Crossroads (Crossroads Academy #1) (16 page)

“We made good time getting to the caves, and
I was feeling good as we set about exploring. We had so much fun
playing hide and seek and climbing the cave walls that we lost
track of the time. When I finally thought to check my watch it was
day break. I panicked,” she says unapologetically.

“I scooped Nikolai up and set out for home. I
didn’t think twice about facing the rays of the sun because the
prospect of my parents’ wrath was more frightening. It was
mid-summer and a hot one at that. The sun had been blazing strong
for weeks keeping the daily temperatures close to a hundred
degrees. It was brutal. From the moment we set foot outside the
protection of those caves my skin was on fire. The rashes started
immediately. By the time we got close to home my body was a mess.
My face was blistered and my arms and legs were bleeding freely. I
didn’t know how I was going to get Nikolai home, only that I had to
do it. We almost made it too. I collapsed in the woods two miles
from our house.”

“He should’ve kept going. He could’ve easily
gone ahead and sent help, but he wouldn’t leave me. I outweighed
him by twenty pounds and he didn’t have nearly my strength, but he
promised me he would get me home safely. And he did.”

“Nik carried you the rest of the way?” I ask
in disbelief. “But he was just a kid.”

“I’ve never forgotten that day,” she tells
me. “Nikolai is my little brother. It was my job to take care of
him, to keep him out of harms’ way, and I failed. If it weren’t for
his courage and determination, I might have died.”

I’m not sure what to say to this revelation.
It’s definitely a side of Nik I haven’t seen yet. I remind myself
that people change a lot between childhood and adulthood. Just
because Nik was a brave and noble child, it doesn’t mean he’s the
same person now.

“I tell you this story because while I don’t
know what he promised you, Nikolai always keeps his word. I’ve
never known him not to.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” I
reply flippantly.

“Aren’t you just the cynic today?” she asks
raising an eyebrow.

I know I shouldn’t alienate Anya. She’s
sharing a little bit of herself with me, and Nik is her brother
after all. It’s only natural that she’d be protective of him. I
would be if our roles were reversed.

“Sorry,” I tell her reluctantly, running my
hands through my knotty hair. I should’ve brushed it before I came
up here. It’s a wreck from training. “Don’t mind me. I’ve been on
edge all day.”

“I see. You look worn down. Are you feeding
enough?” She actually looks worried, as she assesses my
condition.

“I’m as well fed as any vampire here.” Should
I tell her about the dreams? Aldo would probably encourage me to
talk about them if he were here. Maybe he’s right. Maybe talking
about them would lessen my completely irrational fear. Maybe it
would be a way to take control.

“I haven’t been getting enough sleep. I’ve
been having nightmares,” I say, avoiding eye contact and staring
instead at the flames which writhe angrily in the fireplace.

“About White Plains?” she asks gently.

“Sometimes. Sometimes they’re different
though. Sometimes I’m being hunted. Like an animal. I know it’s
stupid, but it’s just that they’re so real.”

“We all have dreams, Katia. It’s nothing to
be ashamed of. What do you think they mean?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

The only thing I know for sure is that I hate
feeling powerless to control my own mind.

**********

The movie sucks. Shaye and I are in
agreement, so we duck out before the closing credits. We may have
centuries to live, but we’re not going to waste them on poorly
acted melodramas where the actors’ portrayal of teen angst is
downright laughable. It’s bad enough we wasted nine dollars on
admission.

“So what now?” Shaye asks as we stand under
the theater marquee and bask in the glow of its fluorescent
lights.

“I don’t know, but it’s Friday night so
there’s got to be something around here to do. Let’s just walk and
see what we see. There’s a really good coffee shop a couple of
blocks up,” I tell her as I slip into my jacket and zip it to the
collar, ever conscious of appearances. Shaye is already bundled up
with a bright orange scarf and mismatched polka-dot mittens.

“Ugh! I guess that works for me,” she says,
wiping the back of her hand across her forehead in an imitation of
the whiny actress in the movie we’ve just ditched. It’s spot
on.

“Who knew you had such talent,” I tease. “You
should really look into getting an agent.”

