Bloodlines b-1

by Richelle Mead

“Got delayed,” I said with a sigh. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yeah. A lot.” Jill watched as I put away the uniforms. “They’re pretty terrible, right? We didn’t have uniforms at St. Vladimir’s. It’s going to be so boring wearing the same thing every day.” I didn’t want to tell her that as an Alchemist, I might have worn an outfit like this anyway.

  “What size did you get?” I asked, to change the subject. I was kind of a glutton for punishment.

  “Two.”

  A twinge of annoyance shot through me as I hung my uniforms in the closet beside hers. I felt huge by comparison. How were all those Moroi so skinny? Genetics? Low-carb blood diet? Maybe it was just because they were all so tall. All I knew was that whenever I spent time around them, I felt frumpy and awkward and wanted to eat less.

  When I finished unpacking, Jill and I compared schedules. Not surprisingly, considering the difference in grades, we had almost nothing in common. The only thing we shared was a multi-grade PE class. All students were required to take it every semester, since fitness was considered part of a well-rounded student’s experience. Maybe I could lose a few pounds and get back into my normal size.

  Jill smiled and handed my schedule back. “Eddie went and demanded to be in our PE class since it’s pretty much the only one we could share. It conflicts with his Spanish class, though, and they wouldn’t let him. I don’t think he can handle going the whole school day without seeing that I’m alive. Oh, and Micah’s with us in PE.”

  I’d stalked off to my bed, still irritated about the uniforms. Jill’s words caught my attention. “Hey, do you know why Eddie seemed weirded out around Micah?”

  Jill shook her head. “No, I didn’t get a chance to ask, but I noticed it too—especially at first. Later—while you were testing—and we were waiting for uniforms, Eddie seemed to chill out. A little. Every once in a while, I’d see him giving Micah a strange look, though.”

  “You don’t think he thinks Micah’s dangerous, do you?”

  Jill shrugged. “He didn’t seem dangerous to me, but I’m no guardian. If Eddie did think he was some kind of threat, it seems like he’d be acting differently. More aggressive. He mostly seems nervous around Micah. Almost—but not quite—afraid. And that’s weirdest of all because guardians never look scared. Not that Eddie’s technically a guardian. But you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” I said, smiling despite my grumpy intentions. That cute, rambling nature cheered me up a little. “What do you mean Eddie’s technically not a guardian? Isn’t he assigned to protect you here?”

  “Yeah, he is,” said Jill, toying with one of her light brown curls. “But . . . well, it’s kind of weird. He got in some trouble with the guardians for helping Rose and for, um, killing a guy.”

  “He killed a Moroi that attacked Vasilisa, right?” It had come up at my interrogation.

  “Yeah,” said Jill, lost in her own memories. “It was self-defense—well, and defense of Lissa, but everyone was shocked at him killing a Moroi. Guardians aren’t supposed to do that, but then, you know, Moroi aren’t supposed to attack each other either. Anyway, he was put on suspension. No one knew what to do with him. When I got . . . attacked, Eddie helped protect me. Later, Lissa said it was stupid to keep him off duty when he could be helpful and that considering Moroi were behind this attack too, she said everyone was going to have to get used to the idea of Moroi being the enemy. Hans—the guardian in charge at Court—finally agreed and sent Eddie here with me, but I think officially, Eddie’s not restored yet. It’s weird.” Jill had delivered the whole speech without pausing and now stopped to catch a breath.

  “Well, I’m sure it’ll be sorted out,” I said, trying to be reassuring. “And it seems like he’ll get points for keeping a princess alive.”

  Jill looked at me sharply. “I’m no princess.”

  I frowned and tried to remember the complexities of Moroi law. “The prince or princess is the oldest member of a family. Since Vasilisa’s queen, the title rolls over to you, right?”

  “On paper,” said Jill, looking away. Her tone was hard to read, an odd mixture of what seemed like bitterness and sorrow. “I’m not a princess, not really. I’m just someone who happens to be related to the queen.”

  Jill’s mother had briefly been mistress to Eric Dragomir, Vasilisa’s father, and had kept Jill’s existence a secret for years. It had only come out recently, and I’d played a big role in helping Rose track Jill down. With all the fallout in my own life, as well as the emphasis on Jill’s safety, I hadn’t spent much time wondering how she had adapted to her new status. That had to be a serious lifestyle change.

