She was on her knees in front of him. All I could see of her was her blond hair. There was so much of it that it looked like she was wearing it as some kind of ancient veil. Then her hands moved up, running along the guy’s thighs.
Go! my mind screamed at me. Get out of there! I started to take a step back, and then his voice made me freeze.
“Stop!”
My eyes got huge because for a second I thought he was talking to me.
“You don’t really want me to.”
I felt almost dizzy with relief when she spoke. He was talking to her, not me. They didn’t even know I was there.
“Yes, I do.” It sounded as if he was grinding his words from between his teeth. “Get off your knees.”
“You like it—you know you like it. Just like you know you still want me.”
Her voice was all husky and trying to be sexy, but I could also hear the whine in it. She sounded almost desperate. I watched her fingers move, and my eyes widened in amazement when she drew the nail of her index finger down his thigh. Unbelievably, her fingernail slashed through his jeans, just like it was a knife, and a line of fresh blood appeared, startling in its liquid redness.
I didn’t want it to, and it grossed me out, but at the sight of the blood my mouth started watering.
“No!” He snapped, putting his hands on her shoulders and trying to push her away from him.
“Oh, quit pretending,” she laughed again, a mean, sarcastic sound. “You know we’ll always be together.” She reached up with her tongue and licked along the line of blood.
I shuddered; against my will I was completely mesmerized.
“Cut it out!” He was still pushing at her shoulders. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re really starting to piss me off. Why can’t you understand? We’re not doing this anymore. I don’t want you.”
“You want me! You’ll always want me!” She unzipped his pants.
I shouldn’t be there. I shouldn’t be seeing this. I tore my eyes from his bloody thigh and took one step back.
The guy’s eyes lifted. He saw me.
And then something truly bizarre happened. I could feel his touch through our eyes. I couldn’t look away from him. The girl in front of him seemed to disappear, and all there was in the hallway was him and me and the sweet, beautiful smell of his blood.
“You don’t want me? That’s not how it looks now,” she said with a nasty purr in her voice.
I felt my head begin to shake back and forth, back and forth. At the same moment he cried “No!” and tried to push her out of the way so that he could move toward me.
I ripped my eyes away from his and stumbled back.
“No!” he said again. This time I knew he was speaking to me and not her. She must have realized it, too, because with a cry that sounded uncomfortably like the snarl of a wild animal, she started to whirl around. My body unfroze. At the same instant I turned and ran back down the hall.
I expected them to come after me, so I kept running until I reached the huge old doors Neferet had described. Then I stood there, leaning against their cold wood, trying to get my breathing under control so I could listen for the sounds of running feet.
What would I do if they did chase me down? My head was pounding painfully again, and I felt weak and totally scared. And completely, utterly grossed out.
Yes, I was aware of the whole oral sex thing. I doubt if there’s a teenager alive in America today who isn’t aware that most of the adult public think we’re giving guys blow jobs like they used to give guys gum (or maybe more appropriately suckers). Okay, that’s just bullshit, and it’s always made me mad. Of course there are girls who think it’s “cool” to give guys head. Uh, they’re wrong. Those of us with functioning brains know that it is not cool to be used like that.
Okay, so I knew about the whole blow job issue. I’ d definitely never seen one. So, what I had just seen had definitely freaked me out. But what had freaked me out more than the fact that the blonde was doing the nasty to him was the way I’d responded to seeing the guy’s blood.
I’d wanted to lick it, too.
And that’s just not normal.
Then there’s the whole issue about me sharing that weird look with him. What had that been all about?
“Zoey, are you all right?”
“Hell!” I gasped and jumped. Neferet was standing behind me looking at me with total confusion.
“Are you feeling ill?”
“I—I . . .” My mind flailed about. No way could I tell her what I’d just seen. “My head just really hurts,” I finally managed to say. And it was true. I had a killer headache.
