Page 4 of Blood Currents
Echo’s chameleon scales pulsed an alarmed red.
“Okay, let’s go.”My skeletal mouse vaulted up my arm and settled next to my neck, his bones trembling against my skin.
Twenty minutes later, we filed into the circular auditorium with the other students.Above us, the glass dome no longer caught the sun.It reflected winter stars instead—cold, distant, and sharp as broken promises.The last time I stood here, my father’s diary had gone up in smoke.The scorch marks were gone now, but I would never forget.
Students filled the rising rows around the central stage, their anxious whispers bouncing off the curved walls like fireflies trapped in a jar.The magic in the room was too alert—edgy, restless.It scraped against me.It wasn’t even the end of my first semester, yet that presence of magic felt normal, even when it was uneasy.
The Shroud Guard lined the perimeter again, still and silent, their tattoos glowing faintly blue.I’d never seen this many at any other gathering—too many for this to be routine.The council used the elite guard for security, but most should be out tracking and fighting vampires.Even after the vampire attack in town—had it really been only a few weeks ago—there weren’t usually more than a handful of guards stationed on campus.
I caught myself scanning the rows for Keane’s silhouette before I could stop.He wouldn’t be here.He hadn’t been anywhere since that portal snapped shut behind him.We’d searched—Cyrus, Elio, and me.
Elio and I didn’t sit together.We knew better.Just close enough to feel each other’s presence but far enough that no one could guess.The silence between us wasn’t hostile.It was worse than that—careful.
A few rows ahead, I spotted my friends Raven, Lucas, and Aurora.I dropped my gaze before they could wave.We hadn’t talked in the weeks since the vampire attack.Since the secrets started multiplying like dead things in a crypt.
Keane.Elio.The council.Project Cornerstone.
All we had were fragments: my dad’s notes, charred and half-decoded; letters from dead parents who’d known too much; hints scratched into margins, maps that led nowhere.Nothing concrete.Just the memory of Keane’s uncle dragging him through a corrupted portal.Just the sound of paper burning while the council smiled.
“Students of Wickem Academy,” Lord Raynoff’s voice cut through the nervous murmur.
I forced my attention back to the assembly and whatever they were doing here.
The head of the council, Cyrus’s father, spoke from the podium, broad-shouldered and iron-spined, the streaks of gray in his red hair only sharpening the resemblance to his son.Lord Raynoff’s amber eyes swept the room like a general surveying a battlefield.The other council members, Keane’s uncle and Elio’s parents, flanked him like a formation—united, polished, and built to remind the rest of us exactly who held power here.
Cyrus had told him about Keane’s uncle, Lord Alstone, and everything he had done.How could they be united?
Scout lay against my neck, his feet tapping uneasily against the skin.I stroked the top of his bony head.
“We gather this evening to address a grave threat to our community,” Raynoff continued.
My gaze lifted on instinct, and for a breathless second, my eyes met Lady Lightford’s—those ice-blue depths just as polished and unreadable as the last time she looked through me like I was a stain on the floor.Elio’s mom didn’t blink.
She’d hate that I cared about her son.She’d hate it even worse if she knew he cared about me back.
“Recent events have forced us to confront a painful truth,” Lord Raynoff continued.“The vampire attack in Wyckhaven was not a random assault.It was orchestrated.Planned.By someone with intimate knowledge of our defenses.”
The temperature in the auditorium seemed to drop ten degrees.An inside job.A traitor.
Of course the traitor was right there, standing beside Lord Raynoff, but that wasn’t who he meant.My stomach twisted.
I sought out Elio, and found Cyrus looking back at me instead.His face was carefully neutral, but I could see the fury burning behind his controlled expression.For just a moment, our gazes held—a flash of shared understanding in a sea of lies.
“Someone we trusted.”
Lord Alstone stepped forward, and my world tilted sideways.
He looked haggard, like a man carrying an unbearable burden.Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his usual perfection carefully undone.But that wasn’t what hurt.
What hurt even more was that Alstone had Keane’s dark hair and stormy blue eyes, though none of Keane’s kindness.None of his quiet humor or the stubborn, aching generosity he tried to hide behind detachment.His uncle wore the same face, more or less, but every line of it was cruelty, no matter what act he performed.
“My nephew,” he began, his voice breaking just enough to sound authentic, “Keane Alstone, has been missing for over a week.”
No.The word screamed through my mind, but I couldn’t make a sound.
“At first, we hoped… we prayed… that he had been taken against his will.That the vampires who attacked our community had somehow captured him, turned him against us through force or corruption.”
I watched students around me lean forward, caught up in the tragedy of it.
