Crossroads (Crossroads Academy #1)

by J. J. Bonds

  “Stalk much?” I ask, sighing loudly in a futile attempt to further reinforce the message that his company is unwanted. “You do know that stalking is not considered polite behavior, right?”

  “Well, then I’m in good company. You’ve never once been mistaken for someone with good manners, so I doubt you’d expect any better.”

  “Huh. You may have a point,” I concede, lifting the first glass to my lips. “So what’re you doing here?”

  “I spoke with Blaine. He won’t be bothering us anymore. I promise.”

  I roll my eyes in response. I doubt his word is worth much. Besides, he’s still convinced he can woo me with his charm. But I’m not giving in. “I told you I’m through.”

  “I never make a promise I can’t keep, Katia,” he says seriously. “Trust me.”

  “Right, Nik. Like I’m supposed to believe that working with me takes precedence over your friendship with Blaine.”

  “I never said that,” he corrects me. “What I said was that he won’t be bothering us during your training sessions anymore.”

  “Why do you even care if I come back?” I still don’t understand his motivation or why he’s invested so much time in helping me.

  “You’re good, Katia. With a little more work I can get Garcia to bump you up to a more advanced class. Don’t quit on me now.” Like any good manipulator, he dangles that which he knows I want most in front of me. I suspect it’s a last ditch effort to change my mind.

  “I’m not planning to quit, Nik. You give yourself a little too much credit. I’m planning to find a new trainer.”

  “Good luck then,” he says pushing his chair back from the table. Before he goes, he leans in close, leaving me with one final seductive message. “But you won’t find anyone here better than me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Nice to see you, too,” Anya says, not bothering to look up from her computer. I know I’m being rude. She’s not impressed by my juvenile behavior. Stomping, huffing, and puffing probably aren’t especially endearing. But I can’t help it. Nik’s words are eating at me. I wonder if I’m cutting off my nose to spite my face. If he’s the best, then why would I train with anyone else? And what about that double entendre? Even if I were interested in dating, which I’m not, where does he get off thinking he’s the best the school has to offer?

  “What’s bothering you?” she asks, eyeing my tightly crossed arms. I slouch further in the chair so she can feel the full force of my petulance.

  “Nothing. Everything.” I throw up my arms in frustration, but Anya remains silent. Today she’s determined to wait me out.

  “It’s Nik,” I say finally.

  “Nik?” She looks puzzled.

  “Your brother?”

  “Oh! I didn’t realize. He’s never gone by Nik. Actually, as long as I can remember, he’s never allowed anyone to call him that.” She looks thoughtful. “Did something happen in class? I didn’t realize you two were friends.”

  “We aren’t. He’s been training me, but now he’s not.”

  “He quit on you? That doesn’t sound like Nikolai.”

  “He didn’t quit. I did. He promised it would be different, but I don’t believe him. Why should I?”

  “Mmm,” she replies contemplating. She taps her pen on the desk as she thinks. It’s all I can do not to grab it out of her hand and put an end to the annoying racket. “Let me tell you something about Nikolai. When were young, before we came to Crossroads, we used to play a lot of games. Most of them were silly games that I made up to entertain him. Harmless juvenile stuff mostly. So one night when I was about your age I talked him into going out on a hike. We were forbidden to go out at night by ourselves. Nikolai wasn’t even of feeding age yet, but I dared him. He knew our parents would punish us severely if they found out, but what could he do? He wasn’t about to let his big sister outdo him. Even at a young age, he was too brave for his own good.”

  She pauses, her eyes glazing over momentarily as she replays the scene in her mind. It’s clear Anya has good memories of her childhood with Nikolai. I wonder what they must have been like as children in Russia. Worry free and innocent. No pressure, no expectations. It makes me long for the safety of my own childhood.

