Jealousy

CHAPTER EIGHT

I brushed my teeth again, tied my hair back, then turned the computer on once more and spent some time poking around. It was your basic intranet with a gateway to the Internet, but the security stuff was way more intense than it had been back at the other Schola. I had to verify three times with the information on the sheet next to the keyboard before it even let me near the Web.

I was betting my every keystroke was logged, so I didn’t visit anything fun or informative. But I was feeling sharper and more myself, so I poked around for more clothes. For me, this time. I’d been so strung-out earlier I’d just gotten Graves some stuff and called it good. Now I looked back at what I’d ordered and about slapped myself on the forehead.

Shopping while sleep-deprived is a Bad Idea.

I sat and compared prices and wondered where the Order’s money came from, while I spun the switchblade idly on the desk sometimes and thought about what I was doing.

I’m used to shopping for myself in army surplus stores or Goodwills or something. Getting stuff sent to you over the Net was always a big no-no while I was with Dad. All that stuff leaves a footprint, a happy little trail—and you have to pick it up somewhere; even P.O. boxes and those rent-a-box places need ID of some kind. You have to go back and actually get the stuff you’ve ordered, and when you do, whammo. There’s no better time for someone or something to hit you.

No, the Net’s only good for a few things. Research, though you have to apply the bullshit test and cross-check everything. Scams, because you can’t spit on the Net without hitting one. And the occasional entertainment. Nothing like people making fools of themselves for the world to see.

Sometimes I wonder what Gran would have thought of the digital age. Of course, it’s hard to get broadband down in the hollers and up on the ridges.

She probably would have just sniffed and called it more foolishness than normal. Which is pretty damning, considering what she thought of the whole human race.

I actually had some fun picking out more T-shirts for Graves. I got him a Captain America tee, and one that had a huge dinosaur and lasers screened on it, with the caption Look out! That velociraptor has a lightsaber! screaming across it. It made me laugh into my cupped hand, trying to keep it muffled because Graves was muttering a little bit and stirring in the bed. Plus a few plain black ones, large- size athletic fit, not medium, in case he kept bulking up the way he had been. Becoming loup-garou had made him way broader in the shoulders.

I knew his sizes from shopping at the other Schola. Before he went out with the wulfen and got kitted out, that was. Maybe they’d do it for him here, but just in case I got him socks and more boxer-briefs, too. He seemed like a tighty-whitey kind of kid when I met him, but I guess that had changed.

I was just sitting there, wondering whether or not to get him an athletic cup—you know, for sparring and stuff, but I had to weigh the embarrassment factor in—when there was a knock at the door. A nice polite three raps, a pause, two more taps.

What now?

My mother’s locket cooled abruptly, icy metal against my skin. I pushed myself up from the office chair. It squeaked a little bit, sliding across one of those hard plastic pads they put down to save carpets from the rollers. Then it hit me, and I froze, hunched halfway over.

Oranges and wax. Sliding across my tongue, reaching and touching that place at the back of my throat where the bloodhunger lived, right next to the place ordinary people don’t have. The little spot that warns me when danger or weirdness is right around the corner.

I glanced at the bed. Graves lay on his side, curled up as if I was still there, hugging my pillow. I swallowed hard, though I didn’t want to with that taste in my mouth. Hooked my fingers around the switchblade and straightened.

I felt ridiculous. It was probably a teacher or something. Or Shanks, or even Benjamin.

You know it’s not, Dru. Don’t you dare open that door.

The warding’s thin blue lines came into view inside my head, seen with the queer non-sight I didn’t realize other people didn’t have until I was about ten years old. I can remember the moment, too. I’d come home crying from the valley school because the kids had been picking on me, and Gran’s mouth had clamped together like a vise. Her disapproval hit me like a wave, and I’d had to admit that if I wanted the kids to tolerate me I shouldn’t have been listening to their little secrets with that muscle inside my head even if I thought everyone could do the same thing and just didn’t let on.

