Jealousy

CHAPTER NINE

The entire cafeteria, full of fluorescent light and the competing aroma of boys and industrially prepared food, went silent as soon as I showed up. Djamphir, wulfen, they all stopped and stared at me. I stood right inside the doors for an uncomfortable ten seconds before Graves pushed me from behind and got me going again.

It was hard to eat with everyone staring. But Graves was there, looking around like he was enjoying himself. He put away a whole plate of pancakes, a mountain of hash browns, and a mound of crispy bacon in the time it took me to pick halfway through my cellophane-wrapped ham sandwich.

Good for him.

Leon led me through a labyrinth of quiet halls away from the sound of slamming lockers and male voices. The flooring changed to hardwood, and the marble busts came back, staring at me like I was an interloper. Long velvet drapes framing the windows were alive with the golden glow of dusk, the kind of light that lasts maybe five minutes before twilight falls and the Real World comes out to play.

I shivered. Pulled my hoodie closer around me, and zipped it up, too.

We ended up at a long dim windowless room with a mirror-polished conference table on the right side—the inner side—of the wall. The other side had windows, but the djamphir seemed to hold all their important meetings away from the windows. I’d thought they would want sunshine and fresh air—things suckers seem to hate. But on the other hand, I suddenly thought, it was harder to break into a windowless room. Or pick off someone with a rifle through a wall instead of a window.

I hate thinking things like that.

A slight, short brunet djamphir in a red T-shirt stood on one side of the door, his arms crossed. The shoulder holster he wore looked absurdly oversized, and his designer jeans looked painted on. He was pretty even for here, dark curls brushed back, wide liquid eyes in an almost feminine face.

Poor kid. I mean, I felt more boy than he looked. He would get a hard time in some of the high schools I’ve blown through.

If he was human, that is.

Leon glanced in, gave me an unreadable look, and stepped aside. “Safe enough, Milady.” He said it a little more loudly than he necessarily had to, and I stepped over the threshold.

And right into Uncomfortable City.

There, at the head of the table, sat Anna. The dimness turned her skin into poreless perfection, not a curly coppery-blonde hair was out of place, and her little red high-heeled boots were on the tabletop. She lounged there like she owned the whole room, a froth of petticoats covering her silk-stockinged legs.

And she smiled. “Oh, hello.” Bright as a new polished penny. “It’s Dru! Did you sleep well, dearie?”

Kir sat at her right, his shoulders hunched. He looked miserable, but he perked up a little when I came in. I wondered briefly if he dyed his hair to match Anna’s, but hers was russet gold and he was a carrottop. His was obviously natural, and if hers wasn’t, the Order probably had enough money to keep her in salon appointments for a long time.

Next to her, even the prettiest djamphir boys looked gawky. I felt myself turn even paler, more greasy-faced, and awkward.

Graves stepped into the room behind me, sniffed audibly, and stopped dead. I could almost feel him stiffening, his shoulders hunching.

I understood completely. I just did not like her.

I found my voice. “Like a log. How about you?” Or do you sleep in between knocking on people’s doors?

Her smile widened, pearly perfect teeth. When the aspect came over her she would have delicate little fangs. “Like a baby. I was just sitting here with darling Kir, hoping I could see you before you start orientation.” That smile was absolutely perfect, and it was kind of like looking at Christophe. I wanted to check for loose threads and stand up straight.

Except Christophe would never look at me like this. Not even the first moment I met him, when he drove Ash away and told me to go home. I’d thought he was a sucker then, and he didn’t scare me half as bad as this.

And that’s saying something.

How weird was it that this blonde bit of cheerleader was more terrifying than a gruesome death by sucker? It just goes to show my priorities were all whacked-out. It might’ve been all the excitement lately.

She scared me because I’ve seen her type all over the country. And if you’re not scared when they grin at you, or when they act friendly, you haven’t been paying attention and you deserve everything you get. Still, some of them are okay, just thoughtless and irritating without any real malice.

My jury was out on Anna’s malice level. But I’m cautious when it comes to things like that. I learned really quick that Dad didn’t understand girl cruelty. He understood when I got into fights, but if I came home sobbing after a run-in with a girl, where only words were exchanged . . . well, he didn’t get it.

