Nightshade Academy Episode 4: Den of Demons Page 4

  Kian takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. “I agree. We have to do everything we can to get Nightshade off Helena’s radar. Then we’ll have to get back and tell Madeline Helena isn’t who she thought.”

  I think he took my hands to get me to look at him, but I can’t meet his red-eyed gaze. I stare at our hands instead, our Colors hidden by our winter gear. I say, “But if things change between Nightshade and Helena, that could be just as bad.”

  “At least all of Nightshade will be ready, though. Madeline will listen. She wants to keep us safe. Besides, the only thing she’ll change is the information she gives Helena. It’d work.”

  “Assuming that’s all she has over her, maybe. I really wish your visions were more specific.”

  “Join the club.”

  “You two are too loud,” Archer says. “The walls could have ears.”

  “The ice fires said it was clear,” Kian replies.

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t test Helena’s vanishing act too much if I were you.”

  “You think she’s that concerned about us that she’d drop in on our conversations? I don’t think so. We’re like fleas to her. Slightly useful fleas.”

  Archer sinks farther into her sleeping bag.

  Kian lets my hands go. “Nova’s right, anyway. Eating souls is bad news. I can’t see what’s going on, but no way am I going to say that’s okay.”

  Eating souls. Yeah, that’s accurate. It’s a big kind of power. I wonder what Helena wants to do with it. She says she wants the secrets of these “ruins,” but I’m sure she wants something else too.

  “They’re already dead,” Archer says.

  Kian whirls around, stomps up to Archer’s sleeping bag, and stares down at her as if his red eyes can produce lasers and burn through her layers. “What’s with you? You act like you want to eat souls.”

  When Archer doesn’t respond, Kian continues, “What about Emery? You love her, don’t you?”

  An airy laugh makes Archer’s sleeping bag quiver. “I’ve only known her for a few days.”

  “And the two of you are happy as hell when you’re together. You’re not faking that.”

  “Maybe it’s all a game to me.”

  Kian growls. “We need you with us. We need you to help us save Nightshade. Talk to us. There’s something weird going on with you, but I can’t figure out what it is. I’ve seen Nightshade on fire. That doesn’t mean anything to you?”

  “What if Emery got caught in the fire?” I say quietly.

  And everyone else.

  Even Oskar. He’s an asshole, but he’s Kian’s asshole. I don’t want him to get burned alive.

  “Forget you and everyone else,” Archer says. “I’m going to figure out how to manipulate these souls. Eat them, whatever. I’m going to become so powerful no one will dare to mess with me.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “Remind me again why we aren’t exploring,” Kian says as he paces the lab.

  “Because we don’t want to risk Helena’s wrath,” I reply. “Your words.”

  Kian’s stomach growls. “That was before we went to sleep and woke up to more nothing. It’s been hours.” He wraps his arms around his stomach and crouches down, forehead kissing his knees. “I’m starving.”

  My stomach growls. “Me too.”

  Kian tilts his head, barely exposing the left side of his neck and that white-hot beating point of his Color from the collar of his coat. Honey-sweet, chai spices, mint leaf… I turn my face away and say, “No. Don’t tempt me.”

  Kian stands, wobbles on his feet. “I never thought going without food for twenty-four hours could feel this bad. Shows how lucky I’ve been all my life never having to test that.” He shakes his head. “How inefficient are our bodies anyway?”

  I shrug.

  Archer lies on top of her sleeping bag, arms and legs spread wide like a starfish as she stares at the ceiling. Her stomach growls, too. “Forget this,” she says and rolls onto her feet. She jumps up for one of the ice fires, but it sees her coming and darts out of the way just like a fish underwater, tail swishing.

  “Kian,” she says, “call one of them over.”

  “Why? What are you going to do with it?”

  “I’m going to control it, make it give up its secrets, or I’m going to eat it like I tried to with those souls before.”

  “I didn’t expect you to be honest. Especially since you know my answer to that will be no.”

  “Asshole. They aren’t humans. It’s the same as eating that rabbit you slaughtered the other night.”

  All of our stomachs growl in unison, and Kian doesn’t make a comeback.

