Page 36 of Ever Dark Academy: Vol. 1

Grayson had stopped dead in his tracks to look up at the double moons, staring at them for a full five minutes, full lips parted softly as he gazed upon them in awe. He’d studied the architecture and stopped as well to look into the lit buildings. Some of them were the shops that were to be open for the students. Inside, staff were busy filling the shelves with good things to eat, fascinating books to read or fine clothes to wear.

Ryder did not understand the need to have such shops. The students wouldn’t require money to buy anything. Everything was provided free of charge. He supposed Balthazar and Caemorn had wanted Nightvallen to seem a little more like a human city in that there were cafes to sip coffee at or wine bars to satisfy the snobbiest palate. There was even a brewery, which had quite good malt beer and a distillery that produced a smooth yet fiery whisky that Ryder was rather fond of. Every shop was actually a part of a Vampire-owned business on Earth so they’d had plenty of time to hone their craft.

In between formal “classes”, the students would be free to roam and take in the town together or with a Vampire who asked them out. It would almost be like dating. Ryder shuddered. To “date” humans to discover if they were to join one in eternity was the epitome of shallowness in his opinion.

One year and a few cups of coffee to know if someone was one’s Childe? Ridiculous! And to have the pool limited to those chosen by Balthazar Ravenscroft and Caemorn Losus? Even more absurd! As impressive as those two Vampires were, they did not have the same sensibilities as any Weryn. Eyros and Kaly Vampires were not known to even seek out others of their own Bloodline for company, let alone care what the rest of their Bloodline thought about any particular Children they wished to turn. They simply couldn’t understand Weryn’s ways.

“It reminds me a little of London,” Grayson finally said as he took in one of the curving highstreets.

“Yes, I can see that similarity,” Ryder agreed, happy to be distracted from his thoughts.

“My mom told me that London is set up to be a very walkable city. The buildings are a certain height so that they draw the eye, but don’t overshadow the street. It really looks just like that here,” Grayson answered. He then bit his lip as if surprised and a little dismayed he had said so much.

“Did you visit London or live there?” Ryder asked.

Again, Grayson bit his lower lip, but he reluctantly answered, “Visited. My mother was English. We had some relatives there. They’re all gone now.”

Gone. Dead? Or simply not interested in being connected to Grayson because of his powers?

“Are your parents--”

“I don’t want to talk about them.” Grayson grimaced. Again, that mouth betrayed the young man.

“All right.” Ryder tried not to appear nettled.

Speaking of one’s family, one’s connections, whether by blood or by choice was important to Weryn. It was important to him. It anchored a person in the warp and weave of things. Grayson was like a loose thread. So what should Ryder care if he would withhold his past?

But he, obviously, isn’t one of us and won’t be, Ryder remanded himself. I’m judging him by a standard that is unfair.

Grayson continued to bite his lower lip and he was staring at the cobbled road with anxiety. Suddenly, he burst out, “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You were clear about what you were willing to discuss. I would rather that than lies,” Ryder attempted to unbend.

Grayson’s eyes flickered to him and then away then, taking in a deep breath as if the gird himself for battle, the young man rushed out, “My dad died when I was three. I don’t remember him. He was a good guy or so I heard. Mom remarried someone not so good. Things went wrong.”

Things went wrong. There could be a novel read into that single sentence.

There was a pause here and Ryder saw a flash of despair on Grayson’s face that was so raw it hurt to see. Now he wished he hadn’t asked--and hadn’t been offended--about Grayson’s family. This was not easy to discuss for Grayson obviously.

“I left home when I was just a kid,” Grayson continued. “Lived on the streets. Did what I had to do to survive.”

Again, another novel in those few words. A whole series of tragic adventures.

Another pause, and Ryder truly wanted to kick himself. His protective instincts towards Grayson--which seemed to be constantly triggering when he wasn’t hungering for the young man--were blaring on high alert now. He should have left things alone!

“But I managed. Got the job at the store. The apartment above. I was surviving, you know, until… until what happened with Gregory and the Sect,” Grayson finished.

Surviving is not thriving.

What Grayson had told him was a bare bones, a barely there recital of a life that Ryder guessed had been far from easy. A life with powers, a life on the streets, a life of surviving was hardly a life at all. No friends. No family. Hiding who he truly was and what he could do. Only to have even that paltry bit of peace and comfort ripped away from him by a bunch of Vampires in a spray of blood and gore.

Yet, his life was not what it should have been before we entered it. Would it have improved? Or would Grayson have lived a desperate, empty life with no one else in it?

“So now that you know about me, what’s the deal about you?” Grayson’s light pewter-colored eyes slid to him again.

“What do you wish to know?” Ryder asked, feeling a bit at a loss at giving his biography. Then remembering that humans were often fascinated by a Vampire’s age stated, “I am 484 years old.”

Grayson let out a laugh and gave him a quick, amused glance this time. “So you’re too old for me, is that what you’re saying?”

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