  “Anyway,” she says, shaking off the past and returning to the present. “We snuck out after our parents tucked us in for the night. No small feat, I might add, with Nikolai. He was very close to my parents then. They checked on him frequently, ever fearful their little prince would be snatched away by some insidious creature of the night. Once they were gone we climbed over the balcony outside my room. Well, I did. Nikolai just held on. I carried him most of the way. The caves were exactly 15.3 miles from our home in the suburbs of Volgograd. I knew it was risky, but I was so sure I could get us there and back before sun up. I fed heavily that evening. I drank until I thought my sides would split.”

  “We made good time getting to the caves, and I was feeling good as we set about exploring. We had so much fun playing hide and seek and climbing the cave walls that we lost track of the time. When I finally thought to check my watch it was day break. I panicked,” she says unapologetically.

  “I scooped Nikolai up and set out for home. I didn’t think twice about facing the rays of the sun because the prospect of my parents’ wrath was more frightening. It was mid-summer and a hot one at that. The sun had been blazing strong for weeks keeping the daily temperatures close to a hundred degrees. It was brutal. From the moment we set foot outside the protection of those caves my skin was on fire. The rashes started immediately. By the time we got close to home my body was a mess. My face was blistered and my arms and legs were bleeding freely. I didn’t know how I was going to get Nikolai home, only that I had to do it. We almost made it too. I collapsed in the woods two miles from our house.”

  “He should’ve kept going. He could’ve easily gone ahead and sent help, but he wouldn’t leave me. I outweighed him by twenty pounds and he didn’t have nearly my strength, but he promised me he would get me home safely. And he did.”

  “Nik carried you the rest of the way?” I ask in disbelief. “But he was just a kid.”

  “I’ve never forgotten that day,” she tells me. “Nikolai is my little brother. It was my job to take care of him, to keep him out of harms’ way, and I failed. If it weren’t for his courage and determination, I might have died.”

  I’m not sure what to say to this revelation. It’s definitely a side of Nik I haven’t seen yet. I remind myself that people change a lot between childhood and adulthood. Just because Nik was a brave and noble child, it doesn’t mean he’s the same person now.

  “I tell you this story because while I don’t know what he promised you, Nikolai always keeps his word. I’ve never known him not to.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” I reply flippantly.

  “Aren’t you just the cynic today?” she asks raising an eyebrow.

  I know I shouldn’t alienate Anya. She’s sharing a little bit of herself with me, and Nik is her brother after all. It’s only natural that she’d be protective of him. I would be if our roles were reversed.

  “Sorry,” I tell her reluctantly, running my hands through my knotty hair. I should’ve brushed it before I came up here. It’s a wreck from training. “Don’t mind me. I’ve been on edge all day.”

  “I see. You look worn down. Are you feeding enough?” She actually looks worried, as she assesses my condition.

  “I’m as well fed as any vampire here.” Should I tell her about the dreams? Aldo would probably encourage me to talk about them if he were here. Maybe he’s right. Maybe talking about them would lessen my completely irrational fear. Maybe it would be a way to take control.

  “I haven’t been getting enough sleep. I’ve been having nightmares,” I say, avoiding eye contact and staring instead at the flames which writhe angrily in the fireplace.

  “About White Plains?” she asks gently.

  “Sometimes. Sometimes they’r
e different though. Sometimes I’m being hunted. Like an animal. I know it’s stupid, but it’s just that they’re so real.”

  “We all have dreams, Katia. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. What do you think they mean?”

  “I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

  The only thing I know for sure is that I hate feeling powerless to control my own mind.

  **********

  The movie sucks. Shaye and I are in agreement, so we duck out before the closing credits. We may have centuries to live, but we’re not going to waste them on poorly acted melodramas where the actors’ portrayal of teen angst is downright laughable. It’s bad enough we wasted nine dollars on admission.

  “So what now?” Shaye asks as we stand under the theater marquee and bask in the glow of its fluorescent lights.

  “I don’t know, but it’s Friday night so there’s got to be something around here to do. Let’s just walk and see what we see. There’s a really good coffee shop a couple of blocks up,” I tell her as I slip into my jacket and zip it to the collar, ever conscious of appearances. Shaye is already bundled up with a bright orange scarf and mismatched polka-dot mittens.

