The Roses Academy- the Entire Collection

by Tara Brown

  “No.” He laughed. “It’s not a castle—it’s a Gothic revival. I suppose it looks like a castle. I had it built years ago.”

  “Like how many years? It makes Lydia’s place appear brand new.”

  “Well, Miss Smarty Pants, I suppose it is a bit antiquated in comparison to Lydia’s, but it’s fairly new to me.”

  “Gross.” I frowned at him. “How old are you?”

  “Old enough to know a nice style of house. You young people seem to think those boxes with yards that resemble a puzzle piece in size and shape are homey.”

  “You’re a snob.”

  “No.” He acted offended. “I’m no such thing. I have educated tastes and a refined palette.”

  “That’s what all snobs say.”

  Henry drove up to the huge brick castle.

  I marveled at the different colors. Bricks of gold, beige, yellow, tan, olive, gray, and white gave the castle a luxurious feel, which wasn’t difficult.

  It was a castle.

  In Oregon.

  The arched and peaked windows were frosted. The roof pitched and peaked in several different places, adding to the grandeur. A huge veranda wrapped around the home with pale-green metal posts and tent-like canopy roofs. The yard was filled with old trees and gardens that appeared to be preparing themselves for winter. The driveway was even artistic with mosaics done in brick and cobblestone. I couldn’t help but gape every which way all at once, stunned by the sheer magnificence and magnitude.

  Henry parked under what appeared to be a covered drive-through, like at a hotel for guests to drop off luggage. “Do you house orphans or just live here alone, riding bikes from room to room and hosting gala events in your kitchen?”

  “You really are a pain in the ass.” Marcus didn’t join me for the chuckle.

  “What? Do you or do you not have charities and balls and allow the homeless to eat here on Sundays?”

  “Of course bloody not,” he sneered, even though I was still laughing.

  “You don’t like being made to realize you live ostentatiously, giving to no one?”

  “Well, you’re an orphan, and if you want, you can live here with me or just come and eat on Sundays.” He tried to act stern.

  “You’re a dork.”

  He looked affronted. “I’m a what?”

  “It’s a compliment,” I muttered, scanning the castle.

  “Liar.” He walked to the house but stopped to turn back to the older man in the bowler hat. “Henry, we have no further need for the car. Park it for the night I should think, if you please.”

  “I’m not sleeping here.” I scoffed.

  “I never said sleep.” He opened the door for me, grinning. I never would have entered the house, had I not had the burning desire to see inside. I loved watching International House Hunters on HGTV with Rebecca and knew I would be betraying that memory if I didn’t at least have a glance.

  It wasn’t like he was going to do anything ungentlemanly anyway. I was still the girl he ran from in the woods as she became a monster.

  And I did want to see the house.

  Because it was a castle.

  In friggin’ Oregon.

  The inside proved to be more incredible than the outside. I was floored.

  The tapestries and old-world charm matched perfectly with the modern and stylish decor. The rooms were huge; they could’ve been sizable hotel rooms. I felt silly being the only person in them as I strolled about perusing each fragile carving or exquisite painting.

  “You seriously have a whole room dedicated to etchings? How long have you been collecting art?” I whispered, certain he would hear me from the other room.

  “Too long to recall. Shall we?” he asked, sauntering in and directing me to a huge hallway off to the right.

  “What’s down there?” I narrowed my gaze, wondering if I could morph into the she-beast easily or if it took a real threat to get me there.

  “The answers to all your questions.” His words flowed so seamlessly. The way he spoke was equivalent to watching dancing or skating: flawless and fluid and mesmerizing. Combining it with his scent was unbearable. I’d held my breath for most of the drive. “I won’t bite.” He said it like we should chuckle but neither of us did.

  Hesitant and yet curious, I followed him, noticing everything. I drank in the vivid colors of the abstract art and the smooth, seamless finish of the marble carvings. Even the way the floors gleamed seemed impossible. Like his maid followed him around, wiping up after he walked through a room. Nothing was out of place or lived in. It even smelled like the gallery it appeared to be.

