Nightshade Academy Episode 4: Den of Demons Read online

  Helena stands at one of the ice counters, playing with her empty glass containers.

  “Make up your mind soon. I’m digging in.” Kian’s too-yellow chartreuse buzzes. He opens his mouth wide enough for me to see his teeth. Sharp, long, powerful teeth that break into the rabbit’s flesh. He presses its body into the ground, paws and rips into it like a dog, forgoing all those Kian manners I’ve come to expect. I’ve never seen him so monstrous before, not even as the hellhound surfacing underneath his skin right now.

  Sighing, Archer says, “Okay, give me some before you eat it all.” Kian growls, but he eases back, allowing Archer forward. She bites down on the tiny thing’s neck.

  “How does it taste?” I ask.

  “Like piss.”

  I wish I had my blood bottle. Archer’s is gone, too.

  My stomach growls.

  Archer wipes her mouth. I eye where she dug into the little creature’s neck, and I take her place. My tongue touches fluffy white fur. It’s almost enough to make me stop, to make me gag, but I persist.

  Blood hits my tongue. It doesn’t taste like piss—which astounds me—but it is stale. That doesn’t deter me. I drink because my taste buds aren’t revolting. My stomach is calm for the first few swallows. But then that familiar cramp, a warning, takes over.

  Easy, Nova. Your body might still be adjusting to… everything. I stop.

  “Done?” Kian asks.

  He barely waits for me and Archer to nod before blazing a trail into the rabbit’s stomach. Entrails like spaghetti mar the already-soiled ice. Blood dyes it red the same way it paints Kian’s mouth. It should make my stomach turn. Something unpleasant niggles at my core, but I keep the stale blood down. It wasn’t nearly enough to sate my hunger, though.

  My stomach growls again, and Kian halts his feeding frenzy to catch my eye. Red eyes. Red mouth and cheeks, blood sullying skin. This image doesn’t line up with the gentle Kian I’ve come to know. I don’t look away. I take this in, all of him, because it doesn’t change anything. Kian saw my monstrous side from the beginning, and he’s accepted me. All of me. I’ve decided to trust him, so I’ll do the same.

  “Disgusting,” Helena singsongs, drawing out the vowels. “Is that timid beast’s blood even slightly satisfying?”

  Archer folds her arms and stands quietly, but her azure eyes give her away; she’s staring at Ginzo.

  “Yes, yes. Nothing rivals immortal blood, does it? No apprentices of mine should be drinking that foul stuff anyway. No. I won’t allow it. But me first. Ginzo.”

  “Sleeping.”

  “Then by all means, don’t get up. Don’t mind me at all.” She kneels, mouth at Ginzo’s neck. Her tongue darts out like someone blew the hazy-purple mist forward. Then she seals her lips on his stone-hard flesh.

  Ginzo’s arm traps her. Her mouth makes a surprised O shape as the demon crushes her to his side. She snuggles into his bare chest, crawls her fingers up his bulky arm, and squeezes his massive shoulder.

  “I was kind of in the middle of something,” she says.

  “Get undressed. I don’t like all these puffy layers.” His lips skim down her jaw. Not lips. His teeth. They chase away her Color.

  “Too cold.”

  “I’ll keep you warm.”

  Helena flicks his nose.

  “The layers lessen the bite of your nails, too.”

  “I’m not wearing gloves.” Helena tsks. “Later, then. My little pets need more of your blood, and you’re going to give it to them.”

  Ginzo’s big arm goes slack, and Helena emerges from his endless skin. “Now then,” she says, “who’s going first?”

  Ginzo sits up, but he doesn’t get to his feet. He crosses his legs and holds his thick ankles. Archer steps forward, eyes locked onto his neck. “Me,” she says.

  “Fine, but you aren’t drinking from my neck, little monster.” Ginzo cuts into his wrist with a knife-sharp fingernail.

  I can’t look away from the blood oozing down his wrist. Even when Archer’s there, covering it up, consuming it, I can’t look away. The smell drifts until it settles inside my nose. At first, it burns. My eyes water. But the underlying sweetness makes it bearable, makes me crave it. His blood is better than Kian’s, probably better than anyone’s.

  Archer’s Color agrees. It gains density, sky blue much more apparent. I wonder if it’ll stay this time.

  “Nova.”

  It takes some effort, but I manage to tear my eyes away from Ginzo. Kian fills my vision. Rabbit blood on his face buries his Color.

  “Take mine instead,” he says.

  Before I can protest, he bites into his wrist. Deep enough that something snaps like he’s burying his fangs into bone. Blood pours down. It can’t contend with the scent of Ginzo’s blood, but there’s a whiff of it, potent enough that I can still smell it. Honey-sweet, chai spices, mint leaf.

  “What a show,” Helena says. “Are you really going to take that cheap mortal blood over this rich immortal blood?”

  Kian holds out his wrist, ensuring his scent is just underneath my nose now. He says, “If you don’t, I’ll have hurt myself for nothing.”

  Some reflex takes hold of me. It tells me to bare my fangs, and I do. I keep my voice low when I say, “I don’t want to drink your blood anymore. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” I also don’t want anyone else to hear what I’m saying, but it’s hard to get any privacy, whispering or not.

  “Nova, I trust you.” Apparently he doesn’t trust the demon or his blood. Gee, I wonder why.

  I blow out excess air. My fingers tremble as I catch his hand. I’m as gentle as I can be when I bring his wrist up to my lips. Is this really a good idea?

  Well, you’re not tearing into him yourself. And you’re in control. That has to mean something, Nova.

  Can’t deny that.

  Instead of planting my teeth into his wrist, I lick, suck. He doesn’t flinch, but I know it must hurt. His taste lands pleasantly on my tongue. Warm, alive, totally Kian. Licking and sucking don’t seem to drain his Color. My gums burn as my fangs demand I shred flesh and sate my bloodlust—but it’s nothing like it used to be.

  I am in control.

  I carefully seal my lips over his wound. Spices pop against my tongue, but it doesn’t burn like Ginzo’s blood. The sweetness isn’t as strong either, and the mint-leaf taste is all Kian.

  Does Ginzo’s blood really taste better? Or is it something else?

  Kian’s blood doesn’t offer that shot of undefined power. I have no delusions of bringing mountains to their knees. I just feel… satisfied.

  And this time, I don’t take an ounce of his Color.

  I stop after licking his wrist one more time, as if my spit will somehow help him heal faster. Yeah, right.

  My eyes search the abused ice underfoot. I can’t look Kian in the eye, but I say, “Thank you.”

  “Well, if that wasn’t the sweetest, most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.” Helena hugs herself tight and then throws out her arms. “I hate it.”

  “Erotic?” Ginzo asks. “Hardly.”

  “Ginzo, it was oozing love.”

  “That doesn’t make it erotic.”

  They keep going, but I stop listening.

  I shudder. I was just doing what I have to.

  Warmth flushes through my body, and my cheeks burn. I like Kian, but he doesn’t “turn me on.” No one has. The thought of that, of Helena and Ginzo getting something out of watching us, kind of makes me feel sick.

  Kian’s glove-covered hands find my cheeks; his warmth seeps through. My eyes meet his for an instant, and then he lets go. His message is clear, though. It’s so clear I can practically hear his words in my head. Don’t listen to them. This has nothing to do with them.

  I just wonder what this is. And I’m afraid of what it means if Kian thinks it’s something else.

  Because I was the one who asked to hold his hand.

  I was the one who said I wanted him to kiss my hand, and then I ki
ssed him back.

  Why did I do those things?

  Because it feels nice when Kian touches me. Because he doesn’t ask for more or expect me to do things just because I’ve expressed a friendly interest in him.

  Kissing is more than friendly, Nova. Even if it is just on the hand. You’re sending him mixed messages. That’s what anyone would tell you.

  I want Kian to stay. But what does that mean?

  Friends? Boyfriend and girlfriend?

  Glass clatters and Helena holds an armful of her containers. “Do you see what’s inside of these?”

  “Nothing,” Archer says. “Unless you’re talking about the air.”

  “Don’t get cute with me. I’m asking if you can see the souls I’ve trapped.”

  “I thought you were joking before.”

  “No, dear. I never joke. Look closely. Yes, like that. Do you see?”

  “No. I don’t. How can you even trap souls inside of glass containers?”