  “So, you’re happy to let us die here?” Archer continues. “What happened to ‘we have to work together’?”

  “Do you hear that?” I interrupt.

  We fall silent, but something takes up the quiet. The sound of boots touching ice. The steps are light but there. Helena and Ginzo emerge side by side from one of the tunnels.

  “Did I hear someone’s stomach growl?” Helena asks. She leans into her right hip. Her clothes mostly hide her figure like the rest of our winter gear, but she manages to look like she’s wearing a party dress, showing off her assets, regardless.

  My stomach growls again.

  Helena turns slowly, finger extended, until she’s pointing at me. “There it is. We’re going to play a little game. Follow me, darlings.”

  The ice fires flit away, going anywhere Helena isn’t, and we follow her through the huge ice tunnel that eventually spits us out into the bone room. She doesn’t stop there. She goes for the stairs, and she doesn’t spare the bones underfoot. Soon we’re all graced with a clear night sky, the stars and moon looking down on us. If Helena and Ginzo find us so insignificant, how must the stars and moon think of us?

  Helena lets out a breath, condensation thick in front of her face like a cloud. “Fend for yourselves.”

  “There’s nothing out here,” Archer says.

  Helena laughs, more thick puffs of condensation floating into the air. “If you don’t catch anything, you don’t eat.” Her hazy-purple Color takes on the same texture as her breaths. “Everyone and everything is up for grabs. That’s it. Those are the rules. Go, my pretties. Go.”

  She vanishes, mist caught in the wind. When I blink, Ginzo is gone too. Archer kicks the icy tundra.

  “You can both drink my blood once I’ve found something to eat,” Kian says. “Or, hopefully, we can all just eat the same thing. If we work together, we’ll probably have a better chance of hunting something down. God, I hope there are caribou close by. That rabbit wasn’t enough.”

  “Did Ginzo help when you caught that rabbit?” I ask.

  “No, but three pairs of eyes are better than one.”

  “Hell no,” Archer says. “I’m going after Ginzo. Have fun chasing the small fry. I hope you don’t come up empty. Don’t come crying to me if you do.”

  “Ginzo could kill you,” Kian reminds. “You really think it’s a good idea to go off and ‘hunt’ him on your own? We should stick together.”

  “I’m getting really tired of you and your ‘together’ talks. You’re such a damn pack animal.”

  Well, yeah. He kind of is. I don’t dislike it, though.

  Archer sprints away, done talking.

  “We should go after her,” Kian says, but his stomach growls again.

  “I’ll follow her. You need to find something to eat.” To be honest, I’d rather drink Ginzo’s blood anyway. The rabbit was something I could eat a little of, but I don’t want to test my new “tolerance.” I’m not convinced it really is a new tolerance. I think it might be something that builds up and breaks down with Ginzo’s blood alone. With demon blood.

  God damn my demon blood. Why isn’t Archer’s body this picky? Is it really something as simple as some people have terrible food allergies and others don’t?

  Basically, I have rotten luck. I need to address my food allergies. Since my fixation seems to have b
een cured, it’s only the food allergies I need to worry about. Mostly.

  I was able to drink Kian’s blood without going savage for once, but I’m scared. If I ever bite down, tear into Kian’s flesh to find his blood myself, that unbearable fixation will come back. I can feel it. There’s no way I can let that happen.

  “Nova, I’m going to shift,” Kian says. “Follow Archer. I’ll catch up later. And be careful.”

  I turn around so I can’t see him, but I don’t move. I listen. First, it’s nothing but the sound of him stripping layer after layer. Then it’s teeth chattering because he’s probably freezing to death like that. When he changes form, it sounds like his bones snap and break and reform. No. That’s morbid. It’s a beautiful sound, like leaves dancing inside a dust devil.

  Kian nudges me from behind, his big black head pushing at my shoulder blades. I turn around and hug him, arms around his thick neck, feeling out the ridges in his spine. When I let go, he cocks his head.

  I dip my chin and mutter, “Sorry. I’m going. You stay safe, too.”

