The Path of Razors (31 page)
Read The Path of Razors Online
Authors: Chris Marie Green
As the Queenshill girls cocked their heads at her, she spied Polly in the rear, her expression sullen. Noreen was at the forefront, closest to the cage. And round all of them the caged boys begged, reaching beyond their bars, only to be ignored.
Della used her classmate mind-link to Noreen, cutting the rest of the group out.
Somehow, I suspect that you did more than leave an anonymous note for the others to find.
Somehow, I suspect that you did more than leave an anonymous note for the others to find.
Noreen didn’t shy away.
So I risked volunteering answers when I realized that the girls were more than receptive to the anonymous note, Della. The news awakened something within them. Everyone here has wondered about their own missing friends at some time before they came Underground.
So I risked volunteering answers when I realized that the girls were more than receptive to the anonymous note, Della. The news awakened something within them. Everyone here has wondered about their own missing friends at some time before they came Underground.
The remainder of the girls—lovely upper-class, well-raised girls—were still watching Della as if she were an ... oracle?
Was she?
No. She had only been desperate enough to speak aloud because she suspected she had nothing more to lose. If she had been out of this cage, would she have ever found a voice?
I suppose,
she thought to Noreen, willing to accept whatever consequences were in store now,
it doesn’t matter if everyone’s privy to what I believe about Mrs. Jones. For all I know, I might not ever be released from this cage, anyway.
she thought to Noreen, willing to accept whatever consequences were in store now,
it doesn’t matter if everyone’s privy to what I believe about Mrs. Jones. For all I know, I might not ever be released from this cage, anyway.
A girl wearing her platinum hair in a chignon, her slim body draped in a white dressing gown, moved next to Noreen, emanating maturity. Della had no doubt this was an older vampire, even though she appeared to be sixteen.
How did you come upon this information about Mrs. Jones?
she asked, looking into Della’s eyes to reach a mind-link, since they weren’t born in the same Queenshill class.
she asked, looking into Della’s eyes to reach a mind-link, since they weren’t born in the same Queenshill class.
Like Della and Noreen, the older vampire clearly knew to keep silent about this, refusing to broadcast their doubts in case any cameras should pick them up. They needed to stay quiet on all counts, even though Noreen had already told Della that a good deal of the recruits were either still playing in the common areas or flitting round aboveground in the Lion and the Lamb, where Wolfie had a deal with an owner who never asked just what the girls who brought such good business were. And Mrs. Jones was nowhere to be found at the present time, either—she was probably still finishing business at the school.
Wolfie himself had gone above to run about the heath at such an eye-blurring pace that no human would ever be able to mark it.
So their thoughts were safe ... unless the Queenshill girls decided to tell on Della.
She braced her arms over her stomach. Hungry. She couldn’t think of how to protect herself when she was so hungry.
Yet her answer was safe enough.
I can’t explain how I came to know about Mrs. Jones,
she told the older vampire, who seemed to be in charge of all these gathered ex-students.
I can’t explain how I came to know about Mrs. Jones,
she told the older vampire, who seemed to be in charge of all these gathered ex-students.
Noreen made eye contact with the lead Queenshill girl, and Della could hear what she was saying because of her and Noreen’s opened classmate mind-link.
I told you, Stacy
—
dreams. Della had vivid dreams that make all too much sense in the context of what we’ve experienced.
—
dreams. Della had vivid dreams that make all too much sense in the context of what we’ve experienced.
All the girls looked at one another, all the different schoolmates who’d survived Mrs. Jones, making eye contact and silently spreading the word. Their communication created a flurry of sound because of the class mind-links.
Dreams,
they said.
they said.
Visions
...
...
Amidst the buzz, Noreen kept glancing at the older vampire named Stacy while also thinking to Della,
After I spoke up about the note, we started talking, the lot of us, new students and old. Comparing. And it seems that, each year, one classmate would leave school about every six months from every class.
After I spoke up about the note, we started talking, the lot of us, new students and old. Comparing. And it seems that, each year, one classmate would leave school about every six months from every class.
Stacy added to that, her tone bitter.
Their absences never seemed terribly connected and, once Underground, the pain faded for the older ones. Wolfie was here, and that was all we wanted. We didn’t think about Mrs. Jones anymore. She never came round much, so it was easy to forget how she would look at me as if
...
Their absences never seemed terribly connected and, once Underground, the pain faded for the older ones. Wolfie was here, and that was all we wanted. We didn’t think about Mrs. Jones anymore. She never came round much, so it was easy to forget how she would look at me as if
...
As if she wanted to devour you?
Della finished.
Della finished.
