Page 10 of Ever Dark Academy: Vol. 1

Silver eyes. Ability to use the weather. Lightning bolt tattoo. She’s a Horys Vampire! Grayson realized. But what would a Vampire be doing in the Sect of Dawn?

Maybe he had been right that the Sect was simple nonsense and Gregory mistaken. But she was saying Gregory worked for them, for her, so why would she pretend to be a member of the Sect?

“Gregory found the perfect candidates,” she said as she negligently pulled her sleeve down to hide the evidence of her Bloodline. “He helped them craft the perfect entrance letters and interviews. He just also must have realized that he… well, that he was a perfect candidate, too.”

Grayson didn’t want to speak to this woman. He didn’t really care what she had to say. But he needed more time to fuel himself. And the more she talked, the more wood could be added to his fire.

“How did he get past the Eyros Vampires? They can read minds, right? So they would have known that he was working for the Sect,” Grayson pointed out.

She nodded. “Look at you. A little Sherlock Holmes! If the Eyros Vampires were perfect at what they did all the time well… then the War would never have happened. But it did.”

He vaguely remembered hearing about the War between the various Immortals who sired all of the Bloodlines. They had battled for supremacy when King Daemon had chosen to go into an almost death-like sleep to await his fledgling’s birth. Many Vampires had died. Many Immortals had too, which Grayson found fitting and yet ironic because of their title. If they had been foolish enough to fight simply to be yet more powerful than they deserved what had happened to them.

“Aren’t there other Vampires though that can see the future? Those Seeyr ones? Surely, they can see what you’re planning,” Grayson suggested, not really interested, but still trying to keep her attention elsewhere.

More wood.

More fire.

More sweat.

More shaking.

But he was almost ready. His eyes flickered down to Sam. The man didn’t weigh much. His bulk came from the layer upon layer of clothes he wore. The only calories he likely got came mostly from alcohol. Grayson thought he could lift and carry Sam if he had to until they burst out the back door. Then he’d set the homeless man down and they’d both hightail it out of there.

“Seeyr?” the woman laughed. It was not a nice laugh. “She couldn’t even stop herself from being imprisoned in the damned Spire! She says it was the only way to ensure that Daemon returned and got all the good things coming to him. But we know better. She is limited.”

Grayson frowned. He felt what she was saying was wrong, though really how would he know? There were rioters in the streets against the Vampires. There were religious cults--outside of the Sect--that hated the Vampires and wanted them destroyed. Surely if the Vampires were as gifted and powerful as everyone said they would have done a better job of revealing themselves to the world.

Unless it has to be this way, a part of him whispered. Unless King Daemon is enjoying himself. Setting up a challenge. Winning…

He snapped back to the moment as he realized the woman was practically pressed against the door. And the door had sagged a few inches towards the ground. There was the sound of screeching tires outside and the thump of car doors opening and shutting.

“Ah, our ride,” she said with a wide smile. “I don't want to get wet again.”

Before he could do anything, she moved. Somehow she was around the door and on top of Sam. Her teeth were at the homeless man’s throat. Sam let out a wail of terror. Grayson couldn’t use the door against her as it would harm Sam, might even kill him. Besides there were two figures by the threshold of the store, about to come in.

He sent the door flying towards the entrance and jammed it there to keep the other Sect members out. The tiny bits of metal he sent spinning towards her. She let out a scream as one sliced her arm and another cut open her cheek. He tried bringing them around again to cut her more. If he could move them fast enough they could blast through her like bullets. But they seemed slow and sluggish.

She whirled around to face him. Her mouth was covered in blood. It ran over her lips and down her chin. Her fangs were fully out. The moment should have paralyzed him with fear. But some part of him recognized this as if he’d seen it many times before.

“Should have taken you out first,” she wheeled. “I’m sure you taste better than an old drunk anyways. But I needed to dampen my enthusiasm. You need to live after all.”

Grayson’s eyes slipped past her to Sam. It had only been a moment. Not long at all. But the homeless man was dead. She hadn’t just sunk those needle-like fangs into his throat. She had torn out the front of it. Sam gazed skyward, eyes unblinking, unseeing. The room again felt empty. Sam was dead.

“Why are you so upset by their deaths?” she asked as she wiped the back of one hand over her mouth, just managing to smear the blood. “You’re a loner. You’ve had a hard life. You keep to yourself. Yet here you are, all bleeding heart! Another interesting thing about you.”

Bright, hot anger burned suddenly in him. It burned through the fear. It burned through the voice telling him to go, go, GO!

“He had nothing. He was a homeless drunk. But he was kind. He was gentle. He didn’t hurt anyone but himself,” Grayson told her. “And he shared what he had with those who…”

His throat closed up. Sam had been the first street person he’d ever met who hadn’t been cruel, but genuinely kind to him. He’d shared food with Grayson when Grayson had first taken to the streets. He’d given Grayson a blanket. He’d told Grayson where it was safe to sleep and where it wasn’t. He’d even urged Grayson to go home… if only that had been a possibility.

“You killed him for what?” Grayson’s voice was taut. “Because you were hungry? Or bored?”

She stared at him almost blankly. If his words reached her, he didn’t know. But then she smiled. A bloody smile and said, “I bet you taste sweet.”

And then she lunged for him.

---