Night School (12 page)

18

When I wake, I’m in four-points restraints—lying on my back with wrists and ankles cuffed to some sort of rollaway bed. Lifting my head, I strain to take in the room, desperate to figure out where the hell they’ve taken me. It appears to be some kind of mad scientist laboratory, complete with beakers and test tubes—their yellow and green concoctions boiling madly over red-flamed Bunsen burners, threatening to bubble over at any second.

Definitely not a part of Riverdale I’ve seen before. If I’m still at Riverdale at all.

After a brief scan of the room, my straining neck pangs in protest and reluctantly I settle my head back down on the bed, my gaze reverting to the dark, high-beamed ceiling draped in cobwebs. Large spiders seem to grin wickedly at me as they go about their work, as if laughing at my current predicament.

I suck in a breath, hoping to calm my jangled nerves. Questions come, fast and furious, with no answers naturally following their query. Where am I? Why am I here? To be honest, I figured I’d be taken to some sort of Riverdale jail to await trial. Or that they’d simply stake me in the heart and be done with it.

The changeling’s words suddenly ring through my ears.
You’re very valuable, you know,
she’d said. But valuable for what? That, as Hamlet would say, is the question.

“Awake, are we?”

A man with wild salt-and-pepper hair and thick bifocals steps into view. He’s wearing the traditional white coat, probably acquired from some mad scientist uniform shop, and has the requisite crazy-man look on his face to boot.

I swallow hard. I’ve seen enough movies to know this is so not good.

“Hello, Rayne,” he says in a screechy voice. “It’s great to finally meet you. I’m Dr. Franken.”

I grimace. Dr. Franken? As in Franken
stein
? Man, this place gets more cliché by the second. I mean, come on. If I’m going to die anyway, is it so much to ask for a little originality?

Dr. Franken holds out a hand, as if to shake mine in greeting, then seems to remember that I’m tied up at the moment. He cackles. Mad scientist humor. Awesomeness.

“Where am I?” I manage to choke out, trying to sound fierce, but succeeding only in sounding scared and helpless. “Release me at once!” I try again, without much more success.

He chuckles. “All in good time, my dear,” he says, wheeling over a small metal table to the side of my bed. He picks up a syringe the size of a freaking turkey baster and connects it to a clear plastic tube. “But first I’m going to need a sample of your blood, if you don’t mind.”

“Actually, I do mind. I appreciate you asking.”

“Your objection is duly noted,” he replies. Taking a length of rubber off the table, he proceeds to tie it around my forearm. “It makes me wonder, though. Do you think Corbin minded when you took all that blood from him without asking?”

Corbin’s name stabs like a dagger to my heart and my mind proceeds to treat me to a disturbing flashback of his glazed eyes, torn neck—blood spilling down and soaking his shirt collar. I wonder wildly what an interesting laundry detergent commercial something like that would make.

New Tide with bleaching action! Perfect for getting rid of those pesky bloodstains!

I shake my head, my stomach rolling with nausea. Maybe I deserve all of this. Hell, maybe I deserve worse. ’Cause let’s be honest here; I haven’t exactly been a class act recently.

“What do you plan to do with my blood?” I ask weakly, wondering if he plans to take only a little or completely drain me dry. I know in some TV shows vampire blood becomes a powerful black market drug, but I don’t think it works that way in real life.

In real life, the only use for vampire blood is to make more vampires. But why would Slayer Inc. want MORE vampires? Isn’t their whole mission in life to get rid of them?

“Why, I wish to study it, of course,” he says brightly as he jabs the needle into my arm. I wince and force myself to watch as the thick, dark liquid drains from my body, down the tube, and into a plastic blood bag. “And hopefully someday make more of you.”

Wait, what?
My eyes fly from the syringe to his face. “Make more of me?” I repeat. “I mean, I know I’m awesome and all. But isn’t one Rayne McDonald enough?”

“Oh, you yourself are much more than enough,” Dr. Franken replies, thankfully removing the needle and placing a cotton swab over the wound, binding it with white tape. “But your blood, on the other hand ...”

“My blood?”

“But of course. The blood of the very first vamshee.” He grins. “It’s practically priceless.”

I do a double take. “
Vam
shee? Are you kidding me?”

“Do you like that?” he asks. “I came up with the term myself. It’s a combination of vampire and Sidhe. Kind of like banshee, which is loosely translated to mean female fairy. So thusly,
vamshee
means vampire fairy.”

I roll my eyes. “No offense or anything,” I say, “but that’s pretty lame.”

He stops laughing and sets his face to a scowl.
Way to piss off the mad scientist, Rayne.
“In any case, the name really doesn’t matter,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “What matters is what we can make of it. A creature with the powers of a vampire and the powers of the fey folk, all mashed together in one delicious chain of brand-new DNA. A hybrid creature with unimaginable potential.”

