Blood Ties (Darke Academy)

by Gabriella Poole

  Highly Classified – Enquiries into the death of Jessica Marie Johnson

  But what took Cassie’s breath away were the four words that encircled a blue and gold seal at the very top of the page:

  Federal Bureau of Investigation

  ‘Jake,’ she whispered to herself. ‘What the hell have you done?’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Insomnia was making the hunger worse. That and stress, Cassie figured. After a sleepless night, Cassie felt so groggy and weak, she skipped a class for the first time in her Darke Academy career. Signor Poldino would accept a sob story about a headache, she decided, groaning as she flopped back on to the pillows. As for confronting Jake about the FBI file, it would just have to wait.

  Isabella took a little more convincing than the art master, but as soon as her roommate could be persuaded to leave her in peace and go to class, Cassie blew out a sigh of relief. She rolled over and tugged the melted photographs out from under her mattress. Sitting up cross-legged, she stared at them once more. She could barely comprehend the catalogue of issues confronting her: the melting frames, and then Isabella’s bangle; Carnegie Hall and the implications of her new power; the horrible incident with Isabella at Coney Island; Jake and the whole Katerina mess; Ranjit; and, of course, the icing on the cake – a summons from the Council of Elders. Everything seemed to fall back on her, on what she’d become. She’d never felt so heartsick and helpless.

  The weather wasn’t helping. Beyond her window, a weight of dirty snow-cloud lay over the city, and desultory grey flakes drifted down, sticking to the glass. The day looked like she felt.

  There was a lot she needed to know, and no one else to ask. Swinging her legs off the bed, she stared out of the plate-glass window. Sir Alric, she thought. He’d promised to research her strange power, and maybe he’d already found more information. She knew she couldn’t bear another day without asking, anyway.

  When she stepped out of the elevator, the door to his office was open. Unaccountably nervous, she approached. Sir Alric was there in front of his desk, propped against it, talking to someone in the armchair in front of him.

  All she could make out of the visitor was the back of his head. It looked familiar – stupidly familiar, because clearly she was mistaken. It couldn’t be him – not here in New York. All the same, she felt her heart begin to pound.

  It just couldn’t be him … Could it?

  She gave her head a quick, hard shake. Instantly Sir Alric glanced up, catching the movement. In his face shock dawned, and something like anger. He wasn’t expecting her. She was interrupting. Cassie raised a tentative hand – partly greeting, partly to indicate that she’d wait – but he didn’t acknowledge her.

  Instead he snapped his fingers once at someone out of sight, and a secretary stepped into view. ‘Sir Alric is busy just now.’ The young man gave her an anodyne smile, and closed the door firmly in her face.

  Cassie gaped, open-mouthed. ‘I’ll wait,’ she muttered grimly.

  There were a few impeccably designed chairs in the corner of the anteroom, but Cassie ignored them and the glossy magazines and the bookshelves. She could only pace back and forth, scowling, as the minutes ticked by. The hideous certainty was growing that she did know that visitor. That he was who she thought he was. Why else would Sir Alric have reacted the way he did? Fury bubbled up inside her, and she clenched her teeth against it. Maybe she didn’t know the wise and kind Sir Alric so well after all.

  When the door swung open, she turned, eyes blazing. But it wasn’t Sir Alric; it wasn’t his secretary.

  It was Patrick Malone.

  Cassie stared at her old friend, her mentor, her key worker. Patrick smiled nervously. ‘Cassie.’

  She took a breath. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I … I had something to talk to Sir Alric about. It – couldn’t wait. Cassie, how are you?’ He put out his hand.

  She didn’t take it. She could feel her fingers trembling, and she didn’t want to give away how scared and angry she was. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing, but—’

  ‘Cassandra.’ Sir Alric was suddenly standing behind him. ‘Patrick was just leaving.’

  ‘Why is he even here?’

  ‘Why don’t you come in and we can talk about it?’

  ‘Yes, Cassie. Go ahead.’ Patrick wasn’t smiling any more. ‘Sir Alric will explain.’ He glanced at the older man.

  Cassie frowned, looking from the nervous Patrick to the expressionless features of Sir Alric Darke. She opened her mouth to say no, but then curiosity got the better of her. She nodded silently.

