She’d stand by me, just as when we’d been attacked by that Draug, months ago, before she’d even known me. She’d stand by me again, and we’d both be slaughtered, and the others would watch with glee, jubilant that it was us, not them, taken out on stretchers for somebody’s midnight snack.
Screw that. I refused to give up any more of my blood than was necessary—I’d spill every last drop if it meant denying some creepy vampire.
“Screw this.” I snatched a glass and smashed it, enjoying the shock that flickered in Masha’s eyes.
But I’d struck the table too hard, and the glass shattered, leaving nothing but the base and a few ragged shards slicing into my fingers.
One of the Initiates sprang into action, reaching for some cutlery, but Masha spun on her. “Back off. Acari Drew is mine.” She paced around the table, quickly now, her eyes not leaving mine. The crowd gave her space, ebbing back in a single wave.
Warmth seeped between my fingers. I was really bleeding now—I imagined even I could smell it—and it was in that moment I sensed the first vampires arrive.
Thoughts whirled through my head. Chow time, boys.
Masha sprang toward me, slashing her glass. “I’ve dreamt of this.”
I hopped back a step, dodging her. “Oh, me, too.”
Killed, not kissed. The thought fueled me. I decided I might as well give them a show.
Smiling my brightest, I dove in, slashing with the glass in my right hand. But it was a feint. As Masha defended one side of her head, I landed a massive hit on the other, pounding my slightly curved hand over her ear.
She shrieked, and the crowd sucked in a breath.
Blaze of glory.
She peeled back her lips in a snarl—she would not have liked the feline sound she’d made when I hit her—and her accent came thick, making her sound like a murderous inmate escaped from the Gulag. “You. Dead.”
I heard the heavy dining hall door open and shut again, and then again. The vampires, gathering. Just in time to see me torn limb from limb by an outraged Guidon and her pals.
Masha sprang again, and I grabbed a chair, swinging it up and at her. The blood made my hands sticky and slippery, and my move was clumsy, but it was enough to stop her momentum.
A blast of cold air swirled in as the door opened again. But this time it brought a voice. “Enough.”
Headmaster Claude Fournier.
Everyone froze.
Our headmaster was gorgeous, and suave, and French—and more carelessly lethal than any other vampire on this rock.
Fear twined through me like cold smoke in my veins. I didn’t need Masha to flay me when Headmaster would do it for her. I’d seen him do it my first day here, gutting an Acari up the middle with as much emotion as I might show while cracking open a can of Coke.
His eyes swept over the lot of us. I couldn’t imagine what went through his head as he noted every last detail—who held what, who stood where, and next to whom. His flat gaze settled on Masha. “What is happening here, Guidon?”
“I am attending to a”—she cast a beady eye at me—“discipline problem.” Damned if she wasn’t biting back a smile.
But that smile faded at Headmaster’s tone. “You have a peculiar way of enforcing our laws. Unless your intention was to create this…carnival atmosphere.” He surveyed the room once more, disgust playing on those handsome features. “Assez regrettable. Tell me, Guidon Masha, was this carnival your intention?”
“No, Headmaster,” Masha said meekly.
“I will take it from here. Guidon Masha, we will discuss this later.” He stared down the crowd. “All of you, go.”
Acari, Trainees, and Initiates scattered like mice from the hall.
I bent to scoop up my bag with pretty much the only parts of my hands that weren’t bleeding—the fingertips of my left hand.
“Stop,” said Headmaster.
I dropped the bag, bolting to a rigidly upright position. I knew that would’ve been too easy. Emma and I were the only ones left in the hall, and I wished I could’ve seen her face.