Blood Ties (Darke Academy)

by Gabriella Poole

  ‘Oh, Cassie!’ Isabella laughed, but her eyes darkened a little as she held Cassie’s shoulders and studied her face. ‘You look so beautiful. Too thin, yes? But very, very beautiful.’

  ‘Gee, thanks. Flattery’ll get you everywhere.’ She grinned weakly. Her head was really swimming now. It was the excitement, she told herself. And the jet lag. Whatever. She just needed to be calm for a while.

  But Isabella was laughing again, still bubbling over with enthusiasm. ‘I can hardly wait for us all to be together again! You and me and Jake! Yes? Come on, let’s go!’ Abruptly she released Cassie.

  ‘Sure. Let’s … go …’

  But that was easier said than done without Isabella’s supporting arm. Swaying, Cassie felt her knees buckling under her. She’d have hit the ground if Isabella hadn’t caught her elbow in her strong polo-player’s grip.

  ‘Cassie? Cassie?’

  Cassie frowned. Isabella’s voice seemed to have gone all funny over Christmas. Weird. Distant.

  Fading.

  Or maybe that was herself. In the dark now. In a cold, black void.

  And disappearing …

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘Cassandra? Cassandra!’

  Another familiar voice. She couldn’t place it, but it was powerful, reassuring. She’d be all right now, she knew. Maybe because she was dead. She must be dead, because the airport hubbub had vanished and she was floating in a serene bubble of calm.

  ‘Cassandra!’ The gravelly tone was more insistent now. A hand slapped her cheek, then the other one. ‘Cassandra, come back.’

  Against her will, she forced her eyelids open, groaning. The blurred face was just as familiar as the voice. Ascetic, fiercely handsome, and frowning with concern.

  ‘S’r Alric …’

  ‘That’s right. Wake up.’

  Blinking against bright light, Cassie levered herself up, clutching cushions for support. A sofa. A huge leather one. For a moment she thought she really was dead, and in an especially comfortable afterlife, because she could see nothing but acres of blue sky. Then she registered the glass walls surrounding her, and skyscrapers glittering in the morning sun, and the wintry treetops of …

  Central Park!

  Above the trees the sky was diamond blue, streaked with white wisps of plane trails. She blinked woozily at her very own angle on the spectacular New York skyline.

  Or rather, Sir Alric Darke’s angle.

  She came to properly, with a jolt. Tried to stand up, but fell back. She heard a little yelp of relief, and Isabella was at her side again, flopping down next to her and hugging her. Cassie gazed blankly around at the plush, stylish office.

  ‘What a fright you gave me! Oh, Cassie!’

  At last her companions were coming into focus. Isabella, of course – and Jake, standing close by, looking hugely relieved if a little wary of his surroundings. As she met his warm brown eyes, he gave her a weak grin. ‘Hey, Cassie. Good to see you.’

  ‘Jake. It’s good to see you too.’

  That wasn’t strictly true. Cassie was more than just glad to see him – she was overwhelmingly relieved. Last term, Jake had discovered more of the Few’s secrets than it was safe for any outsider to know. Cassie hadn’t been sure if he’d ever come back to the Academy after finding out that his fellow pupil and the former object of his affections, Katerina Svensson, had murdered his sister, Jessica. The temptation to blow the whistle on the institution that had covered up the crime and let the Few girl off with mere expulsion must have been overwhelming. Yet here he was, standing in the principal’s office.

  What had brought him back? His affection for Isabella? A strange sense of transferred sibling loyalty to Cassie, the girl who everybody said had looked just like his dead sister? Or was he back to deal with the ‘unfinished business’ he’d spoken about at the end of last term?

  Her feeble smile for Jake faded as she turned, a little reluctantly, to Sir Alric. He hadn’t changed – his handsome features as striking as ever. There was something strained about his grey eyes, and he didn’t smile, but he didn’t look angry either.

  ‘Hang on – how did … ?’ Cassie rubbed her forehead furiously. The last thing she remembered was the baggage belt grinding by, the smell of human sweat, the crush and the heat. And needing something. Needing it so badly she’d abandoned …

  ‘My case! I left it! I didn’t—’

  ‘It’s OK.’ Isabella flapped a dismissive hand. ‘I picked it up for you.’

