Crossroads (Crossroads Academy #1)

by J. J. Bonds

  “Let go,” he says simply. “You’ve got to let your instincts guide you. Learn to read your opponent and react intuitively.”

  “Like you do?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  “Katia, I know practically every move you’re going to make even before you do.”

  He’s being serious for once. Not teasing me, not laughing. He’s telling me that I’ll never beat him if I don’t change my approach. I’m good enough to best the beginners in my class, but that isn’t enough for me.

  “What a colossal waste of time!” Blaine interjects with a sneer, reminding us of his presence. What I wouldn’t give to knock that look off his face.

  “Sorry. Are you feeling left out? You’re welcome to join us. I can always use another punching bag,” I reply tartly, shooting him a smile laced with sarcasm.

  “Two-on-one. Now there’s an interesting idea,” Nik smirks huskily in my ear. His closeness is unnerving. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to rattle me on purpose.

  “Again.” This time I give the order. I’ve resolved to block out Blaine’s unsolicited commentary and Nikolai’s innuendos.

  Nikolai shows me a dozen different patterns that he wants me to work on. We practice each of the moves together at first. He gives me guidance, straightening my limbs when needed and pointing out the best combinations and strike zones for each. I pick up the pace as we go, increasing the momentum of our session.

  To the human eye our incredible speed would be just a blur. It’s odd to think how easily I could crush a human bone or snap a neck. Humans are so fragile by comparison. I can hit Nikolai with the full force of my muscles, and, while I may break the skin occasionally, his body repairs itself almost immediately. We don’t suffer the indignity of bruises and broken limbs long. Fortunately.

  When I catch a glimpse of the clock I realize we’ve been at it for hours. I don’t have anywhere else to be today, but maybe Nikolai does. I hate to leave. In here it’s easy to forget the rest of the world. He catches me eyeing the clock.

  “Want to grab a drink and call it a day?”

  “Sure.” I hope he can’t sense my disappointment. We head for the cooler and I realize that Blaine is gone. He must’ve slipped out while we were sparring. It’s just as well. I’m in no danger of missing him.

  Nik takes the liberty of pouring drinks for both of us. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until I have the cup in my hand. The smell of the blood arouses my senses. It’s not human. It’s definitely from a wild animal. A bear maybe? Perhaps a wolf? There are plenty in the mountains surrounding the school. I hear them howling at the night sky regularly. I take a big gulp and savor the taste, wishing I could hunt on my own.

  “So what do you think?” I ask earnestly.

  “You’re not entirely hopeless,” he teases, running a hand through his dark hair.

  I stick my tongue out at him and drain my glass. The training center is clearing out. Only a handful of students remain. I refill my cup and take a seat on the nearby bench. Nik joins me, turning to watch the stragglers who remain.

  I don’t recognize most of them. Another glaring reminder of my anti-social behavior and self-imposed isolation. There is one girl that looks familiar. I think she’s in my Sociology class. She’s throwing knives, something I’d love to learn. I study her form, as she hits the bull’s-eye time and again. I wonder fleetingly if this is something Nikolai can teach me.

  “So? How’s Crossroads treating you so far?”

  Really? That’s what he wants to talk about? Why does everyone keep asking me that? It’s hard to believe any of them really care. Especially Nik.

  “I think we both know the answer to that question,” I reply sourly. My pleasant mood takes a dive at this unwanted turn in the conversation, frustration welling up to take its place.

  “Well, you’re not giving it much of a chance, are you?”

  His assumptions grate on my nerves. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “You’re only here because I can give you something you want. Otherwise you wouldn’t give me the time of day.” I’d like to tell him he’s wrong, but I can’t.

  “Good thing you don’t have a fragile ego then, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed. Seven o’clock on Tuesday?” he asks casually. I admire his profile as he stands and stretches. He’s tall and well-muscled without being bulky. Like Anya he’s got nice bone structure: prominent cheekbones, straight nose, dimple on his left cheek. His dark hair is a mess, though, from training. It suits him and adds to his reckless appearance.

  “Works for me,” I reply, hesitating. “And Nik… thanks.”

