Vampire University (Book One in the Vampire University Series)

CHAPTER TWELVE

  "So the eyes," said Taylor as she and Hannah walked towards their first freshman orientation class.

  "Hm?" said Hannah, who had been cheerfully humming as she walked.

  "The eyes. What was up with Eric's eyes? I saw something before. Like a shadow. Especially when he was trying to... thrall me?"

  "Enthrall. Thrall is what you are in when you are enthralled. Get it? A vampire will ENthrall you to put you IN thrall. He was trying to enthrall you. Make sense?"

  "I guess so. I mean, at least grammatically. So en... enthralling does something to your eyes?"

  "Oh, not at all," said Hannah matter-of-factly. "You were just seeing through the glamour. Glamours generally work on everyone, but vampires... well, vampires and you, apparently, are more... aware of them. You can see the cracks in the seams as it were. When you saw the shadows in his eyes, you were simply noticing his actual eyes and not the glamour."

  "Wait, so he doesn't have blue eyes? I knew they were too dreamy to be true."

  "Did you just say dreamy?"

  "Ew. No, I mean, yes, but... ew. That is definitely not how I feel now. Ew."

  "Well, I'm sure dreamy was what he was going for, so no need to beat yourself up over that. But no, his eyes aren't blue. They're black, in fact. They say your eyes are the window to your soul. I don't know about that, but they are your best clue to a person's true identity. It is the weakest part of a personal glamour, so always look at the eyes."

  "So does that mean..." Taylor stopped short with a gasp.

  Where Hannah's normally unassuming brown eyes had been, Taylor saw solid black with nothing distinguishing the pupil from the rest of the eye.

  "Okay, stop that. Put it back," Taylor said after taking a moment to overcome the shock. "It's creepy."

  "Gee thanks. I'm sorry my appearance is so unsettling for you. But I didn't do anything. Apparently you are quite perceptive."

  "Sorry, I..."

  "Look, it's no big deal. It's weird. I get that. See, the trick to seeing past a glamour is simply knowing that it's a glamour. If you know exactly what is behind the glamour, it's even easier, but just knowing that it's a glamour can be enough to unravel it. Since you correctly surmised that my eyes are black, you were able to see right through it. Congratulations!"

  The combination of Hannah's smile and her midnight black eyes was completely unsettling to Taylor, and she made a point to look very intently around her at the buildings, sidewalk, cars, passersby, and anything else that wasn't Hannah's face.

  "Still creeped out, huh?" Hannah asked.

  "No, it's just..." Taylor said, at a loss for words.

  "No, it's just yes. I get it. You can still see the glamour if you want. It's still there. It's all about seeing what you want to see now. The truth or the lie. You can pick."

  "How?"

  "Well, it can take a little practice, but you seem like a quick study."

  They reached an intersection where the crosswalk sign was red, but the traffic flow was light, and the pedestrians around them continued to cross. Hannah held out her hand to stop Taylor as she began to step into the street. Hannah pointed at the light.

  "Really? I think it's safe to cross," said Taylor.

  "Rules are rules. We have to respect them. We, especially. Let the humans break their little rules. You should always follow them. Always."

  "Um, okay..."

  "I mean it, Taylor. There are those who are watching for people like us to make exceptions of ourselves. There are keepers of order. You do not want to be the exception."

  "Well, isn't everyone else crossing right now? By following rules that everyone else isn't, aren't we being exactly the exception we aren't supposed to be?"

  "Huh. All right, smarty-pants. We can cross."

  "Thanks Mom. Light's green now anyway."

  Taylor hurried to keep a step ahead of Hannah. She felt deeply uncomfortable looking at those eyes and wanted an excuse to not make eye contact.

  The building they were headed to was just on the other side of the street. Their classroom was on the first floor and easy to find as there were several sets of double doors all labeled with the same room number. As they entered, Taylor realized that she had been picturing a high school classroom with rows of a couple dozen desks. This was nothing at all like what she had imagined. This was more like a movie theater with each set of double doors opening up to its own aisle with rows upon rows of cushioned seats all arching around a low stage and a movie theater-like screen.

  There had to be hundreds of seats, if not thousands, Taylor guessed, though only dozens of students scattered about among them.

  Hannah, as Taylor might have predicted, marched straight for the front row. Taylor would've preferred a seat far less distinct, maybe halfway back and a little to the side, but Hannah was as forward with her seat selection as she was with her introductions. Resigned, Taylor followed close behind and sat next to her.

  "How is sitting in the front row not being the exception? We're the only ones up here," Taylor whispered to Hannah, careful not to make eye contact.