Nodding, Stacy glanced at her own classmates for their reactions. They, in turn, peered about the room and shared with the other girl vampires who hadn’t been in their exclusive class. Soon, they all seemed just as haunted as Della, and she was more certain than ever that she had done well in having pursued her suspicions, because even if some of the girls had forgotten during the passage of years, there was a part of them that still hurt for their missing friends—girls who they believed had abandoned the class.
Yet then Stacy lanced Della with a look.
You’ve got us interested, and we’re all too willing to believe this about Mrs. Jones. But, then, what of Wolfie?
You’ve got us interested, and we’re all too willing to believe this about Mrs. Jones. But, then, what of Wolfie?
Della was quick to come to his defense, perhaps because it covered her own misgivings.
No! He couldn’t have known about what Mrs. Jones was doing.
No! He couldn’t have known about what Mrs. Jones was doing.
Even if he’d been with his mistress for centuries.
Soon, the other girls were shaking their heads, as if, in a chain reaction, they were all refusing to believe Wolfie was just as guilty.
Mrs. Jones was the only one responsible, Della told herself. Just the cat. Wolfie loved them too much, whereas Mrs. Jones had always seemed to resent them, even while pretending to care.
However, that trickle of uncertainty remained. That thin line of trembling “what if?”
Della could only take strength in the obvious need of the Queenshill alumnae to believe in him. The willingness to place the blame far away from the benevolent master who had always treated them with such affection.
All the girls had come closer, as if creating a hive that would enclose them in this new knowledge and keep them safe until they knew how to emerge.
She could hear the droning of connected thoughts from all the girls as she looked into Stacy’s light eyes.
There was always a sense of jealousy from Mrs. Jones,
they were thinking.
When she and Wolfie first began turning us into vampires
—
even long before she became a housematron
—
she took part in the exchange with the very old girls almost reluctantly.... She was always slinking around in her cat shape whenever Wolfie came near us in the sub-Underground.... It was as if she wished to disappear, yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave him alone with us....
they were thinking.
When she and Wolfie first began turning us into vampires
—
even long before she became a housematron
—
she took part in the exchange with the very old girls almost reluctantly.... She was always slinking around in her cat shape whenever Wolfie came near us in the sub-Underground.... It was as if she wished to disappear, yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave him alone with us....
At this last thought, Della recalled how she herself had seen the cat’s eyes glowing through the darkness of doorways and in hiding spaces when Wolfie was close. How Mrs. Jones had watched while he frolicked with her and her classmates, three of whom had disappeared.
Wolfie
, one of the girls thought.
If he only knew, hed
—
, one of the girls thought.
If he only knew, hed
—
Stacy raised a hand to silence the notion.
We leave Wolfie out of this.
We leave Wolfie out of this.
They all glanced round as one of the boys in his cage laughed madly to himself, breaking the quiet.
Della disconnected from Stacy’s eyes and, with no small amount of paranoia, opened her senses full force while trying to feel Mrs. Jones’s returned presence anywhere in the Underground. But she could not.
She connected back to Stacy, to the network, just as another schoolgirl thought,
Why would she do it?
Why would she do it?
It sounded like Polly, even though she still loitered in the background, hunched over, her straight hair hiding her face.
Stacy tilted her head as she waited for Della to respond. They thought she had an answer.
Youth?
Della finally thought, remembering the dream of the vampiress in the tub.
Blood baths make Mrs. Jones seem younger, even if she’s a vampire born centuries ago. Drinking through the skin
—
Della finally thought, remembering the dream of the vampiress in the tub.
Blood baths make Mrs. Jones seem younger, even if she’s a vampire born centuries ago. Drinking through the skin
—
Gives her a glow.
Stacy ran her fingers over her own arm.
Stacy ran her fingers over her own arm.
A fraction of the other girls shifted, touching their own skin, frowning.
Since Stacy was so close, Della took in the other vampire’s face. There
was
something different about this older Queenshill girl, as well as a few of the others. Nothing obvious, but perhaps less of a flush to the cheeks, less of a sparkle in their gazes...
was
something different about this older Queenshill girl, as well as a few of the others. Nothing obvious, but perhaps less of a flush to the cheeks, less of a sparkle in their gazes...
Yes, the start of something that wasn’t the same as what Della saw in
her
eyes in the mirror, no matter how young the other vampires seemed everywhere else.
her
eyes in the mirror, no matter how young the other vampires seemed everywhere else.
Had they—the older ones—begun to long for youth treatments? The other girls who had been Underground even before Mrs. Jones became a housematron had even more of a maturity, now that Della truly thought about it.
Would they all be just like Mrs. Jones, their cocreator, as the years passed?