“After the coffee,” she tells me. “It’s a
poor substitute for blood, but I guess it will do. For now!”

I roll my eyes and lead the way. The streets
are busy. It’s Friday night, and we pass couples out for dinner,
parents towing their children along for last minute errands, and,
of course, droves of teenager’s window shopping and socializing
like us.

When we arrive at the coffee shop I’m
comforted by the familiarity of the place. Same cozy couches, same
indie rock playing softly in the background occasionally
interrupted by the whirring of the grinder. I’m even indulged with
the same overwhelming smell of coffee and the same barista behind
the counter. I smile halfheartedly at the paper mache reindeer
dotting the counter in preparation for the upcoming holiday.

I’m able to quickly make a decision when it’s
our turn and order a large mocha latte. I take a small sip while I
wait for Shaye to make up her mind. The latte is as good as I
remember. I watch Shaye as she scans the menu board, unable to
choose.

“You do know this won’t be the last coffee
you ever drink, right?” As soon as the words leave my mouth I
realize how insensitive they must sound to someone with a terminal
illness. “I’m sorry,” I rush on. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No worries,” she tells me turning to the
barista. “I’ll have a large caramel macchiato.”

I’m not entirely sure that she meant to
dismiss me so abruptly, but even if she had I’d deserved it. I take
a seat at one of the small tables by the window. People watching
has always been one of my favorite pastimes, but today it brings me
no pleasure. I observe the foot traffic on the street
absentmindedly as I wait for Shaye to get her coffee.

“I’m not upset you know,” she says joining
me. She takes the chair opposite mine and hangs her jacket over the
back.

“Glad to hear it,” I tell her. “I’m not sure
if you’d noticed or not, but I have my own chronic illness to worry
about: foot-in-mouth.”

“Incurable but rarely deadly,” she smiles.
“I’ll trade you?”

“How can you joke about this?” I don’t
pretend to understand how she must feel, and I don’t know if I
could function with a death sentence hanging over my head, but her
levity is beyond my comprehension.

“It’s life, Katia. I can’t change it. I have
to believe they’ll find a cure and keep living in the meantime.
Besides, I’ve had some time to get used to it.” She sips delicately
from her macchiato, licking the whipped cream from her lips
childishly.

“I still don’t get it.”

She reaches across the table and touches my
hand gently. “You don’t have to.”

She’s right. I don’t have to live with it.
All I can try to do is be a good friend to her if and when she
needs me. “Tell me about it, please.”

“What do you want to know?” she asks
spreading her arms to indicate that she’s open to talking about her
illness.

“Well, forgive my ignorance, but it’s just
hard for me to understand how an immortal being can die from a
blood disease.”

“It was hard for me too, at first. I had a
lot of trouble finding factual information and wrapping my head
around the whole thing. It’s not like you can just Google it.”

Isn’t that the truth? I encounter this
problem on a regular basis. It’s not that our historians don’t keep
detailed records. They do. The problem is that the records are
mostly preserved and stored for the use of the Elders. Getting
access requires a small miracle or a really well pled case at
Council.

“Anyway, the illness is caused by a lack of
healthy red blood cells. Like other mammals, our bodies need both
red and white cells to prosper. In the case of otrava de sange, the
white cells attack the red, wiping them out faster than the body
can repopulate them. Essentially the body destroys itself from the
inside out.”

“And that’s what causes the anemia and
shortness of breath?” I ask intrigued. “That and the heart
failure,” she tells me sadly. “There are other symptoms too, but I
won’t bore you with the details.”

She won’t bore me with the details? I may not
be that interested in Professor Hooke’s Anatomy class, but this is
different. This isn’t words on a page or a crappy plastic skeleton.
This is Shaye. “I want to know.”

“But I hope you never need to,” she says
meeting my eyes. Her gray eyes convey compassion. I’ve never met
anyone like Shaye before. She’s quiet and quirky while at the same
time being sassy and tough. These characteristics are
contradictory, and yet that’s how I see her.

“But why can’t they do something? Like a
blood transfusion?” I’ve heard of similar illnesses in humans and
know they’re treatable. Why wouldn’t this be also?

