Cursed Hearts (A Crossroads Novel) (8 page)

“No,
I don’t mind. Can I see your schedule?”

“Oh,
I don’t know about that.”

“Why?”

“I
was joking,” he said, handing her the folded paper.

“…It
looks like you have History first with—ooh, that’s unfortunate. Mrs. Brill is
very… structured.”

“Is
that code for rigid and old-fashioned?”

Ariahna
smiled without comment. They left the cafeteria following the flow of students
towards the staircases. “All gifted classes are located on the first floor,”
she explained. “When you take your standard core classes on Tuesdays and
Thursdays, they’ll be down here on the ground floor.”

“You should have been my tour guide. You’re infinitely
more helpful
than
what’s-his-face.”

“Do you mean Shawn? He’s the male RA for our dorms. I’ve
never really met him, but he seems like a capable guy.”

“Yeah,
capable of boring me to death,” he grinned, following her up the stairs. They
talked amicably the rest of the way and when they arrived he stopped outside
the classroom to thank her.

“Just
keep your head down in her class. And remember, it will get better. She’s not
as scary as she seems.” Aria reached up to adjust his loose tie, and Rome
grabbed her hand to stop her.

“If
she doesn’t like the way I wear my tie, then tough luck. It’s a miracle I’m even
wearing one.”

She
smiled at the comment, but her eyes were devoid of humor. “Trust me; you’ll
save yourself a lot of trouble by just straightening up your tie and tucking in
your shirt.”

Rome
hesitated before giving in. “Fine. But I’m doing it for you, not her.” He let
go of her hand, stepping in a little closer so that she could fix his tie. He
tucked in his shirt, leaving his sleeves rolled up.

“What
do you think?”

Aria
took a good look at him, smoothing his tie down over his chest. It was kind of
just an excuse to touch him.

“You
know, we could skip that field trip later and hang out,” he suggested, reaching
up to play with the end of one of her curls. “Just the two of us, maybe some
place you know Dallas
won’t
be.” Rome watched her smile giddily, a blush
creeping over her face. She couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“I—that
would be—um...”

“Think
about it,” he whispered.

Rome
slipped into the classroom, taking a seat in the back. The rest of the students
filed in slowly as a short, surly looking woman in her fifties arranged several
stacks of aged textbooks along the edge of her desk.

Kaleb
sauntered through the door as the bell rang, and Rome sunk down in his seat,
trying to remain undetected. The fact that he was sitting in a room full of
freshman did nothing to help disguise him. He watched Dean Oakland stride to
the front of the room and whisper something to Mrs. Brill. Whatever he’d said
left her looking like she’d been sucking on lemons.

Rome
looked away as Kaleb sat beside him. There were plenty of other spots
available, but no, he had to sit right next to him. He was doing his best to
focus on the teacher, or the board, or hell, even the floor. As long as he
wasn’t looking at Kaleb, or acknowledging his
existence, then maybe he’d
get the hint and go away.

The
Dean patted Kaleb on the shoulder as he left, missing the aggravated look he
shot at his back. “Nice hickey,” Kaleb whispered, turning to Rome. “Careful,
you might start a trend. Soon everyone will want one.”

Rome
glanced at the leather jacket draped over his torso, frowning at his t-shirt
and dark, skintight jeans. “Doubtful,” he said, loosening his tie. “Can’t you
tell? You’ve got every kid in this class shaking like a leaf.”

“It’s
Mr. Navarro, correct?” Mrs. Brill asked, her aged voice sounding less than
pleased.

Rome
swallowed nervously. “Yeah…?”

“Do
you think the rules do not apply to you?”

“What
rule,
specifically
, are you referring to?”

“The
dress code, Mr. Navarro.”

Rome
blinked at her, slowly, before checking to make sure Kaleb was still sitting
beside him. “At least I know there
is
a dress code,” he said, gesturing
to Kaleb’s attire. “If he can wear that, I should be able to loosen my freaking
tie.”

Mrs.
Brill let out a large, put-upon breath. “Mr. Leonté has been given an exception
by the Dean. You may take the matter up with him if you have issue with it.
Until then, this is still my classroom, and you will adhere by the rules while
you are in it.”

Rome
tightened his tie, staring at her defiantly as he did.

“Now,”
Mrs. Brill said, snapping her fingers sharply. The books that had been neatly
stacked on her desk rematerialized on the tables, startling several students.
“In front of each of you is your History textbook. Do not forget to bring it to
my class. Is that clear?”

She
continued to drone on as Kaleb searched for a way to entertain himself. He
snaked a hand underneath the table, smoothing it over Rome’s thigh as a grin
claimed his features.

Rome
jumped, pulling back harshly on his fingers.

“What
the
hell
is your problem?”

Kaleb
leaned over to whisper against his ear, smiling wickedly. “…I’m like a smoker,”
he explained, “and you’re a cigarette. I just want to wrap my lips around you
and blow.”

Rome
scribbled his name in his book, almost breaking his pencil in half when Kaleb
uttered the word,
blow
.

“Open
your books to chapter one,” Mrs. Brill instructed. “Before we begin, does
anyone know who first started The War of Creation, and when?”

“Emily
Boyle,” Trevor said, “near the turn of the 18
^th
century.”

“Next
time raise your hand. Does anyone know what she did to start it? No? At the
time, Emily Boyle was experimenting with very ancient magic, including the
practice known as necromancy. She believed that by harnessing energy from the
moon and combining it with blood magic, that she could not only reanimate the
dead, but restore life. Instead, what she created was the first of a new
species: vampires.”

