Now there was an uncomfortable thought.
Beaufort looked up over my head, and a faint tinge of pink touched his cheeks. “It is what happens when a djamphir drinks blood. After a certain point, the, ah, the nosferat part of our heritage rises to the surface. We gain more strength, more speed—and less ability to withstand sunlight. It burns us just as it burns them, when we give in to the craving.” His mouth pursed. “We’ll cover more of that later, Milady. With your permission?”
So that was why Christophe had hidden from the sun after biting me. I nodded, pulled my jaw back up. Closed my mouth with a snap. Gee, I was just learning new things all over. I wished I had my hoodie on. Gooseflesh crept up my arms, spread down my back.
“Without the King, the Court scattered and gradually lost their ability to walk during the day. Which brings us back to the point of this lecture. Why do you suppose Scarabus had to hide his sister?”
I just knew I was going to say something snide. “For snacking later?”
There were a couple of gasps, one horrified chuckle, and several snorts. A few of the boys looked down at their notepads or books, one or two of them with bright crimson cheeks.
I never used to wise off in class. Things were just changing all over.
If Beaufort’s mouth could have turned down any further, he would have looked like a commercial for bitter beerface. “No, Milady. Because the thing that allowed the Vampire King—and therefore the rest of the wampyr—to walk during the day was regular ritual infusions of svetocha blood. Which is, incidentally, what makes svetocha such high-priority targets for both us and them.” The grimace eased up into a mirthless grin, one that showed his white, white teeth as the aspect ran through him again. The fangs look different when they’re exposed and lengthening. Thicker, with a distinctive curve. “Svetocha have become increasingly rare ever since, for reasons we’re still working to understand.” He finally turned away from me, his eyes roving the class. “Over the course of four centuries after the killing of the King, the Court scattered. Human populations were also on the move, and a pale copy of the original Court settled in Greece, since Egypt and, by extension, the Hittite empire proved . . . unwholesome. Unfortunately, though, Scarabus and his followers could only train so many djamphir; casualties were high, and the wampyr had the upper hand until fairly recently, when the Treaty with the wulfen was made.” He glanced at the clock over the door. “I think that’s enough lecture for today. Open your books to page 285, please, and—”
I dug for my book, but the roaring in my ears drowned out most of what he said next. The marks on my wrist had mostly healed by now. They were just two innocent little bruised-looking divots, right where the radial pulse beat. Marks from Christophe’s teeth.
I didn’t take. I only borrowed. Remember that.
He could have killed me. I remembered the ripping, tearing, awful sensation as something more than blood was pulled out of me. And that was only three long, hellish gulps. And after that he’d called up fog to shield us and hunted the vampires chasing us and—
“Milady?” Beauforte’s voice. “Be so kind as to read us the first passage on page 285.”
“Yeah.” I flipped two more pages. “Sure. All right. Two eighty-five.”
My eyes wandered and I had something caught in my throat. But I got through three paragraphs on something about the patterns of vampire migration during the Peloponnesian War and wasn’t called on for the rest of the class. I made it through by just putting my head down and staring at the pages, my eyes blurring. I’d catch hell for it on quizzes next week, but Jesus. Remembering someone sucking your blood—and soul—out of you isn’t comfortable.
What would it be like to have that happen until you died?
I shifted uncomfortably every time I thought about it, and by the time class was over I was so ready to get the hell out of there. So it came as a complete surprise when the silk-button-down boy in front of me turned around and leaned over the back of his couch. “Hey.”
The book went jammed back into my bag. I grabbed my hoodie, shrugged into it. “Yeah?”
So I didn’t sound very welcoming. So what?
“You, um, wanna have some coffee? Sometime?”
What? I stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language, and the shuffling noise in the room as everyone got ready to go crested. Then I realized what he was asking me, for whatever reason.
Words finally occurred to me. “I guess so.”
Now why did you say that, Dru? Like you’ve got time for a coffee klatch. But hell, it was the first time someone had said anything to me that they didn’t absolutely have to. And yeah, I was the new girl. Always be cautious of the first guy who talks to you—that’s the rule for new girls. I could have recited it in my sleep.
But it had worked out fine last time, with Graves. Or not so fine, considering he’d kissed me once and decided he didn’t want to go further. And this guy looked so hopeful, and his blue eyes were warm and shy.
“I mean, sure,” my mouth replied independently of my brain. “Like when?”
He looked surprised but covered it well. “Um. Huh. Well, when are you free?”
Leon made a stifled noise behind me. I ignored him. “Weekends, mostly. Except this Saturday, I’m, uh, busy. So, um, Sunday? Like around one or so? We can meet in the caf.”
Way to play hard to get, Dru.
He looked like I’d just given him Christmas. “Yeah.” He stuck his hand over the back of the couch. “I’m Zeke.”
I barely pressed his warm fingers. Some guys go for the squeeze to prove they’re manly, but he wasn’t one. The touch didn’t leap to show me anything about him, either. “Dru.”
“I know.” He gave me a grin, dropped my hand, grabbed his books, and beat it out the door. I would have been insulted, but the way he was blushing was kind of cute.
“The ice,” Leon said to thin air over my head, “has now officially broken.”
I rolled my eyes, hauled myself to my feet. Said nothing. Sometimes, if you just ignore him when he gets all sarcastic, he shuts up.
Today was not one of those times.
“I suppose you wouldn’t care to come out to coffee with any of us.” He was still talking to the air above my head, his arms folded.
Oh, Jesus. I kept my hand down with an effort. I was playing with Mom’s locket more and more often now. “Nobody ever asks me. I spend every day with you guys. What the hell?”
A single shrug, and he turned on his heel. “You’re going to be late. And you should be ready for that sort of reaction, Milady.”
“Why? What’s so wrong with a cup of coffee? Nobody else bothers to talk to me.”
“I really do believe you are a babe in the woods sometimes.” He took two gliding strides, cocked his head like he expected me to follow. “You’re svetocha, Milady. One girl, out of a total of two, in a school full of restless, hungry boys raised and schooled to be Kouroi. And . . .” A quick look around, his fine hair ruffling. The room had emptied. “Wherever you cast your glances, there will be trouble. Some have used that type of trouble to further their own ends.”
Did he mean that I’d already made trouble, or something else? Guess which one my money was laid on.
“You mean Anna,” I said flatly.
He gave me one of those Significant Glances a guy gives when he thinks you’re dumb but you’ve hit on something anyway. “I mean that your time is more precious than you know. Especially if they hold Trials.”