The Roses Academy- the Entire Collection

by Tara Brown

  “I understand now the expression, I’m sorry I asked. Thank you for that small lesson on why humans are the lesser species.” He winces like I’ve caused him pain and I remember exactly why I am here.

  I tilt my head to the side. “Get your fill. I have to go. I have to end this and move on with whatever hell my life has become.”

  He doesn't hesitate. He lowers his face, filling me with his fangs. Every bit of me wishes I didn't enjoy each second of it. The delectable sensation of having my back squished into the wall as his fangs pierce my flesh overwhelms me. But I don't listen to his warnings and growls when my fangs also pop, grazing his shoulder. I bite down and draw from his neck a little longer, chanting with my head. “Curse of the blood, curse of the compassion, find your way into my heart, taking with you his pain and passion.”

  I lick his wound as a thousand things fill me up. I kiss his neck and pat him on the cheek. “See ya round, Mr. Vampire.”

  “Dragomir and you’re not leaving.”

  I wave backward and strut to my clothes. I desperately want my clothes back, my black ones. I miss the sleek look. The lavender leisure suit is fairly low on my list of things I might have once wanted to wear. In fact, I don't think it made the cut, ever.

  I hate that the seventies haven’t even hit yet and shit is about to get real bad as far as fashion is concerned.

  “STOP!”

  I jump, cocking an eyebrow. “Why are you shouting at me?”

  “Stop! I beg of you. I don't care what you wear or what you think or how much of my curse interests you. Just stop thinking about the shitty clothes and then doing that whole inner dialogue thing. Jesus, I can’t take another second.”

  I pull my middle finger from the front of the leisure suit. “Look what I found for you—all my compassion and caring for your sweet little opinion. Bless your heart, Marcus.” I wave, carrying my shoes. “It’s been real fun.” I stalk out into the hall and wish to the gods of all things holy and even unholy that I had a damned cell phone.

  I hurry to the elevator, a little desperate to get away from him before he realizes he didn't want me gone.

  When I get to the lobby I smile just as sweet as I can, pouring sugar from my soul. I want to see if I can do it. I lean on the counter and bat my lashes. “Hi there. I’m looking for my friend, Lorri. She’s got red hair and a kind of mean look to her but she’s real pretty. I came in with her and didn't get her room number. Could y’all give it to me?”

  The man behind the counter makes me think he might either die of boredom or he has already but is still standing somehow. “Room number and last name.” His voice offers less excitement than his face.

  Clearly, he missed the whole “I don't know her room number.” I contemplate the things she might have used. “Room 666, last name Rose.”

  “No one here by that name.” He cocks an eyebrow.

  I lean in, compelling him. “Red hair, mean look, blood-red knee-high boots, and she would have a single room, but she came in with a handsome dark-haired man and me.”

  “Room 914.” He nods blankly.

  “Forget we talked.”

  He goes back to being just slightly more fun than watching paint dry as I hurry to the elevator. When I get to Lorri’s room, Dorian opens the door across the hall. He doesn't say anything, just stares at me. I wave subtly. “Hi.”

  “You all right then?”

  “All right? No. Ready to kill Whit and end this disastrous shitstorm? Hell yes.”

  He smiles and closes the door, in my face.

  I turn back to knock but he opens the door a second later, wearing his black peacoat and dark-blue jeans. The man is beautiful.

  He slides his arm in mine, and winks.

  We land in a soft patch of dirt. My shoes sink in. “This is why Lorri wears boots everywhere.” I wish I’d worn them instead of this.

  He nods and slides his finger up to his lips. His luscious lips. My eyes roam down his body. I lift a hand and run it down the front of him.

  What the shit is happening to me? I’m losing my marbles.

  I’m getting all sassy and—damn! Taking Marcus’ blood and curse has made me like Marcus. Oh God. Oh God, I’ll be assaulting college girls and spitting on old ladies before the night is through. I have to get it out, but how?

  “Can you have that debate with yourself somewhere else at another time perhaps? We have work to do.”

  My jaw drops. “Can you hear my thoughts?”