  “Your house is so sterile. If feels like a museum,” I spoke nervously as we entered another hallway, getting deeper into the mansion.

  “Would you rather I had orphans running about and mess everywhere?”

  “I guess not. This does sort of suit it.” I shrugged. “And you.”

  “I don’t know how to take that,” he muttered as he walked up to a dark-gray metal door with machines on either side. He looked into one machine as if it read his eyes and put his hand up against the other. The scan reader took his handprint.

  “Seriously?” I raised an eyebrow. “Is this the bat cave?”

  “It is.” He stood up as the huge door slid into the wall with a loud groan. “I’ll have to erase your memory before we leave.”

  “Can you go back months?” I grinned, not certain if he was telling the truth or joking. His humor was still too old for me to catch. I hoped he was joking and left it at that.

  The lab was stunning.

  The large white room had microscopes on sleek chrome counters and shiny walls. The huge metal door slid back into its place, locking us inside. I glanced at the locked door and murmured, “I wish I cared about science. This place is incredible.”

  He ignored me and headed to the counter with glass slides laid out and three microscopes. “I will need that piece of paper your father gave you,” he said softly, not making eye contact with me.

  “What?” I spun. “What piece of paper?”

  “The one you carry in your cleavage at all times.” He peered up from the chart he held. His dark-blue eyes hardened. “Let’s agree not to lie to one another. You’re not nearly good enough at it, and I am far too good for it to be considered any sort of sport.”

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to agree or not, but his expression terrified me.

  “The paper.” He put a hand out.

  I paused and thought about what I was doing. I couldn’t be sure he was the right person to give this to, but he was the only person who actually seemed to be interested in helping me cure this. So I put a hand into my bra and pulled the paper out. It almost felt like cloth, having spent so much time in there. “Sorry.” I grimaced, handing it to him.

  He brought it to his nose and smiled. “Smells like you.”

  “Oh my God! What are you doing? Don’t do that!” My cheeks flushed.

  He brushed it off and laid the crumpled paper out with a laugh. His scrutiny of it made me wonder what help I could possibly be, why he needed me there, beyond embarrassing me. Why hadn’t he just stolen the paper and brought it there?

  He read the words and numbers and gibberish over and over, not moving or speaking. I glanced back at the locked door again, noticing the lab bar stools he had for seating. I turned and tried to pick up a stool but it weighed a ton so I dragged it, making a nasty squeal fill the open space.

  “My God!” He turned back, giving me a disgusted look. “Do you need some help?”

  “I think so.” I paused, letting the stool sit back on its four feet.

  Visibly annoyed, he picked it up and placed it, as if it weighed nothing, next to where he stood.

  My face burned when I saw the drag marks on the pale concrete floor.

  “Who needs children?” he grumbled under his breath. “Looking less sterile and museum-like every second you’re here.”

  “It’s not my fault this thing weighs a ton.” I
sat on the stool, noticing how comfortable it was. “Who buys stools that weigh that much anyway?”

  “One hundred and eighty-five pounds. Considerably less than a ton.”

  “Whatever.” I eyed the paper and wondered what it all meant and why he cared so much.

  “My favorite answer of yours, by far. You teenage girls and your “whatever” mentality will be the declination of your species. Imagine the impact you will have on your children who will no doubt adopt your aloof and careless attitude.”

  “I can go home anytime you want to say the magic words to old Hank out there.” I pointed at the door.

  “What magic words?” He laughed.

  I raised my eyebrow at him and mimicked his accent, “If you please.” I followed it up with a subtle bow.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t think I was smart enough to notice you say that every single time you get him to take you anywhere? I’m not a genius like my father, but I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck.”

  “You’ve waited your whole life to say that sentence, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, yes, I have,” I answered smugly as I stood up from the stool and dragged it with all my might across the floor to its original resting place. The marks on the concrete made me laugh. I walked to the door expectantly. “Scan me out of here. I’m going home.”

