Mirage (7 page)

“Just that you’ll come to me if things start seeming dangerous, that’s all. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

I sucked in my breath, surprised by his offer. “You don’t even
know
me.”

“You’re a student here at Winterhaven. A precog, like me. That’s all I need to know.”

I needed to stall for time, to think this through before I made any promises. “That’s very … generous of you.”

“Then you’ll promise?”

I searched my instincts, wanting to make sure that his intentions were on the up-and-up, that he wasn’t trying to manipulate me for some unknown, nefarious reason. Because if there’s one thing I’d learned in the past year, it’s that you just never know.

My gaze met his unflinching one, and I felt nothing but a surprising kinship. He seemed sincere, I decided. Earnest. Whatever his reasons were for wanting to protect me, they were good ones—ones I could trust.

I nodded. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“So, how’d it go?” Aidan asked, lowering himself to the grass beside me. The late afternoon sun shone down on his head, turning his hair a deep, fiery gold. I resisted the urge to reach out and run my fingers through it.

“The sun really doesn’t bother you?” I asked instead.

Shading his eyes with one hand, he glanced up at the bright orb in question, high in the clear blue sky. “Nope. Took the elixir yesterday. I’m good for a while.”

My gaze was drawn toward his calves, bare below his olive-colored cargo shorts. He was definitely pale, his skin fairer than mine—but not pale in the “I haven’t seen the sun for a hundred years” sense.

“Do you ever tan?” I asked.

“Nah, my skin stays the same exact same shade as it was when I was turned. Just think, if I’d been a laborer instead of a viscount’s son, I’d have been stuck with a farmer’s tan forever. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”

“What, you mean with Dr. Hot—Dr. Byrne?” I stammered, distracted by the mental image of Aidan wearing a nineteenth-century suit and cravat. “It went fine, I guess.”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “Do you
really
have to call him that?”

“Are you jealous?” I teased, plucking a blade of grass and tossing it at him.

“Of course I am.” He shrugged.

For a moment, I just stared at him, stunned. Was he serious? “He’s a teacher,” I finally said.

“A very young, very good-looking teacher.” He reached for my hand, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. “You just spent two hours with him, locked away in his office on a Saturday.”

I let out my breath in a huff. “Okay, let me repeat myself in case you missed this the first time. He’s a teacher. Secondly, he’s a teacher. And lastly, he’s—”

“Yeah, I know,” he interrupted. “A teacher. Allow me to repeat
my
self. He’s a very young, very good-looking teacher.”

“And for the record,” I continued, as if I hadn’t heard him, “the door was not locked.” At least, I was pretty sure it wasn’t. Why would it have been? “And he’s
way
older than me, besides.”

“And I’m … what? A hundred and something years older than you? Help me out with the math; I’m afraid I’ve lost count.”

“You’re seventeen, Aidan,” I said with a sigh. “You’ll always be seventeen.”

“Not always, not if I can help it,” he said sharply. The edge of desperation in his voice was unmistakable. As always, it made my heart break. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be him—to be the same age forever and ever.

The very idea that some people actually yearned for immortality baffled me beyond reason. I wondered if they had any idea what it would be like to watch everyone you know grow old and die, to find yourself alone time after time. And even worse, to be a vampire, at the mercy of your cravings—cravings that meant you had to hurt people, even kill them. Why would people glorify such an existence? The toll it took on Aidan was obvious—and yet the Propagators seemed to revel in it, wanting to spread vampirism far and wide.

Aidan pulled me closer, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. I could smell him now, his scent totally different from Dr. Byrne’s—and far more familiar. “You cold?” he asked. “I can go get you a jacket. Rather quickly, if you want,” he added.

And he could, in an instant, if he wanted to. He could teleport—or whatever it was he did—to his room and back again in a matter of seconds.

I shook my head. “I’m fine. People would see you, anyway.”

“I would go the normal way, until I was out of sight. I’m not that reckless, Vi. There are still secrets to keep.”

“Not from me,” I said vehemently.

