by May Sage
That was reassuring and confusing, too; she wasn’t quite sure how the vampire could have the time to stay with her every night. She’d been about to ask, when a voice commandeered her attention.
“Ms. Turner, I presume.”
Her head snapped up, to a severe, elegant woman with salt and pepper hair pulled in a tight bun at the top of her head.
She stared at her, from her boots to her jacket, making Fay wish that she’d listened to Agnes and worn the damn epaulettes.
“You’re early,” the woman told her. “Good. Might as well start your tour from here.”
She gestured her forward and started talking.
“I understand you’ve already graduated from an online university – I might have dismissed it, if it wasn’t for your results. Impressive.” Then, suddenly changing the course of the discussion, the lady pointed left on the first floor. “You’ll find the literature wing that way. You will report to Sir Montgomery to continue the course of your master’s in literature, from next semester on.”
“Next semester?”
She was struggling to catch up with the woman’s long strides, so that came out breathier than what she would have liked.
“Yes. I understand that while you’re very well versed in British and American literature, your general knowledge of vampires might be lacking. You’ll take history, customs, and social science, if you find it acceptable. They are mandatory to anyone wishing to graduate from our establishment.”
There was no discussing that tone.
The lady gestured towards each buildings and the cafeteria, before leaving her with a schedule and dismissing her, informing her that she’d be expected to attend her next class in ten minutes.
She really was in.
Seven
Fay could barely wrap her head around everything she saw, let alone what sprouted out of her professor’s mouth. Part of it was the fact that she’d enrolled one month after the beginning of term but to be honest, the main issue was that the whole world she’d known had apparently been an illusion.
A crappy illusion, at that.
After the ten o’clock bell, the corridors filled with students and there were vampires around her. A lot of them.
She bowed her head and looked away at first, trying to disappear in the crowd. Eventually, she tripped on her own feet like a klutz.
Jessica hadn’t left her, as she’d promised, but she’d been at the end of the corridor, so she wasn’t close enough to save her from herself.
“Careful, darling,” a southern drawl told her, and she looked up to find herself held up by a smiling, cheeky, and friendly vampire.
Really. All those adjectives described him, mind blowing as it was.
“The whole walking thing works better when you try one foot at the time, gorgeous. Although, you’re very welcome to swoon in front of me anytime.”
And with a wink, he was on his merry way.
She stared at his back for a full minute, before shaking her head and writing him off as yet another fluke.
Then, a little later, she felt a sharp object between her shoulder blades and turned to see another vampire – a female, this time.
“Can I borrow a pencil, or a sharpener? Mine broke,” she pouted.
She’d been surrounded by hundreds of vampires over the course of five hours and the only one who’d wanted something from her had been after a pencil.
There also were humans, she noticed when she started to tentatively look around her. They hung around immortals, chatting comfortable, like they weren’t prey.
They weren’t, apparently.
William, Jessica, and Charlotte were three individuals; she’d reasoned that they were just exceptions, but she’d seen more vampires that one night than she had in her entire life – and all of them had been awfully… normal. Non-threatening.
Had she woken up in a different universe?
Her fellow students were as curious about her as she was about them. Some just glanced her way, but others were bold enough to catch her in the corridors in between lectures.
She’d heard a few different variations of “what are you doing here,” some more polite than others. Her first explanations were clumsy, but eventually, she’d managed to get the hang of a believable excuse.
“I wasn’t here at the beginning of term because I was sick.”
No one questioned it: Fay had always been slender but three years at Vincent’s had made her thin in a way that wasn’t quite healthy. Eating her fill and keeping the bulk of her blood for a few days had done wonders, rounding up her edges a little bit, but she could imagine that it was easy to believe she hadn’t been well recently.
A girl who seemed a little bit younger than her, sporting round glasses and a shy demeanor approached her after she’d satisfied yet another group with her generic answer.
“Hey, I think you’re in most of my classes. I was wondering if anyone has offered you notes? Profession Rhys said anything we’ve covered might end up in the exams.”
The teachers had given her a list of books to read, as well as the previous assignments, and had also said she could request a tutor if she needed to, but she thanked the girl, grateful for all the help she could get.
“Sorry, I write long handed,” she shot her an apologetic look, “we’ll have to make copies.”
The girl produced a well-organized folder full of pages which were skillfully scribed in an even, old-fashioned calligraphy.
“That’s your notes? It looks so beautiful.”
She shrugged.
“My mom taught me to write with a quill; I can deal with fountain pens, but I never got a hang of the pencil thing. I hope you can read it.”
The tone was apologetic, again.
“It’s pretty amazing.”
The girl smiled, and all of the sudden, two long fangs extended.
Fay was taken aback, shocked because she was normally good at spotting vampires, yet everything about that girl had struck her as a hundred percent human.
She was pretty, but in an understated way, and her blond hair frizzed a little; she blushed, too – something she’d never seen any vampire do.