  ‘But how did you—’

  ‘It’s the right one, don’t worry.’ Isabella giggled. ‘I knew which one was yours. I’d recognise that slaughtered old thing anywhere.’

  Cassie shook her head, perplexed only for a moment. ‘Knackered, Isabella. My knackered old case. But security? Immigration? How did you—’

  ‘When you fainted, Isabella contacted me straight away,’ explained Sir Alric. ‘I have connections in the Department of Homeland Security who were able to expedite matters.’ He shot a guarded glance at Jake, as if he was afraid to say too much. ‘Now, I’m sure you wish to be with your friends, but first we have issues to attend to, you and I. Isabella and Jake, please. I must talk with Cassandra. Alone.’

  Isabella and Jake glanced at each other doubtfully. Cassie tried to look up to give them both a reassuring nod, but the mere sight of her two friends was enough to bring the hunger shooting back through her like a lance, taking her breath away with its ferocity. Staggering to her feet, she stumbled against Sir Alric. His hand fell on her shoulder in what might have seemed like a kind gesture of support – except that his fingers were gripping so tightly he was bruising her. Cassie barely noticed the pain though; she could feel the tautness of her own muscles, coiled like springs in her desperation to feed, and she knew Sir Alric was actually restraining her.

  ‘Now, Isabella, Jake. Please leave us.’

  Jake frowned at the steely edge of the principal’s tone. ‘I’m not sure …’ he began.

  ‘It’s OK, guys.’ Cassie reached out and took Isabella’s hands, squeezing them a little too hard. ‘I’ll be fine. See you soon. Promise.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ asked Jake, eying Sir Alric with open hostility.

  ‘Sure.’ In fact, she wanted them gone, desperately. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could last without pouncing on one of them. ‘Honestly, Jake. Please go, it’s fine.’

  Taking a breath, the young American took Isabella’s hand. ‘We’ll be outside. See you soon, Cassie.’

  ‘Yep,’ she said weakly, gritting her teeth into a smile. Oh please, please GO!

  She had a last glimpse of Isabella’s worried face as the door shut behind her friends, and then she closed her eyes, swaying with hunger.

  Cassie felt Sir Alric’s hand pressing her back on to the sofa, and she managed to prise open her eyelids in time to see the sinister and ugly porter Marat coming towards her, bearing a small leather case. Where had he appeared from so silently? She propped herself groggily forward.

  ‘You need to feed, Cassandra.’ Sir Alric’s voice seemed to echo around the room as Marat gently set the case down on the mahogany coffee table in front of her.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You’ve gone weeks without it. You’re dying. I should never have let you leave at the end of last term, but I didn’t expect this. I don’t understand why the hunger in you has grown so fast, but it has. And you must satisfy it.’

  Too weak to cry, she put her face in her hands, moaning. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You must,’ snapped Sir Alric fiercely. ‘You think you’re being selfless; in fact you’re being self-indulgent. I’m sorry for what happened to you, Cassandra. I’m sorry you were tricked into this. But I have a responsibility to the Few spirit as well as to you.’ He nodded to Marat, who slipped a silver key into the front of the case.

  Unsteadily, Cassie followed the porter’s movements. The lid of the case bore a symbol that she recognised immediately: a two-inch pattern of intricate, interlocking lin
es that she’d seen before, branded on the skin of certain select students at the Darke Academy – as well as blurred and broken on her own shoulder blade. She didn’t know what the pattern meant, but she knew what it denoted.

  It was the mark of the Few.

  Marat lifted the lid and Sir Alric stepped up to the case, gazing reverently at the row of crystal phials inside. Each one was also engraved with the Few mark, and was beautiful enough on its own – but the translucent contents glowed like liquid pearl, sending shimmers of light through the delicate crystal. For a moment Cassie was so mesmerised that she almost forgot her ravening hunger.

  Sir Alric nodded to the porter again. The small container Marat drew from his pocket couldn’t have been more different from the lovely case: a white plastic clip-lid box. Snapping on latex gloves, he flipped it open without ceremony and withdrew a sealed plastic packet. This he tore open, producing a disposable syringe.

  Cassie’s eyes widened. ‘What’s that?’