Anna’s baby-blue gaze swung over, settling above my left shoulder. “And that must be Mr. Graves. My, aren’t you the handsome one? If I had a space free on my Guard, I might almost break with tradition and offer you a Trial challenge.”

Trial challenge? What? Probably some djamphir thing. I could ask Benjamin. Or Leon.

Just as soon as I got out of here.

Kir stiffened. He’d looked handsome in the Council room, but he was pale and his skin gleamed slightly. Was he sweating? That was weird.

I heard cloth moving—Graves was still in his long black coat—and the crinkle of paper and cellophane. Then, my God, the click of a lighter and a long inhale.

He was smoking. “That’s assuming,” he said quietly, “that I’d take it.”

Kir’s hands hit the tabletop, and he made as if to push himself up. The aspect folded over him, fangs sliding free and golden streaks spilling through his short hair, and I braced myself. I actually drew myself up as tall as I would go and stared at him.

There was no way I could match a djamphir past his drift, let alone one old and powerful enough to be on the Council. Still, I heard Dad’s voice, way back from the time before my whole life had turned upside down. This is where you do the starin’ down, before the throwin’ down, honey.

Dogs can smell fear, and people—or things from the Real World—are pretty much the same way. Predators have finely tuned antennae for terror. But ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a dog can also smell when you’re the alpha. It takes the same kind of flat look and decision to be fearless as facing down a bunch of jocks bent on harassing someone.

I just hoped I was giving Kir the staredown, and not an exhausted, oh my God look.

Anna eyed Kir for a long, taffy-stretching second. She made a soft, sliding motion with one hand, the lacquer on her nails glinting. “Oh, Kir. Relax. Mr. Graves has a sarcastic sense of humor. It’s something to appreciate in a man. Boy humor is so juvenile.”

The redheaded djamphir’s face scrunched up like he smelled something really bad. I caught Anna’s flash of a smirk before she looked directly past me at Graves. I’ve seen cheerleaders look at boys that way before.

It meant they were marking their next cut of prime rib. My heart gave a sick thump. If Graves wasn’t interested in me—or was only kind of interested—maybe he’d be interested in a girl who looked like a fashion model. No matter that she’d chew him up and spit him out. That kind always does.

Gee, Dru, you think you’re judging her by what she wears much? I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe I was just judging her because I did not like her way down in my bones. It wasn’t fair.

“It wasn’t sarcasm.” Graves blew out a cloud of acrid smoke. “It was pointing out a fallacy in your logic, babe.”

Anna’s jaw actually dropped. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or push him out of the room. Way to go, Graves.

“I must be late.” A pleasant tenor, behind me. Hiro slid into the room, his footfalls eerily silent against the plush carpet. “Kir. Milady.” His lip all but curled, sarcasm dripping from the word. Then he half-turned and looked at me. When he spoke again, it was a respectful murmur. “Milady.”

How he could say the same word so differently each time was beyond me. He bent forward slightly, a tiny bow, and I did the same thing before I could help myself. Hey, man, when in Rome, right?

He smiled as he straightened. “Exquisite manners, young one. I regret my lateness. Forgive me.”

I was about to say no problem, but Kir almost choked. Anna’s face was smooth and smiling too, but something glittered far back in the depths of her eyes. Her boots hit the carpet and she rose gracefully from the chair, silk whispering as her dress fell in choreographed folds. The table held her reflection lovingly, but distorted it oddly as she moved. She passed behind Kir’s chair, and I could swear the slim redheaded young man flinched as her shadow drifted over him.

She came to a halt at the end of the table, and I squared my shoulders as we sized each other up. The taste of waxen oranges faded, and I smelled her warm spicy perfume.

Her baby blues dropped to my feet, came back up. Measuring me all the while. When she spoke, it was as if we were the only people in the room. “I’d like it if we were friends, Dru.”

“Me too,” I lied, with feeling. If they think you’re stupid enough to be taken in, you can get enough running room for escape.

Always let your enemies underestimate you. Dad taught me that. I wasn’t sure if she was an enemy or just one of those antimatter girls. She was another djamphir and a svetocha to boot. She was in just as much danger from the suckers as I was. We should stick together, at least as far as we could while being on different ends of the social spectrum.