  "Sitting in the front row is perfectly normal. There's no reason not to be exceptional, just because we're not being the exception," Hannah whispered back.

  "That... that makes no sense," replied Taylor, looking around to confirm that they were the only ones sitting in the front row.

  "Sure it does," Hannah said confidently and pulled out her notebook.

  She wrote very neatly in the top corner:

  Hannah Cohen

  FROS 101 - Freshman Orientation

  And then, at the top center of the page:

  NOTES

  "Do we really need to take notes for this class? Is this even actually a class?" asked Taylor.

  "Well, we are in college now, hon. Time to start building good habits!"

  "Right. Can I, um, borrow a piece of paper? And a, um... pen?"

  "I see we definitely have some building to do!" Hannah handed Taylor a notebook and pen.

  "I'm not usually this unprepared. I've just had a lot going on."

  "Oh, I know." Hannah patted Taylor reassuringly on the shoulder. "I bet being a student is the last thing on your mind right now. But don't lose focus! We have plenty of time to get you adjusted to your... situation. But class won't wait!"

  "Guess not," Taylor said glumly.

  "This seat taken?" said a voice from behind them.

  Taylor turned to see Joseph pointing at the empty seat next to Hannah's. All Taylor could pay any attention to were his eyes. They were as black as Hannah's. Taylor felt a chill run up her spine, and she shivered noticeably.

  "Are you... okay?" Joseph asked.

  "Oh she's fine," Hannah said. "It's just your eyes. Here, have a seat."

  Hannah patted the seat next to her invitingly, and Joseph accepted her invitation.

  "My eyes? What's wrong with them?"

  "Oh nothing, dear," Hannah reassured him. "She just can see them."

  "Oh. Sorry about that."

  "Oh there's nothing to apologize for! You know how it goes. Adjustment period and all."

  "Right.”

  "Yeah, no big deal," added Taylor, making a point to stare straight ahead. Never mind the small matter of his brother trying to eat her last night, she thought.

  "You'll be able to turn it off with practice," he said, leaning towards her.

  "That's what I hear," Taylor stiffened a little as he got closer.

  Seeing her discomfort, he leaned back in his seat.

  Looking over at Hannah's paper, he asked, "Are we supposed to take notes?"

  "Well, we are in college," Hannah replied. "Let me guess, you didn't bring any note-taking materials either. Lot going on, right? It's a good thing I come prepared. Here you go."

  With that, she produced another notebook and pen for Joseph.

  "Yeah, prepared enough for a crowd, it appears," said Taylor.

  "That's me!" Hannah agreed.

  "All right every
body!" came a booming voice from the back of the room.

  Taylor turned to see that the same older man who had barged in on them their first night at the pizza dinner was walking down the aisle. Taylor's heart sank.

  "There are several hundred seats and about fifty of you," he continued loudly as he walked. "So of course being the little snowflakes that you are, you all have to sit in such a manner as to be as equidistant from your neighbors as possible. Must be individuals, right?"

  He slammed the binder he was carrying on the podium at the front of the room.

  "Equidistant. As in equally distant. Meaning that you are too spread out."

  "He sounds fun," Joseph whispered to Hannah.

  "So, if you will kindly take the hint and come occupy the first three rows, then I would be most obliged. I am sure you will enjoy the company of Mr. Chatty Chat-a-lot here in the first row who so clearly feels that he deserves to be the center of attention that he has the nerve to both occupy the front row and then chatter away as if he selected the back."

  Joseph slumped in his seat, clearly embarrassed.

  "Yes, I am talking about you, boy. What is your name?"

  "Me?" asked Joseph, pointing to himself.

  "No, the other boy in the front row.”

  Despite the obvious sarcasm, Joseph looked nervously to his side before replying.

  "It's, uh... Joseph."

  "And...?" the man said after staring back at Joseph for what felt like several minutes.

  "And... I'm from Boston?"

  "What a fantastic piece of historical trivia, Mr. Joseph. I will be sure that it is included in your biography. Consider that perhaps when I ask for your name, I in fact want the entirety of your name and not half of it with added backstory."

  "Yeah, he's real fun!" Hannah whispered to Taylor, except she sounded sincere where Joseph was sarcastic.

  Taylor waited for the teacher to scold her as well, but he didn't seem to notice. Taylor remembered breakfast where Hannah had mentioned using a glamour to hide their conversation and wondered if this is what had just happened here. Or, she supposed, it was more likely that his attention was focused on Joseph, though she was quickly learning not to take anything at face value.

  "Joseph Evans, sir."

