Crossroads (Crossroads Academy #1) (5 page)

I hurriedly begin to dress realizing that the
jeans won’t leave much to the imagination and that the t-shirt,
which hangs off the shoulder, is far from understated with its gold
trim and ruched sleeves. A glance in the mirror reminds me that I
haven’t brushed my hair and that I’m still missing Aldo’s amulet. I
never go anywhere without it. I check the nightstand and find it
right where I left it along with my gold cuff bracelets. I
hurriedly put the finishing touches on my outfit and race back into
the closet in search of a book bag. I find a red leather messenger
satchel and am satisfied that this is the most practical choice
among the bags and clutches that line the shelves of the closet. A
glance at the clock tells me I’m making good time but that I need
to pick up the pace. I don’t know where I’m going, only that my
first class is Historical Perspectives with Professor Moore.

After shoving my textbooks into the red bag
and grabbing a headband from the bathroom I’m off. I’m surprised to
find that the halls are deserted and attribute this to the fact
that most students would have vacated the dorms earlier in search
of breakfast or socialization. Since I’m running late I’ve probably
missed the rush.

I easily find my way to the main hall where
I’m met with a thrush of students and teachers also trying to make
their way to class. The slow movement of the crowd allows me a
moment to consult my map discreetly. It seems that Historical
Perspectives is on the second floor in the east wing, which I have
yet to explore.

I move swiftly through the crowd while
observing my peers and push to the left as I see an opening for the
stairwell. I race up the stairs taking them two at a time. I’m
relieved to see the crowd is much thinner on the second floor and
that there are only handfuls of students still milling around. I
head to the right only to realize I’m going the wrong direction
when I see that the numbers on the classroom doors are increasing.
Typical. My sense of direction often leaves a lot to be desired. As
it turns out, a profound sense of direction is not an inherent vamp
trait, despite what Hollywood would have you believe. Making a
quick 180° turn, I crash face-first into the guy behind me.

“Whoa!” he calls out as I slam into him. The
momentum of our collision forces us both to take a step back.

“Sorry.” I return in a hurried voice. The
response is more habit than true regret. I try to sidestep him, but
we move in unison, as he makes a useless attempt to let me pass.
It’s the awkward dance of two people who just can’t get out of one
another’s path.

“Lose your way?” he asks, flashing me a
confident smile, his full lips parting naturally to reveal his
teeth. I don’t know why, but that smile irritates me. Perhaps
because it’s brimming with perfect teeth and accented with a
perfectly placed dimple. Or maybe it’s because his eyes are filled
with laughter, no doubt at my expense.

“No,” I reply shortly, hoping he can see that
his alluring smile has no effect on me. The guy’s probably used to
girls falling all over themselves to be a recipient of that smile.
He’s tall and muscular with angular features and curly black hair,
which falls carelessly over his piercing blue eyes. A nice touch to
make the girls swoon. I’ve seen his type before. Hell, I’ve dated
his type before.

“Could’ve fooled me.” He shifts again,
blocking any chance I have of passing by. “Nikolai Petrov,” he
introduces himself, offering me his hand and leaving me no choice
but to give him my name in return.

“Katia.”

“Well, Katia. We must stop meeting this way,”
he says suggestively, leaning in so that only I can hear his words.
I quickly analyze his accent and determine it’s probably
Russian.

“We’ve never met,” I say, stopping short. I
realize my mistake as the familiar scents of flora and spice
surround me. This is the guy from last night. My attacker turned
savior. “We’ve never met before,” I reiterate firmly, holding my
ground. I know he’s not going to rat me out, but it’s best not to
allow any familiarity. We aren’t friends nor will we ever be.

“I see you’ve met Katia Lescinka,” Lexie
drawls pointedly, sidling up next to me and placing her hand on my
arm like we’ve known each other forever. I had been so wrapped up
in my irritation that I didn’t notice her approach. I shrug her off
and glance around quickly to see that she’s not alone. Lexie’s got
another girl with her, and, if I were a betting person, I’d say
she’s not happy to see Nikolai and me talking. While her lips are
plastered in that fake smile of a frenemy, her eyes are flat and
cold as she introduces herself.