My chest hurt. I realized I was holding my breath, and exhaled. The touch throbbed inside my head, but everything in the room was so tense and mixed-up I couldn’t tell where the current of . . . what was it? Fear? Bloodhunger? Rage? But nobody looked even remotely upset in here. Just uncomfortable. Kir’s face had gone pasty. His freckles stood out, glaring.

I thought of the flash of red I’d seen down the hall. Benjamin had thought it was a svetocha, and I’d been sure it was Anna, but both she and Christophe smelled like spice.

Would Christophe be messing at my door, though? Or maybe it had been the traitor. A djamphir I’d never seen, but who smelled like them?

“Good.” She held out one slim white hand, her nails perfectly manicured and coated in candy-apple lacquer. It matched her lipstick, and her eyeliner looked professionally done.

I could never in a million years have that high gloss. As soon as I put my hand out and touched hers, bracing myself for whatever the touch would tell me, I felt dirty. Like I’d just come in off the playground, covered in muck, and was now standing in the middle of the adults while I hoped they wouldn’t notice the smudges and scrapes.

The touch rang like a gong inside my head. Whirling images, none of them pausing long enough to be absorbed. She gave my hand one limp shake, then drew back with a patient smile. That smile, by the way, was directed up over my shoulder.

At Graves.

The back of my throat turned rough and dry. I made a sort of hrmph noise, clearing it, and Anna glanced at me again, this time amused. Don’t you look at him that way, I wanted to say—and I probably would have, if I hadn’t had to keep my mouth shut.

Because my teeth were tingling. I felt the subtle crackling in my upper jaw as my canines extended.

Call them fangs, Dru. That’s what they are.

But I couldn’t. I could just stand there, keeping my mouth closed tight so nobody around me would see teeth turning into sharp little points. The warm-oil feeling of the aspect didn’t slide down my skin, though. I hoped my hair wasn’t doing anything weird, decided it didn’t matter. Because nobody was looking at me. Every eye in the room, including my own pair, was on Anna.

She swept by, sliding past motionless Hiro with a half-mocking little pirouette, her skirt brushing his knee. I heard her murmur something at the door. Footsteps going away—probably she and the djamphir in the shoulder holster and red T-shirt.

Did he put that on to match her? Jeez. And I thought “I’m with Stupid” shirts were pathetic. I breathed deeply, searching for calm.

The crackling in the air went away. Now all the touch could bring me was a complex, hot wash of feeling from Kir. I couldn’t even name it, it was so messed up. He coughed and pushed himself up from his chair. “So.”

“Orientation.” Hiro folded his arms. “I think it’s best I tag along. You don’t have any objection, do you, Kir?”

The redheaded djamphir smiled. It was an animal’s baring of teeth, and I almost took a step back. “Of course not, brother.”

Whoa, wait a second. “You’re related?” I blurted out, and I sounded totally horrified. Graves exhaled another long stream of cigarette smoke. It touched my hair, and I made a face, too.

“No.” Kir’s face wrinkled up again, like he tasted something sour. “It is the traditional mode of address between Kouroi. To remind us that we are all—”

“—connected,” Hiro interrupted smoothly. “And all equally at risk of being murdered by nosferatu. Some do tend to forget it.”

“No shit,” I muttered and stuffed my sweating hands in my pockets. I suddenly resolved never to be in a room alone with Kir if I could help it. “Can I just go look around on my own?”

“You may if you wish. But the loup-garou may not, and before you attend classes you will have to endure orientation in our company.” Hiro folded his arms, as if I was Being Difficult. “Milady.” This time he said it like the syllables meant please.

I wanted to figure out how he did that.

“It was a rhetorical question. So what’s first?” I rubbed my palms, trying to get the dampness off, and decided he wasn’t so bad. Graves muttered something uncomplimentary, but very softly, and mixed with the smoke besides.

“First, we allow Mr. Graves to extinguish his cigarette.” Hiro didn’t even blink. “Then we will go over safety rules and take a tour of the school.”

“Great.” I tried to sound excited, failed miserably. And the whole time, I knew Kir was watching me.

I could feel it.