Isle of Night (13 page)

I bounded up the steps to the dining hall and pulled open the heavy oak door, anticipating the delicious blast of heat. I stepped inside, and the low hum of chatter enveloped me. I smelled fried foods and coffee.

And then I gasped. All thoughts of Lilac, last night, and that envelope were replaced by one much more pressing development.

There were
boys
here.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“T
here are
boys
here?” Plopping down next to Amanda, I set my tray on the table a little too hard, and black coffee sloshed over the lip of my mug.

“As you see.” She smiled coyly, concentrating on stirring her yogurt. Proctors dined with their Acari, and I was determined to get as much information out of mine as I could.

Unfortunately, the arrangement meant I also had to sit near Lilac. The heart-faced girl was there, too, staring into a bowl of oatmeal, as was a posse of girls I wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley.

Amanda eyed the boys' table, taking a spoonful of yogurt. “I was just explaining to the other girls. They're Trainees.”

“I thought only girls could be Watchers.”

“Not Watchers. Vamps in training, like.”

“In
training
?” I stole another look. I'd thought the girls were attractive, but right there, at the far table, scarfing down plates of scrambled eggs and sausage, was like a retreat for wayward soccer stars. Some of them looked a little dim, posturing like jocks before the big game, but I knew not to underestimate anybody who managed to end up here.

If all vampires had to do was find a guy, train him, and
boom
, instant undead, just how many were there? The possibilities were chilling. “I thought vampires were ancient. But they can just . . .
make
new ones?”

“Many
are
ancient. But otherwise, yeah, they're creating new vampires all the time. It takes years, though, and few Trainees survive.” She took another bite. Her tone of voice was casual, like she was talking about training a new batch of Wal-Mart employees. “And you dollies best learn the ground rules. You'll have some classes with the boys. You can sit together for meals. But there's no seeing each other after curfew.”

“Where do they sleep?” the heart-faced girl asked. The sound of her voice startled me. With her quiet manner, wide eyes, and faint dusting of pale brown freckles across the bridge of her nose, she seemed unassuming—wholesome, even. I wondered what her deal was.

“The boys stay in the castle on the hill.” Amanda scraped the last of her yogurt from the bottom. “Which, by the way, is strictly off-limits for you dollies.”

That was fine with me—that place had given me the creeps. But sharing classes and meals? I looked from the boys' table back to the girls around me. Already everyone was puffing and preening like a bunch of peacocks during mating season.

Teen hormones plus a few hot guys equals Barbie bloodbath.

In other words, high school.
All over again.

I stabbed a bit of egg with my fork. My food had gone cold while we were talking. I'd lost my appetite, anyway.

“So, we can eat with the guys?” Lilac clutched the edge of the table, looking eager to spring up then and there to join them at breakfast.

“Aye, luvvie, you can.”

Lilac pushed from the table, her chair scraping against the timber-plank floor.

Biting back a smile, Amanda glanced across the room. The boys looked as interested in us as we'd been in them. “Seems like you'd be welcome.”

Lilac was already sauntering over to meet them. Not to be left behind, a handful of Acari were hot on her heels. The heart-faced girl watched from the end of the table, and I watched her staring silently, weighing everyone. I'd figure out a way to pry about her, too. But it was Lilac who was at the top of my list.

The exodus had left Amanda and me basically alone. I dove in at once. “
Where
did Ronan find that girl?”

“Von Straubing?”

I nodded.

Amanda opened her mouth, hesitated, shut it, and then opened it again. “Jail. Fort Lauderdale. Ran away from some . . . special school in Connecticut and got nabbed for public indecency.”

I wondered what
special school
might be code for. The way she'd said it implied anything from the wealthiest of boarding schools to juvie.

She turned to me with a smile. “But that's more than I should've told you.” She added under her breath, “I heard her last night, by the way. Howling to wake the dead.”

I kept my face unreadable, but inside I cheered. “Yeah, turns out when I came in from my run, I accidentally tracked in
a lot
of snow.”

“Oh, dear.” Sipping her tea, Amanda suppressed a smile. “I don't suppose it ended up in her bed?”

I nodded. I'd kept the door open when I got home, just in case. I had to make sure the whole floor would hear Lilac's shrieking. I didn't understand the inner workings of mean girls, but it seemed she had a posse already.

“You're bang on for now, Acari Drew. Nicely done.” She pushed back her chair, ready to leave.

“Wait. Can I ask a question?”

“Yeah . . . ?” She scooted back in, leaning her elbows on the table. “I'm surprised you haven't asked more.”

I looked at the boys' table. They were all good-looking, occupying that long-limbed nether land between boy and man. Would their bodies change? Would they grow long fangs and get pale? “You know all the myths about vampires? Are they true?” My head swam with them. Sleeping during the day. Coffins and stakes. Absent reflections in mirrors. Aversions to garlic, wolfsbane, crosses. I remembered the headmaster—he'd given his speech in daylight. “Like, I thought they could be out only at night.”

“You said it yourself.
Myths.
” She shrugged. “Look, dolly, much of it is nonsense that's mushroomed through the years. Celebrity gossip, like. They don't sleep in coffins. Don't sleep at all, in fact.” She paused for a moment, considering. “Though they do like to laze a bit after feeding.” She saw my question forming and answered it. “Yes, they drink blood. As we drink theirs.”

“Is that what we had on the plane?” I shuddered.