  “I’m sure there’s more to it than that,” I said gently. I wondered if I was going to be spending a lot of time playing therapist to Jill during this assignment. The prospect of actually comforting a vampire still seemed so strange to me. “I mean, you’re obviously important. Everyone’s gone to a lot of trouble to keep you safe here.”

  “But is it for me?” asked Jill. “Or is it to help Lissa keep the throne? She’s hardly spoken to me since she found out we were sisters.”

  This conversation was steering into uncomfortable waters, into interpersonal matters that I didn’t really know how to deal with. I couldn’t imagine being in either Vasilisa or Jill’s place. The only thing I felt certain of was that it couldn’t be easy for any of them.

  “I’m sure she cares about you,” I said, though not really sure at all. “But it’s probably strange for her—especially with all the other changes in her life too. Give it time. Focus on the important things first—staying here and staying alive.”

  “You’re right,” said Jill. She lay back on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m nervous about tomorrow, about being around everyone, in classes all day. What if they notice? What if someone finds out the truth about me?”

  “You did fine at orientation,” I assured her. “Just don’t show your fangs. And besides, I’m pretty good at convincing people they didn’t see what they think they saw.”

  The grateful expression on her face reminded me uncomfortably of Zoe. They were so alike in many ways, shy and uncertain—yet intensely fierce and desperately wanting to prove themselves. I’d tried to protect Zoe—and only failed in her eyes. Now, being here for Jill made me feel conflicted. In some ways, I could make up for what I hadn’t been able to do for Zoe. Yet even as I thought that, some inner voice kept saying, Jill is not your sister. She’s a vampire. This is business.

  “Thanks, Sydney. I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled, and the guilt only twisted further inside me. “You know, I’m kind of jealous of Adrian. He thinks it’s so boring at Clarence’s, but he doesn’t have to worry about meeting new people or getting used to a new school. He just gets to hang out, watch TV, play pool with Lee, sleep in . . . it sounds amazing.” She sighed.

  “I suppose,” I said, a little surprised at the detail. “How do you know all that? Have you . . . have you talked to him since we left?” Even as I said that, the idea seemed unlikely. I’d been with her most of the day.

  The smile dropped from her face. “Oh no. I mean, I just figure that’s what’s going on. He mentioned some of it earlier, that’s all. Sorry. I’m being melodramatic and rambling. Thanks for listening to me . . . it really does make me feel better.”

  I smiled tightly and said nothing. I still couldn’t get over the fact that I was starting to feel so warmly toward a vampire. First Rose, now Jill? It didn’t matter how likable she was. I had to keep our relationship professional so that no Alchemist could accuse me of getting attached. Keith’s words echoed in my head: vamp lover . . .

  That’s ridiculous, I thought. There was nothing wrong with being nice to those in my care. It was normal, a far cry from “getting too close” to them. Right? Pushing my worries aside, I concentrated on finishing unpacking and thinking about our new life here. I sincerely hoped tomorrow would go as smoothly as I’d assured Jill it would.

  Unfortunately, it d
idn’t.

  CHAPTER 6

  TO BE FAIR, THE DAY STARTED OFF GREAT.

  Sunlight was streaming in through the windows when we woke up, and I could already feel the heat even though it was early morning. I chose my lightest ensemble from the uniform selection: a gray skirt, paired with a short-sleeved white blouse. “Simple jewelry” was allowed, so I kept the gold cross on. My hair was having one of its difficult days—which seemed to be more often than not in this new climate. I wished I could pull it in a ponytail, like Jill did with hers, but it had too many layers to do that neatly. Eyeing where they hit my shoulders at different lengths, I wondered if maybe it was time to grow it out.

  After a breakfast neither of us really ate, we rode the shuttle bus up to Central Campus, which was suddenly packed with people. Only about a third of the students were boarders. The rest were locals, and they had all turned out today. Jill barely spoke throughout the entire ride and seemed to be sick again. It was hard to say, but I thought she looked paler than usual. Her eyes were bloodshot once more, heavy with dark circles. I’d woken up once in the night and seen her fast asleep, so I wasn’t entirely sure what the problem was. Those dark circles were actually the first flaw I’d ever seen in any Moroi’s skin—it was always perfect, porcelain. No wonder she could usually sleep in late. She didn’t have to bother with the powder and concealer I used.

  As the morning progressed, Jill kept biting her lip and looking worriedly around. Maybe she was just nervous about immersing herself in a world populated entirely with humans. She didn’t seem at all concerned about the logistics of getting to the right rooms and completing work. That was the aspect that still scared me a little. Just get from one class to another, I told myself. That’s all you have to do.

  My first class was ancient history. Eddie was in it too, and he practically ran me down when he saw me. “Is she okay? Have you seen her?”

  “Well, we share a room, so yeah.” We sat down at neighboring desks. I smiled at Eddie. “Relax. She’s fine. She seemed nervous, but I can’t really blame her.”

  He nodded but still looked uncertain. He gave his full attention to the front of the room when the teacher stepped up, but there was a restlessness about Eddie as he sat there, like he could just barely stop himself from springing up to go check on Jill.

  “Welcome, welcome.” Our instructor was a forty-something woman with white-streaked, wiry black hair and enough nervous energy to rival Eddie—and if her giant coffee cup was any indication, it wasn’t hard to figure out why. I was also a little jealous and wished we were allowed to have beverages in class—particularly since the dorm cafeteria didn’t serve coffee. I didn’t know how I was going to survive the next few months with caffeine-free days. Her wardrobe favored argyle. “I am Ms. Terwilliger, your illustrious guide on the wondrous journey that is ancient history.” She spoke in a sweeping, grandiose voice that made a few of my classmates break into snickers. She gestured to a young man who’d been sitting behind her, near the large desk. He’d been watching the class with a bored expression, but when she turned to him, he perked up. “And this is my co-guide, Trey, whom I believe some of you may know. Trey is my student aide for this period, so he’ll mostly be skulking in corners and filing papers. But you should be nice to him since he may very well be the one entering your grades into my computer.”

  Trey gave a small wave and grinned at some of his friends. He had deeply tanned skin and black hair whose length flirted with the dress code’s rules. The neatly pressed Amberwood uniform gave him the illusion of all business, but there was a mischievous glint in his dark eyes that made me think he didn’t really take being an aide seriously.

  “Now,” continued Ms. Terwilliger. “History is important because it teaches us about the past. And by learning about the past, you come to understand the present, so that you may make educated decisions about the future.”

  She paused dramatically to let those words sink in. Once she was convinced we were awed, she moved over to a laptop that was wired up to a projector. She pushed a few keys, and an image of a white-pillared building appeared on the screen at the front of the room.

  “Now, then. Can anyone tell me what this is?”

  “A temple?” someone called out.

  “Very good, Mr.—?”

  “Robinson,” the boy supplied.

  Ms. Terwilliger produced a clipboard and scanned a list. “Ah, there you are. Robinson. Stephanie.”

  “Stephan,” corrected the boy, flushing as some of his friends giggled.

  Ms. Terwilliger pushed her glasses up her nose and squinted. “So you are. Thank goodness. I was just thinking how difficult your life must be with such a name. My apologies. I broke my glasses in a freak croquet accident this weekend, forcing me to bring my old ones today. So, Stephan-not-Stephanie, you’re correct. It’s a temple. Can you be more specific?”

  Stephan shook his head.

  “Can anyone else offer any insight?”

  When only silence met Ms. Terwilliger, I took a deep breath and raised my hand. Time to see what it was like to be a real student. She nodded toward me.

  “It’s the Parthenon, ma’am.”

  “Indeed it is,” she said. “And your name is?”

  “Sydney.”

  “Sydney . . .” She checked the clipboard and looked up in astonishment. “Sydney Melbourne? My goodness. You don’t sound Australian.”

  “Er, it’s Sydney Melrose, ma’am,” I corrected.

  Ms. Terwilliger scowled and handed the clipboard to Trey, who seemed to think my name was the funniest thing ever. “You take over, Mr. Juarez. Your youthful eyes are better than mine. If I keep at this, I’ll keep turning boys into girls and perfectly nice young ladies into the descendants of criminals. So.” Ms. Terwilliger focused back on me. “The Parthenon. Do you know anything about it?”