  “Very carefully.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Helena’s glass armful clatters as she thrusts containers at Archer. Several of them jump loose. They almost shatter on the ground, but they disappear before reaching it. My eyes dart left to right until they settle on Ginzo. The AWOL containers are lined up in a neat row at his side. His eyes are closed as if he’s sleeping, but he must have grabbed them. His speed is uncanny.

  The bottlenecks of the flask-like glassware remaining in Helena’s arms make it easy for her to hold them between her fingers and splay them like a salesperson presenting their wares.

  Archer holds up her hands to passively ward Helena off. “I told you I don’t see anything.”

  “Of course they don’t see,” Ginzo says. “I don’t see.”

  “You say that like there aren’t plenty of humans out there who can see them, even if you can’t, pet.”

  Ginzo drills his pointer finger into his ear.

  “Nova?” Helena turns to me.

  “I don’t see anything either.”

  “Pity. It’s quite something.” She clings glasses together, just shy of the force that would shatter them. “But I think you will. Aura sight and sight beyond the veil aren’t dissimilar.”

  She sets her armload down without a single tubular bottle rolling away. Then she reaches inside of a coat pocket and flashes a green-and-pink crystal-like bead or marble. “I think all you need is a little amplifier.”

  “Crystals,” Archer scoffs. “They’re not half as useful as people say.”

  “Tried them before, have you?”

  Archer shrugs.

  “You likely weren’t using them correctly. But that’s not all. Crystals from the mortal world have limitations crystals from the immortal world do not. This crystal resembles watermelon tourmaline. I wonder if it has similar properties.”

  “Are you talking about our world and this other world you’re trying to get to?”

  “Yes. Precisely. And, since I’m telling you to interact with immortal creatures, it makes sense an immortal crystal would be the key to unlocking that potential. Maybe. A test is in order. We have to try everything, no matter how unlikely! Hold hands, girls, and tell me you still see nothing in these bottles.”

  “Fine,” I say, “but Kian steps back.”

  “As you wish.”

  Helena waves Kian away while planting glassware on the ground and counters. Kian hesitates, and I think he might refuse, but he listens. I don’t give the okay until he’s at the wall farthest from us. I’m serious about keeping Kian safe, but I don’t plan on telling Helena anything. If holding hands with Archer means I see “souls” inside of these containers strewn at my feet, I’m going to keep that to myself.

  Seeing souls floating around on top of my Color vision is the last thing I need, but I’ve seen Colors floating around before, haven’t I? When my vision went crazy after taking in so much of Kian’s Color before…

  A sinking feeling weighs down my stomach.

  “Okay,” I say under my breath and hold out my hand to Archer. She takes it. Like last time, our Colors don’t expand outside of us. They take on lavender—but only for a moment. Lotus pink overpowers everything. I train my eyes on our hands, on Archer’s sky blue specifically. I thought it became brighter and denser since drinking Ginzo’s blood. It doesn’t feel that way, though. Archer looks a little livelier, with a twinkling light in her azure eyes, but the change in her Color is a trick.

  I scowl and try to puzzle through what could have happened to her. How can I ask her about it and have her answer truthfully? Madeline tried before, but Archer totally blew her off. Whatever happened before she arrived in Nightshade, it must have been significant. She lied to Madeline. She had to have.

  “I see them,” Archer says.

  Right. Souls inside glass. As much as I don’t want to, I should look.

  Faint Colors flicker inside the empty containers at my feet.

  “Good, good,” Helena says. “When you touch, your gifts are amplified. You’ve proved as much already back at Nightshade. I’m not surprised by this result.”

  Archer says, “They’re pretty washed-out.”

  “What say you, Nova?”

  I don’t want to say anything, but there’s no point contradicting Archer. I wish she had stayed quiet. Helena’s unpredictable—especially when it comes to what we can and can’t do for her. If we played dumb, she might lose interest in us. Archer’s making that hard, but I think it might keep Nightshade safe.

  Possibly.

  I understand Kian’s frustration. His visions of fire are too vague.

  “All right, let go of each other’s hands,” Helena instructs. When we’ve obeyed, she walks forward, takes Archer’s hand, and places the watermelon tourmaline in her palm. The moment the green-and-pink crystal touches Archer’s skin, her sky-blue Color reacts. It livens up almost the same way it does when she drinks Ginzo’s blood; her azure eyes gleam.