  He softly headbutts me, and I go after Archer’s fleeting figure. I have more strength than ever, but hunger takes the same toll it always has; my legs are weak with my stomach’s cries for food. Why is Archer going so damn fast? She should pace herself. Instead, she’s moving as if she’s on Ginzo’s tail, but I see no sign of him. There’s a long stretch of uneven icy tundra and nothing more. I guess those dots are birds overhead, maybe a mouse just dove into a burrow a few feet to my left. Mostly, it’s barren.

  My stomach roars after I’ve spanned a few miles following Archer. I should probably pick up the pace and finally close the distance between us, but I want to drop to the ground and pass out. I’m famished. Thirsty. My stomach is eating itself.

  A blast of icy wind cuts into my eyes. I close them and tighten my hood around my face to fight off the barrage. I stop running too. If I trip, I’m not sure how long it’ll take me to get back up. My hood adjustments help a little, enough for me to squint. I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me. The brownish Color of plants is suddenly more pronounced than their actual colors. They seem to shine through the fog, lighting up the terrain’s subtleties for me. It doesn’t give me enough visibility to start running again, though.

  “Archer!”

  A mournful howling wind is the only thing that shouts back.

  Great.

  I grope the ice fog, using the scarce plant Colors to guide me. Unfortunately, they don’t warn me about the big-ass lump of ice just ahead. I kick it, and it punches my shin. I bite my lip against the pain and drop to one knee. After rubbing out the bruise, I notice an indentation in the dusted snow. It’s a perfect barefoot-print. Bootprints are near it.

  Ginzo. I think Archer found him.

  But I don’t hear anything. I stand, raise my nose, and take an experimental sniff. Something pinches the inside of my nose. It burns a direct line to my brain. I rub the sore spots to soothe the sensation. When I can think again, I realize it’s familiar. It’s that insane spice in Ginzo’s blood. He must have an open wound for it to be this strong.

  I press forward and use the tracks as my guide. The moment the wind blows, they start to disappear. Like hell. I pick up the pace.

  Don’t let me lose them.

  CHAPTER 7

  Bit by bit, the fog starts to clear. My heartbeat calms, and I see him: Ginzo. He’s lying on the icy tundra, shirtless and barefoot and snoring—with Archer staring down at him like a creeper.

  She sees me, grins, and then dives for Ginzo’s neck. She bites down. It sounds like metal crushing metal. She stumbles back, hands covering her mouth. Red leaks in between her fingers as she suppresses a groan. Ginzo’s laugh vibrates through the earth and up my feet. It settles in my bones.

  “Break your teeth?” He rolls onto his side to face us. He presses his elbow into the ground and props his head up with his hand. His hand has dried blood on it.

  Archer squeezes her eyes shut. Her Color wavers and settles when she pulls her hands away. She doesn’t bother to wipe off the blood. Teeth fragments sit in her hands.

  “You’ll heal.”

  Archer throws the useless white bits to the tundra. “What’d you do?”

  “Hardened my skin. Obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  “I wouldn’t advise trying that again unless you like pain.”

  Archer circles him like a shark. I don’t know what she thinks she’ll find. Ginzo’s Color retains its normal nonchalant ocean waves. He’s not worried.

  “There must be a soft spot on your body somewhere,” Archer says.

  “Are you asking me for a hint?” Ginzo flicks his free hand toward me. “Are you just going to stand there all day? It’s no fun if you don’t try.”

  “I’m not interested in breaking my teeth,” I say.

  Ginzo sits up, legs crossed. “Do I give you both the reward you were looking for, or do I let you go hungry?” He tilts his chin up toward the sky. “You might find something if I turn you away, but you did manage to track me all the way out here.” He dangles his limp, blood-stained wrist. “I think I’m feeling generous.”

  “Is generosity something a demon can experience?” I ask. “Based on the curse your kind’s monstrous blood passed down, I’d guess not.”

  His lips curl back. Somehow, his teeth glint through like icicles. “I’m not talking about doing you any real favors, made demon. Helena doesn’t want you to waste away.”

  He taps the earth with his hand. Snow jumps at his touch, high. It suspends in the air as the same snowflakes that had fallen to the ground before. More and more snowflakes rise until Ginzo curls his hand into a fist. They smash together as if they’re caught in his palm. They crinkle and crush, mold and harden, until they’ve assumed the cylindrical shape of a basic glass cup. It’s huge, though. Probably a pint.

