Strange Academy (Hot Paranormal Romance) (10 page)
“With you having such a large influence on my daughter,” Count Burana began, “I have come to see what is your attitude toward vam—”
Gray developed a sudden, loud, interruptive coughing fit, and the rest of the other man’s sentence was lost beneath its noise. It sounded completely fake. She shot him a devastating glare, but Gray’s cautiously blank expression looked less than devastated. She had to work on her devastating glare.
Count Burana laughed, but it sounded almost nervous. “Ah, I forget my English in my excitement. I mean to say Eastern Europeans. You see, some people believe that vam—er, Eastern Europeans—are blood-sucking indiscriminate killers, showing no respect for human life.”
“Uhm,” she said, unaware of anyone actually thinking that. But before she could figure out how to say it, he went on.
“We Eastern Europeans are much like anyone else, Miss Strange. Certainly there are Eastern Europeans who come to abuse their power, often due to poor training and lack of a moral role model, but many Eastern Europeans are valuable, productive members of society, performing important services for our communities.”
“I’m sure,” she assured him, though the conversation was getting more and more bizarre. She had that Twilight Zone feeling again, like she was missing something important right in front of her face.
“Carmina, she is my daughter. But not by blood, you understand. She is—
adopted
. My people, we do not have this word. She is simply my daughter.” Over the little round sunglasses, Sadie saw concern in his eyes.
“One day, my daughter will have to decide if she wants to be like me, a vam—”
Gray coughed.
“—an
Eastern European
,” Count Burana continued. “She should not make this decision based on outside opinions.”
“Even if the outside opinions have a point?” Gray said.
This was the most bizarre conversation. She was missing something, clearly. Why wouldn’t Carmina want to be Eastern European? Were they talking about her moving to the country that her father was from?
“Gray.” Sadie made her voice a warning.
“I’ve known some
Eastern Europeans
.” Gray lifted his chin. “I’m reporting what you did to the girl to Temple, Burana.”
Now there was a name she hadn’t heard before. Did he have something to do with the school? “Who’s Temple?”
Count Burana carried on. “Ah, young Diana. She has a strong will. Report me if you must. So long as the girl is not blamed for my welcome here.”
“Who’s Temple?” Sadie asked, louder.
Both men ignored her, intent on their conversation. What did a girl have to do to get some attention around here—start taking off clothes or something?
“No, that’s
her
fault.” Gray pointed at her.
“Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!” Sadie said.
“Miss Strange, your eye twitches.” Both men stared at her.
“I. Know.” Sadie closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. When her sanity returned, she spoke again. “Count Burana, I know what you are.”
“You do?” The two men echoed each other.
“I’ve met you already. Because I’ve met Carmina.”
Count Burana and Gray exhaled in unison, like they were relieved.
Sadie continued, “She’s sensitive and kind. Because of you. I know a lot about you. And I know her future decisions will be based on the things you taught her.”
“But—”
“Count Burana,” she interrupted, “if you’re afraid of outside influences on her, why did you send her here?”
“So she may choose wisely, understanding what her choice means,” he admitted.
Sadie’s heart ached. From the misery on his face, it hadn’t been an easy decision. Sadie took his hand—which was still cold, he must have low blood pressure—and squeezed. Gray bared white teeth in her peripheral vision.
“Even if it means she doesn’t choose what you want her to,” she said. “You’re a good father, Your Excellency. That counts for more than who her fifth grade English teacher is.”
Count Burana’s shoulders slumped. He wasn’t happy. But he saw her point.
“Aww. Group hug?” Gray’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“Great. Now,” Sadie said. “Tommy Hilfiger.”
“I do not know this person.” Count Burana looked confused.
“That’s the problem. Carmina needs clothes that don’t look like Wednesday Addams hand-me-downs for when she's not in her uniform. She’s had trouble fitting in.” Sadie had seen Carmina around the campus, always alone.
“Mr. Hilfiger will make her some garments?”
Sadie didn’t bother to explain. “I’ll send you some websites where you can order them.”