The problem wasn’t actually knowing. It was letting them know I knew.

People hate that. They hate it because they fear it. There are places in America where . . . but never mind. That’s too awful to think about.

Gran was big on privacy, and she’d had to let me learn the lesson the hard way. Because there just isn’t any other way if you’re born with the touch, she said. And she was right.

I fingered the release on the switchblade and eyed the door nervously. There was the bar on it, even if someone had the keys for the four or five different locks. Two of the locks didn’t have an outside keyhole, so that was all right.

But . . . Jesus, someone at my window and someone at my door, too? I could tell whoever was at the door meant me no good. The warding said as much, sparking and fizzing as it drew together, blue lines running uneasily under the surface of the visible.

Another scent cut through clotted waxen citrus, filling my nose so my eyes prickled and burned with the overflow.

Warm perfume and spice. A red smell, like silk and high-heeled boots with tiny finicky buttons up their sides. Long hair and a vicious little laugh.

What the hell would she be doing here?

Graves muttered shapelessly, as if he was having a bad dream. The listening silence grew even more intense, and the doorknob jiggled slightly.

Oh, you think I’m too stupid to lock my door? Whatever. But I was shaking badly. She could have a perfectly valid reason for coming here and knocking. She really could.

Christ. I was even doubting the touch now, something I’d never done before. Gran would have fetched me one upside the head—figuratively, I mean; she never hit me. Just one glare would’ve been enough.

Stop dithering about Gran and figure out what you’re going to do!

But that was just it. The door was locked and barred, and I didn’t want to do anything. I just wanted to hunker down and hide. As a long-term strategy it really sucked. But for the short term—like the next few minutes, as the last honeyglow of sunset filled the window and turned the garden into a haze below—it was looking pretty good.

The wards quieted. The thin blue lines went back to their normal patterns, weird circuit-shapes like that old movie about the guy trapped in the computer game, with complex Celtic-looking knots Gran taught me to make holding the doors and windows fast. I stepped sideways in my sock feet, testing the floor for creaks, and was glad about the thick carpet for once.

A few uneasy fizzes. The ward lines dimmed a little but came back, strongly blue. The closer I got to the door, using the weird gliding step Dad taught me to spread my weight out as much as possible over the floorboards, the brighter blue they got. Impatience scraped at the ward, tasting like burnt insulation. I made a face, sticking my tongue out, before I could help it.

The door jumped a little, the warding sparked, and before I knew it there was a high hard SNAP! just like a mousetrap going off. I actually saw a mousetrap inside my head, leaping up as the spring’s energy was released and the mouse skittered away, alive but without its cheese.

Fast light-tapping footsteps in the hall outside. Graves muttered and thrashed uneasily. I found out sweat had sprung up on the curve of my lower back, in my armpits, and along my forehead. A headache threatened, steel bands around my temples.

I blew out a long, soft breath. Lowered the switchblade. As my only weapon, it sucked. As a comfort, it kind of sucked as well.

More footsteps. Heavier, but just as quick. Djamphir even sound graceful while they’re running. I wondered how they did that and watched the wards.

Not a spark. They just kept humming blue.

“Dru!” It was Benjamin, and he just kept going right on down the hall. “Milady! Dru!”

I stuffed the switchblade in my pocket and got the bar unstuck with shaking, sweaty hands. Threw the locks as Graves woke up and cussed again behind me, the window going blind-dark as the sun slipped fully below the edge of the horizon. I tore the door open and jumped out into the hall, narrowly missing a collision with Leon, who stopped on a dime and glared at me through his mousy, tangled hair. He looked like he’d just woke up, but his combat boots were laced up and tied tight, and that takes awhile.

“What the fuck’s going on?” he snarled.

“I don’t know!” I snarled right back. “Benjamin went that way—” I pointed, but the mousy djamphir boy was already gone, running with the eerie stuttering speed that verges on disappearing because the eyes can’t track it.

