Page 4 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
My stomach rumbles, and I know I have to eat, but that doesn’t make it easier to overcome my fears. Is the food fit for humans? I’ve seen Margaux eat regular food, yet I’m shocked that vampires consumenormal—albeit expensive—food instead of… I don’t know. Blood pudding?
The student across the table smiles and leans closer.
“You look new,” she whispers, lifting a brow.
I could deny it, but why bother? Strode is a small, private university. Leaning into thenew kidarchetype will work in my favor.
“What tipped you off?” I aim for a charismatic smile, but it’s shaky.
I’m the worst person for this! There are a million people who can charm the pants off this stranger, and I am not one of them.
For what it’s worth, she looks normal. Her hair is strawberry blonde, her eyes a warm brown, and the smile on her face is welcoming… if not for her sharp, pointy fangs.
I repress a shudder.
“It’s the wide-eyed look.” She leans back in her seat, looking pleased with herself. “Every year, without fail, I see new students with exactly that look.”
“Ah…” Nervous laughter falls from my lips. “I’ll try harder to adjust my face.”
“Don’t bother. You’ll adjust soon enough.” She picks up her wine glass, swirling crimson liquid around the cup. “It’s usually just the freshmen who look like that.”
I would believe her if not for the uneasy, twisting feeling in my stomach as she lifts theglass to her lips.
Her eyes are stuck on mine as she takes a dainty sip, leaving behind a mauve lipstick stain.
Blood. The person across from me is drinking blood.
I’m going to faint.
Do other supernatural beings feast on blood? If they do, I’ve never heard of them… and I should have. My mother loves telling terrifying tales of the supernatural and the different ways to ward them off. She was one of the rare people who believed in vampires and witches before they confirmed their existence.
I guess most would call her a conspiracy theorist. For once, the unhinged people were right.
Maybe if I had listened to her advice better, I wouldn’t be here.
“You’re doing it again,” she says.
“Sorry!” I blurt.
“It’s all right.” Her nails tap against the glass. “Is the drink throwing you off? I can tell you’re not a child of the night.”
“I am not.” Shit. What do werecats call themselves? Children of… the claw? I need to do more research. “I’m a werecat.”
I’ve said the lie before. I rehearsed it in front of a mirror, and I told it in the admissions process a few times. The school was excited to accept me. They hardly questioned it as I got the lie past my shaking lips. It was a new moon; they couldn’t exactly demand I shift in front of them.
There’s a reason I decided to pose as a were-something.
She lets out a delighted laugh. “Ilovecats. I think we’re going to get along great. The witches will probably like you, too. You’ll remind them of their familiars.”
“Maybe.” My gaze sweeps the area. “Are there any witches here?”
“Oh, tons,” she says. I expect her to point them out, but she doesn’t bother. “Their fertility potions keep their numbers high. Us children of the night aren’t as lucky.”
“That’s, um… too bad,” I say. “Aren’t you immortal? That should be good for your population.”
“Some of us are,” she says vaguely.
Before I can press for more information, another student slides into the seat across from mine. He’s a man of average height with dark hair that falls to his chin.
