by J. N. Colon
As she approached a glossy door it opened and a boy jumped out, startling her. I expected her to scream or run. Instead she giggled and swatted him playfully. The handsome boy with dark brown curls and light brown eyes pulled her through the door he’d come out of.
I went to grab for the knob, but my hand sailed through.
Huh?
On a chance I pushed my face into the wooden door, my less than solid form gliding through like a finger through giggly Jell-O. A dark, tiny space opened before me, smelling strangely of creosote, forcing my nose to crinkle against it. I dragged the rest of my body through.
I was standing in a linen closet where the couple was glued together in a serious lip lock. Something about the girl was familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“You’re so bad Michael,” she whispered against his lips, the dim light glinting on the miniscule pink half-moon scar on the back of her left hand as she played with his hair.
“You like me that way.”
She giggled.
He pushed her back until they hit a wall. A tiny click echoed and a whoosh of air followed, blowing their hair around.
“What the heck is that,” he said, shifting her away from the wall.
The girl examined it and pressed a hand against the wall, opening it with a creak. “It’s a secret door.”
“Let’s take a look. See where it leads.”
She bit her lip hesitantly. “I dunno. What if it’s dangerous?”
He wiggled his brows. “I thought you like danger.”
She pushed his shoulder, fighting a grin. “Sometimes.”
He laced his fingers through hers. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the big bad monsters.”
The girl’s throat suddenly split wide open as if someone invisible—besides me—sliced it with a blade.
I gasped as crimson blood spilled down her pale flesh, staining her white shirt.
The boy looked back at her and smiled, oblivious to the mortal wound. And she returned the smile.
What the hell? Neither of them could see it.
“Hey! Hey! Help her!” I screamed to no avail. I was nonexistent to them.
They went through the door and I jumped to follow… until a knife suddenly dug into my spine. A violent scream tore out my mouth as pain sliced open my back.
I turned to see Madison with dark, hungry eyes and a twisted smile curling her lips as she held the ivory hilt belonging to the knife in my back.
I woke up choking on residual pain in my back, arching away from the mattress. It felt like my body was frozen in agony until I finally let out a shaking breath. I collapsed on the bed gasping and trembling. Tears leaked out my eyes, spilling against my sweat soaked skin.
What the hell! That had to be the worst way to wake up.
My head shifted to see Vera still sleeping, her toned leg hanging off the side of her bed. Thanks for that. She would have called Mac. There’s no need to worry him.
I rolled on my side, my thoughts returning to the dream. I realized why the girl was familiar. She was the same girl I dreamed about getting her throat slit by the hunters.
She’d been at Mossgrove Academy? I dreamed of this place before I came?
What I saw didn’t take place in the present, but maybe the past. The halls in the dorm appeared slightly different and her uniform wasn’t the same.
A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me this wasn’t simply made up crap from my imagination. It’s way too coincidental. This girl—whenever she was here—had known something about the hunters. What had the hunters been up to then? And if I’m dreaming about all this now does that mean they’re up to it again?
In my first dream the girl said her descendent with the gift would stop them. Am I supposed to find this person?
I bit my lip contemplating. I have way too many questions and zero answers. If I go to Mac or Whitmore with my crazy theories they might seriously think changing into a vampire has flipped my sane switch.
Nope. Not happening. I need more answers first.
Oh man. This was Highland all over again.
***
“Want to be partners?”
“Sure.” The word was out my mouth before I realized who was looming over my desk. Laney Cavanaugh.
Oh man. I was so lost in my own head I agreed to spend the next hour listening to her saccharine southern voice.
She dragged a desk up to mine with a wide smile splayed over her face, reaching up to her gray eyes. “Did you take Latin at Highland?”
I shook my head. “I had private lessons.” Over the summer Whitmore had Roman or Emmaline give me long, grueling lessons. It was a dead language, but Whit said it was important because most vampire ceremonies use it and I should know what I’m saying. When Mac graciously offered to teach me Whitmore immediately shot that down. He knew we’d end up playing around the whole time.
Laney started blabbing about the school she attended in Europe last year while my mind drifted. I couldn’t get the two mysterious students I met that no one else had seen out of my head. While I was walking to class this morning I swear I spotted Lynn and Thomas walking toward the edge of campus in the direction of the cemetery, but when I called out to them they either didn’t hear me or ignored me. When I tried to get closer they were suddenly gone. Poof. Like a piece of steak in front of me.
I know they exist. I had a conversation with them. But what would explain their lack of scent? Everything has a scent, doesn’t it?
Whispers suddenly tickled my ears. My head shifted left then right attempting to find the source of overlapping conversations. I could hear the other students’ voices, but this was different. Quieter. Unnatural.
I shivered and rubbed my arms.
A shadow coalesced in the corner that shouldn’t be there.
My heart trembled and anxiety had my nerve endings standing on end. I swallowed hard as another eerie shadow moved through the room, stealing the sunlight from the window. I blinked several times, thinking my vision was just screwing with me.
Nope. The shadows remained.
