Evernight (18 page)

With march came rain, torrents of it, blurring the
windowpanes and turning the earth to mud. For the first time, the grounds
weren't available to us as an escape. But for the first time, we didn't need
it. Lucas and I were learning about Evernight now. We were becoming a part of
it.
"Look at this." Lucas pushed one of Mrs. Bethany's heavy, black,
leather-bound books toward me as we sat together in a private corner of the
library. The only other sound was raindrops pattering against the window. The
book's pages were brownish with age and the ink had faded, so I had to squint
to make out the words. I read as Lucas explained, "They keep talking about
'the Tribe.' Some older group of vampires. Is anybody here from this
Tribe?"
"I never heard of the Tribe before." I'd never imagined how
complicated vampire lore was; my parents had never hinted at any of this.
"But what do they mean by older? My dad is nearly a thousand years old.
Surely that's about as old as it gets."
"Not if everyone is immortal. There ought to be vampires two, three, ten
times older than him. Ancient Romans. Ancient Egyptians. Whoever came before
those guys. Where are they? Not here, I don't think."
He was right. The oldest vampire at Evernight was probably Ranulf, who had died
in the seventh century. Of course, some vampires did die, like,
finally
die; if you didn't get any blood for months and months, or even if you didn't
drink blood for a shorter time and then were exposed to the sun—that could get
you. My parents had made that clear when I was a little kid who didn't want to
finish her glass of goat's blood. Everyone's worst nightmare was fire, which
killed vampires even more quickly than it did humans. Despite all those
dangers, a lot of vampires should have survived even longer than Ranulf.
"Mom and Dad say some people get lost," I murmured. "That they
lose track of time and humanity altogether. Evernight Academy was built so that
vampires wouldn't fall into that trap. Do you suppose that's what my parents
meant? Maybe the Tribe is all the vampires who get lost. They're hermits and
recluses, with no connection to humanity." The thought made me shiver.
"Is this creeping you out?"
"Yeah, a little."
Lucas brushed his thumb across my cheek. "You want us to take a
break?"
I realized that I did, kind of. "I ought to study history. It's hard
enough to get As when you're being graded on a curve alongside people who
actually witnessed about half the events in the book. Now Mom's being tougher
on me than ever."
"Go ahead." Already he had turned his attention back to the book of
vampire lore. "I'll be right here." Lucas didn't lift his head from
the book for the next hour, and when I bundled up my things to go downstairs,
he let me leave without him so that he could keep working until the moment the
library closed. (There was no taking the book back to his room; we agreed that
Vic might be oblivious, but he wasn't stupid, and leaving the real vampire
information out where Vic could see it would be crazy.)
Every once in a while I asked myself if Lucas could have any other reason for
immersing himself in Mrs. Bethany's books. But I always pushed the thought away
almost instantly. Mostly I encouraged him, thinking that he was getting closer
to becoming a vampire—and staying with me—forever.
Not that everybody liked that idea, of course. Courtney had kind of chilled out
after I bit Lucas for the first time, apparently figuring that I was now
"in the club." However, she didn't want Lucas in the club with us,
which meant that after news of the second bite spread around the school, she
was in high bitch mode.
"Can you imagine hanging around with that guy for a hundred years?"
she complained loudly to Genevieve in Modern Technology one day, while Mr. Yee
was in the corner patiently explaining something to the perpetually bewildered
Ranulf. "I mean, eww. One school year of Lucas Ross's attitude is too
much. If he thinks I'm going to acknowledge his sorry existence in a couple of
decades, when he's trying to suck up to all the people he put down here, he can
think again."
Balthazar, who had been attempting to program the microwave that provided the
lesson for the day, casually called, "Hey, Courtney, refresh my memory.
The other day, I was thinking that I'd seen you in French Indochina, but then I
realized that wasn't quite right. You were changed—what—fifty years ago?"
"Um." Courtney suddenly became really interested in the tip of her
ponytail. "About that."
"Wait, no. Not fifty." Balthazar's forehead furrowed, as if the
microwave had deeply confused him, although I could see he'd already figured
out the controls. "It was—no, not the seventies either—1987, right?"
"No!" Her cheeks were pink now. Genevieve stared at her friend; she
hadn't heard this before and looked appalled. Courtney retorted, "It was
1984."
"Ohhh. 1984. Three years earlier. Way after the French left Indochina. My
mistake." Balthazar shrugged. "Forgive me, Courtney. The decades sort
of run together for those of us who've been around awhile."