  “Home? Home where? Back to your aunt and uncle’s where they tried to kill you? Back to your dad’s where Roland will no doubt send you to Lydia’s where, by the way, they will kill you.” He never lifted his face from the wrinkled paper. “When you decide where you’d rather be than here, you let me know and I will rustle up ol’ Hank.”

  “Whatever.” I slid down the door and watched him do the most boring job ever: read.

  Nothing was making any sense.

  Chapter 10

  Stuck by a buck

  I woke, not realizing I’d fallen asleep.

  My head rested on something. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again as they focused. I was no longer within the inner sanctum of his majesty’s weird lab. This room was eerie with dark-blue walls and huge fabric curtains draped at the window, letting a meager amount of light in.

  “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  I jumped, startled at Marcus smiling at me. “What are you doing in here? What am I doing here? Did you drug me?” I panicked and checked to ensure my clothes were still on.

  “This is my bed.”

  “What am I doing in here?” My entire body got instant pins and needles.

  “I carried you here.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “You fell asleep on the floor. I thought I was doing you a service by putting you in a bed. The floor would have been uncomfortable.”

  I wanted to pull away but the smell of him drew me in. I couldn’t force myself to pull back.

  His eyes were full of passion. I recognized the look. It was the same as in the car. “Hanna, you have me turned upside down.”

  “If you weren’t such a dick, I’d say the same thing.” I climbed off the bed, only to be pulled back on.

  “You can go, when I say you can go.” His mouth met mine, crushing it. His tongue forced its way in. His hand slid up the back of my shirt.

  I panicked. “Stop!” I shoved him back, scared of the ripple under my skin. “No.”

  Every part of me twitched as the shift came.

  I ran off the bed and from the room.

  The hall got fuzzy.

  My eyes couldn’t focus.

  Sweat burst from my pores.

  Screams echoed the halls as if coming from the rooms I passed, but I knew well enough by then they were mine.

  At the end of the hall I ran into a room, and seeing a window, I dove through it.

  I needed to be outside.

  The glass shattered, cutting my skin.

  I screamed, but the pain of the glass cuts was nothing in comparison to the war going on inside me. I landed with a thud on the grass below and ran into the forest before I could hear him screaming my name. It was too late. My skin tore itself from my body. Sound switched off and everything went dark.

  I woke to something sharp stabbing at my stomach.

  My right eye didn’t open, but my left one noticed movement.

  A beige-colored shape moved beside me and, as if the sound was turned on at the same moment, there was a scream. I heard everything, too much and too soon.

  I forced my right eye open. The pain of everything, the sounds, and stabbing hit all at once.

  The shriek was drowning me. I touched my lips, checking to be sure it wasn’t me shouting. I blinked and the beige thing moved again. It moved in sequence with the screams.

  I stared, letting the image clear and my brain catch up to recognize it. There was no way it could be what I thought I saw.

  A full-grown deer with one of its horns ripped off lay on the ground next to me. Blood seeped from its stomach. I reached for it, but as my own hand came into view, I noticed the blood on me. I peered down to see the deer’s horn sticking through my stomach.

  Tears formed in my eyes as I panicked and came to conclusions, the kind I didn’t ever want to come to. I tried to pull the horn from my stomach which made my insides burn.

  “Help!” Sobs left my lips in hoarse heaves as I cried out, “Help me. Please, help me.”

  The animal in front of me suffered needlessly but I couldn’t reach it. Only my underwear was intact and part of my shirt. The rest of my clothes had been ripped off and the horn had me stuck and bleeding everywhere. The whole front of my body was covered in blood—some was mine and some the deer’s. I was shivering and alone in the forest with a badly wounded buck and maybe we would both die there.

  Through the agony, I dragged my wounded body closer to the deer. The animal thrashed as if recognizing me as the predator who had wounded it.