The whispers intensified. I rubbed my temples to force them away.
“Earth to Rubi.”
My head snapped up to see Laney staring at me with a bemused expression. “I’m sorry what?”
“I asked if you and Mac had a good summer.”
The whispers dissipated and the shadows were gone. “Um, yeah.”
“Have you been to their place in the Virgin Islands?” When I shook my head her eyes brightened. “OMG. It’s totally amazing. I went there with Mac a few summers ago. We had so much fun.”
A twinge of jealousy lit my chest. I didn’t want to think about her and Mac together. Was she doing this on purpose?
“We made fires on the beach at night and roasted marshmallows and made s’mores.” She flipped her perfect golden locks. “I’m sure you know how much Mac likes s’mores.”
I blinked. I’ve never seen him even eat a s’more.
Her mouth formed a little ‘O’ of surprise. “You didn’t know.” She shrugged innocently. “Maybe he doesn’t like them anymore. He sure did then though.” Her eyes turned pensive and a sleepy smile split her cotton candy glossed lips. “He liked a lot of things back then…”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
My brows knit as I studied her while she continued to rant and rave about her time with Mac. Her tone was normal and nice as can be, but the crap spewing out of her mouth was not something you tell your ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend.
Oh and I was way more than just his girlfriend. Did I need to shove this ring up her nose to get her to realize that?
The cacophony of whispers returned, echoing in my ears almost as loud as Laney’s voice. Everything was tangling and I could only pick out a few of her words from the buzzing. I heard kiss and bed and touch…
It was enough to put a sickening picture in my mind of her and Mac wrapped in an embrace, their hands all over each other
.
My fingers gripped the edge of the desk to keep from clawing her face off. A deep groaning resonated and then a crack!
Several gasps sounded and Laney was finally silenced, staring at me with wide eyes. It took me a few moments to realize I was holding the faux wood top of the desk in the air, completely detached from its metal base.
Shit!
The entire class was gawking at me including the very human and very uninformed Professor. My cheeks burned with embarrassment and a knot formed in my throat, tightening my chest. The room was suddenly too crowded and stifling, panic rising through my bloodstream.
I dropped the top back on the base, grabbed my stuff, and stalked out the room without another word.
I am a freaking walking disaster.
I shuffled through campus like a zombie, the humidity clinging to my skin and making my uniform stick. I untucked the white cotton shirt from my skirt and unbuttoned the chocking collar.
When I finally came out of my head I realized I was standing in the center of the graveyard.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Cold descended down my spine like snakes made of slippery ice. I shivered. Why did I end up here of all places? How did I not even notice leaving the campus? If it wasn’t broad daylight and during school hours Rufus and Daedalus would probably be right on my coattails.
Part of me—the scardy cat part that wanted to scream like a little girl because I was in a cemetery alone—wished my hulking shadows were here. They could shoo away the ghosts.
The unmarked grave I noted while with Mac and Demy that one afternoon stood before me in all its plain, unattended glory. Sadness swept over me again at the thought of no one visiting it.
A yawn slipped out my mouth and tiredness spread through my limbs like a vicious disease. I was tired before—I didn’t sleep much after that nightmare—but now I was exhausted. I was on the verge of falling asleep standing up.
I folded down and leaned against the headstone, unable to stand. My eyes sought out the line of tiny fissures like veins spider webbing through the stone.
I’ll just sit for a moment, I thought, my eyelids slipping further down.
My back was pressing into the cold tiled white walls of the lab before me, the same white tiles running beneath my feet. Sterile metal cabinets, shelves, and counters encircled the room, the blunt glow of the fluorescents reflecting unnaturally.
The similarities to the lab I was held in months ago by hunters had my blood chilling to ice. And then my eyes narrowed in on the counter laden with various medical instruments. They were bulky and the syringes were archaic, almost barbaric. The tubes seemed to be made out of glass and metal while the actual needle was huge—nothing like the sleek, slender utensils I was used to.
Old and outdated is all I could think.
My gaze shifted to the center of the room, my heart shuddering and a sharp, painful intake of air echoed through the cold, stark chamber. A hulking teenage boy was strapped to a metal table with gleaming silver chains biting into his sallow skin. Sweat beaded his forehead and traced the line of his dishwater hair, dampening the roots. An astringent smell lit the air, mixing with blood, sweat, and fear, churning my stomach in knots.
Ice poured down my back because this too reminded me of when I was at the mercy of the hunters.
The guy struggled against the restraints, cursing and yelling to no avail. His face began to change, elongating and nose forming into a snout.
He’s a shifter!
But he could go no further in his change. Something about the chains stopped him from shifting completely. Could silver chains do that?
The door on the other side of the wall opened, allowing two men through. One dressed in black from head to toe with a silver knife strapped to his hip while the other was wearing a white lab coat.
My heart pounded in my chest. I knew—a hundred percent—these were hunters. What were they doing to this shifter? Were they trying to use his blood like they’d done mine and Miranda’s? Were they torturing him with experiments?