“Websites?” Count Burana glanced sideways at Gray, who offered no help. “Yes, certainly I would like some websites. I shall give you my address. The mail is, however, quite slow.”
Sadie raised her eyebrows. “You
do
have a computer?”
The man raised his hands helplessly.
“Credit card,” Sadie said.
*
***
******
****
*
Twenty minutes later, Sadie had steamrolled Count Burana into putting thousands of dollars of clothing and computer equipment on his gold card and signed him up for the most expensive satellite Internet service in Europe. He was ecstatic.
They stood at the front door to Strange Hall and his voice broke like he held back tears. “I can talk to my little one every day. I cannot thank you enough, Miss Strange.”
Sadie had the warm fuzzies herself. Not to sound like a public service announcement, but she’d made a difference here. Apparently the guy lived in some backwater Eastern European community. Under a rock, maybe. “You can e-mail me after the technician sets up your access.”
“I wish to try this ‘Twitter.’” Her new best friend kissed her on both cheeks, very European. “You have my eternal loyalty. Eternal.”
Sadie looked to see Gray’s reaction and was a little weirded out to notice he wasn’t in sight. Her good mood evaporated. “When did Gray leave?”
Count Burana’s tone suddenly changed. He looked over his sunglasses at her. “You will be careful with him, yes?”
His sudden seriousness chilled her.
“Lorde Gray is as dangerous as I, myself. Perhaps more. If he chooses to do so, he could bend your body to his will.” Burana glanced around, as if there might be someone wandering the Strange Hall foyer at four in the morning, then lowered his voice. “I lodged a formal complaint against him teaching here. There is a history of madness in his family.”
What the hell? Madness? What did that mean? Her mind was drawn back to Pippa’s “accident” like a magnet. “I don’t understand. Everyone does what he says.”
“My dear, he is not respected so much as he is feared.”
Sadie, in her undies, surveyed her closet, trying to convince herself not to wear her black suit again. Black was the only color she’d ever really felt good in, and it was Monday morning again.
Individually, the kids were okay. But in a group they were awful. She dreaded Sterling Gray’s fifth grade class more than any of them.
And they sensed it.
Oh, hell. She grabbed the black suit from the hanger and pulled it on.
*
***
******
****
*
Fifteen minutes later, Sadie saw a flash of white dart out of the way when she opened the front door of Strange Hall.
“Jewel.” It couldn’t be anyone else. And she’d nearly brained her with the door. “Are you all right?”
Jewel looked like someone whose concentration had just been broken. She nodded.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there.”
“It’s all right.” Jewel wiped her left hand on her white coat, leaving a dusting of brown powder behind. There was a circular pattern of the same powder on the Strange Hall steps.
“I didn’t know ice removal was part of the residence advisor position.” A light layer of snow frosted the steps, but the sun shining in the perfect blue sky would melt it by noon.
Jewel looked at the velvet—velvet?—bag of ice melter and then at her. “Sadie, you must never let Carmina’s father in again.”
“Why not? He seemed pleasant enough.” Her stomach soured. Great, she’d finally done something right, and everyone was criticizing her for it.
“Men like him do,” Jewel said cryptically.
She’d thought of nothing but Count Burana’s final warning all weekend. Could Gray have been involved with Pippa’s death somehow? Her mind fought to dismiss the idea outright.
“Jewel, are you afraid of Gray?”
Jewel blinked at the subject change, then recovered. “No. Of course not.”
Sadie nodded and turned down the path to the Arts Building. She hadn’t imagined the fear in Jewel’s eyes.
*
***
******
****
*
“Who wants to find the noun in this sentence?” Sadie asked the fifth graders.
She turned from the blackboard to find no one wanted to do anything of the sort. Althea, Dot, and Xenia had their heads together, giggling. Mackenzie doodled in his textbook. And Findlay froze in the middle of passing a note to Portia.
Sadie closed her eyes against the oncoming headache. There should be some kind of training for teachers.
Well, duh,
she thought.
It’s called teachers college.
Looked like the odds of someone volunteering were nil. She picked a victim. “Sterling? Please come to the front.”