I pretended not to overhear, but I couldn't help smirking as Balthazar
triumphantly hit Start and the microwave started nuking a cup of blood. Age
meant status: Anybody who hadn't even lasted half a century yet was a newbie,
so all Courtney's posturing was completely blown. Lucas and I belonged at the
school every bit as much as she did—
—which felt weird, but was true. Perhaps we would return here in forty years,
or four hundred. Maybe we would come back to learn about how human life had
changed and revisit the place we'd first met. It still spooked me to think
about the vastness of the years that stretched out in front of us both. I got a
little scared every time I thought about how much I might have to adapt to a
world that could change as much as it had changed for my father since the
Norman Conquest. The feeling that came over me was a lot like the fear of
heights—so far to fall.
But when I thought about facing those years with Lucas by my side, I wasn't
afraid.

* * *

The
worst storm of all blew through about the middle of March, a Saturday night so
windy that even the thick antique glass of the school's windows rattled in the
frames. Lightning lit up the sky so often that sometimes, for a minute or more,
it looked like daylight outside. With absolutely everyone trapped inside, every
single common room was packed. Fortunately, a few friends and I had a way to
escape.
"Okay, how can you have this much Duke Ellington and no Dizzy
Gillespie?" Balthazar demanded of my father. He sat on the floor
cross-legged, going through the albums to find music for us to listen to. I could've
grabbed a few CDs and the player from my room, but that would've meant leaving
my place beside Lucas on the sofa. Lucas had his arm around my shoulder, so I wasn't
budging.
"I used to have some Dizzy," Dad said. "Lost that in a fire in
sixty-five."
Patrice, who sat primly in a nearby chair, sighed. "I had a terrible fire
in 1892. It's horrifying."
"I would've thought you wouldn't mind the chance to shop for a whole new
wardrobe," Lucas teased. Everyone sort of looked at him. "What did I say?"
"Fire is one of the few things that can kill us," Mom explained, arms
folded in front of her chest. She and Dad were still wary of Lucas, but they
were trying to make the best of things. Like Mrs. Bethany, they had
rationalized that the more Lucas knew, the less likely he was to make another
terrible mistake. "That makes fire scary stuff."
Lucas's expression clouded, and for a moment I had no idea what he was thinking
or feeling. Mostly I was pleased because Mom had said "us," like
Lucas already belonged.
Then Lucas said abruptly, "We were wondering about this the other day,
actually. What are the other ways? That vampires can die, I mean?"
"Well, let's see." Dad clapped his hands together, like he had to
work to remember this after a millennium. "Pretty short list,
actually."
"Stakes," Lucas said firmly. "That's what they show on TV,
anyway."
"Idiot box." Patrice obviously thought television was too newfangled
to merit her attention. But she was willing to talk to Lucas about being a
vampire. I hoped she might open up a little, the way she had to me about her
life in New Orleans, but so far she had mostly stuck to hard facts.
"Stakes 'kill' us, but only temporarily. Once the stake is pulled out,
you'll be fine again in no time."
Balthazar put a Billie Holiday album on as he added, "You just have to
make sure you have a friend who can dig you up and take care of that."
"It's pretty much fire and beheading." Mom ticked these two options
off on her fingers.
"And holy water?" Lucas asked.
"Hardly." My father didn't bother to hide his contempt for Lucas's
suggestion. "I've had holy water thrown at me a few times. If there's any
difference between that and rainwater, I never felt it."
Lucas looked skeptical, but he simply nodded. "Okay. Sorry, I know these
are stupid questions."
"It's a lot to absorb," Patrice said. From her, this was extremely
charitable, so I gave her a smile as I leaned my head against Lucas's shoulder.
Sheets of rain washed against the windows, a constant whisper of noise beneath
Billie's croaky singing.
Mom must have noticed my snuggling a bit with Lucas, because she quickly tapped
my father on the shoulder. "Okay, Adrian. We've hung out long enough. I'm
sure the kids would rather talk without us."
"Kids? Save that for the classroom. We're almost exactly the same
age!" Balthazar laughed. He was right, which was incredibly weird to think
about. "You should stick around."
"I don't mind." Patrice shrugged.
Lucas and I shared a look. We kind of did mind, but in an ideal world, Mom and
Dad would've taken Balthazar and Patrice away with them so we could make out on
the couch. That wasn't going to happen.
Doing her eerie maternal-telepathy thing, Mom sighed sympathetically. "I
guess there are times when no amount of privacy from the parents is enough,
huh?"
"Evernight is definitely a challenging place to date," Lucas agreed.
Balthazar acted really interested in the Billie Holliday album cover all of a
sudden.
