Crossroads (Crossroads Academy #1) (25 page)

“This is a VSE Z9 tactical assault weapon.
It’s not easy to come by, but it’s a favorite of the Linkuri. It’s
reliable, powerful, and deadly accurate. VSE has made some
impressive enhancements to this model. It can shoot a bolt over 400
feet per second and expels better than 153 pounds of kinetic
energy. But the best part is the reload.”

“Why’s that?” He might as well be speaking
gibberish. I know zip about this type of weapon. Nik, on the other
hand, is clearly an expert. Big surprise. He’s excited though, and
that’s got my attention.

“This baby doesn’t require manual cocking. In
a traditional crossbow you have to reset the bows’ tension and
reload after every shot. It’s time consuming and would otherwise be
prohibitive to making the crossbow a combat weapon. This model
overcomes that little caveat.” His eyes are glowing with
exhilaration. I can’t help but smile. I feel the same way about
this beautiful piece of equipment.

“The Z9 has a wicked fast motor that will
reload automatically with the press of a button.” He points to a
small red switch that protrudes from the shaft of the weapon, just
above the trigger. “Once you pull the trigger, press here, and the
bow will be cocked again and reloaded. The VSE Z9 holds nine
projectiles; eight in the wings and one in the track.” He barely
pauses. “Ready to try it out?”

“Most definitely.” I grudgingly hand him the
weapon so that he can show me how to load the arrow properly. After
a quick demonstration, he raises the bow to his shoulder and slides
his guide hand down to the nose for better aim. I pay close
attention to his stance and keep my attention focused on him, even
as the arrow is released. I know without looking that he’s hit the
target 50 yards down the range; probably a bull’s eye judging by
the satisfied look on his face.

“Your turn.” He hands me the bow, and I do my
best to repeat his movements from just moments ago. I raise the
butt of the bow to my shoulder and peer into the sight. I pull the
trigger and send an arrow of my own flying down range and into the
target. It’s not exactly a direct hit, but I’ve made contact. I
flip the switch and brace myself for a second shot. I unload the
remaining six arrows. My accuracy improves with practice. Nik gives
me pointers to help sharpen my form, and it seems to help my aim as
well. He’s a great teacher and this is the most fun I’ve had in
weeks! I love the feel of this weapon.

I turn to Nik as I reload. “So what kind of
damage could a weapon like this do?” The meaning is implied. Could
it kill a vampire or is it just for sport?

“At best it’s lethal, at worst it’ll buy you
some time. A direct hit to center mass would slow your attacker
down. The force of penetration would be enough to stop a bear with
the right ammunition. Or a vampire.”

I finish reloading and turn my attention back
to the target. Niks’s replaced the bull’s eye with a human form.
He’s even drawn fangs on it for fun. “Nice,” I comment, as I raise
my weapon. I peer through the sight wanting to make the most of
each and every shot. Nik wanders off toward the armory. I rattle
off my shots, and he’s back before I can reload again.

“Here. Try these.” He hands me a new type of
projectile. These new ones are made of metal.

“What are these?” I ask. I don’t know what to
make of them. They’re like arrows, but a little shorter and
squatter. They seem sturdier, but I wonder if they’ll fly as fast
due to their bulk.

“Bolts,” he says, casually hooking his thumbs
in the pockets of his jeans. “Well, modified bolts. The arrows are
good for target practice. They’re cheap and accurate, but for
battle I’d recommend these. Another Linkuri special.
Annihilators.”

Intrigued, I delicately load the bolts into
the crossbow. I don’t waste any time shooting them off. The results
are much different this time. The target is obliterated. Instead of
a series of tightly clustered puncture marks, most of the target
has been wiped out leaving an enormous gaping hole.

“What happened?” I ask mystified.

Nik strides down the range and collects the
ruined projectiles. Some have stuck in the wall while others have
been expelled and lay on the floor in ruins. He returns open handed
and shows me the damaged bolts. “They expand on impact,” he
explains. “There are four sharp blades contained in each. Once the
tip hits a pressure point, the razors emerge shredding everything
in their path. A direct hit to the brain or heart would put your
adversary down. No question.”