  Dorian laughs. “When you say them aloud, yes.”

  My face is bright red. I think steam might actually be leaving my pores.

  “I don't actually want to know.” He puts a hand up but creeps along the muddy field. “And if you touch me like that again, I’ll take it as an invitation, we clear?” His words are death on my insides.

  I hate Marcus.

  It takes me a full second of inner moaning and griping to smell the scent of the lilacs and magnolias on the warm breeze. I inhale and moan.

  I am home.

  I recognize the blood-stained trees as we get closer to the spot I didn't think Whit had the balls to come. Grandmamma Holt’s house.

  No longer afraid at all, I walk up to the front door and knock. She answers, giving me a confused look. “You ‘posed ta be in da England. Why you here, cher?”

  “Whit.”

  Ramón walks to the door, grinning away like an alley cat. “Ooooeeee, cher, something on you smells an awful lot like that Marcus. You wanna give me details?”

  “No. Trust me, they’re seedy like his soul. How’s Tessa? Where is she?”

  “I want dem details.” Ramón smiles. “Shoot, you know we took care of her. She’s real happy down at her friend Lillian’s house. Da poor woman lost her husband and asked Tessa to move in wit her to help her out and keep her company.”

  “That's good. She must be busier than a three-legged dog trying to keep up with Lillian. That’ll keep her mind busy. She might not even think about Daddy dying.”

  “You want to go see her, cher?”

  “No.” I shake my head as Dorian steps closer, obviously afraid of Grandmamma Holt.

  Her eyes dart to him. “I ain’t ready for ya yet, sin eater. Ya gots time ta change your fates.”

  Dorian’s eyes flicker. He knows what she’s talking about.

  When I give Ramón a look, he twitches his head like he’s saying no. I press my lips together, forcing my inner Marcus to shut the hell up before Grandmamma slaps some sense into me. Although, a few slaps might rid me of Marcus.

  She gazes back at me. “Ya needs ta go home, cher. Dat where he be.” She nods at me once. “Ya know we love ya but we can’t be near dis one.” She closes the door in Dorian’s face as Ramón waves from behind her.

  Dorian looks like he might have seen a ghost. “What was that?”

  “Staring death in the face.” He turns and walks coldly. He doesn't want to talk either.

  Okay then. “Can we walk a bit?” I sneer at his hand as he reaches for me.

  “No.” He grabs me and winks me against my will. It’s sort of like being violated, and for whatever sick reason, it makes him smile a real smug grin.

  I heave a little, having not really been in the mood for the winky thing.

  My angry belly is worsened by the stale smell of burnt wood that hovers outside my house. Both things make me gag again.

  My heart aches the same as it did the day I came home after fifty years to find my dead sister not so dead, and even less like my sister.

  At least now I won’t find nothing but Whit.

  We walk past the police tape at the end of the entrance, crunching along the driveway. When we get close I hold a hand up. “He can’t hurt me. Just stay out here, let me talk to him.”

  Dorian ignores me completely and goes inside, through the large wooden front door that's been left ajar.

  The stench of blood and smoke is fresh. I can hear the people from the party stained into the wood burns and smoke damage. The party
that will never end, that has been immortalized by the deaths of all them people. If you close your eyes in a house like this one, you can hear the band and the people laughing and joking in the eerie silence of the dark room.

  Em’s blood still stains the doorway and entryway. My daddy’s blood is on the floor, a big burnt puddle of sticky blood. It’s cooked into the floor from the heat of the fire. I don't need to get close to it to know whose it is.

  The beams in the ceiling are hanging down and the walls are burnt. The fire was worse than I recall it being.

  Dorian walks without making a single sound. I am not so lucky. A critter from the swamps, probably a possum, scurries to my right, making me jump and squeal a little.

  That earns me a dirty look.

  I don't know where Whit is but he ain’t here. I can’t sense him at all.

  We are alone.

  At least I think we are until I see him—my daddy. He walks to me, shaking his head and looking just like he did that night.

  He’s not dead?

  “Daddy?”