The man in the lab coat grabbed a tray with that cruel needle and a small glass vile of something clear. He sucked the liquid up and stalked toward the shifter.
“Don’t touch me with that!” he yelled and began bucking wildly, protesting without results against the chains. “Just kill me!”
Oh god. I can’t watch this. Tears welled in my eyes as the young shifter relentlessly fought. It made me think of Demy and his brother Vikrum who was murdered by hunters. It left a sour taste in my mouth, clawing up my throat like acid.
With every new ugly faucet revealed about the hunters I hated them even more.
Lab coat guy finally stuck the shifter with the needle, injecting him with the precarious liquid. The boy instantly stilled. For several heartbeats I assumed he was dead. Until he started screaming so loud I clamped my hands over my ears. He strained against the silver binds, his veins protruding out of his skin unnaturally.
“Do you think it’s working?” The black clad hunter asked, his eyes watching the struggling shifter with unease.
The scientist backed away, but seemed nonplused about the violent fight. “We’ll see in a few moments…”
The boy suddenly broke free of the chains and with a deafening roar shifted into a vicious lion.
Was that supposed to happen?
The scientist stumbled back, but the other hunter was ready—just like a hunter to always expect a fight. He drew his silver knife as the lion lunged, driving it into his throat with precision and speed not capable by most humans. He ignored the blood that splattered him and whipped out another blade, driving it directly into the lion’s skull with a sickening crunch.
A scream tore out my mouth as the boy shift back, dying with the blade splitting his skull in half.
Chapter 14
“Rubi! Rubi!” Someone was frantically shaking me. My scream morphed into a snarl before I recognized Mac. He was kneeled next to me, terror clouding his eyes and face lined in fear. “Rubi!”
I slumped in his grip, chest heaving as I tried to suck air into my constricted lungs. My body trembled and sweat clung to my hairline.
“Rubi, what the fuck!” His voice was strangled as he held onto me. “You’re scaring the hell out of me.”
Pain and guilt twisted through my stomach. I hated worrying him and made the decision to keep the horrifying scene I just witnessed from him.
Did the hunters experiment on shifters before vampires? Did they try to develop a poison to kill us from them first?
“I’m okay,” I breathed. “I had a bad dream.”
“A premonition kind of dream?”
I shook my head and stood with his help. “Nothing like that.” It was only a half lie. I didn’t know one way or the other.
Mac’s jade eyes scrutinized me. “What’s wrong Rubi?”
I squirmed under the intensity of his stare. “Nothing.” Again, not really a lie. I didn’t know what was going on with me.
“I heard what happened in Latin.”
I yanked out of his grasp as anger settled over me. “You can thank your ex-girlfriend for that.” I wasn’t about to mention the indiscernible whispers or shadows. “She wouldn’t shut up about all the time you guys spent together with your tongue down her throat.” I stomped toward the high grass on the outskirts of the cemetery back toward campus.
Mac gripped my arm, pulling me to a stop. “When’s the last time you had blood?”
I snatched my arm back. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
His dark brows disappeared into his hair. “You haven’t had any all day?”
I shrugged.
His jaw flexed. “Well, you need some now.”
“I’m not thirsty.” If I was being honest I was a little thirsty. But obviously I’m not being real honest.
A deep growl rolled out his mouth. “Damn it Rubi. We’re going to my room to get some blood. Quit being stubborn.”
I could see the
resolve in his face and knew he wasn’t about to let me walk away. If I didn’t follow him he’d pick me up and toss me over his shoulder caveman style. I might be a vampire now, but I couldn’t stop Mac.
“Whatever.”
He growled behind me.
When we got to his room he slammed a glass of blood on his desk next to me, the deep crimson liquid shifting precariously close to the rim. When I made no move to pick it up he grabbed it and curled my fingers around it until I held on.
“Why are you being so hard headed about this Rubi?”
Honestly, I didn’t know. I was thirsty, but I didn’t want the blood in this cup. I just didn’t. “I’m not thirsty.” I showed him my mouth. “My fangs aren’t even out.”
His jade and silver eyes surveyed me, darkening with each passing second. He suddenly snatched the glass out of my hand and sat it on the table. “I know what you want.”
His lips were on mine in a powerful kiss that stole my breath. It was bruising and possessive—and hot. My insides went up in flames and blood boiled. He unexpectedly forced me back so hard I stumbled until I hit the wall.
“Mac,” I gasped, my chest heaving for air. I wasn’t afraid. I was only shocked at his forcefulness. “What…?”
He yanked his shirt over his head, bearing an expanse of flawless ripped torso. A growl snaked out his mouth that was by no means angry. It was something else. A predatory gleam entered his now silver eyes with the tiniest ring of jade surrounding the irises. His lips curled back to reveal sharp, dangerous fangs.
My breathing hitched and pulse quivered erratically. Heat spread the length of my flesh like wildfire. He stalked toward me—an animal zeroing in on his prey—and pinned me against the wall, his one hand capturing both mine, holding them above my head.