I don’t want to be morbid, but I want him to
elaborate. Does he mean it would put them down as in dead or put
them down as in slowed for the death blow? I recall from Anatomy
that removing the head or the heart is the only way to truly stop a
vampire, short of a few searing hours under a UV lamp. Perhaps it’s
best not to dwell on such things. I have a long way to go before I
have to worry about defending my life, right?

“Solid,” I return finally, echoing his words
from earlier in the session. I reluctantly hand over the crossbow.
I feel naked giving it up. We’ve only practiced for a short time,
but it felt so natural. I have got to get a Z9 of my own.

“We’ve still got some time before curfew,”
Nik tells me, checking his watch. “You up for a little
hand-to-hand?”

“Why not? I could stand to burn off a little
more energy.” Better to stay here and maybe get my butt kicked by
Nik than to go back to my room where I’ll be alone with my
dreams.

We clean up the range and hit the mat. The
place is pretty well deserted now, but it doesn’t matter. The
awkwardness between us has passed. We square up and face off. I’m
determined not to yield to him tonight. I don’t care if he rips my
arms from the sockets. I’m not giving up.

I attack, a battle cry erupting from my
throat. I catch Nik with a side kick and follow it up with a
spinning back fist. For my trouble I get chop to the midsection. I
double over in agony. Nik drops to the ground and swings his leg
wide, sweeping my feet out from under me. I slam into the mat
landing on my side, a vicious reminder that there is no time to
rest or recover. In one fluid motion he’s back on his feet in a
defensive position. I roll over quickly, crouching on my hands and
feet. I spring forward, once again on the attack. Nik is able to
block my punch easily. I retreat a few feet, again crouching low
and making myself as small as possible. I hope Nik will find a
smaller target more difficult to strike.

This strategy works to my advantage. Nik
misjudges his next kick, and I’m able to intercept his leg,
flipping him backward onto the mat. Nik’s no slouch though, and he
returns the favor, throwing me over his head and rolling on top of
me. He pins my body to the mat with his own, the hard muscles of
his body pressing into mine. I struggle unsuccessfully to free
myself but his powerful hands bind my wrists over my head. He
presses them hard into the mat as he stares into my eyes.

And there it is. The awkwardness between us
comes roaring back with a vengeance. In the span of a heartbeat the
entire mood of the gym has shifted. Our friendly rivalry is gone
and in its place emerges a lustful tension that won’t be ignored.
Hell’s bells! Apparently Nik was just waiting for the right time to
make another move.

The heat of his gaze burns through me like
wildfire and it’s a wonder I don’t melt right there on the floor
beneath him. There’s nothing cold about the crystalline blue eyes
locked on my lips and I feel myself getting pulled into the
delicate planes of his face. I want nothing more at this moment
than to run my hands through the dark, sexy curls spilling over his
forehead as the all too familiar scent of lavender and spice
overwhelm my senses.

Nik releases my left hand first, his own hand
slowly gliding down the soft flesh of my arm and up onto my cheek,
caressing it gently. My body trembles at his touch, but if he
notices, he gives no indication. Nik’s every move is seductive. By
the time his lips brush mine I’m desperate for his kiss, my body
charged like a live wire.

His lips devour me. The kiss is rough. There
is no sign of the gentleness that was there on New Year’s Eve as he
forces my mouth open, his tongue slipping past my lips. My body
responds to him, hungry for more. His kiss awakens a passion that’s
lain dormant too long. As his body shifts forcing my knees apart, I
realize that I want this moment to last. The feel of his body
against mine, the closeness, is comforting and empowering at the
same time. His desire excites me. And angers me. Who does he think
he is? And what the hell am I doing? I jerk my right hand free and
shove him off of my body. We both sit up, and, before he can utter
a single word, I slap him across the face as hard as I can. He
doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at me dumbfounded.

He doesn’t look angry. Just hurt. Maybe
confused. Good! Now he knows how I feel. I climb to my feet, and he
starts to laugh. I whirl around and glare at him for all I’m
worth.

“That’s what I love about you, Katia!” He’s
still laughing. I don’t see what’s so funny. “You’re full of
surprises!”