  Dorian stops and stares at me. “He has no—”

  “I know.” I put a hand up, cutting him off. I know my daddy has no heartbeat. “Daddy?”

  He lifts his face. It’s pale and frightened. His suit is ripped and blood is smeared across the front of him. “Lorelei? Is that you, honey?” Even his voice sounds funny.

  I swallow hard, even more scared of him than Whit. How is my father alive? Or not alive but still walking about.

  He sits in the rubble, leaning his head against the charred wall. “Your momma left me here. I tried to follow her, but she ran so fast and every time I tried to leave I came back here.”

  Oh God. He’s a ghost.

  “She said she would be right back but she didn't come. That nice young man you were seeing, he came by. He was real upset and said he couldn't find you either. I told him to try the old house in the field. I know you remember your way out there.”

  It makes me smile but there is a tremendous amount of pain behind the smile, hidden away. “Daddy, you seen anyone else?”

  “No, darling. I just stayed here. I’m real tired and I can’t seem to clean the mess up, and ain’t no one come to help with the cleanup.”

  “We’ll help, Daddy.” I hold my hands out to him, needing him to touch me so I can release him. He gets up and shuffles toward me, unsteadily like he might fall over. As his hands get close something icy slips between us. I pull back real fast as he changes into a ball of the black smoke. Dorian leaps at me, and the next thing I know, we’re back in the hotel, but not in my room. I heave a little, noting the orange shag carpet and the red boots sitting on top of it.

  “Hello, you two.” Lorri walks across the room, sitting in a chair and crossing her legs.

  I cough and shake my head. “That was real mean. Why would Grandmamma Holt tell me to go there if that's what was waiting?”

  “Because Whit must have been there. He set the trap.” Dorian sits on the bed casually, despite just about being eaten by my father’s fake ghost. “He’s clearly keeping his strict diet of witches going strong. Wanker!”

  I nod and close my eyes, sucking deep breaths.

  “Well, let’s go back and get him if he’s there. I’ll get Henry and Marcus.” Lorri sounds tired when she winks out. It’s weird; she never sounds tired. Sitting back on my heels and slowing my brain, I give Dorian a look. “She seems tired?”

  His eyes lift from the carpet. “She is. She’s been fighting this nonsense a long time. She gets one step ahead and they manage to get two. She’s always fighting, training, and recruiting. So adding to that the fact she has to constantly worry about catching up to them, her life is hard. Plus, she hasn’t been on a date in ages.” He is clearly tired too. Or concerned. Maybe because he never makes an authentic expression of concern, it comes across as tired. “You and Marcus, you an item?”

  “No.” I shake my head, fighting the bitter smile that crosses my face. “I don't believe there is a single person able to be an item with Marcus. Not one. He’s an item all on his own. He doesn't need a second person in that relationship; you’re mostly a burden. And he’s crass. I find myself becoming crass with him.”

  His smile creeps back across his lips. “That, back there in the swamps?”

  “I took some of his curse. I wanted to know what he was.” I shake my head, standing up finally to take a seat on the other bed in the room. “It was a mistake. You can’t dig around in his curse. It’s private. All I saw was his past in Romania, I think. He’s like Dracula but the real thing. He said it before but I didn't believe him.”

  Dorian’s tone is serious. “He stole something a long time ago, something powerful. He just wanted to be special and different. So he took something that would ensure that. Of course, all things backfire eventually.” Again, he looks like he’s seen a ghost. It's the most real he’s ever been around me. His smugness was sort of washed away for the most part when we saw Grandmamma. I sense it won’t be gone long.

  He and Marcus could have a shit-eating grin contest for a decade and still be at a stalemate.

  Lorri winks back with Marcus but Henry isn’t there. She scowls at us—she and Marcus. “Henry is meeting us there, hurry up.” They’re gone again instantly.

  Dorian doesn’t say anything. He just winks, dragging me along for the joyful ride.

  We land and I don’t get sick. I’m too distracted by the thought of being near Marcus that my insides are all clenched up. He holds my arm the moment I am near him, leaning into me. “I told you to stay with me.”

