A Drop of Red (16 page)

“Let’s think for a moment about what we’re proposing,” she said. “We truly wish to poach on the territory of the very one who meted out our punishment last night?”

“We weren’t left with much of an option,” Violet said. “And we were never told to starve ourselves tonight.”

“We’ll only visit the younger girls anyway,” Polly added.

Della refrained from saying her own piece. Yet why should she when Blanche was doing it for her?

“Consider this from a human’s point of view,” she said. “Twice a week, there’s a different girl in the house who takes ill. Both seem pale and listless, yet both quickly recover with bed rest and proper nutrition. We five are the only students who know what is actually occurring, yet none of us speak of it, because we know our keeper enjoys feeding here. But the other adults and students? They say the illness is due to stress. Only stress. Yet soon, there’s another sickly girl. Then another later in the week.”

“Your point?” Polly asked.

“As of now, we’ve been fortunate they haven’t put the pieces of the puzzle together.” Blanche didn’t even blink. “Won’t multiple cases over the weekend change that?”

Noreen crossed her arms over her stomach. “We’ve managed to hide a quick drink the other times we were told to stay on the grounds—”

Violet held her hand up and everyone fell to silence.

“Perhaps,” she said softly, “we
should
consider Blanche’s argument.”

It had taken quite a bit for Violet to agree with Blanche, but Della knew just how much none of them wished to get caught. How they treasured this existence.

Truth be told, all of them fancied it beyond measure, because Queenshill was more of a home than any of them had ever possessed. Yes, they were well-bred and well-off, but all they had ever known since an early age was boarding school.

And, in school, they had come to find each other.

In fact, when the invitation to join in this exclusive class had come along, not a one of them had thought to refuse, for where else did they have to go? To whom did they have to go?

“Violet?” Noreen said, her fingers entangled. “I’m
so
ravenous.”

“We all need better sustenance,” Polly added, “especially after last night.”

Della’s veins grumbled in agreement.

Violet laid a hand on Polly’s head and smoothed back her hair. Then she eased off of the bed.

“I wonder if providing the campus with something to chat about in the morning rather than ill little girls would be the answer,” she ruminated out loud.

“Yes,” Polly and Noreen said, excited to see that there was hope. Even Della whispered her own “yes.”

Blanche merely folded one leg over the other. Even though she had argued, she was hungry, also.

Polly rolled off of the mattress to her feet. “Mrs. Jones should be out with Mademoiselle at the usual Saturday-night art cinema. That leaves Miss Fairchild in charge.”

“The bumbling assistant on duty who’s no doubt sleeping in front of the telly.” Violet went to the lace-curtained window and peered at the night. “I’m able to work with that.”

And work she did while the girls waited to see what she had in her blocked mind.

Restless, Della changed position on the ground. Polly shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Noreen began to talk, as was her habit when anxious. “It
is
good to see Mademoiselle out and about, isn’t it? Mrs. Jones seems to be the only one who can drag her away from that classroom, or even the latest campus project that’s keeping her here until all hours.”

“Oh, belt up, would you?” Polly moved toward the door, then put her ear to the wood. “I can hear Miss Fairchild snoring.” She imitated it.
Snorrrrrrt-snort-snort-snorrrrrrt.

Noreen giggled, but her laugh was interrupted by a mental fluttering that carved into all of their minds.

Then . . . a cawing.

As one, they all looked toward the window, where Violet was grasping the curtain.

“Vi?” Polly asked.

She still had her back to them, but the question had been rhetorical anyway. Della shrank into herself as the caws became louder in their heads.

Blanche got out of the chair, clearly unimpressed as she moved to the door. “Vi’s securing our diversion, yet she’s getting her rocks off, too. Two birds with one stone, eh, Vi?”

At the notion of finally eating again, Della’s veins seemed to wrap around themselves, and she got to her feet as Violet turned away from the window.

She was grinning, her eyes flaring purple as she opened her mind to them.
Time to leave.

