Nightshade Academy Episode 2: Bloodlust Read online

  “Use your superior speed,” the Crow kept saying when he drilled us. “If you ever find yourself in trouble, escaping should be your top priority.”

  But I don’t think I have superior speed when it comes to Kian. Oh well. I dash forward, pretending like I do. Kian starts moving only after I’m almost on top of him. I go for his legs, but he does some fancy-ass footwork to avoid my attack. I try to grab him somewhere, anywhere. I get the bottom of his shirt and stretch out the material as I try to climb up to his neck. But I’ve already lost my footing. He’s swept my feet out from under me. God, he’s so good at that.

  My grip tightens on his shirt to keep me upright, and I hear it ripping. Sriiip. His hand goes to mine, probably to pry my fingers loose, but I sweep out his legs for once. We both go down. Hard. Our legs tangle and Kian barely catches himself, his hands to either side of my head before his entire body can crash down on me.

  “Jeez,” he says. “What if I was a hunter and I landed with my golden-ash wood stake buried into your heart. This is not a passing grade. You actually have a hot temper, don’t you? No one would ever guess based on watching you in the halls. You’re like a wraith.”

  “Since we’re talking—” a lot I might add “—maybe you can tell me what the hell kind of changed human you are and why you have the same Color as the big black dog I met when I first woke up in the dungeon here.”

  “Color,” Kian repeats as he tries to untangle our legs. Wow, I really did get us messed up somehow. I’d definitely be dead if he were a hunter.

  I cringe when his leg moving bends mine the wrong way. Very the wrong way. “Yes, Color.” What do I care if he knows about how I see things? I’m going to get outed by Madeline eventually anyway, right? And how else can I explain the similarity I saw between Kian and the dog. “Hey, Kian,” I could say. “You look just like a red-eyed dog that’s the size of a fucking pony.” I’m not going to say that. It sounds worse than the Color thing.

  God, he smells good. Honey-sweet, chai spices, mint leaf. I know that combination yields the best flavor. I’ve had it before. I’m still drinking it. It’s cold instead of warm, though.

  “There,” Kian says and finally manages to untangle our legs. He's about to get off me when a swarm of fairies gets secreted from the walls—which is kind of nasty. It’s like a flying rainbow ant mound, getting bigger and bigger, but then they cluster in the air, hovering over Kian specifically. They become a barrage of rainbow bullets and pelt down on him. They do it over and over, one after the other, until his arms are shaking. Then his arms give out. His body drops, pressing into mine, flush, his nose against my nose.

  He growls like a dog. I feel it as a vibration in his chest. It travels through my own, sparking and popping like an electric current. Then his lips are on mine. Just for a second. But I feel it. It’s not just his lips. It’s more sparking, more popping, the craziest fairy prank yet. Are they trying to smoosh us together like Play-Doh? Sorry, fairies. Our bodies don’t fucking work like that.

  The muddy quality my lotus pink retained after I drank his blood for the first time disappears. My Color is pure again, and so is his; it returns to its original brightness. Then the fairies leave the same way they came.

  Kian gets off me in a hurry. At the same time, the Crow is hovering over me. “What was that about?” he asks. “Are you two all right?” He holds out his hand to me, and I take it. His turquoise is safely inside of his silhouette again. I was just getting used to the new bleeding-out quality of my vision, but it’s back to normal.

  I’m salivating even though I shouldn’t be hungry. “I need a drink,” I say.

  The Crow watches me for a moment, but then Kian says, “It was nothing. We’re fine.”

  “Didn’t look like nothing. They seemed restless. It looked like they were trying to smother you both.”

  Kian doesn’t say anything after that, and I focus on my insulated bottle resting against the west wall. My fingers tremble when I pick it up, but I manage to unscrew the lid and drink. I drink way more than I should. I’m addicted to the taste. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t quite right. It’s enough right that the little bit that isn’t doesn’t bother me. Much.

  “I think we’re going to cut class early,” the Crow announces. “Get showered and changed.”

  I slide back against the wall and take a seat. I’ll leave in a minute, when my heart stops racing.