Her frown was full of concern. “Let me help you.” Neferet placed her hand lightly over the line of stitches on my forehead. She closed her eyes and I could hear her whispering something in a language I could not understand. Then her hand started to feel warm and it was as if the warmth became liquid and my skin absorbed it. I closed my eyes and sighed in relief as the pain in my head began to fade.
“Better?”
“Yes,” I barely whispered.
She took her hand away and I opened my eyes. “That should keep the pain away. I don’t know why it suddenly came back with such force.”
“Me, neither, but it’s gone now,” I said quickly.
She studied me silently for a little while more while I held my breath. Then she said, “Anything upset you?”
I swallowed. “I’m a little scared about meeting my new roommate.” Which technically wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t what had upset me, but I was scared about it.
Neferet’s smile was kind. “All will be well, Zoey. Now let me introduce you to your new life.”
Neferet opened the thick wooden door and we walked out into a large courtyard that fronted the school. She stepped aside and let me gawk. Teenagers wearing uniforms that somehow looked cool and unique while still being similar walked in small groups across the courtyard and along the sidewalk. I could hear the deceptively normal sound of their voices as they laughed and talked. I kept staring from them to the school, not sure which to gawk at first. I chose the school. It was the less intimidating of the two (and I was scared I’d see him). The place was like something out of a creepy dream. It was the middle of the night, and it should have been deeply dark, but there was a brilliant moon shining above the huge old oaks that shaded everything. Freestanding gaslights housed in tarnished copper fixtures followed the sidewalk that ran parallel to the huge red brick and black rock building. It was three stories tall and had a weirdly high roof that pointed up and then flattened off at the top. I could see that heavy drapes had been opened and soft yellow lights made shadows dance up and down the rooms, giving the entire structure an alive and welcoming look. A round tower was attached to the front of the main building, furthering the illusion that the place was much more castle-like than school-like. I swear, a moat would have looked more like it belonged there than a sidewalk ringed by thick azalea bushes and a neat lawn.
Across from the main building was a smaller one that looked older and church-like. Behind it and the old oaks that shaded the schoolyard I could see the shadow of the enormous stone wall that surrounded the entire school. In front of the church building was a marble statue of a woman who was wearing long, flowing robes.
“Nyx!” I blurted.
Neferet lifted one eyebrow in surprise. “Yes, Zoey. That is a statue of the Goddess, and the building behind it is her temple.” She motioned for me to walk with her down the sidewalk and gestured expansively at the impressive campus that stretched before us. “What is known today as the House of Night was built in the neo-French-Norman style, with stones imported from Europe. It originated in the mid-1920s as an Augustine monastery for the People of Faith. Eventually it was converted into Cascia Hall, a private preparatory school for affluent human teenagers. When we decided that we must open a school of our own in this part of the country, we bought it from Cascia Hall five years ago.”
I only vaguely
recalled the days when it had been a stuck-up private school—actually the only reason I’d ever thought about it at all was that I remembered hearing the news that a whole herd of kids who went to Cascia Hall had been busted for drugs, and how shocked the adults had been. Whatever. No one else had been shocked that those rich kids were majorly into drugs.
“I’m surprised they sold it to you guys,” I said absently.
Her laugh was low and a little dangerous. “They didn’t want to, but we made their arrogant headmaster an offer even he couldn’t refuse.”
I wanted to ask her what she meant, but her laugh gave me a skin-crawly feeling. And, plus, I was busy. I couldn’t stop staring. Okay the first thing I noticed was that everyone who had a solid vampyre tattoo was incredibly good-looking. I mean, it was totally insane. Yes, I knew that vampyres were attractive. Everyone knew that. The most successful actors and actresses in the world were vampyres. They were also dancers and musicians, authors and singers. Vampyres dominated the arts, which is one reason they had so much money—and also one reason (of many) that the People of Faith considered them selfish and immoral. But really, they’re just jealous that they’re not as good-looking. The People of Faith would go see their movies, plays, concerts, buy their books and their art, but at the same time they’d talk about them and look down at them, and God knows they’d never, ever mix with them. Hello—can you say hypocrites?
Anyway, being surrounded by so many totally gorgeous people made me want to crawl under a bench, even though many of them greeted Neferet and then smiled and said hello to me, too. Between hesitantly returning their hellos I snuck looks at the kids who walked by us. Each of them nodded respectfully to Neferet. Several of them bowed formally to her and crossed their fists over their hearts, which made Neferet smile and bow slightly in response. Okay, the kids weren’t as gorgeous as the adults. Sure, they were nice-looking—interesting actually, with their crescent moon outlines, and their uniforms that looked more like runway designs than school clothes—but they didn’t have the glossy, inhumanly attractive light that radiated from inside each of the adult vampyres. Uh, I did notice that, as I had suspected, their uniforms had a lot of basic black in them (you’d think that a group of people so up on the arts would recognize a cliché when one goes walking by in boring Goth black. I’m just saying . . . ). But I suppose if I was going to be honest I’d have to admit it looked good on them—the black mixed with tiny plaid lines of deep purple, dark blue, and emerald green. Each uniform had an ornate design embroidered in gold or silver on either its jacket breast pocket or blouse pocket. I could tell that some of the designs were the same, but I couldn’t see exactly what they were. Also, there was a weirdly large amount of kids with long hair. Seriously, the girls had long hair, the guys had long hair, the teachers had long hair, even the cats that wandered across the sidewalk from time to time were long-haired balls of fur. Odd. Good thing I’d talked myself out of getting my hair cut in that short duck butt style Kayla had cut hers off in last week.
I also noticed that the adults and the kids had one other thing in common—their eyes all lingered with obvious curiosity on my Mark. Great. So I was beginning my new life as an anomaly, which figured about as much as it sucked.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The part of the House of Night that held the dorms was way across campus, so we had a fairly long walk, and Neferet seemed to be walking slowly on purpose, giving me plenty of time to ask questions and gawk. Not that I minded. Walking the length of the sprawling castle-like cluster of buildings, with Neferet pointing out little details about what was what, gave me a sense of the place. It was weird, but in a good way. Plus, walking felt normal. Actually, as odd as it sounds, I felt like myself again. I wasn’t coughing. My body didn’t ache. My head even had stopped hurting. I was absolutely, totally not thinking about the disturbing scene I’d accidentally witnessed. I was forgetting it—on purpose. The last thing I needed was to have more to deal with than a new life and a weird Mark. So, blow job—forgotten.
Deeply in denial I told myself that if I hadn’t been walking through a school campus at an ungodly hour of the night beside a vampyre I almost could pretend that I was the same today as I had been yesterday. Almost.
Well, okay. Maybe not even almost, but my head did feel better, and I was just about ready to face my roommate when Neferet finally opened the door to the girl’s dorm.
Inside was a surprise. I’m not sure what I expected—maybe everything to be all black and creepy. But it was nice, decorated in soft blue and antique yellow, with comfy couches and clumps of puffy pillows big enough to sit on dotting the room like giant pastel M&Ms. The soft gaslight coming from several antique crystal chandeliers made the place look like a princess’s castle. On the cream-colored walls there were large oil paintings, all of them of ancient women who looked exotic and powerful. Fresh-cut flowers, mostly roses, sat in crystal vases on end tables that were cluttered with books and purses and fairly normal-looking teenage girl stuff. I saw several flat screen TVs, and recognized the sounds of MTV’s Real World coming from one of them. I took in all of this fast, while I tried to smile and appear friendly to the girls who had shut up the instant I walked in the room and were now staring at me. Well, scratch that. They weren’t exactly staring at me. They were staring at the Mark on my forehead.
“Ladies, this is Zoey Redbird. Greet her and welcome her to the House of Night.”
For a second I didn’t think anyone was going to say anything, and I wanted to die of new-kid mortification. Then a girl stood up from among the middle of a group that was clustered around one of the TVs. She was a tiny blonde and darn near perfect. Actually, she reminded me of a young version of Sarah Jessica Parker (who I don’t like, by the by—she’s just so . . . so . . . annoying and unnaturally perky).
“Hi Zoey. Welcome to your new home.” The SJP look-alike’s smile was warm and genuine, and she was clearly making an effort to make eye contact instead of gawk at my darkened-in Mark. Instantly I felt bad for making a negative comparison about her. “I’m Aphrodite,” she said.
Aphrodite? Okay, maybe I hadn’t been too hasty in my comparison. How could anyone normal choose Aphrodite as her name? Please. Talk about delusions of grandeur. I plastered a smile on my face, though, and said a bright, “Hi Aphrodite!”
“Neferet, would you like me to show Zoey to her room?” Neferet hesitated, which felt really odd. Instead of answering right away she just stood there and locked eyes with Aphrodite. Then, just as quickly as the silent stare-down had started, Neferet’s face broke into a wide smile.
“Thank you, Aphrodite, that would be lovely. I am Zoey’s mentor, but I’m sure she would feel much more welcomed if someone her own age showed her the way to her room.”
Was that anger I saw flash through Aphrodite’s eyes? No, I must have imagined it—or at least I would have believed I’d imagined it if that weird new gut feeling of mine hadn’t told me otherwise. And I didn’t need my new intuition to clue me in that something was wrong, because Aphrodite laughed—and I recognized the sound of it.
Feeling like someone had punched me in the gut I realized that this girl—Aphrodite—had been the one I’d just watched with the guy in the hall!
Aphrodite’s laugh, followed by her perky, “Of course I’d be happy to show her around! You know I’m always glad to help you, Neferet,” was as fake and cold as Pamela Anderson’s humongously huge boobs, but Neferet just nodded in response and then turned to face me.
“I’ll leave you now, Zoey,” Neferet said, squeezing my shoulder. “Aphrodite will take you to your room, and your new roommate can help you get ready for dinner. I’ll see you in the dining room.” She smiled her warm, mom-smile at me, and I had the ridiculously childish urge to hug her and beg her not to leave me alone with Aphrodite. “You’ll be fine,” she said, as if she could read my mind. “You’ll see, Zoeybird. All will be well,” she whispered, sounding so much like my grandma that I had to blink hard not to cry. Then she nodded
a quick good-bye to Aphrodite and the other girls, and left the dorm.
The door closed with a muffled, dead sound. Oh, hell . . . I just wanted to go home!
“Come on, Zoey. The rooms are this way,” Aphrodite said. She motioned for me to come with her up the wide stairs that curved to our right. As we walked upstairs I tried to ignore the buzz of voices that instantly erupted behind us.
Neither of us spoke, and I felt so uncomfortable that I wanted to scream. Had she seen me back there in the hall? Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to mention it. Ever. As far as I was concerned it never happened.
I cleared my throat and said, “The dorm seems nice. I mean, it’s really pretty.”
She cut her eyes sideways at me. “It’s better than nice or really pretty here; it’s amazing.”
“Oh. Well. That’s good to hear.”
She laughed. The sound was totally unpleasant—almost a sneer—and it crawled up the back of my neck like it had when I’d first heard it.
“It’s amazing here mostly because of me.”
I glanced at her, thinking that she must be kidding, and met her cold blue eyes.
“Yeah, you heard me right. This place is cool because I’m cool.”
Oh. My. God. What a bizarre thing for her to say. I didn’t have a clue how to respond to that very stuck-up piece of info. I mean, like I needed the stress of a fight with slutty Ms. Thinking-She’s-All-That added on top of a life/species/school change? And I still couldn’t tell whether she knew it had been me watching her in the hall.
Okay. I just wanted to find a way to fit in. I wanted to be able to call this new school home. So I decided to take the safest road and keep my mouth shut.