  Ginzo swipes the ice glass from the air. Then he bites his wrist, tearing in so deep I have to wonder if he likes pain. His blood splatters. He holds his bleeding wrist over the glass, filling it up as the ice screams; it’s high-pitched and steam escapes into the night sky. When his blood is about to overflow, he holds the glass out to us. “Who’s first? There’s enough for both of you if you’re inclined to share.”

  Archer swipes the cup as it continues screeching. She starts chugging.

  “Yeah.” Ginzo digs a finger into his ear. “I guess you’ll have to race against the glass falling apart too. Unless you want to fight the ground for a taste of my blood.” He laughs, low and deep and menacing. Both he and Helena are sadists.

  I think Archer’s going to finish it all when she reaches the halfway point, but she abruptly stops and shoves the thing into my hands. The ice is thin. Ginzo’s molten blood is about to eat its way through. I throw my head back and drink. My eyes water as it burns its way down my throat, but I don’t choke.

  It’s spicy. The same unique taste as before. And yet something’s different.

  I gasp for air when I’ve swallowed the last drop of blood. My stomach settles. I toss the glass. It tings against an icy rock and shatters.

  Archer’s fists tremble at her sides. That piercing glare of her azure eyes threatens an attack—on Ginzo. “What did you do?” she asks.

  “I gave you the sustenance you so crave.” That snarl on Ginzo’s face, the smirk, makes my skin crawl.

  “It’s different.”

  “Are you still hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  “For something more, but you aren’t hungry.”

  She’s right. That surge of power I tasted the first time I had his blood isn’t there. I was sort of hoping to get a shot of that again, like a dose of adrenaline. His heartbeat assaults my ears like a buzzing bass traveling its way inside my body. My eyes search for the perfect place to bite him.

  Stop it, Nova. You saw how his skin broke Archer’s teeth. Get a grip.

  “What you had before,” Ginzo drawls, “wasn’t simply blood. It was what
makes the blood running through my veins different from yours. It brims with life, its very essence. All living things have it, but it doesn’t act the same. As soon as my blood is no longer pumping through my veins, my body, it becomes the same as yours. You cling to life, but your time is finite. Mine is infinite.”

  Ginzo buries his fingers into the earth. The tundra bellows, bloats, and sinks. Something grabs my boots, twists around my ankles. I can’t move. Archer’s arms flail, and she falls to her ass. She struggles to pull her feet free of the same mind-bending trap, but nothing works.

  “Such fragile creatures,” Ginzo says. “But I like to watch you ants crawl.”

  He pulls his hands from the earth, and the attack withdraws. The tundra resumes its natural shape. I’m free.

  “Fuck,” Archer breathes, and then she runs.

  I run too, but Ginzo’s laugh whispers in my ears as if he’s right behind me. When I look over my shoulder, he isn’t there, but his laugh plays on repeat. Over and over and over, bouncing around in my skull like a tiny rubber ball.

  I’m scared out of my fucking mind.

  My legs burn. I don’t know how long it’s been since I started running, but the ice fog is finally clearing up. I see a big blotch of chartreuse in the last of it. All I can think about is Kian. And it is. He turns his big head toward me, sharp ears up and alert. I don’t slow down. He’s got a bloody rabbit in his mouth, but I go for his neck, wrapping my arms around him as well as I can, turning my head away from the rabbit’s not-entirely-putrid but not-entirely-appetizing blood.

  The rabbit lands with a dull sound when Kian unlocks his jaws. He low-barks and presses his nose into my waist.

  “It’s nothing,” I mutter and force myself to let him go. I sink to the ground. Then I curl up into a ball.

  I peek through my safe space when I hear a crunch. Kian’s tearing into the rabbit. It looks so small and insignificant compared to him, barely a meal. Blood paints his muzzle in the frenzy. Strip by strip he devours the rabbit with no hint of the softness I’ve come to expect from him. Maybe this is when our demon sides show the most: when we eat. There are probably other times too, but this is the one others see most often, I think.