“Not from you,” he agreed. “Never again.” His mouth dipped down toward my neck, beneath my ear. My heart began to gallop as I felt his lips press against my skin. His teeth could pierce that fragile skin in an instant, I realized.

“Do you want to go to the chapel?” he asked, his voice hoarse against my neck.

Dangerous
. The word popped into my mind, insistent and firm.

“Not now,” I managed to choke out.

He sat up sharply. “What’s going on, Violet?”

I shook my head, trying to catch my breath. “Nothing’s going on. I’m just … it’s just …” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

His brows drew together sharply. “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you? Because of yesterday. Or is it something more, something to do with your
Sâbbat
—”

“It’s not that—nothing like that. God, I don’t know what’s going on,” I said in exasperation. Tears flooded my eyes, my vision swimming.

“Please don’t cry,” he said, his voice soft as he cupped my face with his hands.

“I’m not crying,” I said, even as he wiped away the evidence to the contrary with one thumb. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I missed you so much, and now you’re here and I’m acting all weird.”

He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “I missed you, too. Just give yourself some time—we’ve got the whole year ahead of us.”

“True.” I took a deep, fortifying breath. “Speaking of which, what’s your schedule like this year? I hope we’ve got some classes together.”

“I haven’t really looked at mine yet,” he said with a shrug. “What are you taking?”

“I’m taking calculus, believe it or not. I have
no
idea what I was thinking. Please tell me you’re good at calculus.”

“Good enough, and I probably signed up for a section myself. What about history?”

“The senior-level British history class, whatever it is. Something about politics and foreign relations, maybe?” Winterhaven didn’t offer normal high school classes like AP US history or western civ. The classes were
way
more sophisticated than that.

“So, you’re really into British history now, are you?” he asked teasingly.

“Maybe,” I said, laughing. I hadn’t really thought about it, but of course I was. Because of Aidan. I wanted to know as much as possible about the world he’d come from.

He was grinning at me now. “What else are you taking?”

“Let’s see. … I’ve got Ackerman’s senior-level English class, and fourth-year French. Oh, and I’m taking art history—”

“Hey, me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I thought it might be interesting—field trips to the Met and all that. Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together this semester.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” I hoped he wasn’t going to be disappearing for days on end, like he did last year. But he probably was, considering he was redoubling his efforts to find his cure.

The sound of laughter drifted across the quad, and I looked up and saw Jenna surrounded by a group of her friends. Our eyes met and held for the briefest of moments, and then she turned away.

“She doesn’t want to talk to us,” I said, shaking my head. “I just don’t get it.”

“What does it matter?” he asked.

“Because she saved us, that’s why. Why is she blowing us off now?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think Jenna and I will ever be friends, Vi. It’s against our nature.”

“Why, because you’re natural-born enemies?” I pressed. “Kind of like you and a
Sâbbat
?”

“Touché,” he said quietly, giving my hand a squeeze.

“We deserve an explanation. Can’t you do something? You obviously know each other well enough. Cece’s seen you together, you know. Off in the woods, after curfew.” I tried to keep the edge out of my voice, but it was no use. Jealousy was a two-way street, I guessed.

“What was Cece doing out after—”

“Not regular Cece.
Astral
Cece,” I explained. “You know, out for a virtual stroll.”

He cleared his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable. “As I’ve said before, I can’t speak for Jenna.”

“Well, then, get her to talk to us. Use your mind powers on her or something. Go.” I tipped my head toward where she still stood, across the quad from us. “I’m serious,” I prodded when he didn’t move from his spot beside me.

He shook his head with a laugh. “Are you really suggesting that I manipulate her with my mind? Isn’t that a serious COPA violation?”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “As if those rules mean anything to you. What was it that Mrs. Girard called you that day in her office? Her ‘greatest creation’?” I made air quotes with my fingers. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’ve got a free pass with her.”

“Don’t be so sure of that. But I
will
go talk to Jenna.”

“Thank you,” I said with a sigh.

“Talk,” he repeated sternly. “Not manipulate. I’m not a hundred percent sure I could, anyway,” he muttered, rising lithely to his feet.