  Chapter Nine

  It’s difficult not to notice Shaye’s absence from Anatomy. The first day I don’t think much of it, but when she’s still a no show later in the week I begin to worry. What could possibly be keeping her from class? No one else seems to care. I doubt most of our classmates have even noticed the empty desk. Like me she’s in no danger of winning a popularity contest. But Shaye’s absence gnaws at me. Attendance is mandatory, and there’s no way she’s getting away with skipping two classes in a row.

  When Professor Hooke wraps up his lecture on the differences between human and vampire musculature, I linger behind while the rest of the class trickles out.

  “Professor Hooke?”

  “Yes, Katia. What is it?” he replies hurriedly, looking up from his desk and filing our homework assignments in his briefcase. It seems he’s on a tight schedule today.

  “Would you like me to take the assignments to Shaye? She’s missed two classes now. It would be a shame for her to fall behind. You know how much she loves Anatomy.” It’s a white lie, but I doubt he’s really listening to me anyway. He hasn’t paid much attention to me at all since the day I fell asleep in class. The day Shaye saved my ass.

  “It’s very good of you to offer,” he says, pausing to pull some blank worksheets from his bag. He hands me the forms. “Just tell her to bring them with her when she returns to class.”

  “Will do. Umm… Can you also look up her room number for me?”

  “You don’t know it?” he asks exasperated.

  It will only take him a moment to look it up on his desktop computer, so I just smile and do my best to look completely oblivious to the fact that I’m asking him to break a rule by disclosing personal information. He checks the time on his wristwatch and frowns. Hooke’s running late, and it works in my favor. His fingers fly over the keyboard, accessing the course roster and the information I need.

  “Three fourteen.”

  “Thanks!” I take the worksheets and get out of there before he can ask any more questions.

  When I arrive at Shaye’s door, I find it locked. I knock gently and wait for her to answer. She doesn’t. I knock again. This time harder and more urgently. I know Shaye can hear me. If she’s home. When she still doesn’t answer, I resign myself to the fact that she’s not there and slide the homework assignments under the door.

  I’m not sure what else to do. It’s not like I can go to the headmaster’s office and demand an explanation. Just as I’m about to give up, the door opens a crack. Shaye is home after all.

  “It’s really not a good time, Katia,” she whispers hoarsely.

  Something isn’t right. Her voice sounds funny and what little I can see of her looks terrible. What’s going on here? I make a snap decision and shove the door open. Shaye makes no effort to resist. She steps back and allows the door to swing wide open.

  “Might as well come in then,” she says, wearily retreating back to the comfort of her bed. She ignores the worksheets on the floor so I do the same. Shaye’s wearing baggy gray sweats and looks like she hasn’t showered in days. As she tucks herself back into bed, I notice that her eyes are bloodshot and sallow. Deep purple bruises lay under her eyes.

  “You look awful. What’s wrong? Why haven’t you been in class?” I demand. Shaye’s used to me and isn’t put off my bluntness.

  “I haven’t exactly been feeling wel
l,” she replies, settling back into a pile of pillows.

  “I don’t understand. How can that be? What are you talking about?” I’m bombarding her with questions, but I can’t help it. She’s not making any sense.

  “I’m not well, Katia.”

  “Not well? You’ll have to do better than that, Shaye.”

  “Look at me,” she says simply. “You’re a smart girl. You can figure it out.”

  Actually, I’m not sure that I can. All of the signs and her comments point to one answer but it can’t be right. She’s too young. Even though my head is telling me that it can’t be, my heart is telling me that I’m right.

  “Sete de sange?” I ask quietly. Blood disease.

  “First try. Impressive.”

  “But how can that be?” I ask, ignoring her mocking tone. You’re so young. I thought….” I trail off. Of all people I should understand how unpredictable life can be. There are no certainties.

  “It’s rare but not unheard of.”

  Talk about an understatement. The blood disease only affects a small percentage of our species. The number of youth plagued with it has to be infinitesimally small.

  “Is there anything I can do?” I ask. “Have you fed today?