  Sir Alric gestured her in as the young secretary escorted Patrick out. He clearly meant to keep them apart, but though the secretary moved swiftly past Cassie, not even giving her a glance, Patrick halted to hug her. Stiffly she endured it, determined not to hug him back. She was already feeling the painful sting of secrets she didn’t know.

  Sir Alric closed the door firmly as soon as Patrick was beyond it.

  ‘Yes, Cassandra. Why don’t you take a seat?’ Sir Alric sat down behind his desk, but swivelled his chair forty-five degrees so that he was in profile, staring out across the city skyline. His dismissive coolness was unsettling: she’d expected a little contrition. She had to take another breath before she could speak, and she remained standing.

  ‘Patrick.’ She licked her lips and swallowed. ‘What is he doing here?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t he come? He’s been trying to contact you since the beginning of term.’ Sir Alric swivelled his chair to face her. ‘There was no reply, it seems. Naturally he was worried about you.’

  Cassie chewed the inside of her cheek.

  ‘His messages didn’t reach you, I take it?’

  ‘They reached me,’ she muttered.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Look, I didn’t want to talk to him, OK? I wasn’t ready.’

  Shutting his eyes, he massaged the bridge of his nose. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because he knows. About this school. About everything. About the Few. Doesn’t he?’

  Once again Sir Alric turned to look out at the city. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he knows I’m … Few?’

  ‘Yes. That’s why he’s been worried. Did that not occur to you, Cassandra?’

  She bit her lip to stop herself swearing at him. The arrogance of the man!Was he being obtuse on purpose or did he really not understand how this made her feel?

  ‘How does Patrick know?’

  Sir Alric gave a heavy sigh. ‘He knows, Cassandra, because he was a student here himself.’

  Cassie sat back in her chair. For long seconds she couldn’t speak.

  ‘How do you think he knew about us? Why do you think he’d suggest you apply to this school, of all places?’

  ‘Yes, why?’ Cassie stood up sharply. ‘Why would he? He knew about you, and the Few? He knew everything about this place – that’s what you’re telling me – and yet he still sent me here?’ There was a pain in her chest that was suffocating.

  ‘Sit down, Cassandra.’ Sir Alric shot her a glance, then turned away yet again. Funny, she thought bitterly as she subsided into the chair, how he couldn’t seem to face her.

  ‘I’m waiting,’ she said softly.

  He steepled his fingers and turned to her properly at last. ‘Patrick sent you because he knew what was on offer here: what you could gain. He knew you’d meet our educational standards, he knew you’d benefit enormously from time at the Academy. Believe me, he thought long and hard before he sent you here. But send you he did.’

  Cassie felt dizzy. She put her hands to the sides of her head. ‘And look what happened to me,’ she whispered. ‘How could he?’

  ‘Because he didn’t anticipate this. None of us did. He thought it was impossible, that there was no chance of you becoming Few. He made me promise to choose your roommate wisely, to give you the best companion possible. I gave him that promise very happily. That’s something that has worked out for the best, I think
?’

  She rubbed her forehead. ‘Yes. Yes, that did.’

  ‘Patrick, you see, roomed with a Few member. Erik was a fine member of the Few and an even finer human being. Patrick respected him enormously, and the feeling was mutual. Just like you and Isabella, Erik refused to deceive Patrick. He fed on him with Patrick’s full knowledge and consent, and no harm was ever done. Their relationship was as perfect as it gets between Few and life-source.’

  The casual way he said it sent a buzz of horror down Cassie’s spine.

  ‘Patrick knew you’d be safe. With the best of girls as your roommate, you’d be protected, you’d be privileged, and he knew from his own experience that no harm would come to you. Above all, he thought that there was no chance – not the slightest possibility – of you ever becoming Few yourself. Patrick too was a scholarship boy. He knew it was supposed to be impossible.’

  ‘And then along came Estelle,’ whispered Cassie. Her whole being felt numb.

  Sir Alric nodded solemnly. ‘Is there anything else you wish to know?’

  She shook her head slowly. ‘Nothing. I don’t want to know anything else about that. Except …’

  He watched her in silence, waiting.

  ‘This guy Erik. Patrick’s roommate. You said he was a fine human being.’