  Oskar reaches Kian’s side and slings an arm around Kian’s neck. Kian playfully knocks into him. Chartreuse and rose red stay exactly where they’re supposed to be, two distinct silhouettes. They’re far enough away from me, and the gym is echoing so much, I shouldn’t be able to hear what they’re saying when they’re talking at a normal volume, but I can with these vampire senses. I do.

  “If she’s causing you trouble, say something.” Oskar huffs.

  “Why?” Kian asks. “So you can take her down? No way. That wasn’t her anyway. It was the fairies.”

  “I still don’t understand why they like you so much.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Seriously, man.”

  “Oskar. Nova’s new. Stop being such a hard-ass. She’s standoffish enough for ten people. She could probably use some friends.”

  Oskar huffs again. “Always trying to help the lost cause.”

  Kian shoves Oskar away just to go at him again.

  Emery joins them and says, “Kian just has a bigger heart than most.”

  “Don’t butt into our conversation,” Oskar says as he fends Kian off.

  “And the luxury of knowing the outcome,” Emery adds.

  Kian interjects, “Not always.” They’re near my wall, and Kian’s head turns toward me. I think I see a flash of red eyes. “You coming?”

  “Uh, not with you,” Emery says. “She’s coming with me.”

  “That’s what I meant.”

  I stand up. I don’t think about it, but I do it. And then I walk over to them as if my body is drawn to them, and it doesn’t matter that my brain is blank. They’re warm, Colors like a campfire—though a campfire would never be this combination of colors in reality. They’re just… light.

  The warmth of Kian’s body against mine won’t leave my head. He’s warm. Alive.

  Mom never hugs me.

  It has nothing to do with hugs and warmth, Nova. You want to eat the guy dead. This… this I nothing. Nothing at all.

  But I still go to them and walk beside all three of them until Emery takes me to the girl’s locker room. Even then, my eyes don’t leave Kian’s chartreuse until there’s a literal stone wall between us.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Where are you going?” Emery asks. “You know the sun will be up soon. It’s time to sleep the day away.”

  “I need air,” I say. “I’m going outside.” I’m about to grab a jacket—a coat?—but then I remember how Nightshade is pretty temperate. It’s damn cold outside the borders in Alaska’s icy tundra, but Nightshade itself might as well be in Washington.

  I leave the coats and jackets behind and open the door to our dorm room, heading out.

  “Well, okay,” Emery says hastily. “Just make sure you get back inside before the sun comes up. Better safe than sorry. I’d only turn into a statue until the sun goes back down, but you’ll burn up.”

  “I know. The sun’s already burned me.”

  I don’t let her get in another word. I close the door behind me and take off down the hall, wearing my gym shoes, sweats, and a t-shirt. I was going to crawl in bed like Emery, but I’m antsy. Maybe I should have taken another sip of blood. I’m pretty sure I’m not hungry, though.

  I hold my hand out against the rough stone wall. The rough is broken up by various plant bits: berries, leaves, stems. These nightshades grow wherever they can.

  My mind wanders to Mom. I keep trying to figure out how I’m going to find her once I get out of here. Since I don’t have constant stomachaches anymore, I keep thinking I’ll get out of here soon. Then I remember
Kian. I’m completely dependent on his blood.

  Maybe I’ll never leave this place.

  But what if Mom comes home? Maybe she misses me and hopes I’ll come back—not that Madeline has told me otherwise. Then again, why would she?

  I run my bottom lip under my teeth. My vampire fangs rip through my skin. I taste my own blood. It, unlike everyone else’s blood, tastes like blood. It’s metallic, not appetizing but also not repulsive.

  I pause when I’ve reached a back door that should lead out to the gardens. I haven’t done much exploring, but I tried to memorize important details about this place—and possible escape routes.

  Hah. Escape routes. If I were going to run, I would have done it by now. Running is suicide. I’m not stupid.

  After poking my head outside, and gauging how dark it is, I decide to risk death anyway. I’m not running, but the sun will be up soon like Emery said.