Like one sleek, stalking entity, they moved into the quiet, fluorescent-paled hall, the lights stuttering above them, responding to the suddenly bristling energy that emanated from the group.

Violet slid toward the front, but Blanche crowded her. Then Polly nudged the black-haired girl back a position and took up her best friend’s shoulder.

Mouth tight, Blanche didn’t fight.

She was too hungry, too anxious for real human blood again. All of them were, even if they were bound for certain punishment if they should be caught.

Creeping along, they were as silent as a drawn-out gasp, edging through the upper-sixth-form floor, then to the next wing, where the younger girls stayed, three to a room.

Just from passing each door, they could smell how many students were in-house. The lack of overwhelming human aroma—musky, tangy, tempting—indicated that this section was relatively deserted for the weekend, the chances of getting caught slim.

Della noticed a particular scent in the air that seemed wonderfully familiar. Sunshine?

They came to a door that held a white board with neon-markered names—Yuki, Kristine, Annie—and in block letters “WELCOME TO THE FUNHOUSE! Come in unless you see a ribbon tied to the knob, hah-hah.”

Yes, hah-hah,
Violet communally thought while she reached for the knob, then gently opened the door, which always remained unlocked so the housematron or another adult could enter.

In the back of their minds, they heard the
caw
,
caw
.

Louder.

As they filtered into the room, the scent of human washed into Della. Sunshine. Why did she keep smelling it . . . ?

A digital clock flashed the hour. 11:32. Moonlight leered through the window, silhouetting the warped branches of an oak and canting over the three girls who cuddled under their duvets.

When Della saw her idol, Melinda Springfield, in one of the beds, her heart kicked.

Sensing her unchecked reaction, the group turned their gazes on Della, and Violet bared her teeth in a smile.

Of course. Della hadn’t known it, but Violet had no doubt heard that Yuki was away for the weekend and Melinda had come to the little girls’ wing to be with her younger sister Annie. . . .

A black shadow blocked a portion of the window’s moonlight, and Violet made an emphatic gesture toward Melinda’s bed, then Kristine’s, then Annie’s, twisting her wrist as if she were locking something.

Then, overcome by the heady human scent, by the assurance of food, all five fell to their hands and knees, excitement dancing over their spines and making them arch.

Even Della couldn’t stop herself as her hands hit the carpeted floor and saliva flooded her mouth, stinging her jaws. The cawing seemed to pull at her, even as the hair receded back into her body, leaving every inch of skin bare as her ears were shaping into points, her eyes slanting, her fangs sharpening and growing.

Then a

The window darkened as a mass of ravens flew into it, their cries abrading the night while they scratched and banged to get in.

Little Annie, a small model of her platinum sister, sprang up in bed, and she would’ve screamed if her clamped mouth and frozen vocal chords already hadn’t been charmed by Violet.

As the second roommate, Kristine, awakened in terror, her hands clawed the air, attempting to discover a voice, as well.

Everyone but Della laughed soundlessly, needling the air with vibrations.

The humans had no doubt sensed the brutal mirth digging into their skin, and as if shaking off the swarming prickles, Kristine and Annie both flailed their arms. Their fear tickled the vampires’ appetites until it made the juices in their mouths flood and drip.

Yet Melinda . . . Melinda wasn’t trying to scream, although Della could smell her alluring fear. No, Melinda hopped out of bed and darted to Annie, shielding her younger sister with her body as her horrified gaze focused on the screeching birds that were throwing themselves against the window.

None of the humans had noticed the eyes glowing in the room’s dark corner yet.

Kristine ran to Annie and Melinda’s bed, and they fumbled round, cringing and holding each other.

The other vampires laughed with even more verve, but their gaiety had risen to such heights that they were softly hissing now instead of keeping silent.

As the humans registered the sound, they went still, and Della began to pant, spellbound by their chemical fear, by this proximity to Melinda.