“A blood transfusion will help sometimes but
only temporarily. The body will continue to generate the
destructive white cells even if the blood of another vampire is
infused. The researchers think it’s a hereditary malfunction, but I
don’t think they’ve isolated the gene yet. Soon,” she says firmly.
“Soon.”

“You think they’re close?” I suppose if
anyone would be keeping tabs on the progress, it would be Shaye.
She’s got a vested interest after all.

“Who knows? I know they’re closer. Closer
than they were two years ago when I was diagnosed. Oh, and I bet
you don’t know this, but Dr. Philips and some of the other
researchers will be here for the New Year’s Eve ball. I have to
meet him.” Her eyes shimmer with determination.

“New Year’s Eve ball?” I ask gravely. This is
the first I’m hearing of it. She got that part right. I don’t know
a thing about it.

“Oh, yeah. It’s huge. And lavish. Puts
Halloween to shame,” she says playfully. She’s enjoying watching me
squirm. She knows parties aren’t my thing. “We’re lucky to have
such a high profile student body. We’ll get all kinds of important
people. Elders, celebrities, and the like.”

“Huh.” I have nothing else to say. This is
not what I’d call good news.

“Aldo will be coming, won’t he? You must be
excited to see him at least.” She pauses. “He’ll create such a
buzz. Jade will be over the top with envy.”

Shaye’s eyes positively sparkle with delight.
I can’t blame her. The idea of causing Jade even a tenth of the
misery she brings us is a welcome notion.

“Here’s hoping,” I tell her staring out the
window. “I should at least get some kind of happiness out of this
thing.”

“I
knew you couldn’t stay away.” Nik smiles casually. I know the smile
is meant to be disarming. He’ll want my guard down so we can re-lay
the ground rules and repair our working relationship. “You don’t
have it in you to quit.”

Nik was expecting me. I’m not surprised. I’ve
gotten to know a little of him and his work ethic during our
sessions. It’s only natural that he’s gotten to know me as well.
Just as I knew he’d be here during our regular training time, he
knew I’d show up for my lesson. And here he is sitting on the bench
by the blood cooler waiting for me.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t your good looks and
quick wit that brought me back,” I grumble, unzipping my hoodie and
stripping down to the tee beneath.

“What was it then? What’s left?” he questions
feigning confusion.

“Anya,” I say simply.

“Well isn’t this an interesting turn of
events.” He actually does look surprised now. I’m secretly pleased
to have caught him off guard. So much for predictable!

“No more interesting than Blaine trailing
along behind you everywhere you go,” I return sarcastically.

“Ouch! You hurt my feelings Katia.” He wags
his finger at me as a warning.

“Doubtful.”

“I told you he wouldn’t bother us anymore. I
meant that.” His tone is earnest and his blue eyes have a depth
I’ve never noticed before. He seems sincere, but I still have my
doubts.

“What’s the deal with you two anyway?” I
honestly am curious about their weird friendship. They’re as
different as night and day from what I’ve seen. Hell, I can’t
understand any of his friends.

“Truce?” he asks, offering me his hand.

“Fine,” I concede. I’d agree to almost
anything right now for a peek at his thoughts. Besides, even I’m
getting tired of my salty attitude. I resolutely shake his extended
hand, ignoring the tingle creeping through my fingers and making
its way up my arm as our hands touch. Probably it’s my imagination,
but his grip lingers a little too long creating a feeling of
intimacy. I quickly withdraw my hand and twist it behind my back
and out of his grasp.

“Blaine, Jade, and I have been friends since
we were kids. We didn’t grow up on the same continent, but our
parents run in the same elitist social circles. Always have. We’ve
been thrown together more times than I care to count over the
years. That friendship was solidified when we came to
Crossroads.”

I say nothing and stare at him expectantly.
No way is he getting off that easy.

“They really aren’t as bad as they seem,” he
says sheepishly. It’s a good look for him. He wears humility well.
I definitely prefer this to the arrogance. “I know they’ve been
unbearable to you, but your presence makes them uneasy. You’re an
unknown. You come from a powerful family. And, you make no attempt
to fit in. They’re afraid of you.”