  A gray-and-black stone path leads into a literal nightshade jungle, the Colors mostly dull see-through browns. I guess the trees aren’t a nightshade. I recognize some of them thanks to their distinct ringed-with-black white trunks: aspens. More and more trees pop up, and I have no names.

  I’ve barely gone a few steps, and I can’t see the castle anymore. It’s all foliage with that navy-blue night undertone. Bright rainbow lights flash here and there, fairies darting away from me like tiny fish in a pond. I prefer that to them swarming.

  One small fairy, pixie, darts toward me instead of away from me. I smack it like a fly, a total reflex, and I hasten my pace to avoid backlash.

  Moonlight trickles down through various leaves, painting the ground in abstract murals. One section creates an almost-perfect circle of light as if replicating a full moon. I hesitate before stepping inside. When I do it, my shadow disrupts the illusion. I’ve cut into the moon.

  I take a deep breath and tilt my chin up to look into the sky. I don’t see the moon because a whole mess of crows fly overhead, turning everything gray and black, polluting the air with their noisy wings and loose fathers and loud caw-caws.

  I blink, and it all goes quiet.

  Millions of tiny stars greet me. They’re bigger than I remember, probably because the fairies distort the sky however they want to. It’s too bad they don’t block out the sun entirely since they have this place encased in a bubble. Then again, it wouldn’t do me any good outside of Nightshade. The sky’s getting lighter, dark blue thinking about taking on green, but I’ve got time.

  I close my eyes and remember when the sun was warm on my skin. Yeah, I’ve had plenty of sunburns thanks to my white as white skin, but the sun used to feel good. Like Kian. That’s the closest feeling I can relate it too: his body on mine. It felt best where his skin touched mine.

  Unconsciously, I brush my fingers across my lips and relive the sensation. My lips buzz. I’ve never liked people touching me. The fairies were pushing Kian down on me, but he was determined not to crush me. I barely felt his weight. Maybe because I was too focused on his scent. Maybe his heartbeat, the blood rushing through his veins, is the reason I liked it. Right?

  I shiver at the thought.

  Burbling water invades my ears along with the faintest heartbeat. Lub-dub. It could be anyone’s, but I know the nuances of this one well. One name comes to mind: Kian.

  I continue along the path, listening. Brown and white flash under shrubs, and I’m pretty sure I glimpse a rabbit’s cotton tail. The sounds grow louder, until I’ve reached a small grassy clearing next to a pond with a mini waterfall. A cluster of deadly nightshade plants line the patch of lush, fine-bladed grass. And, at the edge of the pond, is Kian.

  His Chartreuse calls to me, brighter than everything else, the focal point of the scene. His reflection and Color distort in a cluster of steady crystal ripples, where his feet are submerged. Fairies dance around him. The rainbow lights are technically brighter than his Color, but right now they only complement his chartreuse. Some tug at his hair, others dance on the ripples until they die.

  Something pinches, right at the bottom of my rib cage. It’s above my stomach, below my heart, right in the center. The breath I had trapped in my lungs expels the same moment a breeze cuts through and rattles the leaves like tambourines. It ushers Kian’s scent my way. The honey touches my tongue, followed by the bite of ginger and the burn of mint. My eyes go to that point on his neck. Lub-dub forms the song’s beat.

  I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be alone with Kian. Ever. Even if his complementary Color draws me in. Even if he sounds nice. Even if his touch makes me melt.

  My eyes burn and water. I figure I got some pixie dust in them or something and try to wipe it away. But they keep burning. I back up, one step at a time.

  Just go, Nova. Don’t let Kian see you.

  Just go.

  I do. I turn around and run, but not before I catch a flash of Kian’s red eyes. Red like blood. Red like a monster.

  He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t try to stop me. His red gaze burns into the back of my skull.

  Terrifying.

  Kian is terrifying.

  CHAPTER 7

  I sit on that same high-back black chair I sat on before Madeline sent me down to the dungeon to correct my fixation on Kian. While that didn’t work out as planned, at least I’m not stuck in the dungeon anymore.