  “Ugh! I guess that works for me,” she says, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead in an imitation of the whiny actress in the movie we’ve just ditched. It’s spot on.

  “Who knew you had such talent,” I tease. “You should really look into getting an agent.”

  “After the coffee,” she tells me. “It’s a poor substitute for blood, but I guess it will do. For now!”

  I roll my eyes and lead the way. The streets are busy. It’s Friday night, and we pass couples out for dinner, parents towing their children along for last minute errands, and, of course, droves of teenager’s window shopping and socializing like us.

  When we arrive at the coffee shop I’m comforted by the familiarity of the place. Same cozy couches, same indie rock playing softly in the background occasionally interrupted by the whirring of the grinder. I’m even indulged with the same overwhelming smell of coffee and the same barista behind the counter. I smile halfheartedly at the paper mache reindeer dotting the counter in preparation for the upcoming holiday.

  I’m able to quickly make a decision when it’s our turn and order a large mocha latte. I take a small sip while I wait for Shaye to make up her mind. The latte is as good as I remember. I watch Shaye as she scans the menu board, unable to choose.

  “You do know this won’t be the last coffee you ever drink, right?” As soon as the words leave my mouth I realize how insensitive they must sound to someone with a terminal illness. “I’m sorry,” I rush on. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “No worries,” she tells me turning to the barista. “I’ll have a large caramel macchiato.”

  I’m not entirely sure that she meant to dismiss me so abruptly, but even if she had I’d deserved it. I take a seat at one of the small tables by the window. People watching has always been one of my favorite pastimes, but today it brings me no pleasure. I observe the foot traffic on the street absentmindedly as I wait for Shaye to get her coffee.

  “I’m not upset you know,” she says joining me. She takes the chair opposite mine and hangs her jacket over the back.

  “Glad to hear it,” I tell her. “I’m not sure if you’d noticed or not, but I have my own chronic illness to worry about: foot-in-mouth.”

  “Incurable but rarely deadly,” she smiles. “I’ll trade you?”

  “How can you joke about this?” I don’t pretend to understand how she must feel, and I don’t know if I could function with a death sentence hanging over my head, but her levity is beyond my comprehension.

  “It’s life, Katia. I can’t change it. I have to believe they’ll find a cure and keep living in the meantime. Besides, I’ve had some time to get used to it.” She sips delicately from her macchiato, licking the whipped cream from her lips childishly.

  “I still don’t get it.”

  She reaches across the table and touches my hand gently. “You don’t have to.”

  She’s right. I don’t have to live with it. All I can try to do is be a good friend to her if and when she needs me. “Tell me about it, please.”

  “What do you want to know?” she asks spreading her arms to indicate that she’s open to talking about her illness.

  “Well, forgive my ignorance, but it’s just hard for me to understand how an immortal being can die from a blood disease.”

  “It was hard for me too, at first. I had a lot of trouble finding factual information and wrapping my head around the whole thing. It’s not like you can just Google it.”

  Isn’t that the truth? I encounter this problem on a regular basis. It’s not that our historians don’t keep detailed records. They do. The problem is that the records are mostly preserved and stored for the use of the Elders. Getting access requires a small miracle or a really well pled case at Council.

  “Anyway, the illness is caused by a lack of healthy red blood cells. Like other mammals, our bodies need both red and white cells to prosper. In the case of otrava de sange, the white cells attack the red, wiping them out faster than the body can repopulate them. Essentially the body destroys itself from the inside out.”

  “And that’s what causes the anemia and shortness of breath?” I ask intrigued. “That and the heart failure,” she tells me sadly. “There are other symptoms too, but I won’t bore you with the details.”

  She won’t bore me with the details? I may not be that interested in Professor Hooke’s Anatomy class, but this is different. This isn’t words on a page or a crappy plastic skeleton. This is Shaye. “I want to know.”