Rome
had tuned in to her explanation like a small child listening to a ghost story.
Were they for real with this shit? he wondered. The look on Kaleb’s face said
yes. He took a deep breath, holding back a sigh.

This
was going to be a tough subject.

“Can
anyone tell me what the first response to the vampirism crisis was?” Mrs. Brill
asked. She called on Trevor, who was holding his hand up rather impatiently. He
looked ready to jump out of his seat.

“Werewolves,”
he answered.

Rome
narrowed his eyes, leaning in on his elbows as he glanced over at Kaleb and
then back to Trevor. He was anxious for him to elaborate.

“The
witches of the day used similar magical practices to create the first
werewolves as those that were used in the creation of vampires. By merging both
the soul of a man and the soul of a wolf they were able to birth a formidable
and expendable army.”

Expendable
? Rome thought, quirking an
eyebrow unhappily.

“Correct,”
Mrs. Brill said coolly. “You.” She pointed at Rome.

“Me?”
he questioned, his heart thundering in his chest.

“Start
reading aloud from the top of page three.”

“…
Werewolves
,”
he said, choking nervously on the word. “
Werewolves were imbued with an
instinctual hatred for vampires
,” he read slowly, “
and an insatiable
hunger for their
…
flesh
.
They literally devoured vampires to
destroy them. Werewolves were created to entice vampires with both their scent
and the taste of their blood.
”

Rome
paused as a hand ghosted over his groin. Kaleb was touching him. Kaleb’s hand
was in his lap, and he couldn’t think.

“Continue,”
Mrs. Brill instructed. He tried to keep reading as long fingers rubbed at him
through thin fabric. If his voice sounded a little husky, the teacher didn’t
seem to notice.

“
The
concept of lycanthropy originated from
…”

“It’s
pronounced: Na’wal.”

“…
from
nahuals
,” Rome said, clearing his throat, “
which are witches with the
ability to transform into beasts. The differentiation lies in that a nahual is
one soul with two aspects, while lycanthropes are the product of two souls
being forced to become one, and thus forever fighting over the physical form.
”

Kaleb
was rubbing his palm roughly over the growing bulge in his pants, groping him
as his body temperature started to rise. He could hardly hear the very words he
was reading over the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears.

“Stop reading when I tell you to, not when you feel like
it, Mr. Navarro.”

Kaleb’s
hand slipped under his waistband, fingers wrapping around his flesh as he
fought back a gasp. “…
I-It is believed the reason that vampires require
blood to sustain themselves is
…
because they were created using blood
magic
,” he said breathily.
“
The sun often makes them sick and
weak since the magic which animates them draws heavily from the energy of the
moon. They are—
” He stopped reading, staring down at the page in utter
disbelief. The passage described them as: ‘
a twisted perversion of life,
giving birth to unnatural things
.’ He couldn’t say that, not with Kaleb
sitting right next to him – and definitely not while he had his hand down his
pants.

“I’m not reading that aloud,” he said resolutely, flipping
his book closed and reaching down to extricate Kaleb’s hand. Surprisingly, he
let him without a fight
. “This is sick. I’ve heard of fighting fire with fire,
but what in the hell were they thinking? You all decided to play God and then
you wonder why you have a war on your hands?”

“Why do you think it was called the Dark Ages?” Mrs.
Brill said. “Mr. Navarro, I understand that these types of teachings have been
kept from you, but you will refrain from such outbursts in my classroom. Your
family—”

“Yeah, I heard. My family and five others saved
everyone’s
asses. That doesn’t change the fact that you all created
monsters to satisfy your
overindulgent egos. In my opinion,
witches
are the twisted perversion of
life, and
they
give birth to unnatural things.”

“Out
of my classroom, now!” Mrs. Brill shrieked. “You can report directly to the
Dean’s office.”

“Gladly,”
he said, grabbing his things.

“And
where do you think you’re going, Mr. Leonté?”

Kaleb
spared the old woman a glare, drifting out of the room.

Rome
could feel him creeping along behind him like a dark cloud, or a shadow he just
couldn’t shake. “What do you want from me?” he said.

“Didn’t
they just cover that?”

Kaleb
smirked, circling around his side and stepping in front of him.

“You
think this is funny?” Rome said.

“Hilarious.”

“Answer
me this: if you’re a vampire, and there was a war between your kind and
witches, which ended in wormholes to parallel universes or what the fuck ever,
then how in the hell are you even standing in front of me, and in a school for
magic no less?”

“Is,” Kaleb corrected. Rome squinted at him in confusion.
“Th
ere
is
a war. It never ended. It was merely thrown into Lumara.
And I can only answer your question with another question. How are either of us
standing here?”

“Is
that where you’re from, Lumara?”

Kaleb
shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about this. He wasn’t even sure why he’d
followed him in the first place. It had seemed better than sitting through a
lecture about how he was an abomination, though.

“I’ve
never been this close to a werewolf before.”

“I’m
not a—”

“—a
sweet temptation put here to destroy me? No, of course not.”

“If
you thought I was a werewolf, why would you bite me then? And what the hell was
that in class?”

“Let’s
just say I’m ‘volatile and impulsive’ – my father’s words, not mine.”

“You
know, you’ve done nothing but attack me and—”

“—bring
you pleasure?” he grinned, finishing his sentence again.

“That—what
happened in there is never happening again.”

“Weren’t you paying attention? You’re supposed to have an
insatiable hunger
for my
flesh
,” Kaleb said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t you
just want to devour me right now?” He backed him against a row of lockers,
removing Rome’s backpack from his shoulder and dropping it by their feet as he
pressed him flush to the metal.

Rome’s
eyes flashed gold.