Betrayals

CHAPTER 13

Graves set the stack of books down on the wooden table with a thump. My teeth still ached. So did my entire body. But all in all, it was apparently no big deal at the Schola. Shanks was in the baths, and Graves was skipping whatever he was supposed to be doing, and I’d been told to “just go somewhere else and calm down.”

Yeah. Calm down. Two of the most useless words in the English language. But Dylan told me the danger was past, and I wasn’t going to go and bite someone. He said it was normal, because I was so close to blooming. And that I’d get used to it.

I wasn’t so sure.

He also said they hadn’t had a death “from student interactions” at this Schola for about sixty-two years, which wasn’t as comforting as it could have been either.

The library was full of the smell of dust and old paper. Barred windows let in sharp swords of golden evening light between heavy antique wooden bookshelves, the sun had finally come out, too late in the day to do any good. Nobody was behind the circulation desk.

It was a good thing. I could still smell the blood. My teeth were still sensitive, as if I’d just gone to the dentist’s. Every nerve in me was raw, and I sat with my arms cupping my elbows, hugging myself.

“It’s fucking crazy. You’re crazy,” Graves said flatly. “What are you going to do, tie him up in your room? They’ll kill him.”

At least he was talking about something other than me growing fangs and wanting to go all nosferat on someone. He just plain refused to discuss that, and I was grateful.

Well, as grateful as I could be with my brain refusing to work right and my hair changing color and Jesus God, what the hell was happening to me?

Who was I anymore? When I looked in the mirror, would I still see myself?

It was like vanishing into a funhouse to ask yourself that question, I mean, seriously ask yourself, in a funhouse where the horror is real and anything but fun, and see what happens. Asking yourself that sort of question makes everything inside you that’s not nailed down do a funny jigging dance.

I had precious little that was nailed down anymore.

If I focused on something else, I could probably get through this. “Something just doesn’t add up.”

At least I wasn’t lisping around fangs. My teeth were normal, but I kept running my tongue over them, testing. They felt normal. Except for the aching in them, and the thirsty place at the back of my throat. “He was this close to me, Graves. And he didn’t do anything but sniff me. I—”

“Shut up.” He dropped down into a chair and glared at me. “What the hell is going on with you, Dru?”

You mean, other than having my dad murdered, finding out I’m part sucker, getting chased and beaten up, and turning into a blood-craving fiend prepared to really, really hurt someone? Jeez, I’m pink. I’m perfect. I’m the picture of health. I opened my mouth to say something smart or at least less stupid than usual, but closed it again because, well, what could I say?

It was hopeless. I looked down at the mellow glow of the wood’s surface. Heat rose behind my eyes, the unsteady ball of rage caged in my ribs kicked up another notch, and I swallowed hard. Kept my temper down through sheer force of will.

Now that I knew what the bloodhunger did, would I ever be able to look at myself in the mirror?

Or at any of the djamphir without flinching?

“Come on.” He was still glaring at me, I could feel it. “Say something, Dru. Don’t just sit there and look like I’ve stabbed you. Christ.”

The sunshine faded as dusk took hold. I slumped back in the chair, hugging myself. The whirling inside me wouldn’t stop. I breathed in, breathed out, trying to make it slow down a little. If I freaked out now, what the hell else might happen?

Would I jump on Graves? Would my teeth get long and sharp, and would I want to put my face in his throat and drink?

My chest hurt. I hugged myself harder.

“Come on.” His tone gentled. “What are you doing? You keep shoving everything down like this and you’re going to give yourself an ulcer or something. I’m here, okay? I’ve taken everything this place could throw at me. I’m not going anywhere.”

That just made me feel worse. He was here because of me. Great. “Do you ever want to go home?” I had to fight to keep the words steady. My chest hurt. It was the same old pain, the breathless feeling of sitting in a hospital corridor once Gran was dead, just repeating over and over, My dad is coming, he’ll take care of it. He’s on his way. And hoping it was true.

Praying it was true. But this time I was left behind for good. There was nobody coming to get me.

Not in any good way, at least.

And the sooner I started dealing with that the better. But oh God, the thought scared me, way down deep.

He was quiet for a long few moments. “Shit no,” he finally said. “Look, I don’t know if you caught this, Dru, but I don’t have a fireplace and picket fence to go back to. I was homeless, okay?”

