by D. R. Perry
“Um, hi.” I tried to shoulder by, wondering why she couldn’t just use the bathroom on the first floor. Her first words told me there wasn’t a janitorial emergency on the ground level after all.
“Can we talk?” I realized her usual grin had gotten bigger. It had the opposite effect of what she might have intended, more like baring her teeth than smiling.
“Depends.” I took evasive action, but she countered it. Time to raise shields and try to survive the photon torpedoes.
“About?” That grin was giving me nightmarish flashbacks to all the times Aunt Sally had made me watch Miss America pageants. She always cried at the end.
“Will you stop blocking me from getting back in my room to keep an important appointment with my hair straightener?” I held up the small appliance that I couldn’t imagine living without anywhere the temperature got below freezing. Frozen hair was no fun.
“Oh.” She looked up at my terrycloth-turbaned head as though she hadn’t noticed it before. “Sorry.” Jeannie stepped aside, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t leave me alone. I was never that lucky.
Stalking down the hall, the backs of my slippers thwacked against the tiled floor. I heard Jeannie’s sneakers squeaking slightly as she followed. I walked through the open door and just left it open. She could find her own way in if she dared. Yeah, I’m rude when someone leaves me standing in a drafty bathroom doorway with wet hair. Sue me.
I went about the business of hanging up my towel and plugging in my straightener, waiting for it to warm and for her to speak. She didn’t. Instead, she looked at the Goth decor on the other side of the room from my bed. I took a few minutes to look at it too until I remembered a bit about the girl behind the name inked on the dry erase board.
“That’s my roommate’s. Apparently, she’s stuck in the 1980s.” I brushed my hair as I waited for the wet-to-dry flat iron to heat. Did I mention that device was nothing short of a hair-drying miracle?
“You have a roommate?” She blinked, reminding me for all the world of those creepy dolls that shut their eyes when you put them on their backs. That was a step up from Barbie, at least. And yeah, I had hated Barbie growing up. I used to give them pixie haircuts and dye their hair with Kool-Aid, a practice that had my mom smirking and left Aunt Sally pale with horror.
“Is it so odd to contemplate the fact that another person could tolerate living with me or something?” I winced as I found out first-hand that my beauty appliance was ready. Maybe it had bitten me on purpose. A side-effect of the hypocrisy of extolling a grooming device while hating pageants and fashion dolls, perhaps?
“No.” She looked at a sign on the wall above my desk. “Maddie May, Umbral magus. I’ve never heard of her.”
“Most people haven’t.” I blew on my finger and grabbed a section of hair to dry. “It’s nothing personal or intentional, she says.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of their thing, being unmemorable.” Jeannie’s mouth wore a smug little smile, as though her thing, whatever it might be, was better.
“Better than being remembered as a mega-bitch.” I shrugged and rolled my eyes. By then, I’d remembered that Maddie was a nice person and my only friend here. Jeannie wasn’t getting away with playing the Mean Girl in this room while it was still mine.
“Wow. Is that really what you think?” Jeannie put her hands on her hips. “Look, I came to talk to you about that, maybe.”
“Memories or mega-bitches?” I tilted my head so I could glare directly into her eyes. “Probably the latter, right?” I figured her for the kind of girl who’d love to talk about herself, not me.
“Neither. Being remembered, actually.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “I’m an RA, and I just saw the housing withdrawal form you submitted yesterday. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh?” I patted my hair, then switched the iron to the side that was still wet. “Is there a problem with my form?”
“No, mostly just a question, because you didn’t fill out the optional section.” She took a deep breath. “Are you moving off-campus or leaving PPC?”
“Do you even know what ‘optional’ means?” She was in college, so yeah. That was definitely sarcasm. Wouldn’t stop me from rolling on the floor laughing if it happened to be true. The RA looked like the girls who used to sit behind me and put gum in my hair during class.
