang by the way. I never got a chance to answer your question before.” He glances at the peppers. “The fairies attacked.”
“Aswangs are shifters, right?” I ask. So many monsters—changed humans—have been mentioned in at least one of my classes at one point that it’s hard to keep them all straight.
“Basically. We lose our unchanged-human qualities during the day, and unlike werebeasts, we aren’t forced to shift on a full moon.”
“You’re normal more than half of the time.”
“Almost. You’d still be able to see I’m an aswang if you looked into my eyes. Your reflection would appear upside down.”
“Not me. I can barely see your eyes. I have to squint. You know, normal people don’t have red eyes.”
“All right, and my eyes are red. Clearly, I’m a monster.”
“Clearly.”
I hum and relish Kian’s Color so close to me. It has so many intricacies I’ve never seen before. Because I’ve never sat this close to him to just… talk. Swirls, barely different shades of green and yellow, like vines make it seem like his Color can be stripped back layer by layer.
“I take pictures,” I say, “because I can’t match up faces to what I see if I don’t. People get mad when I can’t describe someone or don’t know who they’re talking about when they describe someone.”
“How do you see me? What’s my Color?”
“Chartreuse, I guess. Your Color is its own shade of green.”
“So, I look like one of those bald green aliens with the big black eyes. Oh, but red eyes in my case.”
“Not really. Your head isn’t round enough. Your hair makes it look kind of spiky, but your Color also fades out at the tips.”
“Well, I guess I understand why so many teachers got frustrated with you when you wouldn’t tell them about the kid who was bullying you at that one junior high school you attended. You never heard his name, did you? All you had to go on was his Color.”
I open my mouth to say something about that, but nothing c
omes out. Kian says he’s seen visions of me since he was little. God, that is weird. “I hope you’ve never seen anything really weird,” I blurt. Because I’ve known plenty of guys who would have a fucking jerk-off party if they got random visions of a girl in the bath or something. And I’m pretty sure I’m not comfortable with that. At all.
“If you mean getting flashes of a story and never being able to puzzle it all together, then yeah, I’ve seen some weird visions of you,” Kian says. “Did you ever get help with that bully?” His hands curl into fists in his lap. “I wished I could reach through my vision and punch him in the face when he dragged you off by your hair and—” He snaps his mouth shut.
I blink. I’m not going to relive that memory. That was the one time I couldn’t run away. “I mean,” I say. “I hope you’ve never seen me naked.” The skin between my eyebrows and on my forehead pulls tight. I could have done without this entire conversation.
“Nova.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.”
“I don’t know what you saw, Kian, but I’m not fragile or broken, and I don’t need your pity.”
“I know that.” He stares up at the sky. “I just want to be your friend.”
“Okay.”
“I can tell you don’t believe me, and I don’t blame you.” He turns to me, his Color bright in his face, the space contorting, white flashing; he’s either grinning or grimacing. “But I’ll prove I’m sincere by being honest. So here it is: I’ve seen you naked once. It was when you were a kid and I was a kid. I was jealous because you were taking a bath in a fucking lake, without soap, and my mom would have never let me do that.”
My face burns. That was during the time Mom lost it. “You didn’t need to tell me that.”
Kian’s Color turns to a solemn almost gray-blue. “If I could control my visions, I would never invade your privacy. Promise. Unless it meant saving your life, because I’ll never regret that.”
I get a clear view of his handsome profile. He has some good angles. Emery does, too. A lot of people here do. Even Madeline; she’s an odd work of art. It’s a wonder I haven’t drawn more pictures of, well, everyone. Maybe they’re all prettier, different from anyone else I’ve observed, because I haven’t looked at most people this deeply. Kian especially, because of the vampire in me fixating on him, choosing him as my prey.
Nightshade Academy Episode 2: Bloodlust Page 4