“ENOUGH!”
There was a hushed silence A Price’s shout. Situations like this had happened many times before in History class, but they never got boring. Not to me, or my fellows students.
Price looked like he would have loved nothing more than to smack me until I cried. But that was so beyond wishful thinking on his part, it wasn’t funny. With a growl, he walked away, but not before I caught the words, “spoiled little rich bitch.”
After I set foot outside of History, I heard a whistle on my right.
“Damn, that was cool. That never gets old, Mercedes, you know? It’s one of those bright stars in the bleak night sky that is high school.”
It was Taylor Berenson, one of the star players on the football team. He was also one of the cutest guys at school.
“Well, you can’t deny that you owe this school quite a bit,” I pointed out. “I mean, you’re going to college on a football scholarship. You won’t have to pay a thing.”
“Okay, that’s another bright star,” he amended. He gave me a pointed look. “You won’t have to pay a thing either.”
I looked away uncomfortably.
“Hey, I didn’t mean…” He put a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like people talking about your…never mind. I was just saying you won’t have to pay for college anyway, ‘cause you’re gonna be valedictorian.”
I winced inwardly. Ever since I entered my senior year, the rumors of who would be valedictorian were spreading like a wildfire. Due to my average, I was currently the top candidate.
“That’s not a given,” I said. “Anything can change.”
“Your grades won’t change. If they do, they’ll just get higher.” He smiled a smile that was known to break hearts wherever he went. “I hope you’re not mad at me, but I entered a few betting pools on who it would be.”
My eyes went wide. “Taylor—!”
“You’ll get it,” he assured me. “And if by some slight non-existent miracle that you don’t…” he shrugged, smile widening. “It’s nothing to worry about. You know I’ll always love you.”
I couldn’t help but feel flattered by his flirting since I knew it was sincere. Sam and Taylor liked me for who I was, rather than for my money.
“Mercedes!” A small group of girls waved at me. “Thanks for taking down Price again!”
“You made my day!”
“I owe you lunch tomorrow!”
“Speaking of lunch…” Taylor stopped walking and looked at me rather intensely. “Practice was cancelled today. I have the evening free. You want to grab some dinner at say, six tonight?”
I stared at him. He was incredibly cute. His Vietnamese mother had given him unbelievable exotic looks, and like Sam, he had very kind eyes. But also like Sam, I just didn’t feel anything deeper for him other than friendship.
“I’m sorry, Taylor, I can’t.” I tried to look as regretful as I could. “I promised Caroline that I would stop by Women’s Aid tonight, and you know how long I end up staying when I go there. I’m so sorry.”
He looked disappointed, but also understanding. “No problem. Maybe some other time.” He frowned suddenly. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you…how can you always give such detailed answers when Price asks you questions from material we haven’t covered yet? I mean, I know you do all that extra studying on the side, but all of your answers are so damn detailed. It’s like you’re psychic or something.”
My heart was racing. I wasn’t psychic, of course, but he wanted to know something about me that no other living person knew. And he couldn’t.
I shrugged and said casually, “I’m just lucky. I like watching historical documentaries every now and then, and when a topic is particularly interesting it just…stays with me.”
Not the truth, but not a lie either. I said good-bye to Taylor and proceeded to go to computer class early. My feelings regarding computer class were paradoxical. I found the lessons to be unbelievably boring, but it was the class where I accomplished anything truly useful. Maybe that was arrogant, but I would be lying if I said otherwise. Compared to computer class, every other class was merely white noise. Oh, I would do my best in them and always received satisfactory grades, but none of them held a candle to computer class.
I opened the door and saw Mr. Petrie sitting at his desk. He was a small, portly man, but he was the exact opposite of Price. He actually cared about his students and did everything he could to help them if they were in need of it.
“Good morning,” I greeted.
His eyes lit up when he saw me. “Oh, good morning, Mercedes!” He practically jumped up from his desk and rounded the corner to greet me. “How are you to…” He stopped short, eyes widening in concern. “Mercedes, are you well today?”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Just had a bit of a rough night.”
“Do you need to go home? I could write you a note—”
“No, really, I’m fine,” I said. “I’m not sick, I promise.”
He looked like he wanted to insist on writing me a note, but then relented. “Well, if you’re certain…”
“I am,” I said. “And I uploaded the outlines for middle-grade XHTML-7 that you asked for. You can find them in your Cloud account.”
Cloud or “the Cloud” as some people liked to call it was the name of a global Internet database where you could upload just about anything. In this day in age, everyone who used the Internet had an account with the Cloud.
I’ve always loved seeing Mr. Petrie’s face after sending him a lesson plan of my own making. To him, I may as well be handing over a million dollars.
“T-thank you,” he stammered. He immediately went over to his desk to open up the files.
I knew that would occupy him for the next fifteen minutes or more, so I took my usual seat in the middle of the classroom and loaded up the computer. My eyes missed nothing as they scanned the code dancing across the black screen. My mind remembered almost everything.
I don’t like getting too deep into techno babble since a lot of people wouldn’t understand. So I’ll just say that I know computers. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. I’ve known them ever since my parents first let me have one when I was five. My knowledge only expanded after that to the point where I not only knew my computer, but how to get into other people’s computers.
And how to control them.
I’m one of the greatest hackers in the world. How do I know this?
Well, I never joined a secret underground hacker’s club where tech geeks just sit in moldy couches, eat chips, drink beer, and dream up of ways to shut down the government. But every Sunday before I go to bed, I spend three hours monitoring the activities of said secret underground hackers. Some of them have incredible skill, but so far, I can count on one hand how many are better than me. And I’ve never needed their help with anything hacking related. All the information in the world was already at my fingertips. Not to mention I used my hacking talents for something other than a potential government shutdown.
I opened up Microsoft Word 2045, and proceeded to construct an outline for another lesson plan for Mr. Petrie. This one was for the students in the Operating Systems class at Harvard University. Mr. Petrie had taught there several years ago before his brother took over. Since it was considered the hardest class at Harvard, sometimes otherwise incredibly bright students needed the language broken down into something less complex so they could better understand it. It was my personal pleasure to do that. I hated it when people tried to be as verbose as they could in order to make themselves look smarter. Before I started planning lessons, Mr. Petrie had told me that over a third of the students who had originally signed up left the class before they could fail. Now only two or three left if any.
Since I liked to keep my hacking talents as secret as possible, I turn down at least five invitations a year to fly to Harvard to be wined and dined, and to accept the gratitude of the school board as well as countless students. It was a sham
e. I would have loved to meet them all in person. Touching someone’s life in a positive way gave me an unrivalled feeling of goodness and accomplishment. I didn’t want to completely shun them, so I set up a dummy email account with my code name ‘Countess’. Meeting them when I was in my costume was better than not meeting them at all. It amused me that some of them tried to hack into my computer to find out who I really was, but none of them ever came close.
The students started to file in, but I was too absorbed in what I was writing to notice. I had planned this lesson last week and barely forgot a single detail, even as my mind sifted and examined new ideas all on its own accord. I quickly wrote them down, but I didn’t need to worry about forgetting them. I rarely forgot anything. That’s what Taylor came so close to figuring out not an hour ago. I don’t exactly have a photographic memory, but if you want an estimate, I remember about eighty percent of everything I see and hear. I considered my mind to be my greatest weapon.
As Petrie lectured, I took a moment to think about a particular idea and noticed some classmates glaring at me out of the corner of my eye. Outside of computer class, I was often an object of envy and loathing for several students due to the money my family had. Inside computer class, I was an object of envy and loathing for my money and my computer skills. There were some friendly people here, but a majority of them hated the fact that I never listened to Petrie, but still got the highest grades on projects and tests. They also hated that Petrie supposedly let me get away with murder. If you ever zoned out in his class, he would lecture you in front of everyone. I was a different case for reasons I felt no one else needed to know but Mr. Petrie and I.
“Hey…rich bitch.”
Irritation crept up my spine. I knew that voice. It was Lydia Walker, ones of the best violinists in the orchestra and the most beautiful girl at Morgana High. She had gorgeous, long red hair, eyes like chocolate, and a figure that the most highly paid supermodel would kill for.
She was also a complete bitch.
I ignored the whisper and continued to work.
“You think you can ignore me, you spoiled little whore?” A venomous hiss. “You’re not getting Taylor, do you hear me? I’ll smash your goddamn face in before I let you get your filthy slutty hands on—”
“Ms. Walker!”
The entire class jumped at Petrie’s bark. He was bearing down on Lydia with a very cold expression.
“Would you care to repeat what you just said to Ms. Strand?”
Lydia’s face had gone so pale, her freckles were standing out like splotches. She still struggled to maintain a scrap of dignity when she replied.
“I’m…not sure what you mean, Mr. Petrie.”
Petrie scrutinized her as the entire class held its breath.
“Very well, Ms. Walker. If your words were so despicable that you are too ashamed to repeat them out loud, then I won’t make you.”
Lydia relaxed, but Petrie wasn’t done.
“But you will have plenty of time to ponder what you said when you serve detention with me after school.”
He may as well have slapped her. “But…Mr. Petrie…I have to rehearse! The fall concert is in--!”
“You can make up whatever excuse you want to your teammates,” Petrie said sternly. “But you will serve detention with me this evening, or you will be suspended.”
It was a no-win situation. Everyone in Morgana’s orchestra had a reputation for never getting detention, suspension, or any grade lower than an A-. They were like cheerleaders in a lot of ways, and they had a reputation that couldn’t afford to be tainted.
For a moment, I thought Lydia would refuse. Her temper wasn’t explosive, but she loathed it when she was forced to do something she didn’t want to do. She was used to giving orders to her fellow musicians and classmates, and she always expected instant obedience. But this time, she was forced to swallow her pride.
“Yes, Mr. Petrie,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Good.”
Petrie continued with his lecture, while I continued with my lesson. When I looked at the clock, I saw the class would be over in fifteen minutes, which disappointed me. My schedule was so packed I only had time to write lessons down in computer class. I wish I had more time to work on them. With these lessons, I was actually helping people improve their lives. It was the reason that computer class was my top priority in high school.
The bell rang and I packed up my things.
“Mercedes?”
Mr. Petrie stopped me before I could walk out the door.
“I’m very sorry,” he said with genuine remorse.
I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle Lydia.”
“I believe you can.” His expression suddenly brightened. “That new lesson was absolutely phenomenal! Professor Stewart is going to be very pleased.”
I smiled. “I’m glad.”
“You know Mercedes…” Petrie inched closer, and his tone grew persuasive. “You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to. I’ve already asked the faculty at Harvard if they could accept you early, and they were surprised I felt that I even had to ask.”
I sighed inwardly. “Mr. Petrie—”
“Your knowledge of computers is unrivalled, Mercedes. You could teach this class better than I ever could!”
“Mr. Petrie, you know how bad a public speaker I am. I can write pretty well, and I can have an intelligent conversation with people, but standing in front of an entire class and teaching them is an entirely different matter.” My voice grew lower. “And I don’t want to rush my life. I’ll go to college in my own time. When I feel it’s the right time.”
Petrie sighed, running a hand through his receding hairline. “Well, if anyone condemns you for doing what you feel is right, then it won’t be me. But I just want you to be aware that you could have a very bright future at Harvard if you wished.”
“I know. And I thank you for wanting a bright future for me.”
He looked at me, and I nearly blushed at the admiration in his eyes.
“Sometimes it strikes me at how unbelievable you are, Mercedes. Your family is beyond affluent. They give you everything you could possibly want or need, yet you spend your free time giving aid to those who need it.”
“I have so much,” I said simply. “So I see no reason why I shouldn’t give back.”
He smiled and nodded. “But you know you can always come to me if you change your mind.”
“I know,” I said.
***
Shadow
My apartment was small and dark, and I would not have it any other way. Desiring the freedom of an elite was not the same as desiring all of the luxuries they were allowed to access. I was a warrior. Excessive comfort was for the soft and weak, not the strong.
I checked my computer for updates on bounties. While Xavier was an elite who took particular interest in tormenting me, he was not the only one I was expected to be subservient to. By vampire law, all Untouchables were required to obey the will of all elites. The punishment for failing to do so ranged from torture to death.
However, Untouchables were allowed a shallow illusion of freedom. We were permitted to do as we pleased (within the law of course), so long as we did an elite’s bidding whenever we were called. Being over five-hundred years old, I had long built a reputation for being both ruthless and efficient. If an elite wanted someone brought to justice, they were never disappointed when they called me to get the job done.
I examined the list of criminals. Bounties were posted by elite vampires who were so high-strung they prided themselves on never having to rely on the services of an Untouchable. These bounties were meant to be advertised to the Kshatriya, the warrior cast.
But I was Kshatriya. And no elite would ever tell me differently.
It was a thought I clung to, even in the face of everlasting adversity. No one would ever take it away from me, not even the royal family.
And unfortunately for the elites, the Untouchables
were granted some form of freedom in regards to bounties: whenever an elite posted a bounty, any vampire was allowed to pursue it. And by vampire law, the one who posted the bounty was bound to pay whoever turned in it, even if the hunter was the lowest of Untouchables.
However, it was very common for Untouchables to avoid pursuing bounties. If they succeeded, they not only earned their pay, but inevitable vengeance for bruising the elite’s pride. It was said only the desperate or insane Untouchables took bounties.
Being that I was a bit of both, I was the perfect candidate.
My eyes scanned the list. I preferred to hunt in the mortal world since it was where my prey always gave me the best chase. What or who would be a good challenge…?
A very soft sound emitted from my right. My sensitive hearing picked up incredibly soft steps. I continued to scan the list, knowing there was no danger.
Something nudged my leg.
“You will be fed momentarily.”
A low, whining sound.
“Be silent,” I said, but there was no rancor in my voice.
After an hour of looking through bounties, I turned my gaze downward to acknowledge the creature who had been attempting to get my attention. Even after decades of being the closest thing to a partner I possessed, his appearance was one of the few things in the universe that never ceased to fascinate me. He looked like a cross between a beetle, a robot, and a lizard. His body was roundish, and a gleaming, metallic black. Ten thin legs sprouted from his sides. His tail dragged on the floor like a wet worm, but I had seen many a life form both mortal and immortal be either strangled to death or deprived of their heads thanks to its deceptive power. At first glance, he did not appear to have eyes. His mouth on the other hand was far more prominent. It was thick and leathery and when it opened, it displayed rows upon rows of teeth so sharp and long, they made my fangs appear as threatening as toothpicks.