“Wow, you really are as sarcastic as people say.” Jeannie shook her head, but all the plastic had gone out of her face along with her smile. The corners of her mouth tilted down, and her eyebrows slanted instead of making golden arches. That weary expression looked almost genuine, but it might also just be resting bitch-face. Maybe she wasn't a bitch at all, and that was the best Jeannie could do.
“Of course, I do. But after meeting you this morning, I just had to try to find out.”
“Why?” I blinked, trying to keep the rest of my face still to conceal my surprise. But Jeannie was a bear shifter. She probably smelled that on me, anyway. If so, she gave no indication.
“Because if you’re leaving, there’s something I want to say to you, and there’re only a few days left.” Her sigh was heavy and lower-pitched than I would have guessed.
“Well, okay, then. I’m not telling you the reason I have for submitting that form, so pick one and run with it.” Reaching around the back of my head to get the last wet section, I twisted my arms awkwardly. “I’m a firm believer in just saying what’s on your mind.”
Jeannie turned to face the door. Her face got that Barbie doll look back, and her posture stiffened. She reminded me of a knight putting on armor instead of a woman whose biggest achievement in high school had probably been Homecoming Queen. She put her hand on the knob and turned it, but hesitated before pulling it open.
“My family and Bobby’s go back a long way. We all went down to help the Tremains after his dad’s accident. He’s had it hard enough.” She glanced over her shoulder. “So help me, if you break his heart…” She pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes, the threat unfinished.
I stared wide-eyed at her face, for once stuck without a barb to throw in her general direction. Either Jeannie was mistaken, or I was. Occam’s Razor had been one of my signature pieces of philosophy since I heard Spock quote Sherlock Holmes in Star Trek VI. She’d known him for years. I’d known Bobby for less than two days. If Jeannie thought he cared for me and I didn’t, she was more likely to be correct.
“Okay.” I put the flat iron down, no longer caring about the damp patch on the back of my head. “I’ll do the best I can, being a sarcastic shrew and all.”
Jeannie’s whole face changed when she smiled this time. She didn’t remind me of a Barbie doll anymore, or a pageant contestant, or even a Homecoming Queen. It was like watching a frightened cat finally approach, still unsure whether the outstretched hand in front of her meant ear scratches or being stuffed into a carrier bound for the vet. Jeannie got misunderstood too, just as much as I did, but for different reasons. She pulled open the door and let herself into the hall without further comment, closing the door gently.
Out the window, the sky faded to deep blue as the rest of the daylight ran out. I hurried through dressing, my disbelief at Jeannie’s words still in evidence as I pulled on flannel-lined jeans and a bulky fleece top. Shrugging into my jacket and backpack took almost no time at all. I avoided the elevator because I had loads of energy to burn all of a sudden.
Outside, the snowbanks still loomed over me, slightly higher than my head. I navigated them with the cautious confidence of a girl born and raised in winter’s natural habitat. These Rhode Islanders liked to freak out, stripping the shelves in every corner market of bread and milk. I’d seen worse. Maybe that was why I stopped and called to the clear, frigid sky above the precarious snow pile on the library overhang, “Do your worst, weatherman!”
I had no idea how bad it could get.
Chapter Nine
Bobby
“Are you sure that’ll work?” The amulet seemed like the be
tter bet. I believed Blaine, but not the vampire I still hadn’t met. “I mean, the guy’s not even licensed.”
“Licenses are new for this kind of thing.” Blaine twirled the straw in his soda. “Henry’s been in business since the 1980s, before he even got turned. He helped my mom, two of my uncles, my cousin, and a complete and utter bastard I knew back in prep school. He’s legit.”
“If the Harcourts are doing it, so should I is what you’re saying.” I sighed, leaning my head on my hand.
“Oh, Henry’s amulets are all the rage in Newport.” Blaine winked, then blew bubbles through his straw. I was still amazed that a guy who could turn into a dragon big enough to take up the whole dining hall could act like such a kid. I wondered how many years he’d been alive. Surely dragons had to age differently than most other shifters. They might as well be immortal like their counterparts the Tanuki.
“Well, if everybody in Newport’s doing it, then so will I.” A low and muffled growl came from my midsection. “I really should eat something before he shows up, though. I don’t think I could bear it.”
“Ugh, I think that joke’s more rotten than a petrified egg.” Blaine wrinkled his nose as though the pun had actually smelled bad. “But anyway, good call on the food tip. You have to say a few words during the binding process, and it’d be best if that empty pit you call a stomach doesn’t chime in with its own opinion.”
I rolled my eyes and got up, practically knocking Lynn over as I stood. Instead of some sour and cranky quip, she blushed to the roots of her hair. I stood there blinking, wondering why she smelled different than before. When she licked her lips, I got it. This was Lynn swooning. Also freshly showered and rested. I smiled, couldn’t help it. I was just that happy to see her.
She sat down before I could act on my bear’s impulse to crush her to my chest in a public display of something that felt two sizes too big to be affection. Maybe Dad and Blaine were right. Either way, I’d do my damnedest to find out one way or the other tonight. My stomach growled again.
“Get some food you can eat while studying, bear-man.” Lynn plunked a book on the table, cracking it open. “Ecology. Just because we’re on vampire time doesn’t mean we should slack off on your exam cram. Now go.”
“You heard the lady,” Blaine added a dollop of smirk to this new and improved wink.
I went. This time, there wasn’t any bacon or salmon. I had to make do with cheeseburgers. A kid I remembered was some kind of feline shifter stood ahead of me at the grill, chewing his lower lip. The Changeling behind the counter, Seelie by his scent, wore a cruel little grin.
“No, I won’t say it.” The kid’s arms and fists clenched tightly as he struggled to control his cat. PPC’s buildings were reinforced to withstand shifter strength, but out-of-control shifting indoors would definitely get the kid in trouble even if he wasn’t a large cat.
“If you don’t, your food goes in the trash.” I recognized a bully when I saw one. He still hadn’t noticed me, so I stepped closer, leaning on the rail next to the kid.
“Is this going to take much longer?” I looked at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got a study date.”
“Oh. Um, no.” Now that there was a witness, the cafeteria Changeling backed off. He handed a plate with a cheeseburger and fries to the waiting kid. I gave him my order, and it was in my hands in record time. Someone tugged my sleeve halfway back to our table.
“Hey, thanks. I’m Tony. I owe you one.” He put his hand out, so I shook it.
“Bobby.” I yawned. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“No, man, I do. Not that a meowing shifter will be much help to someone like you.” He touched his nose. “I can tell you’re a bear.”
“The nose knows.” I tried to smile but only blinked sleepily. “What was his problem, anyway?”
“He thinks it’s funny to make me act like I belong in an Internet meme.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I’ll make it up to you if I see a chance. It’s a cat thing. We don’t like karma sitting so long it gets stale.” I thought it sounded more like a Faerie thing, actually, but didn’t comment. The only feline shifter I’d met before was a lion, and Tony didn’t smell like anything so large. For all I knew, there was some kind of honor amongst smaller cats I hadn’t heard about.
“You seriously shouldn’t feel obligated, but I understand.” I waved as I headed back to the table, feeling more awake as I sat across from Lynn.
The textbook she held out toward me had the distinction of turning what should be an interesting subject into a bland list of facts. A rainbow of neon-colored post-it notes graced the pages. One had a naughty mnemonic I learned the night before. Another, a doodle of Professor Watkins getting bound up in a spider web. I opened my mouth to yawn, but a laugh came out.
“Oh, this is awesome.” I pointed at a yellow note with the words Wake Up underlined three times. “When did you find time to do all this?”
“These are the notes I usually make. I added that one while you got food.” Lynn grinned.
“Huh.” Blaine raised an eyebrow as he leaned to peek at the book. “No wonder you remember everything, Frampton. Your snark’s good for something besides entertaining the witless masses.”