“She’s here!” Leon yelled. “Benjamin! Dammit, she’s here!”

The two blonds appeared. They weren’t quite twins, but since both of them were wearing black T-shirts and jeans, it was harder to tell them apart. One of them was in sock feet, and the other one carried a Walther PPK, pointing it at the floor as his eyes roved. I grabbed the doorjamb and kept my eyes on him while the one in socks walked past me, turned military-sharp, and leaned against the hall wall on the right side of the door.

Guarding me. It was a nice thought, and I was more comforted than I should have been.

“Are you all right?” the blond with the gun asked me. Thomas, I remembered his name with the sort of gut-wrenching mental effort I usually associate only with higher-level math classes. I mean, I can balance a checkbook, calculate a tip from sales tax in sixteen states, and do ammo checks. Calculus? Forget it.

I nodded. Leon appeared at the end of the hall, shaking his head. Right behind him, Benjamin stalked. He looked up, saw me, and stopped dead for a few seconds.

The next thing I knew, he was right in front of the door. “You were here? You’ve been here?”

I hate it when they blink in and out of sight like that. I almost flinched. “Uh, yeah.” I couldn’t even say it like he was an idiot or anything. I was too badly rattled. “Had my door barred and everything. But I . . . heard something.”

“Is some sleep too much to ask?” Graves moaned from the bed. “Jesus Christ, what’s happening now?”

“This is bad,” Leon murmured, finally arriving and casting a mild, raised-eyebrow look down at Blond No.1’s sock feet.

Dammit, why couldn’t I remember their names? Thomas and something. Something with a G, maybe?

“What did you hear?” Benjamin planted his sneakered feet and leaned forward, like a terrier straining at the leash. “Dru?”

George. I remembered the name and felt immediately, oddly better. Like I’d accomplished something. “Someone knocked. But it didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel like opening the door.” Great. Now he was going to think I was a stubborn brat or something.

So let him. What was Anna doing anyway? Why would the warding react to her and not to the boys?

Because she was up to no good, Dru. Duh. And if you weren’t so busy trying to explain it away, you could probably figure out why.

Amazingly, Benjamin looked over his shoulder at Leon. They shared the kind of Significant Glance I was used to seeing between adults. Then the dark-haired djamphir shook his emo-boy fringe down and turned his attention to me. “That’s good.” As if praising me for a test answer. “Don’t open your door if you’re not sure. You should trust your instincts on this. And we’ll post a guard instead of—”

“What did you see?” Screw the rest of it. I wanted to know that, first.

“I thought . . .” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I thought you were running down the hall to visit the Broken again. I’ve heard a svetocha can do that—make a game out of slipping away sometimes. It must be . . . hard, to have someone with you everywhere you go.”

Boy, you don’t know the half of it. I shrugged. I’d still prefer it to being killed by a sucker.

Always assuming, of course, that I could trust whoever was guarding me. That was the whole problem, wasn’t it?

“What the hell’s going on?” Graves wanted to know.

“I don’t have a problem with it,” I told Benjamin. “I know better.” Unless one of you is a traitor and looking to kill me. I didn’t say it, but I also didn’t stop watching the kid with the Walther. He was staring off down the hall the other way, his back to the wall, but it’s Rule Numero Uno when there’s a gun out—you make sure you know where it’s pointed at all times.

“That’s good.” Benjamin sounded relieved. “That’s really good. I thought I saw you running down the hall. But it couldn’t have been you, since you were here. Maybe it was a curiosity-seeker or something.” He gave me a Significant Glance, as if I was supposed to help him out with this.

Yeah, that really makes sense. “I dunno.” I closed my mouth after that. Anna was supposed to be a secret, but she sure didn’t act like it. And would she be a secret here at the Schola Prima, among all the djamphir? She’d walked right past Graves and Benjamin and them to get into the Council room, right?

Still, just because she was all over the place didn’t mean I had to hand out information like cupcakes. Besides she predated me here and was the head of the Council.

