The white needles are supposedly made of vampire dust, and theblack background is a mix of cobalt, blood, and silver. Penny herself used it eleven years ago, when she broke out three hunters from a Council prison. They’d been kept in a dungeon, hidden deep beneath a labyrinth, and after she got them back to headquarters, she became the youngest hunter to ever be promoted to Stake. She hasn’t told me about any of her missions after that one.
I stare at the compass, knowing it will also lead me to a promotion.
The fireplace in Tynarrich’s dining hall warms my legs. I’m already getting used to the smell of ashes and old books that clings to every corner of the hall.
Breakfast is warm porridge, with a sprinkle of salt and cold semi-skimmed milk. Back in the convent, breakfast was usually coffee and protein bars. And before that, when my parents were alive, toast and runny eggs. The tables around me fill with groups of fellow humans talking excitedly about their new classes and lecturers. I search for Stephan amongst them, but he’s probably still asleep.
I’m not changing my sleep schedule. I’m going to findThe Book of Blood and Rosesand get out of here before my first week is over.
The first tunnel I come across is directly beneath Tynarrich, with deep brown bricks and a low ceiling. Lanterns cast an amber glow on the dark stones. I draw out Penny’s compass and shine my torch on it. The white needle is ticking back and forth like a metronome, but after I glare at it for half a minute, it settles on north.
“Here we go,” I whisper. The hall curves and then forks into three separate tunnels. I pull out my notebook and sketch the first lines of what will hopefully become a coherent map.
There are two types of tunnels. I’ll call group one themodernkind, although they could very well be like the leeches who built them, ancient but well-preserved. Their walls are made of grey bricks, smooth cement filling each joint. Vintage-looking gas lamps line the walls, just two feet apart, all fitted with LED bulbs. These tunnels, the modern ones, have signs pointing to different buildings.Ambrose Hall. Palau Collection. Traquair Hall. Union Hall B.
Then there are the old tunnels, serpentine, dark, following norhyme or reason, some ceilings too low, others too high. Dead ends, broken stairways, puddles, and white weeds. They’re on a constant incline, ramps or steps, sometimes so steep I’m forced to hang onto the wall. And while the modern tunnels are bright, here you’re lucky if you find a single lamp. If I had to guess, the secret library will be at the end of one of these old tunnels. But after an hour mapping the network, I have a feeling I’ve only scratched the surface.
I reach thefirst Integration lecture three minutes late, and spot Stephan all the way down on the second row. He sees me just as I walk in, motioning at the empty space he’s saved for me. Luckily enough, I’m not the only one late; Professor Clemence, a human in his late fifties, tells us he got a little lost on his way here.
After projecting a syllabus and a reading list, he lets us know, in a matter-of-fact way, that anyone who fails Integration will be expelled. Apparently, there are hundreds of equally motivated students waiting to take our place if we don’t exceed his expectations.
“The Old Council,” Clemence says, walking across his wooden platform with a piece of snapped chalk between his fingers. His hair is shaved, and he’s wearing a Steve Jobs–like turtleneck. “Unlike modern vampires, the Old Council were very much in favour of using humans as a source of food, with no regard to their well-being.”
My knuckles whiten. Did themodernvampires who killed my family care for their well-being?
“However, after the massacres of 1781, and the Coup of the Heirs, which we will delve into during your second semester, nine of the ten families that comprise the Council went through anenlightenment.It is around this period that we find the first attempts to create synthetic blood. And during those attempts, the rights of human feeders grow.”
I roll my eyes, and his gaze, his naïve and brainwashed gaze, falls on mine just in that unfortunate moment. “Anything you’d like to add, Miss…?”
“Cassie Smith,” I say. I clear my throat, and heads turn, necks craning in my direction. So much for not drawing attention to myself. “The president of the New Council, Ares Astra, governed the old one for over a thousand years, didn’t he? Even if the rest of the board is different, if the one calling the shots has been in power for so long, how can we be sure things have really changed?” I ask, trying to sound curious instead of insolent.
“Great question,” he says, twirling the chalk stick between his fingers. “Ares Astra is still in charge because unlike the other family heads, he was able to adapt. He also wasn’t killed by his offspring, like his peers. Though his actions in the past may have been dubious, he is very much a reformed man.”
Does his boot taste nice?I want to ask. But I’ve already drawn too much attention to myself. Clemence moves on, stopping on the invention of synthetic blood in 1908. “We’ll see this in the second semester,” he says. The ramifications of the invention, the subsequent splintering of vampire society, and then the victory of the New Council over its dissidents.
“That was brave,” Stephan whispers, and I sigh. “You’re having dinner with us, aren’t you?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Of course not,” he says.
At dinner, around the time most vampires are probably starting to wake, Stephan and I make our way to one of the dining halls. “Tynarrich is too busy,” he says, already an expert. “Plus, Ambrose Hall ismuchbetter.” We enter a large building in the campus village, and I stop in my tracks when I see what’s inside. An illusion decorates the walls, projecting an image of trees, identical to those outside, with branches arching over the ceiling. The light from the projection that shines on my face feels natural and warm. I gawk up at the clouds, trying to figure out how it works, all while Stephan walks ahead, heading towards one of a dozen food stalls.
Ambrose Hall has been set up to resemble a food festival. Bunting hangs between tree branches, along with strings of fairy lights that will become brighter as the false sky darkens. There’s a bandstand in thecorner, currently empty, but a few instrument cases are set up against the wall, waiting for their owners. The place is huge, with countless tables stretching across the hall and queues forming between them.
There’s one stall in particular that makes my stomach turn. A large sign on top of it readsBLOOD BLOOD BLOOD. My heart starts racing as I look around. I must get used to them. I grab a wrap from a Greek food stall, and when I spot Stephan again, he’s already found a table. I suck a breath in through my teeth.
I knew Ife would be here. But she’s not alone.
I walk over, steadying my trembling hand. The feeling of being watched from every corner crawls across my skin, and I try my best to ignore it. The garlic supplements are hiding my scent. No one will try to attack me, even if this place is ridden with leeches. “Mind if I join you?” I ask upon reaching the old wooden table, a stained checkered cloth coveringit.
“Iknewyou’d come,” Ife says as I place my tray on the table. She’s wearing cherry blossom earrings, and a fang peeks out between her full lips. There’s only mild curiosity in her large brown eyes. It’s strange. I’m not used to vampires looking at me as anything but a walking meal.
“This is Julia,” Stephan says, nodding at the second vampire he forgot to mention would be joining us for dinner.
Where Ife is warm and deep, Julia is a white canvas. Her eyes are pale blue, fringed by white lashes, and her hair is long and fair, almost as white as the hair of the vampire I saw at the library. I spot several paint splatters on her milky skin, and she pulls her sleeves down to hide them.
“I’m a painter,” Julia says.