  “I’m so sorry.” I heaved again and laid a hand on its face. I didn’t know what to do. I scanned the forest for a solution. Everything was bright and green and alive. There was nothing to kill a deer just lying about. I tried to push myself up and take a step but the huge antler in my stomach felt as if it were ripping me open.

  “HELP ME, PLEASE! PLEASE!”

  The deer struggled and screamed again, never taking its dark eyes off me.

  Was this how Rebecca died?

  “HENRY—SOMEONE—PLEASE!”

  I lay back, the pain becoming too much.

  “Hanna?”

  Marcus’ voice truly was like music.

  “Here!” I groaned, knowing he would help me.

  “Hanna, Jesus Christ, what have you done?”

  “The deer. Marcus, you have to put it down.” I looked up to see Marcus’ worried eyes taking it all in.

  “I will.” His face changed slightly. His eyes went completely black and fangs dropped as if his teeth grew. He turned away from me as the deer screamed again, but it was cut off by a gurgling sound.

  The sounds of what I couldn’t see were terrifying.

  Marcus wiped the blood from his mouth. “That was disgusting.” He bit into his wrist, dripping the blood near my face. “You have to drink this as I rip the antlers out. It will heal you.”

  “Are you insane? Take me to the hospital.” I leaned away from the crimson stream. “I’ll be fine with a quick surgery, I’m sure.”

  “Hanna, drink. They will want to know how you were gored by a deer and lost all your clothes.”

  “Please, Marcus, don’t make me do this. My dad lived through all his injuries.”

  “No, he didn’t.” His gaze hardened. “I made him an immortal long before he ever sustained anything major.”

  “I don’t want to be an immortal.”

  “Hanna, my blood will heal you, that’s all. I gave him something else to become an immortal.”

  “What are you?” My hands quivered, trying to push his bleeding wrist away from my face.

  “Hanna, drink or you will die.”

  “It’s for th
e best. They’ll kill me anyway.” I should have stayed at Lydia’s. It was no wonder they wanted me there.

  “Not if I can save you.” He forced his wrist into my mouth, pushing his warm sweet blood into my lips. He squeezed his arm, as if pumping the blood into me. I tried to fight him but it was no use. The blood flooded my mouth. My only choice was to swallow before I drowned in it. I gagged as the hot liquid slid down my throat.

  Ripping pain filled me. The blood still pumped into my mouth, making it impossible to scream. I pushed his arm away, the gurgling scream filling my throat.

  “You taste much better than the deer.” He dragged a finger through my blood and licked it.

  “What are you doing? What are you?”

  “Guess.” He looked up, frightening me with his black eyes. They hadn’t changed back to dark blue.

  “I don’t know.” My hands shook and my body trembled as if going into shock.

  “Yes, you do. Tell me what I am.” He picked me up and carried me through the woods.

  “You’re—you’re a vampire?” I couldn’t believe I was saying it aloud, and yet my stomach was completely healed so there was that.

  “I’m the vampire.”

  “The only one in the world?”

  “No.” He laughed. “The first one in the world.”

  “Oh my God.” I shuddered. “You’re Dracula?”

  “The very one.”

  “But you said you were Nephilim?”

  “I am.”

  “You’re both?”

  “My father was an angel and my mother was a human. My mother died and my father left. My grandparents, who were completely unaware of my abilities, raised me. I got into trouble because of them and was cursed.” His voice lowered there.

  “Cursed?” I swallowed, not sure what that meant. Technically, it would seem I was cursed.

  “My heart was taken so I would never find love.”

  “You can’t love?”

  He laughed. “Of course I can. It was figurative. It’s harder for me to feel emotions.”

  “Are you going to kill me? Drink my blood and make me your blood slave?”

  “What? You would make a terrifying blood slave. I would bite you, you would change and snap me in half.” He chuckled. “No, I don’t take blood slaves. I don’t need to eat very often. One would get bored feeding me.”