“Don’t scratch it.” Only when Aliz says it, do I realise that I’ve started digging my nails into my scarf. She crosses the room. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” She slides her free hand under my scarf, and my tense muscles loosen.
“I’m not,” I argue, as she draws a circle over the moon. Goosebumps raise at her touch, and I keep my eyes shut, knowing that if I look at her, my mind will wander. “But thank you.” I open my eyes, shocked by my own words.
Aliz grins, pinching my neck. “You’re very welcome, Cassie.” My false name sounds too good as it spills from her lips, melodic, almost. What wouldRebeccasound like? My cheeks burn while the absurd thought cements itself in my brain. I want her to say my name. I want her to know everything about me, the fact that I’m not a rich kid like everyone else at Tynahine. I want her to ask where Wishaw is, ask about my parents. I want her sympathy. Every new thought is more pathetic than the last, and I can’t bear to look her in the eyes.
Her phone buzzes, and she lets go, crossing the room to pickup.
“I’m on my way,” Aliz says into her phone, rummaging under her desk for a pair of brogues. “I mean—” There’s a slight pause, and she presses her lips together. She shoots me a quick glance and then looks away. “You do remember what happened the last time you spiked blood, don’t you?” she asks. I can picture her, Elia, with her doll-like features and perfect hair, at the other end of the line. Aliz smiles at whatever the other vampire replies, and then whispers something in another language.
My chest tightens. The other girls are just playthings. But I have a feeling Elia means much more to her.
“See you tomorrow, Cassie,” Aliz says, barely looking atme.
“Wait,” I say, and she stops right at the edge of her coffin. I step towards her.Don’t go,I think. “It’s lopsided,” I say and unclip the golden chain pinned to her collar, then fasten it again until it’s hanging in a perfect curve. “There.”
“Thanks,” she says, and for some stupid reason, Aliz’s gaze has fallen to my lips.
“What kind of party is it?” I ask, hoping to snap her back to her senses. “A vampire orgy?”
She makes a face. “We’ll just be playing cards. Although the loser usually does end up naked.”
I wish she hadn’t said that, because now I can’t help but imagine her taking off her clothes. “Sounds fun,” I say, and Aliz grabs my hand, which was still mindlessly attached to her collar. I feel her digits searching for my pulse. And then, seemingly without thinking, she lifts my wrist to her nose.
I stiffen. I’ve seen this, experienced this, many times over. Countless vampires digging their noses into the crook of my neck or inhaling, like Aliz does now, from my wrist.
But when Aliz sniffs, her eyes remain black, and her expression is more one of curiosity than thirst.
“I’m glad you don’t have a scent,” she says, putting a hand on my head. “This would be much more difficult if you did.” I think of Nocth’s warning:Stop taking the garlic.I don’t know what expression I make, but Aliz cups my cheeks, her face serious. “I mean it,” she says, her voice gentle. “And not having a scent isn’t a bad thing. It’s actually—”
“Can we not talk about my blood?”
Aliz would never be able to look at me the same if she ever smelled my real blood. None of the vampires I’ve met so far would. They’d turn into every other creature I’ve hunted the last four years. “Sorry,” she whispers, taking a step back.
“Enjoy the strip poker,” I add. Aliz shakes her head.
“I will,” she says, and despite my harsh tone, there’s warmth in hers. A warmth I don’t deserve. She offers me one last smile, and then leaves. I stare at the door, my heart pounding. I wish I had an excuse to hate her, but I know by now that it wasn’t on purpose.Aliz wants to get rid of the Familiar’s mark just as much as Ido.
The night skyis heavy with rain, the first drizzle a threat of the downpour to come. I keep my hood up, raincoat zipped to my chin, and an umbrella fighting the wind. I can’t stay in our room. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and the itch made its way back onto my skinmere minutes after she left. It’s one of the mark’s most frustrating symptoms.
I walk through the campus village, my steps carrying me across cobbled stones, past willows. Several vampires, dolled-up, are making their way down the main street, heading in the same direction. With invites, I assume, to Elia’s party. Aliz will sleep with her tonight, won’t she? Images rush through my head; Aliz’s hand slipping under her dress, Elia begging to be bitten, and Aliz giving her what I can’t have, sinking her fangs into her, drinking her immortal blood.
Music comes from a building across a park, right on the edge of the campus village. Columns fringe the curved walls, the flat roof decorated with sculptures of women holding roses. The door is painted raven black, and even through the rain, I see the blur of my reflection fixed uponit.
When I look up at the wide floor-to-ceiling windows between the columns, I find glass draped with heavy curtains, crimson and gold. And leaning against one of those windows, with her chestnut hair falling past her waist in flawless waves, is the object of my envy. Elia is in a champagne gown, silk fabric stopping just above her ankles, with a slit running up to her thigh. Her shoulders shake as she laughs at something someone, out of view, must have said. Aliz is in there, amongst the shadows of vampires dancing.
My hunting instincts tell me to dig. Infiltrate, as I always do, and uncover their depravity. Prove if the rumors about Elia’ssnacksare true.
Just as I consider it, Elia turns. Her eyes don’t wander across the damp street. They fall on me instantly, as though she already knew I was standing here. I swallow hard, and a moment before I look away, she raises a half-empty wineglass, swirling the blood inside in some kind of silent toast.
I hold my umbrella tight and stalk away, heart hammering in my chest. What if she tells Aliz I was there? My eyes burn, my neck itches. She has what I can’t have. What I should have never wanted in the first place.
A lonely bench beneath the shelter of a tree, overlooking the river,provides me a spot to clear my mind of her. It’s damp, but I don’t care. I keep my umbrella up, breathing out, as though every new breath will rid me of these twisted thoughts. I pull out my phone, gritting my teeth until my jaw hurts.
Penny hasn’t called since our last conversation. I go over everything she said, trying once more to believe her. But every time I look at a hidden corner of Tynahine, I can almost see her shadow, haunting the cobbled streets. What if she once sat on this very bench, overlooking the river?
Just as I scroll through our sparse call log, her name lights up the screen, as though she was in the same position as me, staring at her phone and waiting for me to call, before finally deciding to make the first move.
The wind nearly tears my umbrella from my hand when I hear her voice in my ear.