  She stares at me with a blank expression. What a stupid question! I berate myself mentally. She’s dying, and I offer her a glass of blood.

  “Sorry. I’m nervous. I’m not good at things like this, and I’m not sure what to say,” I tell her honestly, sitting down next to her on the bed. For the first time I stop to check out her room. It’s surprisingly feminine and is counter to everything I’ve seen of Shaye thus far. I’m surrounded by pastels and flowers. I cringe inwardly. It looks like Martha Stewart threw up in here. Definitely not my style.

  “It’s okay,” she says smiling weakly. “I’m not going to die today. Maybe I won’t die at all. Some of the best minds in the world are working on a cure. I just have to be tough and stay strong until they find it.”

  She’s got moxie. I’ll give her that. It can’t be easy going about your everyday life while facing certain death.

  “How long?” I ask.

  “Two years. It started slow. I just felt tired a lot and needed to feed frequently. My family thought it was just adolescence, you know? Anyway, some days are better than others. My situation isn’t so bad yet. I’ve got time. And hope.”

  “That’s good.”

  “You lack faith.” Her tone isn’t exactly accusing, but I can tell she’s disappointed by this revelation.

  “I really am sorry.” There’s no point discussing my faith or lack thereof. “I didn’t mean to ambush you like this and pry into your personal life. I was just worried when you didn’t show up for class again. I didn’t want you to fall behind.” This excuse sounds contrived even to me. I can only imagine how it sounds to her.

  “Actually, I’m glad you came.” She smiles, perking up a bit. I’m full of crap, and Shaye knows it. I could care less if she falls behind in Anatomy. Even though I don’t say it, she knows I was just plain worried about her.

  “It’s nice to finally tell someone. Carrying a secret like this is a heavy burden. There’s so much pressure all of the time. Now I don’t have to pretend any more. Not with you at least.”

  “Your secret is safe with me,” I say, squeezing her hand in what I hope is a comforting gesture. She nods in assent. Shaye knows that she doesn’t have to ask me to keep her secret.

  “You might try it you know,” she whispers quietly, raising her eyes to mine.

  “Huh? Try what?” I ask confused.

  “The truth. Stop running. Stop hiding,” she says, her body wracked by a fit of coughs. She reaches for a box of tissues on the nightstand and covers her mouth. A drop of blood passes her lips, staining the tissue. She looks so small and helpless surrounded by that awful flowered bedspread. I’ve never thought of Shaye this way before. I hope that I won’t always think of her like this. “You can talk to me. You can trust me,” she says, stuffing the tissue in the pocket of her sweatshirt.

  I wave her off casually although her words terrify me. She’s getting a little too deep here. There’s no way she could know, is there? I don’t think so, but I decide to get out of there anyway.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I’d better get going. You need your rest, and I’ve got an appointment with Anya in a little while.”

  “Do me a favor?” she asks before I can flee the room.

  “Sure.”

  “Can you run down to the stables and let Keegan know I’m okay?” she asks awkwardly. “I texted him, but he doesn’t believe me. He wants to see how I’m doing for himself.” She pauses, idly tracing the floral pattern on the bedspread with her finger. “I’d like to see him, but it’s not a good idea. Too many inquiring eyes here in the dorm.”

  “Sure,” I reply. “I’ll go now.”

  “Thanks, Katia.”

  “What’re friends for?” I can tell I’ve made her day. I might be imagining it, but aside from the bloody tissue peeking out from her pocket, she looks a little better than when I arrived. She’s smiling from ear to ear as I leave.

  **********

  “Hey, Keegan.”

  “Aye,” he returns, not bothering to look up from the mare he’s grooming. I remind myself that he has no reason to think I’m any different from the other students at Crossroads. No different than those who treat him like a second-class citizen and mock his very existence because he wasn’t born a vampire.

  “I’m Katia. I’m a friend of Shaye’s,” I say, trying again. “She asked me to bring you a message.”

  He drops the brush he’s holding and turns slowly to study me, rubbing the horse soothingly. With his free hand Keegan pushes his braided hair back from his face, looking me in the eye for the first time.