“Huh?” She looked genuinely puzzled, as if she had no idea anyone thought she was a riot and a half. “What’s that supposed to mean, Trogdor?”
Blaine chuckled and opened his mouth to answer, but he closed it almost right away. I didn’t have to wonder why. I knew a vampire when I smelled one. I looked over my shoulder to see what Henry Baxter looked like.
He stood about a head shorter than Blaine, with dark hair and light eyes. Pale, of course, and he’d been turned in what looked like his late 20s. His leather jacket was open even though he’d just come in from outside. It was vintage, from the late 70s and punk. Vampires didn’t put on outerwear because they needed to stay warm. Some did it to blend in, others out of habit. Mom knew a few whose clothes all had historical or sentimental value. I couldn’t tell which Henry was, only that he continued to stand there, a little between and behind Blaine and me .
“Hi, there.” Lynn’s genuine smile surprised me. “Please, sit and join us.”
“Thanks.” Henry sat down in the remaining chair across from me. “You have no idea how many people don’t understand about the invitation thing.”
“Does this mean you can sit with us at any time now?” I didn’t find Henry particularly scary as far as vampires went, but I was a little shaky on the exact rules. I couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or pulling my leg.
“Nope.” He jerked his chin at Lynn. “Just where she is. So, you’re the one who’s got to remember to stay awake for an exam?”
“Yeah.” As if to prove my point, I yawned. “Hibernation urge. I have to pass that exam, or I’m out of here. I’ll try anything at this point, even though it’s hard to believe a memory amulet’s going to help.”
“They actually do quite a bit.” Henry pulled a coin on a lanyard out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “I put memories of things that wake people up in here. Stuff like the smell of coffee, cold water in the face, fire alarms going off, whatever. Once I attune it to you, that stuff hits when you activate it. One like this will only last about an hour, but that ought to do it.”
“Hold on a minute.” Lynn sat back and raised an eyebrow. “They check for memory amulets at exams. How will yours pass that?”
“The proctors will look at it, but since I don’t think Ecology covers hot coffee, they’ll let it through. Blaine told me the subject so I can steer clear of anything they might find hinky. Also, there’s this.” Henry handed Lynn a small yellow paper.
“Ah. Registry slip.” She nodded. “Part of the reason you’re here, right?”
“Yeah. Johnny Law doesn’t care that I’ve been making and selling these since before I got turned.” The left side of his mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin. “Gotta learn all the red tape and yellow slips if I want to stay in business.” He t
urned back to me. “You okay with this?”
“Sure.” My stomach growled. “Uh, mind if I eat a burger or three first?”
“Knock yourself out. I still have to put the memories in before we do the binding.” Henry palmed the amulet, closing his eyes and his fist around it. Then he held it up to his forehead and took a deep breath he didn’t need.
“Why’d he breathe, do you think?” I didn’t bother whispering my question to Blaine. Henry would hear me anyway, and whispering was hard to pull off with a mouthful of burger.
“All vampires with special powers had them before they turned.” Blaine was the closest thing to an expert on the undead I knew. I wondered whether they counted as artifacts from his perspective. “I bet whoever helped him train his psychic ability did it with deep breathing exercises while he still needed air. He’s been a Psychic longer than he’s been a vampire, remember.”
I wondered exactly how long he’d had the memory power and if so, whether it was the reason he’d been turned. Even though Mama knew a few vampires, she’d never asked them such personal questions. But I was at PPC to learn. Maybe I’d find out if I managed not to sleep all spring. I reached for another burger, not realizing I’d finished them already. Lynn handed me a paper cup with a straw. I took a sip and nearly dropped it at the unexpected contents.
“What’s this?” I tried not to splutter too much around the question. Still, I stuck my tongue out after asking. Just couldn’t help it.
“Iced coffee.” Lynn’s eyes flicked back and forth across lines of text. “Black, no sugar. You can’t afford a crash.”