“Oh, come on.” Leon actually snorted. “It was the Red Queen.”

“Isn’t she a myth?” Thomas noticed I was looking at the gun and actually flushed. It went into a holster under his left armpit, and I relaxed a little. “Oh, sorry.”

I shrugged. Again. I was getting good with the shrugging. I could practice in front of the mirror and have a different one for each occasion.

Benjamin was watching my face, too. “No, she is not a myth. She’s just kept from the hoi polloi like us. And very busy with her duties. You saw her this morning.”

Thomas absorbed this. “I thought she’d be taller.”

Sockfoot George asked the question I wanted answered most. “What was she doing here, then? And without bodyguards? Unless they were here in Shadow.”

Oh, great. All eyes on you, Dru. “I don’t have a clue.” And I didn’t.

They all stood there for a couple seconds just looking at each other. And I jumped—Graves was right behind me. He did something odd, then—he put his arms around my waist and hugged me. We’re both tall, but he seemed to have gotten taller. Back in the Dakotas we were almost eye to eye. Or maybe it just seemed that way because he hunched over all the time, his body shutting itself away from a world it wanted no part of.

And the djamphir boys stared at me again. I blushed for no discernible reason. I was turning red an embarrassing amount of the time lately.

So first Graves liked me too much, but then he would hug me in front of other boys?

“Yes. Well.” Benjamin cleared his throat. “Twenty-four-hour guard. Posted at the door. Someone with her at all times.”

“It will likely be me, since you don’t have waivers yet. Damn paperwork.” Leon shrugged. “No worries. This is interesting.” As if he was watching a TV show or something, settled on the couch with a beer in hand. Though I couldn’t imagine any of them kicking back with a brew. They just seemed too . . . old. Or too serious.

Fighting vampires is serious business, yeah. But that seriousness on those unlined faces was oddly, well, obscene. It wasn’t what they were supposed to look like.

“Terrifying is more like it,” Thomas muttered. “The Red Queen.”

“Second thoughts, Tommy?” Leon’s smile couldn’t have been called nice.

The blond djamphir grinned back, a wide white showing of teeth. “Not on your life, Fritz.” A rumble ran beneath the words, almost like a werwulf’s warning growl.

Oh, hold up. “Wait. Wait a second. You guys know about her?”

“The first-years think she’s a myth. You don’t even learn of her existence until you pass your third-year boards.” George looked worried. “Before we got this job a frontline grunt like me would never even see a svetocha. Now they’re coming out of the woodwork. Even mythical ones.”

“She’s not that old; I remember when she was rescued. She doesn’t qualify as a myth.” Leon sighed. “There’s no point in sleeping more. Not with orientation and classes.”

“Orientation?” I swear to God my knees almost buckled. I was glad Graves was standing right there. “Classes?”

“Both for you, classes for us. Except Leon.” Benjamin effectively shut down further discussion by turning away. “And tomorrow, Dru, I suggest we go clothes shopping.”

I already did. But I didn’t say it. Because getting out and away from the Schola was seeming like a good idea. A fabulous idea. “Okay.”

“I’ll take you down to the cafeteria first thing.” Now Leon’s unsettling grin was directed at me. “Food and a bunch of staring eyes. Best just to get it over with, right?”

“Right,” I said grimly and shoved Graves back by the simple expedient of stepping back myself. How we did that without getting our legs tangled, I don’t know. But we managed it, and I was happy about that. “Sure. Give me fifteen.”

“You don’t need to hurry. An hour will do.”

But I was already closing the door. Graves let go of me, and after I locked everything, I turned halfway and we sized each other up.

He was blushing furiously. So was I. We stood there, crimson-cheeked, and just looked at each other.

“Graves—” I began, but he spoke at the same time.

“Dru—” His eyes were so green; ever since he got bit, they’d been getting lighter and more intense.