  I hum and poke one of the nightshade plants growing underneath Madeline’s huge gothic desk with my lime-green Converse. It has the round black berries, the ones I’ve learned belong to deadly nightshade. “Is another name for deadly nightshade really belladonna? Like my ‘tribe’?” I ask.

  “Yes. If we were unchanged humans, they would be dangerous, but as we’re all changed, deadly nightshade loses its poisonous quality. Mostly. It depends on what generation we are, but none of us will die from eating the berries, though you might find yourself quite sick. I wouldn’t advise you to eat them.”

  “Instead, things like wood are deadly poisonous,” I mutter.

  “It’s true.”

  “That night Kian and I were attacked by hunters, you all kept throwing around ‘EEA.’ Are those really special hunters or something?”

  “You could say that. They’re the biggest organized group of hunters and therefore have the most resources. EEA stands for the Evil Extermination Association.”

  “Evil, huh?”

  “That’s how they view us.” Madeline taps the desk with her fingers. “How are you feeling?”

  “I haven’t attacked Kian.”

  “I didn’t say you have. I asked you how you’re feeling.”

  “That’s how I’m feeling.”

  Madeline laces her little fingers together. They blend into vermilion sand as I lose the definition of their shape for their new overall silhouette. “I’ll take that as an ‘I’m feeling okay.’”

  “When are you going to lower the dose of his blood?”

  “We already have. You haven’t noticed a difference?”

  “Not so far.”

  “Good, then. Let’s move on to auras.”

  I kick the belladonna underfoot again.

  “No need to be nervous, Nova.”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  Madeline brushes her blond curls over her shoulder, moving them far away from her vermilion for just a moment. “I’m an aura reader, but you’ve mentioned Colors. Tell me more about that.”

  “Everyone has their own Color,” I say. “No two Colors are the same. That’s about it. I don’t see faces well, so I take pictures to match faces and Colors, otherwise I don’t know how to properly describe someone to someone else and can’t recognize them in photos because I’ve never seen them like that before.”

  “Has it been a major obstacle in your life?”

  “Kind of.”

  “I see auras in grayscale, light to dark. Auras can look nearly identical because my senses are only tuned to the amount of light or darkness inside of them. Unlike you, with your aura sight always turned on, mine only turns on
when I’m touching that person.” Madeline holds out her hand. “Give me your hand.”

  I have to half-bend over the table to do that, but Madeline can’t be bothered to hunch over and ruin her perfect posture or disturb her mountain of pillows. Her fingers are icy against mine, like damp cloths without the damp.

  “Do I feel as cold as you do?” I ask.

  “No. You’re a second-generation.” Madeline tilts her head.

  “W-what do you see?”

  “Gray, as with most.”

  “What shade?”

  Madeline lets my hand go so I can sit up straight again. “Are you asking me if your soul is light or dark? What do you think it is? Would it bother you to know one way or another?”

  I don’t know.

  She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “It’s a dark gray, but most changed-humans’ auras are. We are the product of demons after all.” The vermilion of her face distorts, and something glints near her mouth: her fangs. “But there is something to it. Many changed humans would embrace their dark curse. For that, I can’t blame ‘monster’ hunters for springing up to protect themselves. However, it would be nice if they’d open their minds to the possibility of not every changed human being a threat.

  “If I had understood auras better as a child, listened and understood the balance between the light and dark, I think my life might have taken a different turn.” She clears her throat. “But enough about me. Your soul is a torrent, Nova. Dark gray it may be, but you’ve got flecks of white and black that grow and shrink with no rhyme or reason. You don’t know who you are. You aren’t comfortable in your own skin.”

  I grit my teeth. “Your soul is like an hourglass full of vermilion sand, constantly cascading, calculating.”

  “I feel that’s a rather accurate assessment of how I work.” Madeline nods. “Why didn’t you tell Kyrie about your ability during Sixth Sense Discovery?”

  “Because anyone I’ve told in the past never believed me. They said something was wrong with me, maybe suggested I have face blindness, and that was that.”