“But ...” I struggle to understand. “Why would Slayer Inc. need a ... fairy vampire?” (I’m so not using his stupid term.)

He looks down at me in surprise. “Why, my dear, they don’t need
a
fairy vampire. They need an
army
of them.”

An army? “But why ... ?”

“Ah, there she is. Our little vamshee! Captured at last.”

With effort, I twist my head to see Headmistress Roberta step into the room. She closes the heavy metal door behind her and walks over to my bed, looking down at me with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. She picks up what I assume to be my chart off the table and studies it carefully.

“Do you think this is going to work?” she asks, turning to Dr. Franken. “I can’t afford any more failed experiments.”

“Wait—what experiments? What are you trying to do?” I demand awkwardly from my strapped-down position.

“If my calculations are correct, the fey cells will work to stabilize the vampiric ones,” Dr. Franken replies, ignoring me. “So they won’t oxidize and mutate before we can inject them into our test subjects.”

“Excellent,” Headmistress Roberta says, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “And, as a bonus, these vamshee hybrids will be even more powerful than just plain vampires would have been.” She looks down at me. “I really owe you a big thank you, Rayne. Without you, none of this would be possible.”

“None of what? What are you talking about? Why the hell would you want to make vampire fairies?”

“Why, so we can take over the world, of course,” she replies, sounding surprised I didn’t already know.

Take over the ... ? I stare at her in disbelief. “But you’re part of Slayer Inc.! The good guys! You’re supposed to be protecting people from people taking over the world!”

“Please. You think we should be content to live out our entire existence as a police force?” she asks in a haughty voice. “Content to serve and protect all the ungrateful vampires and self-serving fairies out there?” She shakes her head in disgust. “We’re done with that. And once we create our master army of vamshees, we’ll be on the top of the food chain. For the first time ever, we’ll be calling the shots.”

This is so not good. I need to warn the Vampire Consortium—not to mention the American arm of Slayer Inc.—before it’s too late. But how? I mean, let’s be honest here. They’ve told me their evil plan, which, more than likely, means they’re not about to let me walk out of here alive.

Okay, sure, in the movies, that’s usually the bad guys’ big mistake: spilling their whole evil plan, only to have their captive pull a last-minute James Bond-type move and manage to get away just in time. But sadly I’m far from James Bond. And I have no idea how I’d pull off some thrilling movie-esque escape.

I decide it’s best to just keep them talking. At least until I can figure out what I can possibly do. “So this is what Slay School is really about?” I ask, my voice full of disgust. “All these kids training here are just fronts for your ... experiments?” The word makes me shudder.

“Of course not,” Headmistress Roberta replies, looking slightly offended. “Riverdale really does train normal human slayers and has been doing so since before you were born.” She shrugs, then continues. “Most of our Slayers in Training will graduate and be sent on regular assignments, none the wiser to any of this building’s activities. But a chosen few—the best and the brightest—will continue their studies after graduation, becoming part of our Night School program.”

I gasp. Night School. The Alphas.
Corbin
.

“So let me get this straight,” I say. “You tell all the Alphas they’re entering some kind of top-secret, kick-ass grad school program that will turn them into slayer secret agents with a license to stake. But instead, you plan to turn them into monsters—and use them as pawns in your Slayer Inc. revolution?”

Headmistress Roberta narrows her eyes. “Soldiers, not pawns. And it’s a great honor to be chosen,” she snarls. “These Alphas will be responsible for shaping the future of our world.”

I open my mouth to try to say something noble, like, “You’ll never get away with this!” but since I’m not so confident that’s true and I can’t manage to lie, I’m unable to spit it out. So instead I content myself with saying, “My parents will be back for me!” instead. “They’ll figure out you’re up to no good!” Which could very well be true. Though I’m not sure their timing is going to match up with what I need in order to stay alive.

“Will they?” Roberta asks innocently. “Or will they simply accept the sad, tragic fact that you were slain by an evil fairy, on a mission to kidnap your sister and bring her back to fairyland?”

I let out a frustrated breath, realizing she’s got me there. I mean, sure I’d love to be all like, “No way! My parents will totally see through your evil lies and realize you stole their daughter to aid you in your sinister plot to take over the world!” But really, that doesn’t seem all that realistic.

Hopelessness wells up inside of me. Is this really the end? After all I’ve been through—evil vampires, werewolves, fairies—will my last moments really be spent lying on this uncomfortable bed as my blood is harvested to create a supernatural army of über slayers?

I totally take back what I said about wanting an original, creative demise ...