  I jerk free. “I paid my debt.”

  “For the other brothers. You’ll still owe me for this one.”

  I roll my eyes, sorting through the mixture of excitement about owing him and the intense amounts of disgust and shame for wanting him. “We’ll see.”

  The inside of the house is calm. My daddy is gone, thanks to the magical trap being sprung. My poor daddy. I hate that Whit used even a fake version of him for that. It shows his level of cruelty and desperation.

  When we get to the second floor I sense it. I don't like the whole witches talking in each other’s heads thing, but I look at Henry and think as loud as I can. He’s in my bedroom! For this I will break my rule of not using that power.

  Henry nods, resembling a bad guy walking up the stairs, but I know he’s got a heart of gold. Only he doesn’t have a heartbeat, like everyone else. I slip up behind him, trying not to wonder about the bowler hat. It’s so strange.

  The door is closed and the room is silent. Henry opens it with magic, by waving his hands a little. The door creeks open, making a sound that grates on my nerves and puts the hair on my arms on end.

  A girl in a pale dress is dead on the floor. She’s as white as her dress, bled out completely. Whit is sitting on my bed, holding Bunny. It makes me sick seeing Bunny that way, held in his greasy hands. He doesn't lift his gaze from my rabbit when we enter the room, just the two of us. But he does speak slowly. “I wanted to save you. Every night those cold whispers would linger in the air around you. Every night you were so scared, such a wee little girl deep down. I wanted to make you strong enough to fight anything.” His eyes lift and I can tell he’s been crying. His eyes don't dart to Henry or even acknowledge him. “Don't you see that? I loved you.”

  I shake my head, suddenly realizing vampires can’t really love. It's not any different from Marcus. He uses witches to feel again because he can suck the emotions from us and fill himself up. I know this because I did it back to him.

  Whit closes his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. “I loved you and I just wanted you to love me back. You want to know my evil plan? Well, that's it. I wanted to show my father the Blackwater line was dead and gone and you were not a witch. I had him convinced until you froze Rydal.” He shakes his head. “Damned Inger, he smelled you out and then you used magic.”

  I’m shaking a little but I have to be strong against him. He still smells
like the sweetest air I have ever breathed in. “You can’t love, Whit. You’re a soulless creature. You steal love and pretend it’s yours, but it can’t ever be. We can’t ever be. You never were the one thing I needed you to be.”

  He waits for me to speak but I see the arguments all over his face.

  “You were never human and I was.”

  He opens his mouth to scream. His rage is everywhere but Henry has him. He’s moved so fast for a bigger guy. He holds Whit perfectly still and speaks to me with his dark eyes, offering me the kill.

  I force myself to go to Whit. I force my hands across his throat, gripping him. I force the words from my lips, “The souls you stole may claim you now.” I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips against his, one last time, savoring the taste of my love for him all over my lips. I pull Bunny from his clutches and step back.

  They, the dead, come and surround him, lifting him from Henry’s arms. He mimics being hung on the cross as his arms come out and his head tilts back. A scream like I have never heard, except when my sister was a ghost, rips from his lips.

  I step back even farther as he is torn to pieces.

  Henry’s eyes widen, like even he might be a tad surprised at that one.

  Lorri walks into the room to stand next to me with her arms folded at her chest. “What in the hell did you do to that man?”

  “When I kissed him I made his mouth the gateway for all the dead witches his family has cursed. Each witch will tear through him on her way to the other side, taking back the piece of soul he stole. He will pay the debt for each of his brothers and father.”

  She cringes. “I knew I liked you.”

  We stand and watch as he is taken to the other side, piece by piece.

  It’s the least satisfying death I have ever watched, mostly because one piece of me left with him. The piece that was once my innocent heart.

  Chapter 13

  New York City, 2012

  I walk along the hall, a bit excited to see her again. It’s been so long, too long. When I get into the office, her eyes lift as do her lips. She squeals and jumps from the chair, wrapping herself around me. “LORELEI!” Em shouts.