Ready?
Violet asked mind-to-mind.

Even Della answered with the crowd this time.

She couldn’t take her eyes off Melinda in her flannels, her moonbeam hair covering Annie as she hugged her sister. . . .

The most dominant vampires sprang out of their hiding place while Noreen and Della hung back.

Blanche swiped Kristine to the floor.

Polly bowled Annie over and down to the mattress.

Violet—

Violet had chosen Melinda.

Later, Della would recall a blast of possessive anger and that was all, but she found herself flying toward Violet and intercepting her in midair, then pounding her to the ground.

Not this time,
Della thought while staring down at Violet. The other vampires froze, most of them poised over their numb prey.

Violet stared at Della for a moment with her blazing eyes, then . . .

Then she began to laugh-hiss.

Anger, shame, fright—all of it rushed Della.

She planted her clawed hand over Violet’s face, caging the other girl’s laugh to silence.

She could feel Violet’s mouth open in shock as Blanche’s mind-laugh ripped through their consciousness and mixed with the screams of the ravens.

But before Della’s mind caught up with reality, Noreen yanked her off Violet and bound her in an armlock.

“Don’t cause trouble,” she frantically whispered into Della’s ear while pulling her back to the corner. “Not unless you want to challenge her.”

Della’s pulse was smacking against her skin, and she panted heavily, her mind a whir.

Confident that Della would offer no more resistance, Violet didn’t retaliate. Instead, she went about her business, fixing her gaze on the all-too-human Melinda, who was by now on her own hands and knees, ready to fight.

Yet she was no match for Violet, who easily grasped Melinda’s neck and yanked her off of the bed.

The human smacked to the carpet, her body jerking into a grunt that she couldn’t voice. Immediately, Violet clamped her claws into Melinda’s long hair, pulling her head to the side for a clear shot at her neck.

When she reared back her head, then sank her teeth into Melinda, Della groaned . . .

. . . and then Violet—cruel, taunting Violet—linked her sensations directly to Della, and Della could all but taste the blood, could feel the intoxication of having it flow into her own mouth, even though Violet was the one imbibing.

Enjoy,
Violet mind-said.

Blood, thick, hot. The mere link was almost as rich as the liquid itself. From a young, pure girl, it tasted like honey, making the body flush, making the belly warm with a sharp ache.

It made a creature want to gnaw, to have more, to take bites instead of merely drinks—

Overtaken, Della slumped to the floor, listening to the suckling sounds. She hugged her knees to her chest, cradling herself, in a warm place that she never wanted to leave.

One by one, the ravens’ banging ceased as they fell away from the window. Outside, their bodies would litter the ground, providing the distraction Violet had promised when the sun rose.

The dominant vampire unlinked from Della, and the room quieted as Violet then detached from her prey’s neck. There would still be enough blood left for Della, plus enough for Melinda to recover without an undue amount of concern. She would be sick tomorrow, but Della realized illness wouldn’t cause the human to forgo her basketball match since it had already been played today.

Della had missed it. . . .

Violet reached over and grabbed Della to drag her near.

“You wanted her?” Violet whispered roughly. “Then have her.”

She shoved Della’s face into Melinda’s neck, strands of the other girl’s long silver hair soaked with blood from her wound.

Della’s mind screamed no, but her appetite was much stronger. She sniffed the blood, so fragrant that it made her mind explode with a shower of flower-petal colors.

Unable to fight herself, she molded her mouth to Melinda’s wound and sucked, cuddling up to the girl she’d always worshipped from across a classroom. Melinda, perfect, beautiful, everything Della wished she could be—

She devoured her blood, unable to rise above her gluttony.

After what seemed like only a moment, Violet jarred Della away from her meal, fisting Della’s shirt while her last gulp trickled down her throat.

“It’s as if you’ve never restricted yourself to a mere drink,” Violet said, shoving Della away. “You take too much and there’ll be trouble to pay. Haven’t you learned a thing from our lessons?”