Remembering how I'd shot Balthazar down, I cast about for any way to lighten
the moment for him, then remembered a funny story I could tell. "Hey, at
least it isn't as bad for us as it was for your great-grandfather-whatever.
Right, Lucas?" Lucas gave me a blank look. His face went pale, like I'd
said something scary. Surely he was thinking about the wrong thing.
"Is this a family anecdote?" Mom asked. "Those are usually the
best kind." Everyone was listening now.
"One of Lucas's ancestors came to Evernight, a great-grandfather or
something around a hundred and fifty years ago. Come on, you tell it
better!" I elbowed Lucas, but now his body was totally tense, as rigid as
a board. He had said the story was a secret, but that had to be a joke, didn't
it? A story more than a hundred years old couldn't be a secret. Maybe Lucas
thought it was embarrassing, but I couldn't see why he'd be ashamed of
something that didn't really have anything to do with him. "Anyway, he
came here to study. He got into a duel with one of the other students, maybe
over a girl, and they fought right in the great hall. That's how that one
stained-glass window was broken—did you know that? Neither of them died, but
they expelled him, and…"
My voice trailed off as I saw that my parents and Balthazar had all gone
completely still. They were staring at Lucas. His fingers were digging into my
shoulder.
The only other person in the room who looked as confused as I felt was Patrice.
"They let humans in before?"
"No," Balthazar said sharply. "Never."
"You had an ancestor who was a vampire?" I was astonished.
"Lucas, you never knew this? Is that even possible?"
"I don't think that's what we're dealing with." My father stood up
slowly. He wasn't a very tall man, yet something about the way he loomed over
us on the sofa was incredibly intimidating. "I don't think that at
all."
"A hundred and fifty years ago." Mom's voice shook. "That was
when…the one time that they…"
Dad never took his eyes off Lucas. "Yes."
Then he grabbed Lucas by the throat.
I screamed. Had Dad gone crazy? Suddenly Lucas pushed his arms through my
father's, prying him off, and then Lucas's fist smashed into Dad's nose. Blood
sprayed out, wet drops hitting me across the face.
"Stop! What are you doing? Stop!" I cried.
Everything after that happened so fast. Balthazar pulled me away from the
fight, hard, so that I stumbled and fell onto the floor. He threw a punch at
Lucas, too, but Lucas ducked it. Patrice wrapped her arms around me, screaming
loudly, and because of that unable to move. My mother slammed one of the wooden
dinner chairs onto the floor so forcefully that it broke. I thought at first
that she was trying to get the guys' attention, to figure out what the hell was
going on, but instead she took one of the chair legs in her hand as a club and
swung it into the small of Lucas's back.
He shouted in pain, but instantly he spun, broke Mom's grip, and left her
clutching her hand. Dad and Balthazar were both on Lucas, trying to fight him
as one, but he was as fast as they were, blocking every blow. I remembered the
pizza parlor and the fight there. As formidable as Lucas had come across then,
that had been nothing.
This
was how he could really fight—powerful
enough to fend off two vampires at once.
I was strong enough to fight with them, but I didn't want to fight my parents
for Lucas, or Lucas for my parents, not until I understood what the hell had
just happened.
"What are you doing?" I shrieked. "Stop it, everyone, stop
it!"
They didn't stop. My father swung at Lucas's gut, and when Lucas dodged it, he
seemed to fall backward—but he was faking, crouching to grab the chair leg my
mother had dropped. Immediately Dad and Balthazar edged backward, and I realized
Lucas now possessed a stake. Maybe he couldn't kill either of them forever with
that alone, but he could take them out of commission.
Patrice screamed in my ear as Lucas plunged the stake toward Balthazar's chest.
Balthazar leaped backward, only barely avoiding the blow. I could see a cut
along his cheekbone, crescent shaped from Lucas's fist. Then, to my horror,
Lucas focused on my father. He was actually trying to stake Dad.
"Lucas, don't!" I pleaded. "Mom, tell him to—Where's Mom?"
She seemed to have vanished while I was distracted by the fight.
"She's run downstairs for help." My father's words came out in a
growl. "Mrs. Bethany will be here soon, and then we'll get this taken care
of."
Lucas only hesitated for a second. "Bianca, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Lucas?"
His eyes met mine. "I love you."
And then he ran, out the door, down the steps. At first all of us were too
stunned to do anything, but then Dad and Balthazar took off after him. I turned
to Patrice, who still huddled next to me on the floor. "Do you understand
any of this?"
"No." She ran her hands over her smooth, plaited hair, as if she
could erase her earlier panic by fixing her own appearance. Nothing else
mattered to her.
Though my legs shook, I got up and rushed after them, stumbling down the steps.