  “But I hope you never need to,” she says meeting my eyes. Her gray eyes convey compassion. I’ve never met anyone like Shaye before. She’s quiet and quirky while at the same time being sassy and tough. These characteristics are contradictory, and yet that’s how I see her.

  “But why can’t they do something? Like a blood transfusion?” I’ve heard of similar illnesses in humans and know they’re treatable. Why wouldn’t this be also?

  “A blood transfusion will help sometimes but only temporarily. The body will continue to generate the destructive white cells even if the blood of another vampire is infused. The researchers think it’s a hereditary malfunction, but I don’t think they’ve isolated the gene yet. Soon,” she says firmly. “Soon.”

  “You think they’re close?” I suppose if anyone would be keeping tabs on the progress, it would be Shaye. She’s got a vested interest after all.

  “Who knows? I know they’re closer. Closer than they were two years ago when I was diagnosed. Oh, and I bet you don’t know this, but Dr. Philips and some of the other researchers will be here for the New Year’s Eve ball. I have to meet him.” Her eyes shimmer with determination.

  “New Year’s Eve ball?” I ask gravely. This is the first I’m hearing of it. She got that part right. I don’t know a thing about it.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s huge. And lavish. Puts Halloween to shame,” she says playfully. She’s enjoying watching me squirm. She knows parties aren’t my thing. “We’re lucky to have such a high profile student body. We’ll get all kinds of important people. Elders, celebrities, and the like.”

  “Huh.” I have nothing else to say. This is not what I’d call good news.

  “Aldo will be coming, won’t he? You must be excited to see him at least.” She pauses. “He’ll create such a buzz. Jade will be over the top with envy.”

  Shaye’s eyes positively sparkle with delight. I can’t blame her. The idea of causing Jade even a tenth of the misery she brings us is a welcome notion.

  “Here’s hoping,” I tell her staring out the window. “I should at least get some kind of happiness out of this thing.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I knew you couldn’t stay away.” Nik smiles casually. I know the smile is meant to be disarming. He’ll want my guard down so we can re-lay the ground rules and repair our working relation
ship. “You don’t have it in you to quit.”

  Nik was expecting me. I’m not surprised. I’ve gotten to know a little of him and his work ethic during our sessions. It’s only natural that he’s gotten to know me as well. Just as I knew he’d be here during our regular training time, he knew I’d show up for my lesson. And here he is sitting on the bench by the blood cooler waiting for me.

  “Yeah, well, it wasn’t your good looks and quick wit that brought me back,” I grumble, unzipping my hoodie and stripping down to the tee beneath.

  “What was it then? What’s left?” he questions feigning confusion.

  “Anya,” I say simply.

  “Well isn’t this an interesting turn of events.” He actually does look surprised now. I’m secretly pleased to have caught him off guard. So much for predictable!

  “No more interesting than Blaine trailing along behind you everywhere you go,” I return sarcastically.

  “Ouch! You hurt my feelings Katia.” He wags his finger at me as a warning.

  “Doubtful.”

  “I told you he wouldn’t bother us anymore. I meant that.” His tone is earnest and his blue eyes have a depth I’ve never noticed before. He seems sincere, but I still have my doubts.

  “What’s the deal with you two anyway?” I honestly am curious about their weird friendship. They’re as different as night and day from what I’ve seen. Hell, I can’t understand any of his friends.

  “Truce?” he asks, offering me his hand.

  “Fine,” I concede. I’d agree to almost anything right now for a peek at his thoughts. Besides, even I’m getting tired of my salty attitude. I resolutely shake his extended hand, ignoring the tingle creeping through my fingers and making its way up my arm as our hands touch. Probably it’s my imagination, but his grip lingers a little too long creating a feeling of intimacy. I quickly withdraw my hand and twist it behind my back and out of his grasp.

  “Blaine, Jade, and I have been friends since we were kids. We didn’t grow up on the same continent, but our parents run in the same elitist social circles. Always have. We’ve been thrown together more times than I care to count over the years. That friendship was solidified when we came to Crossroads.”