“Of course,” I say. Who isthey? I understand her not wanting to talk about it, but now it’s all I can think of. The sketch of the Tube colours my mind. She said that was the last thing she saw withhumaneyes.
I want to ask more. Four years ago, my parents were killed. Four years ago, Julia was sired. I’ve heard that a dozen vampires are created each year. I know I shouldn’t search for a connection between these two events. But I can’t help it. I need a thread to pull on, something to bring me closer to the truth.
We step out into a new tunnel, modern and far better illuminated. It’s busy with vampires, some of whom I’ve spotted in class, and all of those who are close enough to pick up my scent come to a sudden halt. Their noses twitch, eyes flashing crimson, suddenly ensnared by thirst. “Fuck,” Julia mutters under her breath, while I slowly feel for the toggle on my watch. I could run. And no matter how good my blood smells, they still can’t bite me unless I agree. “Don’t look anyone in the eyes,” Julia says.
She puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. Even through her coat, she’s absolutely freezing. The vampires around us stare far too intently, but Julia’s arm is enough to keep our fellow students from stepping closer. “You need to get outside,” she says. She removes her arm from my shoulders, grabbing my hand instead,and rushes up the nearest staircase. “I’m glad it was me you ran into,” she adds.
“Me, too,” I say, surprised by my own words.
We pass through another hallway, and I spot that familiar head of white hair in the distance, far enough for her to not pick up the scent of my blood.
Aliz looks towards us, her gaze falling to my hand, still clasped with Julia’s. Even from afar, I see a myriad of emotions pass through her face. And perhaps I would have felt guilty if she didn’t have an arm around Elia’s shoulders. “We can’t go that way,” I say, and Julia stares, spotting Aliz.
When we were together this morning, the garlic hadn’t left my system yet. Now there’s no hiding the scent of my blood. But I’m not ready to see her expression change. Just because Julia has been able to somewhat control her reaction, doesn’t mean Aliz will. Especially not with the mark’s magnetic pull.
“I suppose the good thing about you smelling likeyouis that you no longer smell like her,” Julia says under her breath.
“What do you mean, ‘like her’?” I ask as she drags me further up, until we finally reach an exit. I stop, reveling in the cold air, while Julia takes a deep breath.
“I recognise her scent. And it’s all over you. Like”—she shakes her head—“all the time. So, you don’t have to lie to me,” she says. “You’re more than roommates, aren’t you?”
I stop for a moment, pressing my lips together.All over me?Suddenly I remember her reaction the morning I found the mark. All along, that was because of Aliz’s scent.
It’s as though I already belong to her. Julia is right about one thing. We aren’tjustroommates. What happened in front of the bathroom mirror wasn’t roommate behaviour.
“It’s complicated,” I manage.
Julia stops by a fir tree, tightening the laces of her shoes. The bark behind her is thick with moss. “All right. I don’t know what Aliz is like, but her family is dangerous. If you get involved with the Astras—”
“I won’t,” I say. The wind howls through the canopy, momentarily revealing a pocket of the night sky.
“Especially”—she lowers her voice, as though she’s scared the trees will hear us—“him.” We keep walking, trekking up the slope of pine needles. She picks one up, rolling it between her fingers.
“Ares?” I say, and Julia winces.
They say a Convert’s appearance changes, just slightly, to resemble the vampire who sired them. Their hair might lighten, or the colour of their eyes might shift, too. Julia’s hair is a very light blond. Almost white.
“He’s not your sire, is he?”
The windy night starts to drizzle, and Julia laughs.
“Imagine that,” she says.
“Why are you scared of him, then?” I ask. Julia stops, despite the light rain, and looks back at the campus village, glowing gold through the woods.
“It’s hard to explain. And you might not believe me.”
“Try me,” I say, and she laughs again. Then, her expression sobers, something akin to fear slipping into her eyes.
“I dreamt of him.” She puts her hands in her pockets, then takes them out again. “I know it sounds silly.”
For some reason, my mind crawls back to one of my first trips down into the tunnels, when I found the Red Ribbons’ meeting room, full of dust-ridden frames, and a small portrait labelled:Ada, Dreamwalker of Rome.At the time I didn’t know who she was. “Is Ares Astra a Dreamwalker?” I ask. Julia’s eyes widen.
“I’ve never heard that word before,” she says. “But I guess it’s fitting.”
“What happened?”
She hesitates, still looking at the campus. “The dreams were incredibly vivid. They felt…real, even after I woke up. He had questions.” Her lower lip trembles, so she bites it, drawing blood. “I couldn’t answer them.” She plays with a button of her jacket, clasping and unclasping it. “At first, I thought it was just my overactive imagination. But I had seen him out by the river, behind thehumanities building. He’d looked right at me, and that’s when the dreams started.” She shoves her hands in her pockets again. “The dreams stopped once he left Tynahine. But I was scared to fall asleep for months.”