“Jade,” she states simply by way of
introduction. She doesn’t bother with the usual niceties and
dismisses me with a flip of the hair, as though I were no more
important to her than a glass of spilled milk. “Nikolai! How I’ve
missed you!” she gushes, eyes coming to life, as they settle on her
prey. I can’t help but notice that her pink sweater is at least two
sizes too small, her skirt six inches too short, and her back
arched a little too hard to show off her voluptuous breasts.

For the love of God. I just want to get to
class and don’t need this aggravation. It’s clear there is
something between these two. And why not? They’re both perfect
specimens: Nikolai with his winning smile and Jade with her shiny
blonde hair and heart shaped lips. There’s no doubt in my mind that
this girl is used to getting what she wants, and, from the way
she’s eyeing Nikolai, it’s plain to see what’s next on her
list.

“Well, that’s my cue,” I cut in
sarcastically, detaching myself from the group in a last ditch
attempt to get to class. Apparently none of them share my concern
for punctuality, as they make no move to do the same. The halls are
virtually deserted now, so it’s impossible not to hear the
remainder of their conversation, as I distance myself from
them.

“That’s Aldo’s great niece?” comes the
scathing question. “Not much to look at,” Jade laughs snarkily.

“I don’t know about that,” Nik replies
silkily. I’m certain they are watching me. I can feel their eyes on
my back, boring into me like lasers. Before Jade can reply, Lexie
cuts in, anxious to share what little she’s heard through the rumor
mill.

“I heard that her grandmother, Aldo’s twin
sister, had a major falling out with the family and ran away to
live in the mountains something like six or seven hundred years
ago. Totally off the grid. No one could find her. Not even the
Linkuri.” She pauses to make sure she’s got the undivided attention
of her cohorts. She’s clearly determined to make the most of the
moment. “The family didn’t even know if she was still alive. Then,
out of the blue Aldo finds this girl whose own mom, his supposed
niece, has just died from the blood disease. Says she’s an orphan.
The only one left in the family and his only heir since his own
wife never conceived. Can you imagine? I mean, how can Aldo even be
sure she’s who she says?” questions Lexie.

“Scandalous,” Jade snickers nastily. “And the
best day ever for a fugly mountain troll. Imagine all that power
just falling into your lap. What a freakin’ waste,” she finishes
derisively.

Nikolai remains silent at first. Just when I
decide that he’s not going to weigh in on my juicy background, he
speaks. “Aldo’s not only powerful, he’s intelligent. Best not to be
overheard questioning his decisions.” His reply is neutral at best.
It just pisses me off more.

“What the hell do they know?” I grumble,
quivering with anger.

By the time I reach the end of the hall and
my classroom, my temper is at a steady burn. My hands are shaking,
and I want nothing more than to go back there and tear them to
shreds. They have no idea what they’re talking about, and I hate
the fact that they can stand there so callously and analyze my life
without knowing the facts, without knowing me. But I remember my
promise to Aldo, and it keeps me from turning back. I cannot let
them get under my skin. Besides, this is only day one and things
are likely to get worse before they get better. They always do.
Head held high I reach for the door knob and enter Historical
Perspectives prepared for the lecture I am likely to receive for my
tardiness. They will not defeat me. They do not matter.

**********

Professor Moore is not at all what I’d
expected. I had assumed that anyone who taught Vampir history
would’ve been around to experience most of it firsthand. Apparently
I was wrong. Moore is relatively young. I know because he doesn’t
look a day over 30 by human standards. I figure he’s probably got a
few (maybe three?) centuries under his belt. I like him
immediately.

He doesn’t give me a hard time for being
late, and he’s got a bounce in his step that suggests he doesn’t
take himself too seriously, although he’s pretty intense about the
subject he teaches. Moore’s sporting rumpled khakis and a Hawaiian
shirt, which he’s left open at the collar. He’s got a roguish vibe,
with his sloppy clothes and shaggy brown hair, which makes him more
endearing than most teachers could ever hope to be. A quick glance
at his feet reveals leather flip-flops that complete his seasonally
inspired ensemble. I doubt my others teachers will be half as
cool.