What are we?
Della asked.
What did they make us?
Della asked.
What did they make us?
No one knew, because neither Wolfie nor Mrs. Jones had ever explained the particulars. They had given them long lives of affection and adoration—promises as bright and sweet as truffles—and as with all overwhelming gifts, none of them had ever thought to ask what the price would be as long as they were happy.
Yet that had not stopped Della from wondering, upon occasion, where her soul had gone and what might happen to it should she ever want it again.
Noreen had huddled near the entrance of the cage, and she aimed her next mind-question at Della.
So what do we do now?
Della looked into Stacy’s eyes, seeing that the older vampire had come to peer right back.
Why? Della was only one of them, no more special, no more ...
In her mind’s eye, a flock of white ribbons fluttered, and she realized she had somehow become more.
Della Bennett of the frizzy hair and classroom daydreams ...
She rose to her knees, grasping the bars of her cage.
I want to know,
she mind-said.
I want to know,
she mind-said.
Stacy’s own missing classmates were at the front of her thoughts—Della could feel the bruising presence of them.
Want to know what?
the other vampire thought.
the other vampire thought.
I want to know what happened to them. Definitively. I want to see, and if what we suspect about Mrs. Jones is genuine, I want to show Blanche and Briana and Sharon that I haven’t forgotten them. That I never will.
Your injuries from their absences are too fresh,
Stacy mind-said, acting as if she had grown out of the same phase. Yet Della could tell—they all could tell—from the pang in the older vampire’s tone that those injures had come back with the introduction of Della’s dreams.
Stacy mind-said, acting as if she had grown out of the same phase. Yet Della could tell—they all could tell—from the pang in the older vampire’s tone that those injures had come back with the introduction of Della’s dreams.
Every youthful hurt, every twist of betrayal.
None of that ever really died, Della suspected, no matter how many years flew by.
I want,
Della added, staring at Stacy,
to see all of it and know that it’s true before I pay Mrs. Jones for what she did.
Della added, staring at Stacy,
to see all of it and know that it’s true before I pay Mrs. Jones for what she did.
The schoolgirls stirred as Stacy thought,
You want to look inside Mrs. Jones. Is that what you’re saying, Della?
You want to look inside Mrs. Jones. Is that what you’re saying, Della?
Together we could,
Della said, putting it all on the line, because she knew she would never have another chance.
Strength in numbers. We’ve been raised as a future army, haven’t we? On the nightcrawls that Wolfie used to stoke our hunger and train us
,
we were schooled in how to work together. We’ve just never tried it outside of hunting humans.
Della said, putting it all on the line, because she knew she would never have another chance.
Strength in numbers. We’ve been raised as a future army, haven’t we? On the nightcrawls that Wolfie used to stoke our hunger and train us
,
we were schooled in how to work together. We’ve just never tried it outside of hunting humans.
It’s true, whispered one girl in the network of their minds. It was Noreen, whose anguish matched Della’s.
The older vampire narrowed her eyes, and in the other girl’s gaze, Della could see the ghosts of Stacy’s own missing friends resurrected by the possibility of a reckoning.
If we acted,
Stacy thought, it
would change everything, you know. If we were to be caught by Mrs. Jones
while
forcing
ourselves
into her mind, there’s no punishment she wouldn’t exercise.
Stacy thought, it
would change everything, you know. If we were to be caught by Mrs. Jones
while
forcing
ourselves
into her mind, there’s no punishment she wouldn’t exercise.
Della leaned against the bars.
Then again, Wolfie deserves better than Mrs. Jones, and we can make certain that he gets it. Do you recall his sadness after the disappearance of each student, and can you imagine how he might feel if he knew what Mrs. Jones was doing?
Then again, Wolfie deserves better than Mrs. Jones, and we can make certain that he gets it. Do you recall his sadness after the disappearance of each student, and can you imagine how he might feel if he knew what Mrs. Jones was doing?
They remembered.
And she could also feel that their anger about their friends had shaped itself into a rage for Wolfie’s sake.
How dare Mrs. Jones do this behind his back?
they thought.
How
dare
she?
they thought.
How
dare
she?
And, in that moment, she thought that there was absolutely no possible way Wolfie
could
know. He would never sacrifice them for Mrs. Jones’s vanity.
could
know. He would never sacrifice them for Mrs. Jones’s vanity.
She kept repeating it, clinging to it as gazes disconnected, leaving each girl to her own musings. Then, little by little, they drifted into small groups most likely composed of the survivors from each class.
Except that Noreen was the only one of Della’s classmates to come near her. Polly stayed on the other side of the kitchens, near the basins.
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