It
feels like I’m losing my grip on reality. The nightmares continue
to plague my sleep, making it impossible to get a decent night’s
rest. When I’m awake the exhaustion is so deep that my mind is
constantly in a hazy fog. The incident with my laptop still worries
me. I live with a feeling of foreboding, like something terrible is
looming on the horizon just out of sight.

I’ve been blowing off Shaye and Nik for
weeks. I can’t stand to be around them: Nik because he wants
something I’m not equipped to give; Shaye because I know she has
enough problems of her own without worrying about mine. The only
people I can talk to are Anya and Aldo. And both of them have more
questions than answers for me.

I stand in front of the mirror debating the
merits of skipping my session with Anya. The haunted face that
stares back at me is washed out and looks more zombie than vampire.
My eyes are tired, and my chestnut hair hangs limply over my
shoulders. I bare my teeth just to confirm that my fangs are still
there. I poke them with my fingers and relief washes over me.
They’re as sharp as ever. At least some things are as they should
be.

“Better go,” I tell myself. Anya will worry
if I don’t show up. I pull on my boots and head for her office.
There was a time when I really wouldn’t have cared about her
feelings, but I’m starting to appreciate her more, and I don’t want
our relationship to start deteriorating again.

“Sorry I’m late,” I tell her, as I enter
without knocking. I figure we’re beyond knocking now.

“Don’t worry about it,” she whispers,
covering the mouthpiece on her desk phone and waving me into a
chair. She holds up her hand to indicate she’ll only be another
minute. Oops! Maybe I should have knocked after all. I sit down
across from Anya and stare idly out the window while she wraps up
her call. It sounds like school business.

“I appreciate the warning. Keep us posted on
the progress. If anything—and I mean anything—breaks tonight, call
me. It doesn’t matter what time. We need to be prepared for the
worst.” I can’t hear the reply of the other individual, but I’m
intrigued by Anya’s statement. Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound
good. Anya’s usually pleasant face is grim tonight. Her lips are
tightly drawn, and her eyes are wary. She taps her fingers on the
desk blotter anxiously as she listens.

“Thank you. I’ll let Headmaster Pratt know. I
imagine it will be all over the news tomorrow anyway.” She pauses
before continuing, her tone grave. “Stay close to this one. I don’t
have a good feeling about it.” She hangs up the phone without
saying goodbye and spins her chair to face me straight on. “Would
you like a drink? I’m famished.”

“Sure,” I reply. These days I can’t seem to
feed enough. “Nothing too fresh though,” I warn her.

“Duly noted.” She rises from her desk and
fiddles around in the bar that lines the back wall. From the wood
paneled fridge, she pulls a large pouch of blood. She twists off
the airlock and pours it evenly into two glasses. She offers me the
first before returning to her seat. We drink in silence. I can see
that Anya is still distracted by the phone call. I want to ask her
about it, but I’ve learned enough living with Aldo to know that she
won’t tell me about it, even if I’m bold enough to inquire. If I’m
meant to know, I won’t have to ask.

“The world is an ugly place sometimes.”

“I know.” She doesn’t have to tell me. I’ve
seen it first-hand. I’ve been told that the good outweighs the bad
in this world, but I have trouble believing it. Frankly, that
hasn’t been my experience. I’ve learned it’s better to steel myself
to the outside.

“Aldo would do anything for you. You know
that, don’t you?”

“Of course. And I would do anything for him.
We’re family. He’s the only family I have now.”

“Sometimes when we try to protect those
around us, we’re blinded by love. Objectivity becomes… difficult,”
she says carefully. Anya sighs deeply and leans back in her chair,
crossing her legs. Today she’s wearing red snakeskin stilettos.
“Take that necklace you wear, for example.” My hand jumps
protectively to the pendant around my neck. “To you the bloodstone
is a symbol of Aldo’s love, of family, of his benevolence. To him
it’s a reminder of the sister he lost. That bloodstone is a
reminder of second chances—of redemption.”

Why is she bringing this up now? What is she
trying to say? “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with
anything? I came here tonight to talk about the nightmares.”

“I know.”

What the hell does that mean? “I need to know
why this is happening to me. I need to know how to make it stop.” I
stomp my foot in frustration. Why is Anya being so cryptic? It
reminds me of Aldo. “Look at me. I can’t go on like this much
longer.”