With nervous anticipation, I watched him jog across the quad. As he approached, Jenna moved away from her friends, meeting Aidan under the branches of an enormous old oak. I watched the pantomime of their conversation—lips moving, hands gesturing. I could only imagine what he was saying to her. Finally I saw him nod, and then he started back in my direction. Again, Jenna’s gaze caught mine across the distance that separated us. For the life of me, I couldn’t read her expression.

When Aidan finally reached my side, he stretched out a hand toward me. I took it, rising to my feet beside him. “Well?” I prompted, brushing the grass from my butt with my free hand.

“She’ll meet with us after dinner tonight and explain everything. You might as well go find your friends and tell them—dinner’s in an hour. I’ll tell Jack and Joshua. Seven o’clock, in the chapel.”

I dropped his hand and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you,” I murmured, breathing in his scent, allowing myself to experience the full brunt of the Aidan effect. “God, you smell
so
good.” Sunshine and spice and something that smelled almost like … bergamot, I realized. Like Gran’s favorite hot tea, Earl Grey. Which, now that I thought about it, was kind of funny. Earl Grey, Viscount Gray.

“Better than Dr. Hottie?” Aidan asked huskily, one hand pressed into the small of my back, steadying me.

“
Way
better,” I shot back, before I’d thought better of it.

“That was a test, and you just failed it. Quite spectacularly, I might add.”

“Oh, please.”
That stupid Aidan effect.
He’d caught me totally off guard. Truthfully, though, I kind of liked that he was jealous—or at least pretending to be jealous. It made me feel … powerful. And maybe a little bit naughty.

I reached up and tangled my fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, drawing his head back toward mine. “Dr. who?” I whispered against his lips. A jolt of electricity raced down my spine as I opened my mouth against his.

“I dunno,” he murmured in reply, kissing me softly but thoroughly, careful to keep some space between our bodies. For the second time that day, his lips trailed down my jaw, toward my neck. That same thrill made my heart race and my palms dampen.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” came a voice behind me. Aidan released me at once, and I spun around to find Cece and Sophie standing there, gaping.

“Sorry, but his, uh … yeah … his teeth were just a little too close to your neck for comfort, if you know what I mean,” Cece finally managed. Sophie just continued to stare, her eyes wide.

Aidan laughed, his eyes bright with a level of amusement that I wasn’t quite feeling myself. “You really thought I was going to bite her, right here in the quad, in broad daylight?”

Cece held up two hands, palms out. “Hey, I was just making sure, that’s all.”

“And your intentions are fully appreciated,” Aidan said with a grin. “Why don’t you tell them the news,” he said to me. “I’ll see you at seven?”

I nodded. “Sounds good.”

Not as good as continuing to make out, but whatever.

6 ~ The Wolf’s Tale

J
enna sat in the frontmost pew, Aidan beside her, both of them facing backward toward the rest of us in the pews behind them. I sensed then that perhaps Aidan was a bigger part of her story than I realized, and I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that.

Beside me, Cece turned and gave me a questioning look. I just shrugged. I had no idea what to expect from this little get-together.

“I’m pretty sure the coast is clear,” Jenna said to Aidan, her nose lifted as if she were sniffing the air—and maybe she was, given that she was part wolf. Or something like that.

Aidan paused, his head tipped to one side. “Yeah, there’s no one around. We’re good. “

Jenna nodded. “First off, I just want to say that I’ve got my own group of friends,” she began, her voice hard. “They don’t know what I am, and I want to keep it that way.”

There were assorted mumbles of “of course” and “yeah, whatever” around me. I just nodded, still a little disconcerted by the fact that Aidan was sitting there with
her
—possibly the most beautiful girl at Winterhaven. Tall, willowy, with wide blue eyes and perfect cheekbones. I got that they were mortal enemies—vampire and werewolf—but they seemed connected in some way, despite Aidan’s claim that they weren’t even friends.

“So don’t expect me to start hanging out with you guys or anything,” she continued, her churlish tone a stark contrast to her serene beauty.