  “Do you still see the souls?” Helena holds up a glass jar.

  Archer squints, closes her fingers around the tourmaline, and frowns. “No.”

  I glance at Kian standing beside Ginzo. I don’t know when Ginzo joined him, but he’s leaning against the far ice wall as if he can’t be bothered to hold up his own weight. Kian is quiet, watching me. His too-yellow chartreuse offers comfort somehow.

  I know he’s watching Archer, too, because that’s just how Kian is, but I like to think he gives me special attention.

  But why do I like to think that?

  “Give the crystal to Nova,” Helena says.

  Archer seizes my wrist and presses the spherical tourmaline into my palm. It burns bit by bit until she lets up. Now she won’t look at me.

  “What do you see?” Helena says, holding the jar almost too close to my face.

  I blink at the gray-green staring back at me. It’s not flickering. It’s a formless band of Color that morphs and bends within the confines of its glass prison.

  “Well?” Helena urges.

  I swallow. “I can see it.”

  “Interesting.” She takes a step back and shakes the bottle. I watch as the Color inside bounces around. I imagine it making a little pinging noise each time it hits the glass. “Perhaps the identical twins aren’t quite equal.” Archer grinds her teeth. I can hear them crunching together inside my own skull. “Or, perhaps, there’s something you aren’t telling us, Archer.”

  My breaths stall as Archer defiantly holds Helena’s gaze, and the room goes silent aside from the low tones ice fires emit as they float by; the ones hanging from the ceiling are perfectly quiet, as if sleeping.

  “I’m not hiding anything,” Archer says. “What would be the point in that?”

  “You tell me. You asked me how to tame a demon. I’m using you. It’s only natural you’d want to use me too.” Helena giggles. “Why do you want a demon, darling?”

  “Why wouldn’t I want one? Fresh blood, the best I’ve ever tasted. Protection.”

  “All valid
and reasonable points.”

  Kian calls from across the room. “I have a question.”

  “The dead shouldn’t speak.”

  Kian falters, and I beg him with my eyes not to continue, but he does. Of course he does. He’s Kian. “What is Nightshade to you? Would you ever burn it to the ground?”

  My jaw goes slack, mouth wide open. Way to be subtle, Kian! Don’t give her any reason to hurt you again. Or worse.

  “Burn it down? What an utter waste that would be. How else would I find such rare talents? How else will I see what become of little Maddie’s ideals? It’s a give-and-take relationship, remember? There’d be nothing left to take. You kids.”

  She twirls her fingers. Hazy purple drifts slowly through Helena’s exposed face, showing no signs of agitation. I think she means it. I don’t think she has any intention of burning it to the ground. Does that also mean she never had any intention of killing Kian? Because that could strain her relationship with Nightshade, and it would seem she doesn’t want that either.

  I don’t know. It’s all speculation, me trying to read between the lines, but I wouldn’t say I’m especially good at that. I’m not good at anything that involves other people.

  Because you’ve made yourself alone all these years, Nova.

  Maybe I don’t have any social skills. Maybe Nightshade doesn’t want me back at all. Even though Emery said she’d be waiting. Even though the Crow said I’m welcome. Even though Oskar is rude and belligerent, but he cares about Kian and he’s counting on me to protect him.

  For Kian, for the possibilities, because I don’t want them to die—

  “Nova, I need you to listen.” Helena holds out the glass jar. “I want you to drain this soul. Oh, don’t look at me like that.” She turns toward Kian. Hazy purple billows like thunderclouds. “If it’s about morals, these people were dead when I found them. I didn’t kill them. I just caught their souls before they could reach their ‘final destination.’”

  “I’ll do it,” Archer says and grabs my hand. I try to slip away, but she was prepared for that. Her fingers are bruising, punishing. Then she steals the green-and-pink crystal.

  Helena twists the top off the glass jar. The almost-invisible Color inside drifts loose like steam. Archer reaches for it, brushes it with her fingertips, and gray-green hits sky blue. Archer’s Color turns more opaque. She blinks, lets my hand go, and says, “I see them now. Let another one out.”