  Sir Alric too was donning gloves, and he had turned cool and businesslike. ‘Call it an interim measure, Cassandra.’

  Delicately, Sir Alric inserted the needle into one of the phials and drew out a small measure of the pearly liquid. ‘You must learn to feed. But this,’ he said, lifting the syringe, ‘will give us a few days’ respite.’

  ‘What is it?’ She eyed the needle with dread. ‘What is that? I won’t let you put that in me!’

  As she tried to squirm aside, Cassie felt powerful hands grip her shoulders, pressing her back against the sofa and holding her in place. Marat. He’d moved behind her and she couldn’t get away. God, he was strong, his vice-like hold too strong to escape, but she still struggled violently as Sir Alric approached her. For an instant she saw regret and sympathy in his face, then it hardened.

  ‘Be still. This is the only way. It’s for your own good, Cassandra.’ Sir Alric’s voice was entirely cold as he leaned over her wriggling, kicking form. ‘And for everyone else’s, too.’

  She felt his thumb rub a spot on her arm, then the hot sting of the needle.

  Cassie feared for a moment that she’d been electrocuted. This must be what it felt like, mustn’t it? A savage current running through her, bringing her so fiercely alive she couldn’t think clearly. Coldness raced through her veins, followed swiftly by heat – and strength. Shrugging off Marat’s hands, she sprang up, her body rigid, her fists clenched. The awful, tearing hunger had vanished, as if she’d been released from constraining jaws, but her vision had turned to a blinding blur, spots dancing in front of her eyes as she lost her balance and again collapsed on to the leather upholstery, squeezing her eyes shut to try to clear her vision …

  When she opened them again, Sir Alric sat in an armchair, facing her, his fingers steepled under his chin. Marat and the case had gone.

  ‘So, Cassandra. How do you feel?’

  The memory exploded into her mind. She sat up angrily. ‘What was that stuff ? Tell me what it was!’

  He didn’t react to her fury. ‘It’s a distilled solution. From the tears of the first Few, a thousand and more years ago. Do you think I offer it to everyone? Consider yourself lucky. It’s extremely powerful.’

  Cassie took a breath, absorbing the news. Not drugs, then. Not poison. Maybe something that could help her …

  ‘So I can do this instead? Inject that stuff instead of feeding from other people?’ Her eyes lit as relief swept through her.

  ‘No,’ Sir Alric said abruptly. ‘This is a one-off. What you saw in the case is all that exists. There is no question of you having it all. You will learn to feed. Like the rest of us.’

  The despair returned in double measure, her brief new hopes crushed.

  Taking advantage of her stunned silence, Sir Alric stood up. ‘You cannot starve the spirit that is inside you, Cassandra. Without the Tears, you would soon have reached a crisis point. When the desire to feed finally got too much, you would have lost control and attacked someone. That person could have been hurt, or even killed. And it could have been anyone.’ He paused for chilling effect. ‘Including Isabella and Jake.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ she gasped. ‘I didn’t realise.’

  ‘Of course not,’ replied Sir Alric, his voice softening slightly. ‘That is what the Academy is for, Cassandra. It is my duty to teach each new member of the Few how to feed safely, so they are no danger to themselves or those around them. When the time comes, I will do the same with you. But for now, the injection has given you some breathing space. I think you needed that. So I’ll ask again: how do you feel?’

  ‘Better,’ Cassie admitted. ‘Much better. Can I go now?’

  ‘Of course. Your friends will be worried about you.’

  ‘They’re just outside. They said they’d wait.’

  Sir Alric smiled wryly. ‘I’m afraid you’ve been asleep for most of the morning, Cassandra. Your friends left more than two hours ago. I explained to them that you needed to rest, although Mr Johnson took quite some persuading. They’ll be down in their rooms now, I imagine. You have a great deal to discuss with them.’ He paused. ‘Especially Miss Caruso.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Cassie, her voice tightening.

  ‘Cassandra, your stamina astonishes me. You fought the hunger for far longer than I could have expected. But now your luxury of choice is at an end. Except, perhaps, in one respect.’

  ‘Oh?’ Cassie raised her head.