  The others were watching me, mostly with friendly curiosity, but I still felt the pressure of being the center of attention. Focusing solely on Ms. Terwilliger, I said, “It’s part of the Acropolis, ma’am. In Athens. It was built in the fifth century BC.”

  “No need to call me ‘ma’am,‘” Ms. Terwilliger told me. “Though it is refreshing to get a bit of respect for a change. And brilliantly answered.”

  She glanced over the rest of the room. “Now, tell me this. Why on earth should we care about Athens or anything that took place over fifteen hundred years ago? How can that be relevant to us today?”

  More silence and shifting eyes. When the unbearable quiet dragged on for what felt like hours, I started to raise my hand again. Ms. Terwilliger didn’t notice and glanced back at Trey, who was resting his feet on the teacher’s desk. The boy instantly dropped his legs and straightened up.

  “Mr. Juarez,” declared Ms. Terwilliger. “Time to earn your keep. You took this class last year. Can you tell them why the events of ancient Athens are relevant to us today? If you don’t, then I’m going to have to call on Miss Melbourne again. She looks like she knows the answer, and think how embarrassing that will be for you.”

  Trey’s eyes flicked to me and then back to the teacher. “Her name is Melrose, not Melbourne. And democracy was founded in Athens in the sixth century. A lot of the procedures they set into place are still in effect with our government today.”

  Ms. Terwilliger clasped her hand over her heart dramatically. “You were paying attention last year! Well, almost. Your date is off.” Her gaze fell on me. “I bet you know the date democracy was started in Athens.”

  “The fifth century,” I answered immediately.

  That earned me a smile from the teacher and a glare from Trey. The rest of the class proceeded in much the same way. Ms. Terwilliger continued on with her flamboyant style and highlighted a number of important times and places that we were going to study in more detail. I found I could answer any question she asked. Some part of me said I should ration myself, but I couldn’t help it. If no one knew the answer, I felt compelled to provide it. And each time I did, Ms. Terw
illiger would say, “Trey, did you know that?” I winced. I really didn’t want to make enemies on my first day. The other students watched me curiously when I spoke, which made me a little self-conscious. I also saw a few of them exchange knowing looks each time I answered, as though they were in on some secret I wasn’t. That concerned me more than irritating Trey did. Did it sound like I was showing off? I was too unsure of the social politics here to understand what was normal and what wasn’t. This was an academically competitive school. Surely it wasn’t a bad thing to be educated?

  Ms. Terwilliger left us with an assignment to read the first two chapters of our textbook. The others groaned, but I was excited. I loved history, specifically the history of art and architecture. My homeschooling had been aggressive and well rounded, but that particular subject wasn’t one my father had thought we needed to spend a lot of time on. I’d had to study it on my own time, and it was both startling and luxurious to think I now had a class whose sole purpose was to learn about this and that my knowledge would be valued—by the teacher, at least.

  I parted ways with Eddie after that and went off to AP Chemistry. While I was waiting for class to start, Trey slid into a desk beside me.

  “So, Miss Melbourne,” he said, imitating Ms. Terwilliger’s voice. “When will you be starting up your own history class?”

  I was sorry Ms. Terwilliger had picked on him, but I didn’t like his tone. “Are you actually taking this class? Or are you going to lounge around some more and pretend to be helping the teacher?”

  This brought a grin to his face. “Oh, I’m in this one, unfortunately. And I was Ms. T’s best student last year. If you’re as good at chemistry as you are in history, then I’m nabbing you for a lab partner. I’ll be able to take the whole semester off.”

  Chemistry was a crucial part of the Alchemists’ trade, and I doubted there was anything in this class I didn’t already know. The Alchemists had arisen in the Middle Ages as “magical scientists” trying to turn lead into gold. From those early experiments, they’d gone on to discover the special properties of vampire blood and how it reacted with other substances, eventually branching out into the crusade to keep vampires and humans separate from one another. That earlier scientific background, and our current work with vampire blood, made chemistry one of the main subjects of my childhood education. I’d received my first chemistry set when I was six. When other kids were practicing the alphabet, my father was grilling me with acid and base flash cards.