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Problem: I can see the … psychic remnants of old deaths, all over the place. Solution: None. I can avoid most of the places I find, but whenever a new one shows up, I’ll just have to get through it somehow. That felt a lot harder to accomplish. When no answer presented itself, she pushed herself on to the next issue.
Problem: My ex-boyfriend and his skank girlfriend are all over this school being judgy about me. Solution: None. It wasn’t that big on her list of concerns at the moment, Skye admitted, but that didn’t mean it didn’t suck.
Problem: I never see my mom and dad. I know they need to work hard—to have some space from our house and the family—so that they can get over Dakota’s death. But how am I supposed to get over it? I need to talk to someone about him. I need to remember him sometimes. Solution: Find someone new to talk with. Skye wondered whether Madison might become the kind of friend she could discuss these things with, but she doubted it. Clementine had been a rock to lean on last year at Evernight, but she’d sensed when Skye was sad, or needed support; doing that became much more difficult via text.
Nothing would really take the place of talking with her parents. They were the only ones who had loved Dakota the way she had, who remembered the happy family they’d once had. During the summer, Skye had been so numb that their distance hadn’t troubled her as much; plus, back then, she’d been able to confide in Craig. She had believed that, in time, Mom and Dad would come alive again. Remember her again. So far, they hadn’t.
Balthazar seemed like someone who would listen—
Problem: The guy I had a major crush on is now undercover as my substitute teacher, plus hanging around my house all the time, and I’m already liking him a thousand percent more than before. Also, he’s a vampire, which makes this—complicated. How do I handle that?
A slow smile spread across Skye’s face as she realized the one bright spot in this entire screaming mess that was her life.
Solution: Make Balthazar MINE.
Chapter Nine
BALTHAZAR HAD WALKED INTO VAMPIRE-HUNTER ambushes that filled him with less dread than walking into the Darby Glen High teachers’ lounge.
“Well, hello there.” A blond woman in a red skirt that was surely too short for teaching gave him an enormous smile. “Are you subbing for Sterling? Well, that’s lucky. I mean, for you. Certainly not for him.” She laughed a little too hard at her own joke. “I’m Tonia Loos. Anatomy and sex education.”
Did she actually stress the word sex? Balthazar edged back toward the coffee and tea station. “Hello there—everybody,” he said, making sure to include the entire roomful of people in his greeting. “Balthazar More. And yes, I’m filling in for Mr. Lovejoy. How’s he doing, by the way?”
“That poor man,” sighed a stocky guy in a colorful shirt and tie. “I’m taking him over some flowers after school today. Rick Bollinger, music, drama, and debate. Welcome aboard. This place isn’t too bad.”
“If you like suffering,” said somebody who looked like a track coach.
“Don’t scare the poor man off,” said Tonia, as she ignored her own advice and stepped closer to Balthazar again. One of her fingers twirled a strand of her hair as she added, “Let’s see—what do you need to know? Zaslow’s not so bad if you stay on her good side. We’ve got an electric kettle, microwave, and hot plate in here, and we do a cake for the month’s birthdays every first Friday. And if you’re a smoker, the best spot to get a cigarette without the kids seeing you is right out this back way here.”
With some wistfulness, Balthazar said, “I’m trying to quit, actually.”
“Good for you,” the track coach replied. “Stuff rots your lungs.”
Not Balthazar’s lungs, but he’d discovered that smoking had become incredibly annoying in the past decade. No smoking in theaters, on public transport, in most public buildings, even in bars: What was the point of that? The addiction, unfortunately, applied even to the undead, but he thought he could kick it. In the meantime, he kept chewing gum, patches, and an “electronic cigarette” at the ready.
Obviously worried that his attention was drifting, Tonia hurriedly added, “Well, we want you to feel really welcome here. If there’s anything you need, Balthazar—you know, if you want someone to, um, show you the ropes—”
Was that a bondage joke? Please, let that not have been a bondage joke. Balthazar quickly turned his attention to Rick and said, “Actually, I need a place to live while I’m here. I’m not … local. I was hoping for someplace out by the river, near the state land, maybe.”
“You like your privacy?” Tonia gave him a low-lidded look perhaps meant to be sultry. Balthazar noticed only how thickly mascara had clumped on her lashes.
“I like hiking. Riding. That kind of thing.” What he needed was to be close to Skye, the better to protect her, but that wouldn’t go over well as a reason. As far as any of these people knew, he was an adult human male who should never, ever show any personal interest in one of his young female students, much less insist on living next door to one.
A gray-haired woman whose lunch was spread over an Algebra II textbook said, “The Macrossan house is for rent, if you want some space. Right in the center of town, but trust me, after the next big snowfall, you won’t mind being closer to things.”
“That’s okay,” Balthazar said. “I don’t need much room; I don’t have a lot.” Also, he expected to spend very little time at whatever home he found—he’d be with Skye as much as possible. The new residence was mostly a place for Darby Glen High to send him his paychecks, because there was no way he was grading papers and taking attendance every day for free.
“It really is a tough commute when the weather gets tough,” Tonia insisted. “And when you pull basketball duty during a blizzard—no fun.”
Basketball duty, too? Great. Then again, just before he’d walked into Skye’s homeroom, Balthazar had heard her talking to a friend about going to a game tonight. That was reckless of her, but he could at least be sure to be there. “Speaking of which, I need to take my fair share. There’s a game tonight, isn’t there?”
“Yes, but that’s okay. Nola and I have it, don’t we?” Tonia gave the track coach a rather fake grin; Nola didn’t bother smiling back. These two clearly didn’t even pretend to get along when a newcomer wasn’t in the room.
“Take the night off,” Balthazar said. “I’ll go to the game, do my first shift.”
Tonia’s face lit up, and too late he realized that he’d sounded like he was flirting with her. “Aren’t you sweet? Isn’t he the sweetest thing?”
“Like a Snickers bar dipped in maple syrup,” said the algebra teacher dryly, with an acerbic glance in Tonia’s direction. “Good luck, More.”