I could hear Balthazar's shouts echoing against the stone: "Stop him! Stop
him now!"
Then there was a terrible crash, the silvery sound of splinters of glass
ricocheting against floors and walls, and my father swore. My heart pounded so
hard that I felt almost like I'd die if I didn't stop running, but I'd die if I
did stop, because Lucas was in danger and I had to be with him.
I half ran, half fell the last spiral of the steps to see Balthazar, Dad, and a
few students standing around, staring at the one clear glass window of the
great hall. The window was shattered, and I realized that Lucas had used the
chair leg to break it and escape. He hadn't even had the minute it would've
taken to run halfway down the hall to the door. My parents had probably stopped
chasing him only because plenty of human kids were in the room, freaked-out and
about to start asking difficult questions.
My mother walked into the great hall, clutching her wrist. A few steps behind
her was Mrs. Bethany, whose dark eyes flashed with barely suppressed rage.
"What the hell is going on?" Raquel came down the steps behind me.
"Was there—was there a fight or something?"
Mrs. Bethany drew herself upright. "This is none of your concern.
Everyone, back to your rooms."
Raquel shot me a look as she started edging back up to our floor. Obviously she
wanted me to explain, but how could I? My entire body flushed hot, then cold
with every heartbeat, and I couldn't really breathe. It hadn't been five
minutes since I'd sat next to Lucas while we laughed at my parents' jokes.
Mom, Dad, and Balthazar didn't move when the others did, so I remained still,
too. As soon as everyone else had left, I wanted to ask Dad what this meant,
but I didn't get the chance. Mrs. Bethany demanded, "What happened?"
"Lucas is part of Black Cross," my father said. Mrs. Bethany's eyes
went wide—not like she was scared but definitely surprised, the first time I'd
ever seen her show any vulnerability at all. "We found out only now."
"Black Cross." She balled her hands into fists and stared at the
broken window. The rain blew through the jagged opening with the gusts of wind,
and thunder boomed out again. "What can they mean by this?"
"We have to go after him immediately." Dad looked ready to run
outside that second. Mom laid her good hand on his arm.
Very quietly, she said, "There will always be hunters. Nothing has really
changed."
Mrs. Bethany turned toward her, head cocked, eyes narrow. "Your pity is
useless to us, Celia. I understand your desire to spare your daughter pain, but
if you and your husband had been more vigilant, she would not be in this
situation now."
"This kid came here for a reason. He hurt our daughter to accomplish it. I
intend to find out what it is." Dad peered through the darkness. "He
can't move as fast in the storm as we can. We should go now."
"We have time to assemble a team," Mrs. Bethany insisted. "Mr.
Ross will summon help as soon as he can, which means we cannot be sure of
finding him alone. Mr. and Mrs. Olivier, both of you, come with me to fetch and
arm the others."
"I'm on the team, too." Balthazar's jaw was set.
Her eyes swept up and down as though taking his measure. "Very well, Mr.
More. For the moment, I suggest you see to Miss Olivier. Explain her folly and
keep her quiet."
Mom held out a hand toward me. "I should talk to her."
"Given your willingness to ignore the hard facts, I think the task is
better left to a more neutral party." Mrs. Bethany pointed toward the
staircase.
I half expected Mom to tell Mrs. Bethany where she could shove her attitude,
but Dad grabbed her good arm and pulled her upstairs with him. Long skirts in
her hands, Mrs. Bethany followed.
The moment we were alone, I turned to Balthazar. "What just
happened?"
"Shh, Bianca, calm down." He put his hands on my shoulders, but I wasn't
having any of it.
"Calm down? You guys just attacked my boyfriend, who attacked back. I don't
understand this, none of it! Please, Balthazar, just tell me—tell me, oh, God,
what? I don't even know what to ask!" So many questions welled up inside
me that they seemed to stick in my throat, choking me.
Balthazar said evenly, "You've been lied to. We've all been lied to."
One question rose to blot out all the others. "What is Black Cross?"
"Vampire hunters."
"What?"
"Black Cross is a group of vampire hunters who have plagued us ever since
the Middle Ages. They track us down. They separate us from others of our kind.
And they kill us." Balthazar wiped the drops of my father's blood from my
face as tenderly as though they were tears. "They tried to infiltrate
Evernight Academy once before. Every so often, a human talks or bribes his way
in here, and they tolerate it as a way of avoiding attention. One of those
humans turned out to be a member of Black Cross."
"Around a hundred and fifty years ago." The story I'd told upstairs,
the one Lucas had revealed when we first met, suddenly made sense. "The
fight in the story—it wasn't a duel, was it?"