We both laughed. It was crazy, hysterical laughter, but that was okay. I leaned against the door, chuckling until tears squirted out my eyes. He bent over and hugged his midriff and made little ah-ah-ah sounds because he couldn’t get enough air in.

Sometimes you’ve just got to let off a little steam. Especially when you’ve been running on nerves and adrenaline for weeks.

It was over all too quickly, though. I wiped at my cheeks, he finally got some air in, and we were left where we were before, staring awkwardly at each other.

“What was that?” he finally asked, running his fingers back through his hair. It stood up in black spikes, but the effect was softer now since it was growing out. “I didn’t even hear you get up.”

“I was on the computer. Getting clothes and stuff.” Do you need a cup, dude? I swallowed the question and a stray laugh at the same time. “I, um, I guess we should talk.”

“After I brush my teeth.” But he made no move to step away. “Jesus, can’t get clothes soon enough. I’m getting sick of wearing the same thing all the time.”

I hear you. A thin spike of guilt went through me—this was twice that everything he owned got taken away because of me. “I got you some stuff. And it sounds like they’re taking us shopping tomorrow.”

“They’re taking you shopping tomorrow.” He didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Or maybe he did because right after the words left his mouth he looked faintly ashamed of them. His earring swung as he ducked his head, running his fingers through his shaggy hair.

“Us. Or I’m not going.” I folded my arms and looked at the blue carpet. “So, can I ask you something? About . . . that.”

“About what?”

What the hell did he think I was talking about? But he was a boy, and therefore oblivious. Still, I’d pretty much used up all my brass for today and was going to have to use up tomorrow’s in about an hour. So I studied the carpet like it would give me an idea. Said nothing.

He lasted about five seconds, then coughed a little. “I, uh, I mean, jeez. Did I, you know, offend or something?”

“No, no.” I shook my head. Goddammit, my cheeks were burning again. My mother’s locket was warm, and I shot a little glance up at him, just to gauge where we were.

He was looking at me like I had something on my face. I found out I had enough brass left, after all. Or maybe I could borrow some.

“I just, well, wanted to know where we stand. That’s all.” There. It was out. If I’d been misreading everything, I wanted to know.

“Oh.” Then he was quiet for so long I thought I’d scream. “I, uh. Jeez. Well.”

Screaming was definitely an option. Okay, so I had misjudged. I mean, I didn’t think you could misjudge, what with sticking your tongue in a boy’s mouth. But I guess I did. He either liked me or he didn’t, or maybe he did but I wasn’t worth the trouble, or . . .

Jesus. Swearing off guys completely was an option. It wasn’t like I’d be having a lot of time for extracurricular stuff, what with vampires trying to kill me and everything else.

But, you know, I would’ve liked to fit that in. With him. “Okay.” I headed past him for the bathroom. “Dibs on the toilet, then. Forget I asked.”

“Dru . . .” He said it like he was running out of air.

“No, really. It’s cool. I just—”

“I like you, okay? I do. It’s just . . . you’ve got all this other stuff going on. And vampires trying to take your head off the hard way.”

I swallowed, hard. “Like there’s an easy way?” But my heart swelled up like a balloon. It had been a long, long time since I’d felt anything close to this. After a few seconds I decided happy was a pale word for it. “Okay. Cool. I like you, too. We’ve pretty much established it. We’re being careful, right?” Whatever that means.

“Yeah, uh. Um.” Now he had something stuck in his throat. I was grinning like a fool. He hunched up again, like he was expecting a punch or something.

“So, yeah. I guess that’s that. Dibs on the toilet.” And I bolted for the bathroom like I was running away. I just didn’t want to laugh and give him the wrong idea.

I should’ve been more worried. But there’s only so much worry you can stand all the time. And if Graves was with me, well, I didn’t have so much to worry about, right? We’d handled everything else the Real World could throw at us. And whatever Anna was doing at my door could wait.

It was the first time in weeks the hole in my chest seemed less angry and empty. And I was really, really happy about that.