  ‘Oh yes. Erik Ragnarsson is dead.’

  Cassie let that sink in. No, she wouldn’t ask anything more. She didn’t want to know.

  ‘I thought it was best that I explain, rather than Patrick. Given your …’ he paused, ‘volatile state. Would you like to speak to him now?’

  Violently she shook her head. ‘No! No, I don’t want to see him.’

  ‘Very well.’ Sir Alric inclined his head. ‘Then all that’s left, Miss Bell, is to tell me why you came to see me in the first place.’

  God. She’d almost forgotten. With a shaking hand, Cassie drew the gilt-edged scroll from her pocket. The expensive parchment was barely crumpled. In light of what had just happened, the summons seemed so much less important. She hardly cared about it any more.

  No. No, she had to care. She had to know. Cassie gritted her teeth. ‘Do you know anything about this?’

  Sir Alric gave the summons a casual glance. ‘I knew you’d received it.’

  ‘You knew? Did you know it was coming? Before then, I mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Cassie stared down at the parchment in her hand. ‘Did you tell them? The Elders, I mean. About me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He sounded so reasonable she wanted to strike him.

  ‘Why?’

  Sir Alric smiled. ‘Since the events at Carnegie Hall, I have spoken to several of my colleagues on the Council to see if they could offer any explanation for the powers you manifested.’

  ‘And could they?’ Cassie swallowed hard. ‘What did you find out?’

  ‘Nothing. I can’t give you any further information I’m afraid, Cassandra. I’ve studied several volumes. Nothing so far has come to light.’

  ‘Then why does the Council want to see me? What aren’t you telling me?’

  In the silence it was only Cassie who fidgeted, screwing the scroll anxiously in her hands. Why did Sir Alric seem so perfectly composed, so perfectly calm? She was beginning to hate him. Her heart rate began to increase as she flushed with irritation.

  ‘I believe I have told you everything I can.’ Sir Alric stood up. ‘Will there be anything else, Cassandra?’

  He was so tall. Power just radiated out of him. She remembered thinking that, the first time she’d met him. How impressed she’d been. How intimidated. Not any more.

  Not any more!

  She rose to her feet. ‘You can’t control me.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Sir Alric’s voice was dangerously calm.

  She drew herself up instinctively. ‘I’m stronger than you think, Alric,’ she hissed.

  His eyes narrowed. A muscle below his eye tightened.

  ‘Do not underestimate me!’ Her lips drew back from her teeth.

  ‘Cassandra …’ Sir Alric’s voice was a low rumble, but his expression was wary.

  The room was red again. But her crimson-tinged vision was not so frightening this time. It meant power. She liked it. How dare he treat her this way! Fury tingled in her spine, trembled like an aura outside her body.

  ‘Cassandra!’

  She didn’t reply. Instead, she laughed. Wildly she looked round the room. It was like him. All elegance. All taste. All control! She’d show him …

  Reaching out, her aura of power spread across the room. Through the stained-glass shade of an exquisite designer table lamp, the bulb glowed brighter – then brighter still. The light changed colour, even as it intensified. Now the unbearable glare was blood-red and laser-bright, brilliant with energy. Sir Alric gave an exclamation of horror, and reached for it.

  Too late. The bulb exploded into fine glass rain, showering his hand and arm.

  Cassandra!’

  His tone had changed entirely. There was anger in it now, a menacing snarl. Glaring at him, she saw his own eyes turn fiery red, first at the pupils, then sparking outwards so that the whole eyeball glowed scarlet. God, but he was strong! The light of his spirit burned in his chest like a dark sun.

  That was how she looked. Suddenly she knew it.

  Monstrous.

  Cassie ground her teeth so hard it hurt. The aura around her wavered.

  Hurt him! Hurt him! How dare he treat us so!

  Cassie shut her eyes tight.

  HURT HIM!

  ‘NO!’ she snarled. Her fists tightened; she could feel her fingernails digging into her palms. Sir Alric stood absolutely still, but she knew he was coiled and ready.

  Ready to defend himself? Attack?

  Attack!

  No!