Sterling Gray could have been his uncle’s Mini Me, except his skin was a few shades lighter. He came wordlessly and stared at the sentence she’d written on the board.
“There’s no chalk.” Sterling stared down his miniature Roman nose at her.
She clenched her jaw and found a new piece on her desk. When she handed it to him, her stupid ears pressurized again...only to be pierced by a sharp little-girl scream. Ash-blonde Althea covered her mouth and pointed at Sadie’s desk.
Which was on fire.
Sadie stared at it for a frozen instant, watching flames lick up the back of the chair where she’d sat a moment earlier. She clapped her hands twice.
“Okay, class.” An odd calm drifted over her—the same calm she’d once felt while a heavy man was lying on her and she had a lamp in her hand. “Please leave the room. Everybody line up—”
She was interrupted by nineteen screaming ten-year-olds running into the hallway.
“Don’t panic,” she added, too late.
“And don’t pull the fire alarm,” she added, also too late.
The alarm vibrated through the hallway. Her head developed a matching ring. At the evilly loud sound, kids came pouring out of other classrooms. Teachers stood in doorways, counting heads as the students passed. Only her kids ran and yelled.
She recognized a bronze head over the flowing sea of kids. “Mr. Klark! Look after my class.”
Parker opened his mouth to argue, but nodded and crutched off after them.
She went for the fire extinguisher, ten feet down the hallway, struggling against traffic flow. Still oddly calm, she lugged the heavy silver cylinder back to her classroom and started reading the instructions written on the side while the growing flames consumed her desk.
Step 1: Pull pin. Hold unit upright.
“Check.”
Step 2: Stand back six feet and aim at base of fire.
“Right.” She faced the fire and paced off in reverse. In the middle of the fourth step, her back hit a solid, warm wall.
She closed her eyes and slumped against it. “I suppose it’s too much to hope you’re Christian.”
“Yep.” A big hand lifted the extinguisher out of her grasp.
She stood back and watched Gray’s mastery of
Step 3: Squeeze lever and sweep side to side
. Heroic muscles played and flexed across Gray’s back and shoulders.
The impressive sight competed with the sick feeling creeping into her stomach. “No! Not my—”
Gray aimed the extinguisher and fired.
“—lesson plans,” she said. “At least leave my—”
He fired again, his target unmistakable.
“—laptop.” She couldn’t help sighing.
When the extinguisher was empty and her desk covered by a mound of white foam, he tossed the canister aside. The clang of it skidding into a desk reverberated in the empty room.
It was too much. She didn’t deserve to be a target just because she hadn’t gone to a private school or been served life on a platter. “Little monsters,” she spat. “Little monsters.”
Gray growled, turning on her. His gray eyes flared, a greater threat than the fire. He advanced on her, growing larger with each step.
Her mouth turned dry as the Sahara. What had she said? Called the kids monsters. She retreated from the hot menace—the murder—in his eyes.Memories of Count Burana’s warning and the fear in Jewel’s face flooded back.
Sadie turned and ran.
*
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*
Sadie barely saw the students and teachers crowded outside the Arts Building as she flew by on pumping legs. She ignored their gaping stares and concentrated on her destination.
The library. The round building came closer with every stride. Its copper spire jutted into the cloudy sky like a knife. She’d been so wrong to try to teach, to fit in, to make friends. She’d just screwed up, stuck out, and earned enemies. Like Gray.
I don’t want her poking around, he’d told Christian. Everything he did was calculated to keep her from finding out what had really happened to Aunt Pippa. The few people she’d asked about Pippa’s death had avoided the question, talking only about their respect for her. He had to be the ringleader of this conspiracy of silence. All those perfect lips did was lie.
Turn back
, said a voice in her brain.
Pippa died in there
.
She ignored it, and the crazy fear building in her heart.
This was her last chance. She wouldn’t turn back. Gray might use the fire to prove she couldn’t control her classroom, getting her fired. Maybe she’d never solve the mystery. Her heart pounded and she clenched her fists to keep them from shaking. Her eardrums pounded out a rock star drum solo.
Don’t go in
, ordered the voice.