  It’s obvious why Shaye likes him. Once you get past his gentle demeanor, there are only good looks left to enjoy. His chocolaty skin is beautiful; his black eyes so deep that it’s like looking into the abyss. A girl could get lost in eyes like that. His shirt is open revealing a Celtic knot tattoo on his chest. Intrigued, I see that the tattoo is offset by a myriad of long, sweeping scars and wonder how Keegan got them. Although beautiful in a grotesque way, they’re the kind of marks that would prevent him from ever passing as a pureblood, even if a DNA test wouldn’t betray his true heritage.

  “Shaye told me what you did at the maze,” he says, breaking the silence. I jerk my eyes away from his bare chest and back to his face, embarrassment flushing my cheeks.

  “Yeah, well, sometimes I have trouble staying out of my own way,” I reply. I don’t expect him to understand.

  “You said you have a message from Shaye? You’ve seen her?” he asks anxiously. Keegan wears his pain openly, the hurt in his eyes unmasked. It’s clear he wants to be with her. Being stuck out here in the stables must be torture. Knowing that he can’t be there to hold and comfort Shaye when she needs him most can’t be easy.

  “She doesn’t want you to worry about her.”

  “How is she really?” he asks intensely, abandoning the horse and closing the gap between us. I’m not wild about him being in my personal space, but it’s not threatening. If anything, it’s desperate.

  “Honestly? She’s been better, but she’s going to be okay. Shaye’s tougher than she looks. She’ll be back on her feet in a few days.” I don’t know if it’s true or not, but his worry isn’t helping Shaye. I’m just glad he doesn’t have her knack for ferreting out a lie.

  Keegan’s relief is overwhelming. “Thank you.”

  “Can I give you some advice?” I ask, not waiting for a response. “You need to be stronger for her. The last thing Shaye needs to be doing is worrying about you and how you’re holding up. She needs every bit of her energy to fight this thing.”

  I can see he’s offended by my directness, but I don’t care. What I’ve said is true. Sometimes the truth hurts. I should know.

  He laughs then, ca
tching me off guard. “You’re a real piece of work. Must be why Shaye likes you.”

  “I’ll consider that a compliment,” I reply. “She’s got good taste from what I’ve seen. Anyway, I’ve gotta run. I have a meeting in a few minutes, but I’ll be back. I’d like you to teach me to ride if you can find the time.”

  “Of course,” he replies. “I’d be glad to do it. Any friend of Shaye’s….”

  **********

  “Should I bother asking?”

  “Asking what?” This is a different approach for Anya. For once I’m not sure what she’s expecting me to say.

  “How your week is going? If there’s anything you’d like to talk about? If you’d like a reprieve from our weekly meetings?”

  There’s a lot going on. I actually do need someone to talk to, but I’m still not sure what I can really tell Anya. I have to remind myself that Aldo trusts her. That should be good enough for me.

  “I hate wasting my time,” she states candidly.

  “Did you tell anyone?” I blurt out. “About me?” It’s impossible to keep the panic from creeping into my voice.

  “Why would you think that? What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning in closer. Anya reaches across the desk and grabs my hand, reacting protectively to my alarm. I’m startled by the physical contact but also comforted. I lean back and take a deep breath. Anya hasn’t betrayed us.

  “It’s Shaye. She… said things. She knows I’m hiding something.”

  “Shaye Walker? You two are getting close?” Anya asks soothingly. It’s the first she’s hearing of any friendship for me.

  “I guess.”

  “That’s good. You’re making connections.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? She’s suspicious.”

  “Shaye has secrets of her own. Like you she chooses a guarded existence. It’s only natural that she’d recognize the behavior in another.”

  “How can you be so casual about this?” Her indifference irritates me. I push myself up from the chair and move swiftly to the window. I don’t ask Anya’s permission before sliding it open. The room is stifling. The fireplace roars with life this evening, but I know it’s not really the heat that’s bothering me. It’s this situation that’s smothering me. I lean out the window and take a deep breath. The cool evening breeze is refreshing. The scent of snow is on the air, and I remember that the weather forecast mentioned the possibility of a Nor’easter.