  Slowly, trembling and sucking in deep gulps of air, she felt her fists unclench, her muscles relax. As she closed her eyes and opened them again, the red filter dissipated and she could see him clearly once more. His own eyes remained red for a moment, then faded slowly back to their normal grey.

  ‘Control yourself,’ he murmured. It was still a growl, but a less aggressive one. ‘Good.’

  Without taking his eyes off her, Sir Alric brushed at the glittering shards of glass on his sleeve. He’d cut his finger, Cassie noticed. There was blood. She set her jaw, trying to suppress the pleasure she felt at this.

  Breathing hard, she waited until she was sure she could walk without trembling. Then she turned, shaking, and walked from the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I can help you, my dearest. You’re weak. I don’t want you to sicken, my sweet Cassandra. Let me help you. Let us be together. Don’t leave me out here, not when I can save you. We can save each other …

  ‘Oh, God,’ mumbled Cassie. ‘Estelle …’

  ‘Cassie!’ Isabella tugged at her arm. ‘You are dreaming again. Talking to yourself. Wake up!’

  Cassie forced her eyes open. Low sunlight slanted into the room from the huge window overlooking Central Park. It had been hours since she had stumbled down from Sir Alric’s office, weak with hunger. Isabella must be back from class.

  ‘Isabella?’

  ‘Cassie, what’s wrong? What can I do?’

  As usual, her roommate was fizzing with energy, and Cassie found herself leaning hungrily towards her. Stretching out a clutching hand, she missed Isabella by a New York mile, and tumbled clumsily to the floor.

  ‘Cassie? Cassie!’ Isabella crouched beside her. ‘Oh, Cassie, you’re ill! Here, let me help you—’

  ‘No!’ Cassie scrambled back, pressing herself between the bed and the nightstand, and raised her hand, palm outward, to keep her friend at bay. ‘No, Isabella, don’t! I’m – I think I need to feed.’

  Isabella hesitated, blinking at Cassie’s outstretched palm. Then she clasped it, hauling Cassie to her feet and gripping her shoulders.

  Cassie endured it, rigid with
terror. Any moment now … any moment …

  Isabella cupped Cassie’s face in her hands, a serious look on her own. ‘So you should feed. Come on.’

  Cassie stared as her roommate extended her arms. ‘N-no!’

  ‘Cassie, you look terrible. Please?’ Isabella pushed her

  wrists into Cassie’s hands, but she pulled away quickly. Isabella shook her head, concerned and angry. ‘Look at you! Your skin is like paper. Your eyes are dull. You should not have left it so long. Come. We’ll go to Sir Alric. He’ll help.’

  ‘No way.’ Cassie shook her head rapidly. ‘No way, I’m not going to him.’

  ‘But, Cassie, why?’

  ‘I’m not – I’ll explain later.’ Cassie put her hands to her throat. ‘Oh, God, Isabella. I’m so thirsty.’

  ‘Here, take this.’ Isabella lifted her bedside carafe to Cassie’s lips. She gulped desperately, but it wasn’t helping. ‘Wait here. Do not move.’ Clasping Cassie’s hands tightly around the carafe, she fled from the room.

  Cassie had drained it, refilled it and was swigging great gulps from it once more when Isabella returned. With her was Ayeesha, who stopped dead when she laid eyes on Cassie.

  ‘My God! Cassie, what’s wrong with you?’ she exclaimed.

  ‘She needs to feed.’ Isabella folded her arms. ‘Now. Ayeesha, can you help us? She’s only done it once before.’

  ‘Once? Cassie, you’ve fed only once?’ The Bajan girl’s eyes were wide with horror. ‘What have you been doing to yourself?’

  ‘She’s nervous about feeding from me,’ said Isabella grimly. ‘She’s been holding back.’

  Ayeesha did a double take as the realisation of what Isabella had been saying dawned on her. Staring at her for a few seconds, she turned and gave Cassie an intent meaningful look. ‘Don’t you think Isabella should have a drink too?’

  For a moment, Cassie couldn’t think what she was on about. Then she remembered the drink the Few gave their roommates, to make them forget the feeding.

  ‘ ’S OK, Ayeesha,’ she mumbled weakly. ‘She knows. Agreed to it.’

  ‘Really?’ Ayeesha still looked wary. ‘Perhaps we should call Sir Alric …’