Suddenly a commotion by the door interrupts my thoughts of death. I turn to see what’s going on. Two attendants are wheeling in a second bed. I gasp as I catch sight of a shock of black hair.

It couldn’t be. Could it?

“Corbin?” I whisper, my voice hoarse with horror.

He moans fitfully and I realize he’s unconscious and bound in the same magical ropes that knocked me down earlier. I turn my head to locate Headmistress Roberta, my eyes wide. “What have you done to him?” I whisper.

“Don’t worry,” the headmistress says, thanking the orderlies who wheeled him in. “He’ll wake shortly. Though I imagine he’s going to be a tad testy with you, now that we’ve confirmed you were the one who bit him ...”

Testy doesn’t even begin to describe how Corbin must feel. Knowing that I mercilessly sucked the blood from his veins without asking permission.

“Let him go!” I beg. “You’ve got me. I’m who you wanted. He’s innocent.”

“My dear, I don’t think you understand,” Headmistress Roberta coos, walking over to Corbin and brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. “We need him for the experiment.”

I swallow hard, praying she doesn’t mean what I think she means. But of course she does.

“Once we’ve analyzed your DNA and mixed up a little blood cocktail, we’re going to give your boy here a transfusion.” She looks down at Corbin with a proud smile. “He will become our Adam. First in the line of an all-new, all-powerful vamshee race able to slay any otherworld creatures who dare get in their way.” She looks up, her face fierce with pride. “No one will ever laugh at Slayer Inc. again.”

“But ... but ...” I can barely find the words. “Can’t you experiment on someone besides Corbin? He hates vampires. His parents were killed by one!”

“My dear, why do you think we chose him?” Headmistress Roberta asks, shooting me a patronizing look. “The anger and rage inside of him will make for an excellent vamshee. And if he has the sudden undying urge to kill vampires once we’ve turned him? Well, that’s kind of the whole point of a slayer, isn’t it?”

I imagine poor Corbin, waking up and discovering he’s been turned into the one thing he hates more than anything in the world. It’ll kill him, for sure.

“You’re a monster!” I cry, my voice choked with tears.

Headmistress Roberta rolls her eyes. “Monster?” she repeats with a chuckle. “Please. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” She turns to Dr. Franken. “How long before you’ll have a clean sample?”

He looks up from his microscope. “It’s going to have to congeal awhile before we can start working with it. Come back tomorrow morning and we should be ready for the injection.”

“Very well,” she says. “I will be back.” She looks down at me and smiles her sick grin. “’Til we meet again, my little vamshee.”

Ugh. I really wish people would stop using that term.

19

After she leaves, Dr. Franken injects me with some kind of sedative and I’m knocked out almost instantly. When I awake, I find myself in some kind of windowless room. I’m on the ground, my back against a cold stone wall, and my arms and legs are bound with silver shackles, which have burned ugly red circles around my wrists and ankles.

My stomach heaves and I turn my head just in time to escape throwing up in my lap. Whatever they injected me with is doing a number on my insides; I feel nauseous and hungry and really weak from all the blood loss. So not good.

I blink a few times, trying to adjust my vampire eyes to the darkness. They fall upon a dark mass at the opposite end of the room. I take a tentative sniff and my nose recognizes the familiar hint of vanilla and sandalwood.

“Corbin?” I query. “Is that you?”

I hear an affirming groan and watch the mass shift—head rising, eyes opening, face recognizing.

“Rayne?” he cries, his voice filled with panic.

I nod. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Where am I?” he asks. His wrists strain against his bindings, his arm muscles contracting. “Why am I chained up?”

I swallow hard. Here goes nothing. “Well, the best that I can figure is we’re in the Night School building,” I tell him hesitantly. “As for why, well it’s probably best you don’t know.” I pray they haven’t injected him with my blood yet. That it’s not already too late.

I can see him shaking his head, trying to remember. Then he looks up, his eyes filled with horror. I can just tell he’s reliving that moment in the library when he first felt my wings “You drank from me,” he whispers hoarsely. “It was you all along.”

“Yes,” I say. What good would it be to deny it now, even if I could? “Look, Corbin—”

“Oh God.” He slams his head against the concrete wall. “I can’t believe this is happening.” He looks over at me with sick revulsion on his face. “How could you do this to me? After all we shared—after what I told you about my parents ...”

I cringe, feeling the ravaging guilt trying to swallow me whole. “I know. And I’m sorry. I know that probably sounds totally lame, but I am seriously really freaking sorry. Believe me, it was the last thing I ever wanted to do. And if it wasn’t a life-or-death situation ... well ...” I hang my head. “I know, it doesn’t matter. I still should have asked.” I give him a brief play-by-play on the night the fairies attacked in the woods.