“Sorry!” The girl’s hand covered her mouth. “I’m not very good at controlling them. And you smell so good. I mean… Sorry.”
Fay smiled, not feeling even a little bit threatened. If anything, that vampire was even less confident than her – something she wouldn’t have thought possible if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.
“I’m an AB neg,” Fay shrugged.
It was one of the things that defined her as much as her raven black hair, her brown eyes, but the girl’s eyes went wide, as though she’d confessed that she had a tail and horns.
“Wow. I’ve never smelt one before. Mama can’t afford to buy anything but common O positive; I got B plus for my birthday, once. I’m only here on scholarship.”
Reading between the lines, Fay deduced: “You’re born a vampire.”
Ninety-nine percent of vampires were made, rather than born; she wasn’t quite certain why.
Needless to say, she’d never seen a fledgling before; from what she’d understood, vampires protected them like the precious treasure they were.
That explained why Fay had mistaken her for a human: she was pretty close to it. Sure, she drank blood, but she had yet to freeze in time, or develop inhuman strength. She was mortal, vulnerable, and she would be until her body changed.
“Yeah. It’s not all that, take my word for it.”
She meant it, Fay could see it in her eyes.
It was fascinating and wonderful to hear that vampires had their problems, too. She might have pried, but well, she didn’t even know the girl’s name.
“I’m Fay, by the way.”
“Sola. Sola Klein.”
Fay froze, before forcing a breath out.
There were probably plenty of Klein; that didn’t mean she was related to Adrian. Right?
“Nice to meet you. I have to r
un – I have a class in five. Shall we meet up here at three tomorrow morning? I’ll give your notes back.”
“Sure. Should we exchange numbers?”
Fay eagerly fetched her new phone, delighted at the prospect of adding a name to her dreadfully small list of contacts.
She added Sola and they parted ways but Fay continued staring at the phone for a long time.
There it was just under Sola’s name. William Drake.
She’d noticed his number as soon as she’d turned her brand new phone on, but the idea of ever actually making use of it had seemed preposterous. Who was she to call an immortal – the most influential immortal she’d ever seen, of all people.
Now she started to understand that it might actually be perfectly acceptable – just like contacting Sola. They were just people – William was a guy she knew.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she awkwardly typed a short text and ran to her class.
The lecture highlighting the never-ending conflict between witches and vampires – there were witches, apparently – might very well have been fascinating, but it dragged for what felt like an entire night.
Finally, the last bell rang. Fay had her phone out before she’d even moved to pack her laptop.
Her eyes budged when she saw she had two messages – two.
In answer to her quick and formal, “thank you so much for this opportunity,” he’d responded, “you’re enjoying yourself, then?” followed by a “and consider all expressions of thanks forbidden.”
Nothing in there justified the smile plastered on her face, but it wasn’t going anywhere. He’d replied.
A month later, foreign as it might have seemed at first, she was used to her new life.
She woke up later than she should, caught a quick shower and grabbed the packed lunch the chef never failed to wrap in a brown bag; then she ran all the way from Drake Tower to the Academy, swearing that she’d wake up earlier the next night.
She’d aced the two tests they’d had so far, because everything her teachers said fascinated her – she didn’t even need to rerun through her notes, everything was forever imprinted in her mind.
Sola, as shy as her, became another fixture; they ate lunch together, chatting about irrelevant stuff. Fay liked her: she didn’t pry, which meant that there was no need to lie to her.
It was obvious that they were very different people, though – not because Sola would become immortal, some day; because she was innocent. She blushed and looked away every time some cute guy smiled at her, while Fay was completely immune to flirting.
“Texting again?”
She was.
They never said anything deep or meaningful, but every night around her break, she received one message from William – the highlight of her day.
“Every guy here has tried to catch your eyes at least once, and you never even blink, yet every time you get a text, you try to out-smile the Cheshire cat. Fess up. Who’s your man?”
Fay stared blankly, puzzled by what Sola was saying. Sure, she’d noticed that some guys looked at her, but she couldn’t deal with that kind of attention – not yet.
She still felt a silent need she’d subdued, but it was there, she could feel it. She didn’t want to let her body have its say and dictate that she should turn into a slut to satisfy its craving for what it was used to.
Flirting might be harmless for Sola, who would never think of taking it further with just anyone.
Fay, on the other hand, would make mistakes given half a chance – and she’d regret them.
“They only want me for my blood,” she shrugged.
Sola rolled her eyes.
“Right. I’m sure that’s exactly what the human guys want you for.”
She frowned, even more perplexed. Had any human seemed to want her? She couldn’t recall anything of the sort.
“That guy must be something if you see no one else but him,” her friend smiled knowingly.
At first, she opened her mouth to deny it, but she closed it.
“By the way, I was thinking about getting a tat. In about five years, I won’t be able to do anything permanent to my skin, so I have to start soon – I want a big one, and it’s pretty expensive so I have to spread it out.”
Fay embraced the change of subject.
“A tattoo?”
Surprising; Sola seemed a bit too prim and proper for that.
“Yeah, I’d like wings on my back – my family’s emblem is a Hawk. Wanna come with? I could use some opinion on the design.”
Jessica in tow, they were heading to a Brooklyn parlor at four.
Fay had never thought about tattoos one way or another before that day. Watching the pictures on the wall, peeping at the clients who were getting marked around her, she was fascinated. What appealed to her was that they often seemed to tell a story – sometimes, a painful one. She could see vines and thorns, and they’d made it into something utterly beautiful.
Her body hadn’t been hers to do as she pleased as far as she could remember. Now, it was, and she wanted to own it.
She had her phone in her hand before she’d thought it out. First, she typed the words “can I,” but she soon erased them, knowing he would be pissed at her for asking permission. Besides, she didn’t need to.
I am getting a tattoo.
Immediately, three little dots started moving, indicating that William was replying. Then, they stopped – before starting again. Five times.
The response was short, when it came.
Good.
A tattoo. Pretty little Fay had an edge – he’d understood that the instant he’d seen what she’d bought when he’d let her loose with his credit card. Fuck, that was hot. He had to physically prevent himself from asking her to get a dragon – the mark of a Drake.
Yes, mark her. Own her.
The beast inside him was closer to the surface everyday; at first, it had just coloured his thoughts, – now it could speak to him. Everything he said could be summed up in a few words: he wanted Fay. Every single thing about her, he considered his.
Yes. Ours. Our Little pixie.
William couldn’t say he disagreed.
“Pleasant news?”
He glanced up, startled to find that the guys he’d been waiting for had somehow managed to enter the bar and walk up to him without being heard.
Fay was that distracting.
“Yes, you could say that.” Then, realizing he’d just been thrown a pretty good overture, he added, “My woman’s getting her first tat.”
Kyle Jackson, alpha wolf of the Laketown Pack, and known affiliate of Adrian, had full sleeves on display under his white t-shirt, so William guessed it might break the ice.
He was right.
“Without you?” he mused.
“Well, she doesn’t exactly know she’s my woman yet.”
The alpha chuckled, but it sounded humorless, and considering the way the beta and the enforcer who’d accompanied him glanced towards him, worried, there was a story there.
“Don’t I know how that feels. Want some advice?”
“Shoot.”
“Don’t mess it up. Some women don’t forgive. Or forget.”
The alpha took the seat next to him, and his men walked away to play pool – either to show they trusted him, or that they weren’t worried about him. Perhaps both.
“I’ll try not to.”
He gestured to the bartender, a pretty girl who’d attempted to get his attention for ages. Now Kyle was there, she was keeping her distance, obviously antagonizing him.
She poured him a refill and got a beer on tap for Kyle without checking either of their orders.
“You two have some history?”
“Nah. I have some history with the owner of this bar – and everyone in Laketown is loyal to her. I respect them for it.” Then, changing the subject, the wolf said, “Look, I know why you’re here. You want Adrian. He talked to me about you, you know. He loves you like a brother.”
Yes. They’d been exactly like brothers; which was why his betrayal cut so deep.
“So, ask yourself whether a man, who loves you as much as you love that King of yours, would set out to hurt you.”
“He has.”
There were too many clues pointing to him, and his conspicuous absence was speaking for itself.
Kyle shook his head.
“Don’t be a fool, Drake. Look, we both know Adrian is no poster boy. He’s dealing with more shit than any single individual should ever be served with. But you’ve seen his kills. They are clean – spotless, in fact. No wolf could ever hope to catch his scent, so a vampire?” he laughed openly.
William listened, and frowned, because damn if that didn’t make sense.
Adrian could have cleaned up any murder scene if he’d wanted to. Blinded by hatred, he’d overlooked that.
That meant he’d either wanted them to know he’d killed Jonas Gardiner, or more than likely…
“He’s being set up.”
Michael laughed out loud on the other end of the line, after William announced he was certain of Adrian’s innocence.
“I’m not protecting him for the sake of it – not on this. There’s no other possibility.”
“Calm down brother. I know you’re right. Knox and I had a bet going. I said you’d realize you were being played within three months. Knox gave you a year.”
He couldn’t believe his ears.
“You’re telling me you let me run around when you didn’t consider Adrian a suspect.”
He was outraged for all of one minute. Then, he recalled how many times Michael had told him to stop hounding Adrian – Frederickson, Knox and the other Knights had been as uninterested.
“You’ve tried to explain,” he guessed.
“Once or twice.”
Ah, hell. That was why William was known as the pit-bull. He sighed out loud.
“Ok, I take it someone is actually investigating this case?”
“Yes: Adrian.”
Things were getting better and better.