  ‘To learn how to feed safely, you will need a partner – a life-source, if you will. That is why all students who are members of the Few are assigned a roommate who is is not. So you have a decision to make, Cassandra. You may move in with a new roommate, one to whom you have less … emotional attachment.’ Sir Alric lifted his hands in an elegant shrug. ‘Or—’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ she blurted.

  ‘I must, Cassandra, I’m sorry. You must learn to feed on Isabella.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  The atrium was spectacular. It couldn’t be more different from the Academy in Paris, but this Upper East Side building had its own breathtaking architectural beauty, all sleek glass and marble. The building’s height was dizzying, seeming to turn and sway as Cassie stared up to the glass roof high above her. The sky beyond was still such a gleaming blue it made her feel faintly giddy. The clean, modern lines of the walls were softened only by the pool and foliage in the centre of the atrium.

  Cassie grinned, pausing to dip her fingers into the cool water and stare up at the figure in the middle of the fountain. ‘Hello, old girl,’ she whispered to the bronze sculpture. ‘Haven’t got rid of that bloody swan yet, have we?’

  Leda, of course, didn’t react, still reaching dreamily for the savage god-swan above her. At her bronze feet, water trickled out of the stone. Ferns and trailing plants grew in a wild profusion, twining round rocks and spilling on to the polished marble. And among them, of course, were the orchids. Cassie touched one black petal with a fingertip. Sir Alric’s little pets, Ranjit had called them. That figured. Sir Alric liked the beautiful, the rare, the dark …

  Cassie was surprised how pleased she was to see all the other familiar statues. In the winter light that flooded in from Fifth Avenue, they gleamed alabaster white from their places around the edge of the vast central hall: Achilles and Hector; Narcissus; Diana and Actaeon. And the one that always chilled her spine: Cassandra and Clytaemnestra. Cassandra, the girl who nobody believed. Cassandra, who entered a house that smelled of blood …

  With a shudder, Cassie remembered huddling beneath that statue, waiting to feel the bite of Keiko’s knife. Yet here she was now: in many ways the same as the homicidal girl who had helped Katerina murder Jake’s sister. Now she too was a freak – maybe even a monster, like Keiko. She wasn’t feeble Cassandra any more, the helpless little victim. She was closer to the bloodthirsty Clytaemnestra. One of the Few.

  And what did that mean, to be one of the Few? Cassie gazed at her reflection in the water. Back at the airport, Isabella had suggested
that she had grown more beautiful. Cassie hadn’t noticed any change, but now she looked closely, perhaps her cheekbones were slightly more defined, her yellow-green eyes more striking.

  But she knew that there was more to the Few than just pretty faces. She had seen their superhuman strength and fighting skills at first hand. And now that the constant hunger to feed wasn’t drowning out all other sensations, she could feel some of that strength in her own muscles, making her feel relaxed and confident in a way she hadn’t before.

  Beauty, strength and confidence – a heady combination. But all dependent on the feeding. Draining the life-force from some innocent person.

  Sucked dry … That was what Isabella had said when she’d told Cassie about Jessica’s death. Her body was damaged. Was there a chance Cassie could do that to Isabella in turn? No. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – let that happen. But Sir Alric had made it clear that Cassie had to learn to feed.

  So she couldn’t go on being Isabella’s roommate.

  But she couldn’t bear that. Isabella was her best friend.

  So she’d have to learn to feed safely from Isabella.

  But if something went wrong …

  It was impossible: Cassie’s mind could only lead her in inescapable loops. Around her, other students were hurrying in for the new term, gossiping and bitching and laughing, trailing chauffeurs and expensive luggage in their wake. Could she share a room with one of those spoilt brats? No – it was unthinkable, and no doubt they’d say the same. Frustrated, Cassie turned to go. Colliding with a warm body, she was caught and held.

  ‘Oh! I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise.’ The voice was warm, familiar, amused – and it sent her heart into orbit.

  ‘Ranjit!’

  Before another word could pass her lips, Cassie found that they were suddenly pressed urgently to the handsome boy’s own. Her eyes closed, and she could feel Ranjit’s hands pressing into the small of her back, his mouth moving against hers. She felt herself rising on to the tips of her toes, her fingers tangled into his glossy black hair, pulling him towards her, and she could hear Ranjit draw breath sharply through his nostrils as he kissed her more and more deeply, wrapping his arms tightly around her.