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“Why am I up atsix?” I stomp across the room to the shower, turn on the water, and get in, still fuming. I check my body for visible wounds, but the fang marks on my neck and the cut on my palm both seem to have healed already.
Still, there is not a woman on earth who would want to be woken from that dream. I mean,seriously.
In the dining hall, I stare down at my schedule while Laila spoons cereal into her mouth. “I don’t know where any of these places are. Are we in the same classes?”
She casts a lazy gaze over the paper. “We’re both in history first. Which, by the way, is all about auras and nothing to do with humans. I’ll show you where to go.”
I butter my toast. That’s actually not so bad, because I might get to learn about the war that killed Cyrus’s family. I can tell him exactly what happened—though I will then have to admit that my ancestor killed him and his entire family.
Talk about awkward.
After wolfing down breakfast, we make our way along the hall.
“Is it weird that Octavia hasn’t made any announcements?” I ask as we climb the steep steps up to the next floor. “I thought she’d at least address it at breakfast.”
Laila visibly shudders. “Maybe they need to speak to Jenny’s parents first.”
“Yeah, Octavia said that vague ‘as soon as I’m able’ thing. I bet that means as soon as they’ve notified her parents. God, it’s awful.” I shiver, thinking about how that could have been me. I was in the next room. Then I imagine my parents finding out about my disappearance and death.
I shake the thoughts away.One thing at a time.If I have to go to class before finding out about Jenny, I’d rather not dwell on every depressing possibility.
We enter a classroom on the second floor overlooking a grand courtyard, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see Damien here.
He nods as I walk in. “I have those books for you, Kira,” he says. “Pop by at lunch if you like.”
“Thanks.” I’m grateful but a little embarrassed that a teacher is talking to me in front of the class on my first day.
“Ooh, swot alert,” Laila whispers. “Check you out with the extracurricular reading.”
“I just need to get myself up to speed,” I whisper back. “This was all sprung on me, remember?”
We grab chairs, and I notice Cooper with his friends on the other side of the classroom. He mimes tipping his hat to me, and I give him a little bow. He grins.
“Before we start, I wanted to let you all know that I don’thave any news about Jenny,” Damien says. “I am sorry about that. I know you all must be upset, but Octavia and the rest of the faculty, including myself, felt you would prefer the distraction of classes right now. However, if anyone would like a moment to chat, that’s fine too. What I will say is that we’re all trying to do our best for Jenny and her family right now.”
Quiet murmurs run through the classroom. I take in the expressions of the other students, an odd combination of looking close to tears and almost bored to tears. It feels strange to be the new student today. I never met Jenny—I don’t even know what she looks like—yet I’m mourning her, too, in a way.
Damien starts writing on a chalkboard. It’s surprisingly old school here, without a lot of modern technology. Laila told me not to bother with my laptop when we left the room this morning.
Instead, I’ll apparently be using pen and paper and developing carpal tunnel syndrome.
“Vampires.” Damien underlines the word with a flourish.
I suck in a breath, feeling like a deer in headlights. Like Damien knows what I did last night. Only willpower keeps my hand from drifting up to my neck.
“They ruled over all the auras for a hundred years. But there were some problems with that. Can anyone tell me what they are?” Damien folds his arms and waits for an answer.
A redheaded girl pipes up. “Well, they’re immortal, so I guess if someone decides to rule indefinitely, they aren’t going to die.”
“Aha,” Damien says. “Exactly.”
“Vlad Dracul was a dick.” I turn to see Nathan speaking. “He wanted absolute power and almost killed all the werewolves. It was like… genocide or something.”
Damien picks up a large, poster-sized image of a stern-faced man and sticks it to the chalkboard. He taps it with the chalk. “Vladimir Dracul, the last occupant of this castle before the academy took over, did lust for power, and that included going to war with every single circle. The Six Circle War, for those of us who are new to the academy.” He flashes me a smile.
“Dracul’s army was particularly cruel to werewolves, throwing them into work camps with terrible living conditions,” he continues. “Each island around Gealach hosted a different camp. It was barbaric.”
“Doesn’t he haunt the castle?” another girl asks. She has shimmering black hair that falls to her shoulders. “He’s buried here, isn’t he?”
