Page 15 of Ashvale: The Vampire's Thrall

I stayed in bed, staring up at the ceiling for the better part of ten minutes before restlessness made me swing my legs out of the covers. There was too much zipping around in my brain and I needed to clear my head—a walk sounded like the perfect way to do that.

The corridors should be largely deserted; classes were held during the day as the vast majority of those attending were living vampires who had no problem with the sun. I could only assume some of the instructors had to also be living vampires too, though perhaps not. Undead vampires weren't always the most considerate or empathetic type, so making the classes during the day regardless of discomfort for an undead instructor wasn't too outside the realm of possibility.

Either way, I was hoping that I would be able to wander around undisturbed as I tried to force my mind to stop overworking itself. But really, there was a lot to process. I was avampire. Not only that, I wasdead. Someone had murdered me, and clearly in a pretty horrific way if what Hayes had said was true. Without my memories, it was hard for me to know what I might have been missing out on, what dreams I still carried unfulfilled. There were things I was starting to love about being a vampire, but reconciling who I was becoming with who I used to be felt like I was betraying human-Leonora. Like if I enjoyed myself for even a second, I was lessening the weight of the choice that had been taken from her—me.

I closed my bedroom door behind myself as quietly as possible and then made my way down the corridor, the cold air not bothering me even in my sleep shorts and tee.

Then there was my death itself. I was circling over the same thoughts over and over, wondering if I’d deserved it, if it had been a justified death—or even how they’d done it. Was the trauma of my death really the culprit for my missing memories? I rounded the corner and my pace picked up until my bare feet began to thud quietly against the stone floor.

Would my bloodline still claim me even if I'd technically failed the ultimate vampiric test of strength? I hadn't been able to survive on my own—but I was pretty sure I hadn't been far from my nineteenth birthday when I’d died. Would they think that was close enough? Would they consider me one of them, or a failure? And did I care if the latter was true?

My hair stirred in the breeze I was creating as the walls passed me in a blur of speed as I ran up and down the stairs, through the winding corridors and then came to a fluid stop beside one of the windows overlooking the greenery and forest below.

I looked out at the swaying trees, breathing in the unique taste of night-time. How had I managed to get so close to Ashvale? Had I already been on my way here while I was alive?

The forest didn't have any answers for me, and I sighed as I rested my chest lightly against the slate window ledge. If I squinted, I could almost pretend that I could see the lake from here—the one I'd killed the girl in, covering myself in blood and muck from the water—

I tilted my head as something occurred to me. I had been murdered, apparently in a way so brutal my body had needed more than the usual amount of blood to finish my transition. So why hadn't I woken up covered in myownblood? Somebody had to have cleaned me up. Maybe they'd even dumped me closer to Ashvale, which meant that maybe my murder hadn't been as random as I'd initially assumed.

Or maybe I was just tired and spiralling. I wasn’t a detective, I knew nothing about murders, let alone how to solve one. But if I was a pawn in someone else’s game, well, that I would need to deal with.

I turned from the window, deciding I could probably try to sleep some more, when something stirred in the trees.

My head whipped back around and I froze as whatever it was stopped and turned, like it could sense me watching.

I chanced a slow lean forward and managed to catch a glimpse of silvery fur highlighted by the moonlight before the animal disappeared. I blinked and leaned slightly out of the window to look around, but couldn't spot whatever it had been. I'd never seen anything like it before and whatever it was, it had moved so fast I had missed it. That creature was as fast as a vampire. Maybe faster.

A knot of worry began to form in my stomach as I turned away from the window and slowly made my way back to my room on the third floor. Why did I get the feeling that things were only going to get worse before they got better?

Unbidden, my mind found itself on Hayes. It was understandable, he was clearly an example of worse rather than better and what we'd done earlier... Well, it wouldn't be happening again. We'd only done what we'd had to do to protect everyone else and appease the monster in me, driven wild by Elowen's blood. Unfortunately, we were stuck together and I had the irritating suspicion that I was going to need him if I wanted any hope of surviving this place, especially if there was a chance that something supernatural had played a hand in my death. Who was to say they wouldn't come back to finish the job?

With that cheery thought in mind, I ran all the way back to my room in just a few seconds without even breaking a sweat. I locked the door carefully and ignored the pull of the bond that wanted me to find Hayes. I'd seen more than enough of him for one lifetime—the bond didn't agree but, as I climbed into bed, I decided that was a problem for tomorrow.

ChapterEight

I actually managedto get to classes the next day, no thanks to Hayes. He'd walked past me as I'd left my room and looked straight ahead, not saying a word.

Thanks to my late-night wandering the night before, I was pretty sure that Hayes didn't need to pass my room to get to his classes. So he'd deliberately gone out of his way to ignore me—I just wasn't sure why. Did he think I would be trailing after him like a love-sick puppy just because of some kisses?

The vampire leading our introductory session—Lark—was living and looked to be around mid-thirties, so unless he was planning on dying twice and never living as an undead he would probably transition in the next ten years or so, while he was still young enough to be healthy and further his sire line but not so young that he’d be ID’d buying booze for eternity. I'd noticed him shooting me wary glances since I'd arrived at the door just off of the second floor corridor staircase.

The other students weren't much better. Some radiated fear and mistrust, but others had undisguised interest that was off-putting instead of enticing. It wasn't often that living vampires became undead so young. When it did happen, things tended to get messy—as Lark was demonstrating for them now.

He gestured to the wall behind him where a projector broadcast in wobbly lines onto the stones. "Without the proper preparations and training, and given the typical trauma of the living vampires affected by an early death, it is usually safest to terminate the newly undead rather than attempt to corral them. Though, of course, there are exceptions."

I raised an eyebrow. This only reaffirmed what I'd been wondering since last night. Undead baby vamps, especially those disoriented by the magical block like I had been, didn't usually make it to these academies of training. But I had. Someone had wanted me here, but to survive? Or to direct me like a loose canon at whoever they had wanted dead?

I pinched the inside of my cheek as I tried to recall something,anything, from my death. Several pairs of eyes had turned my way at Lark's words but nobody voiced the very thoughts running through my head—why was I still here?

Lecture on that particular subject apparently done with, Lark cleared his throat as he clicked a button to change the projected picture from one of bloody carnage to some kind of basic powerpoint with three images: the sun, the heart, and the head.

"There's not much that can truly kill an undead vampire—even their living counterparts are remarkably resilient."

I was beginning to think of this class as Vampires For Dummies, because who didn't know the ways to kill a vampire?

"What about fire?" A slender looking living vampire in the row ahead of me called and Lark's nose wrinkled. The micro-expression was so quick that I was sure none of the living vampires had caught it. Lark thought this kid was an idiot too, and that made me feel better for some reason.

"Harder to regenerate and recover from, especially if the vampire is already in a weakened state. But with enough blood, there isn't much we can’t heal as long as the fire doesn’t fully destroy the heart or head."

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