I settle into my desk and furtively scan the
room wondering if it’s apparent to my classmates that I don’t
belong in this beginner’s course. The others seem a little younger,
but no one’s paying any attention to me. They’re all too wrapped up
in their own thoughts and experiences here at Crossroads to bother.
The guy sitting next to me is twitching like a junkie. His leg
bounces furiously which leads me to the obvious conclusion that
he’s craving. Either he missed breakfast or he didn’t feed enough.
The girl on my right is compulsively straightening her hair and
skirt alternately.

I’m pleased to discover that at least in this
classroom my reputation has not preceded me. I smile, enjoying the
anonymity, and focus my attention back on Professor Moore, who’s
strolling the aisles explaining his expectations for the course.
Sounds fair enough. Work load will be heavy, but I’m prepared.

“It’s important that each of you actively
participate,” Moore says quietly. “In order to be successful in
this course, it will be necessary for each of you to develop your
critical thinking skills and your understanding of your heritage.
There is nothing as important as knowing where you come from.
Knowing our past and understanding the events that have shaped our
lives helps us chart a course for the future. It gives us purpose.
It gives us guidance. It gives us understanding.”

I consider his words carefully. I can’t help
but think they ring true after everything I read last night. The
Vampir society has survived a great deal. And still, after
thousands of years, our existence is not recognized by the outside
world. We are the stuff of nightmares, myths, and science fiction.
I know much of the mystery has been inspired and proliferated by
our own kind as a means of misdirection. Much of the lure stems
from the early ages, when bloodlust and indiscriminate
transfigurations ran rampant.

The survival of our society and the Covens is
a tightly knit web held together by the Elders Council. With their
guidance it would seem that we’ve flourished. We’ve beaten
persecution, wars, foamea. For better or worse, we’ve become a
wealthy society full of talent and privilege.

The Council has even created balance among
the purebloods and mixed-bloods, which might have seemed impossible
at one time. The Linkuri nearly wiped out all de sange amestecat in
an effort to stop unbridled conversion and internal power struggles
during the middle ages. The transfigured were hunted relentlessly
and slaughtered mercilessly. The mixed-bloods have since
repopulated, but they will never join the ruling class. And, though
the peace among us is tenuous at best, it is there.

Now, it seems we face our greatest challenge:
a blood disease known as otrava de sange that threatens to wipe out
the born vampires. It’s a scary thought since we don’t conceive and
procreate easily. The questions persist in my mind, as Moore dives
into the early days of vampirism and the spread of our race through
the old countries.

I do my best to stay focused as Moore
lectures but find my mind wandering. I think of Aldo and Lissette
and wonder if my presence will be missed at the manor. I try to
imagine how Viktor, Aldo’s most loyal member of the Linkuri and my
Jujutsu instructor, will spend his evenings now that I am gone. I
remember the sense of peace I felt during my last swim in the lake,
the soft waves lapping at my skin as my naked body cut across the
water.

When Moore dismisses the class I’m surprised
to discover that, not only have I missed much of the subject
matter, but also there are no bells at Crossroads. Apparently the
students are thought too civilized to be herded by such a déclassé
tactic. I promise myself that I’ll be more focused as the day
progresses even though I know it’s unlikely. I’ve never minded
school but have always had difficulty staying attentive.

The rest of the day is a blur of uptight
professors, syllabi, and whispers. I finally make it to the dining
hall over the lunch hour and grab a lukewarm mug of horse blood. I
sit in the corner and make no attempt to join the other students.
I’m not as lucky as I was in my history class. It seems that word
of my presence has spread since this morning, and I have no doubt
whom I can thank. I ignore the whispers, thinking the ludicrous
rumors might be comical if they weren’t about me.

Three o’clock can’t roll around fast enough
so that I’ll have the freedom to retreat to the seclusion of my
room. It’s exhausting trying to bite my tongue and control my
temper. I thought the academics were going to be the difficult part
of Crossroads, but I’m starting to think I severely misjudged the
situation. The highlight of my afternoon is that I manage to avoid
Lexie and Jade, which I deem a small blessing in and of itself.