I’d suspected, but it was a different thing altogether to hear it out loud. “You had—”

“That room at the mall? Fuck, what kind of kid lives in the mall? Here at least there’s enough food. There’s a bed I earned, and I’m keeping it. Nobody’s trying to peddle my ass or beating me because he’s drunk.” He inhaled sharply, blew the air out. “At least here, there’s rules. Werwulfen and vampires I can handle. It’s the adults back in that other world I can’t. They… At least here the evil has reasons. It’s not just…” He searched for the word, his face twisting in on itself for a second as he struggled to articulate. “It’s not just senseless.”

What happened to my dad was senseless. I didn’t say it. How could you say something like that to someone? “You wanted to be a physics professor.” My throat had closed up; I could only whisper.

“Yeah, well, things change. Now I want to be here.” Another long, seconds-ticking pause. Dust danced in one fading gleam of gold coming through a low window, following long lazy swirls down to the ground. “With you.”

I stared at the motes suspended in the air, all dancing to music nobody could hear. I read somewhere once that dust could even be bits of exploded stars, falling to earth. How far does a bit of star-stuff fall and float before it gives up and just gets pulled into any planet’s orbit?

Did it matter?

The sun slid below the edge of the horizon, and the Schola sighed, settling into itself.

“I don’t know who I am anymore.” The words were throttled halfway out, died in the library’s silence. I expected the world to crack open and the sky to fall once I said it.

Nothing happened. The library still held its breath, and Graves still stood there looking at me.

“Nobody does, Dru.” It was the same quiet, oddly adult tone he’d used that first evening, sitting in the mall and asking me just how bad everything was and if I needed a place to sleep. “It’s called growing up.”

The whirling inside me had gone down a little. I could finally unreel my arms from around my chest. I pushed my hair back. The curls felt weird, not frizzy but silky, clinging to my fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Was he blushing? “I’m never going to live it down that a girl knocked Bobby on his ass defending me. Jeez.”

Something tight-sprung inside me eased a little bit. The rage retreated. There was enough room to breathe, and I took in a sharp deep lungful. “Well, next time I’ll let him mess with you. Happy?”

“Yeah, well. I had him handled, but still. Anyway, you wanna take half these books?”

The world was seeming manageable again. How did he do that? “What for?”

“Well, if you’re so interested in rehabilitating Broken werwulfen, these seem like a reasonable place to start. Haven’t you been in here before?”

“Once or twice.” But you’re right, this is a good idea. Dad always said research is what saves you.

Yeah, right on schedule, the most uncomfortable thought in the room was moving into my head and calling it home. I should start charging uncomfortable thoughts rent. Except what would they pay me in? Probably something even worse.

“You’ve been going to class more.” He separated the stack into two equal piles, and it was official. He was blushing. High flags of color stood out on his face, so deep they were damn close to maroon. An ugly bruise was spreading up his jawbone, too.

I’d thought he was half-ugly before. Unfinished-looking. It was hard to believe. “Yeah, well, nothing else to do.” I took the pile he pushed toward me. “Doesn’t it bother you? That I… well, that I wanted to… suck his blood?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. The silver earring winked mischievously at me, catching a stray gleam of sun. “Nah. You wouldn’t, you’d have stopped yourself.”

I wasn’t so sure, and I opened my mouth to tell him so.

“Besides,” he said, flipping open the first huge leather-bound book with a thump, “it’s kind of hot.” A smile hovered around the corners of his mouth, fighting to stay hidden.

What? I stared at him for a few seconds. My jaw had officially dropped. “You’re insane.”

“Pot calling kettle, anyone? Start reading.”

I wasn’t sure I’d be able to concentrate, but I did. The sensitivity in my mouth retreated, and after a little while I couldn’t smell the blood anymore. After another while I could actually read the page in front of me without the tears welling up and making all the words blur. I made like I was brushing dust off my cheeks, when I was really smearing hot salt water over them.

Graves didn’t say anything about me leaking. But he didn’t turn a page for a long time either.

When it was time to go to his last class of the night he walked me back to my room first, carrying a double armful of books that we piled on my bed. I finally fell asleep with one of them propped against the headboard, and slept all the way through until morning’s faint blush against the sky.

I could have slept longer, but I had something to do.