“I didn’t want to do it,” I conclude. “Not to you. Not to anyone. In fact, before that night, I’d never even drunk human blood. I’m a freaking vegetarian after all. But when Sunny and I were dumped here to hide out from the fairy army, there was no Blood Synthetic on campus. So it was basically drink human or die.” I make a face, disgusted with myself even now. “And you just happened to win the vampire victim lottery.”

Corbin is silent for a moment, digesting my story. “How do I know you’re not lying to me now?” he says at last, in a tired voice.

“Evidently fairies can’t lie,” I admit. “It’s one of our more annoying traits.”

“Yeah. I can see how that might cramp a vampire’s style,” Corbin snarls sarcastically.

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me. Hell, I don’t even forgive myself at this point. I’m going to have to live with what I did to you ’til the day I die.” I pause, then add, “Which will likely be very soon unless we figure out a way to get out of here.”

“We?” Corbin repeats bitterly. “There’s no ‘we’ in this scenario.”

Right. Of course he’d feel that way. I’d feel that way if I were him. But in this case, it’s counterproductive. I draw in a breath, trying to keep my patience. “Look, Corbin, I don’t think you understand how much trouble we’re in here.”

“You almost killed me twice this week. How much worse could this be?”

I hang my head, not blaming him one bit for his anger. He feels betrayed and confused—and deserves to feel all that and more. But, at the same time, all this emotion is wasted energy. We have to work together to get out of here. For his own good as well as mine. How can I convince him of that?

Of course I could just re-glamour the guy. Make him fall in love with me again and do whatever I say. That’d be the easy way out. But looking at his angry, hurt face, I just can’t bring myself to do that. To trick him again.

No, I have to be more honorable if possible. Only do that as a last resort.

“Corbin, listen to me,” I say, trying another tact. “I’ve wronged you. Badly, horribly, unforgivably wronged you. I know that. And I will pay for it, one way or another. But right now, this isn’t about me. It’s about getting you out of Night School. Because tomorrow morning they plan to inject you with my blood. To make you into the same kind of monster I’ve become.”

“I don’t believe you,” he snarls back at me. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“They’ve
been
doing it,” I insist, gritting my teeth. “I heard them talking about failed experiments. And if we stay here, you’re going to become one of them.”

“No,” Corbin says stubbornly. There’s a hysterical edge to his voice. “You don’t understand. I’m an Alpha. I’m going to Night School!”

I swallow hard. “Corbin, we’re in Night School now. Does this look anything like what they promised you?”

He shakes his head miserably. Gone is all the cocky arrogance. He’s just a confused little boy who’s had the rug pulled out from under him.

I take a deep breath. “Look, Corbin, I know this is a lot to deal with. But we have to figure out a way to escape, okay? Then we can deal with the rest of it.”

He nods slowly. Good. “But how?” he asks.

I think for a moment. “What about the other Alphas? Would they help?”

“If they knew we were here, probably,” Corbin says with a shrug. “But they don’t. I was alone when they captured me. And we can’t exactly text them our location now.”

Right. Of course. I bite at my lower lip, thinking. My vampire strength has already dwindled and I don’t think—even if I could reach him—Corbin’s going to let me bite him again, even if it means regaining my vampire strength for a quick escape. “If only there were other vampires on campus,” I muse.

“Why?”

“I have, like, one vampire power,” I explain. “I can submit psychic cries for help that can be heard by other vampires.”

He snorts. “That’s a power? I think I would have held out for a kung fu grip or something.”

I give him a half smile. At least he’s making jokes.

“Well, it’s not like I got to choose,” I tell him. “But at times it is useful.”

“Well, give it a try then. Maybe there’s a wandering vamp out there in the woods. You never know.”

“Okay.” I’m not optimistic about that, but what the hell. We’ve got nothing better. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall. Concentrating, I push my mental message as hard as I can.

Corbin and Rayne. Trapped in Night School. In danger. Need rescuing!

I open my eyes.

“Any luck?” Corbin asks, his voice betraying his eagerness. “Any vampires respond?”

“Um,” I say sheepishly, “I don’t actually know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I can send. But I can’t receive. So I don’t exactly get an answer back.”

“Now I’m positive I would have held out for a kung fu grip.”

“Well, you may get your chance if we don’t get out of here,” I remind him, which sobers the mood. We fall into an uneasy silence, each listening to the still air, straining to hear a sound of rescue. For about a half hour we hear nothing. Then ...

The door creaks open. I look over in shock, my eyes widening as none other than Lilli herself steps through the entrance. She grins widely, showing off her fangs. “The vampire cavalry is here,” she announces. “Prepare for rescue.”