  "Joseph Evans..." the man repeated, while looking down at his binder. "Ah yes. Unfortunately, you are in the right place. How disappointing. Any relation to an Eric Evans? Eric Evans. How charmingly alliterative. Is Eric here?"

  "Uh no, sir. I mean, yes, we are related, but no, he is not here."

  "How terribly disappointing for all of us that we are only graced with one Evans today. Since there are only three sessions of this class, I'm sure that he won't mind that missing one third of it will most surely ensure his failure."

  Taylor noted that his expression seemed awfully smug for one who claimed disappointment.

  "I, uh... I have a doctor's note, sir," Joseph said while pulling a blank sheet of paper from Hannah's notebook.

  He approached the podium hesitantly and handed it to the teacher, who looked at it for a few moments and handed it back.

  "Very well. Please do pass along my wishes for a speedy recovery," he said flatly.

  "Yes, sir," Joseph replied and returned quickly to his seat.

  "And make sure he gets a copy of the syllabus. I will excuse his absence, but he gets no free pass on the work."

  "Yes sir," said Joseph.

  "Now that you've all found more appropriate seats, we can proceed as if you are attending a real university-level course. My name is Dr. Alistair Dean. I am the dean of the freshman class. I can see your little gears turning right now so let me alleviate you of any notions that you are clever. Call me 'Dean Dean', and you will receive an F. I am Dr. Dean or simply the Dean, but never Dean Dean. Is that clear?"

  There were uncomfortable nods, but no one had the nerve to speak up.

  "As I have already indicated, this is, in fact, a real course, and you will receive, in fact, a real grade. Judging from the looks of you, many of them will not be the ones that you are accustomed to. There will be homework. The homework is indicated on your syllabi." Dr. Dean gestured towards a stack of papers besides him.

  "My TA, Alexander, will assist now by distributing them. Alexander here will be the one grading your assignments, so I will suggest that if you have any questions, that you ask him and do not bother me with them."

  He said this while gesturing to a tall slender dark-haired boy sitting off to the side. Taylor hadn't noticed him and was surprised to note that the one handling their assignments looked as young as she was, if not younger. He stood up and waved.

  "Just Alex is fine. And unlike Dean Dean here, I'm always happy to help," he said, to which Dr. Dean gave an audible harrumph. "My office hours are listed in the syllabus along with my email and phone number, so don't hesitate to reach out."

  "Do not follow Alexander's example, students. In any respect. He is not receiving a grade for this, though he does forget that there are... other consequences," said the Dean.

  Alex seemed not to notice, however, and instead went about cheerfully handing out the syllabus. He had a disarming smile, and he maintained it the entire time he handed out the syllabus to each student. Perhaps it was merely in contrast to the stern Dean, thought Taylor, but Alex had an extremely comforting presence. She was glad it was him that her grade depended on and not the Dean.

  "Now, if you will follow along, I will go over the expectations of this course with you. It is only three days, but it will lay the foundation of the rest of your academic career here at VanCamp. I do not..." He paused to look them each in the eyes, his gaze sweeping slowly over the auditorium. “I do not recommend taking this lightly."

  He then proceeded to go over those expectations by slowly reading the syllabus verbatim. This took the better part of a half hour, and Taylor wondered if this was efficient use of time for a three session course but didn't feel inclined to question him. His expectations seemed to have far more to do with behavior than anything to do with orientation or academics.

  It was only after a page-long sermon on plagiarism ("it will not be tolerated"), another on tardiness ("it will not be tolerated"), and a third on speaking when not spoken to ("it will not be tolerated"), that he finally arrived at the assignments.

  For such a strict and unpleasant man, the homework itself was surprisingly flimsy, involving such things as visiting the library and interviewing classmates, but this was explained when the Dean assured them that these requirements were standardized and that he reserved the right to give "additional assignments based on your performance."

  Taylor resolved to perform as well as possible.

  When the Dean reached the end of the syllabus, he looked up and asked, "So, are there any questions?"

  He said this with a look that did not particularly invite participation, and no one raised their hands.

  "Very good," he said coldly. "If you do come up with any questions, as I'm sure you will—freshman can't seem to do anything without hand-holding—then Alexander is here to assist you. Please do avail yourself of his services before bothering me... any more than you already do."

  With that, he slammed his binder closed, grabbed his briefcase from the podium, and exited the room without saying another word.

  Once the door shut behind him, Taylor leaned towards Hannah, still not making eye contact.

  "So, I guess that was it?" Taylor asked.

  "Guess so," Hannah replied.

  "Only three sessions and he spends one of them reading directly from a syllabus that he has already given us?"

  "Yeah, welcome to college!"

  "Yeah, welcome," said Joseph. "So glad we came."