“It makes you stronger.” Her tone was flat, like she wouldn't tolerate any teenage hand-wringing on the topic. “If you want to survive, you'll drink and not question.”

I tried to work it all out in my head. I thought back to the plane—the stuff
had
made me feel stronger, braver, more alive.

Sighing, she pushed her plate away and stretched back in her chair. “But, as with gossip, some of it bears a bit of truth, or near to it. Like, they can't see well in bright light.” She looked to a bank of windows along the far wall and to the slate gray day beyond. “It's why we live on
this
sodding isle,” she grumbled. “You'll see. We've got two times of day: dim and dark.”

“Are they immortal? Can they”—I lowered my voice to a whisper—“can they be killed?”

“A stake through the heart does 'em in—that bit's true enough.” She took another sip of tea, scowling at how it'd gone cold. “But otherwise, yeah, they live on and on. Don't know about you, but that's the bit that'd drive
me
batty.”

“When will I see other vampires?” I thought of the monster in the moonlight. He'd seemed otherworldly, and I could believe he was a creature immune to death. Were they all like that? It was hard to imagine the boys at the far table ever transforming into such still and ethereal beings. “How will I know someone's Vampire? Can you just . . . tell?”

“Oho.” She chuckled. “You can bloody well tell. And you'll see other vamps soon enough.” She looked to the front door and gave a nod. “But the interrogation's over. It's time for your first day of school.”

I followed her line of sight, and my chest tightened.
Ronan.
He strode toward us, looking classically handsome. His black hair was combed back and looked slightly damp, like he'd just gotten out of the shower. He'd shaved, revealing the cleft in that strong chin.
Jerk.

My eyes went to the boys' table and back again. The vampire Trainees all of a sudden seemed like a bunch of kids. Cute, sure, but just boys. While Ronan was a
man
.

And to him, I probably seemed as young and awkward as that table full of teenage boys. Young, awkward, and apparently gullible. I cringed.

He stopped to say a few words to each Proctor he passed. His manner was easy and confident. He wore jeans and a forest green sweater that was snug on his chest and arms. In just his T-shirt, I hadn't realized he had such broad shoulders. My cheeks flamed hot. That green would do killer things to the color of his eyes.

He turned to walk toward us. I reminded myself that he and Amanda were close. That it'd be
her
he was coming to see.

Most important, I had to remember the only reason I was here was because he'd
tricked
me. How could I ever trust someone who had the power to persuade me with just the touch of his hand?

I looked nervously at my breakfast. I wasn't finished, but there was no way I could swallow anything now. I pushed the tray away.

“You must drink.” Amanda shoved the tray back in front of me. I stared at that thick, dark liquid. The thought of it should've turned my stomach, but, oddly, it didn't.

With a silent nod, I tossed the whole glass down in a few gulps. For some reason, I didn't want Ronan to watch me drink it.

Turning my back to him, I wiped my mouth, watching the breakfast crowd disperse. Many Acari had taken their course schedules from their envelopes. Proctors milled around, talking to them, pointing, explaining, directing.

I still hadn't opened
my
envelope yet. I'd planned to, over breakfast, but I'd shoved it in my pocket and hadn't thought about it again since seeing all those boys in the dining hall.

“Your girls will need help finding their first class,” Ronan told Amanda. He stood over me. I felt his presence like a solar eclipse.

“Oh, I've done this a time or two before.” There was a smile in Amanda's tone.

I wondered how many years she'd been there. How many years were girls stuck on this island before they graduated off? I filed my questions away for another day. I didn't trust my voice at the moment, anyway.

Ronan still stood there. I stared at my hands, trying to breathe normally. I was angry with him, so why did I also feel so nervous?

“Annelise?”

Oh, God, the way he says that.
Was my reaction to him real, or was he even now using some sort of spellbinding juju? I looked up, mortified to feel my face so hot. “Yeah, hi.”

“Time for class.” The green sweater
did
do crazy things to his eyes, making them look deep and vibrant and soulful. That gaze searched mine—or at least I imagined it did. Was it fraught with meaning, looking for answers? Trying to hypnotize me into doing something horrible? Or was he just impatiently waiting for the silly Acari to say something? He chuckled into the silence, and I wanted to disappear under the table. “You have looked at your class list, aye?”

“Um, no . . .” I fumbled in my coat pocket and pulled out the envelope.

“Most girls get four classes and a private study,” Amanda said.

I brightened. “A private study?” My whole life, I'd longed to do a private study. My mind raced, thinking of all the possibilities. Theoretical mathematics. Deconstructionist philosophy. Or maybe it was a private tutorial having something to do with that Viking mythology book. I'd dabbled in a few Germanic languages, but would love to try Old Norse.

I tore it open. The paper looked expensive, like yellowed parchment with unfinished edges. What, did they think I was going to save it in my scrapbook or something?

I had to read and reread my schedule a few times for the full and truly effed-upness of it all to sink in. Phenomena class? Decorum? Combat?
Freaking
fitness? It was one part Baroque atelier, one part YMCA.

But it was the last item on the list that made me want to hurl. My private study. It was
swimming
.

“Swimming?” My voice cracked. The notion had taken a moment to register. It'd been the last thing I'd expected to face.

“Aye, that's your private study,” Ronan said in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

Amanda stood and put on her coat. She was chuckling.

“But I don't swim.”

“You do now.” He crossed his arms in front of that broad chest. “And I'm your teacher.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN