Cold Blood (3 page)

The driveway wound through grassy hills bordered by rows of perfectly groomed trees. It looked like the setting to a country club or golf course, not a hidden boarding school for supernaturals. Then again, how many hidden boarding schools had I actually been to?

“
Looks the same,” my mother murmured to her window.

“
You went here?” I asked.

Grandma nodded. “Everyone in your family has gone to Wood Point. It’s the best Hunter school in the country.”

She sounded so proud that I clamped down my complaints and we rode on in silence.

Grandma rounded another curve, and the school came into view. It was... massive. And rigidly beautiful. The walls were a smooth, cream-colored stone that rose higher and higher, interrupted by wide balconies that opened up from third and fourth floor doorways. Long, narrow windows all displayed white curtains which clashed sharply with the dark trim that matched the wrought iron of the gates. Large columns on either side of the entrance ran all the way to the roof, ending in what looked like small turrets. It struck me as a cross between a military school and Buckingham Palace.

Grandma made the turn into the parking lot, and I caught a glimpse of another building behind this one. It was the same chalky stone without the fancy details. Grandma pulled in, double parking so the Hummer had room to spare on either side, should someone take the chance of parking next to us. Not likely.

"Looks like they got that foundational issue taken care of," Grandma said, looking critically at the far corner of the building. “I wasn’t sure if Vernon would be able to deal with the contractor after that screw-up with the permits.”

My mother muttered a response that made it sound like she knew what Grandma was referring to but didn’t really care enough to respond. I, on the other hand, had no idea. Before I could even ask her about it, she cut the engine and turned back to me.

“
You ready?" Her eyes were soft and understanding.

I was tempted to stick my chin out and say, “No, I most certainly am not ready” and let Grandma take me in her arms and hug me like I was five again, but my mother was looking at me, too, and the softness wasn't nearly as evident in her gaze. I sighed.

"Yeah, let's go," I said. I grabbed my backpack and we piled out. I blinked, adjusting to the brightness of the sun after sitting behind tinted windows all morning.

I gazed up at the building in front of me, charmed despite my reservations. Up close, I could see the stone was dotted with pale green ivy that twisted and turned its way up the walls. The ivy looked faded and reckless in its half-dead state, and I wondered what it would look like in spring, when everything was bright and alive.

“
Tara, come on,” my mother called.

I shifted my gaze from the view above and rounded the hood of the Hummer, hurrying to catch up, and collided with someone. I steadied myself and stepped back.

"Sorry," a male voice muttered.

I opened my mouth to brush it off as my fault and stopped, my eyes locked onto his. The dark hair and tanned skin might have been hard to place, but the striking green eyes were not. This was the boy I'd seen at Leo's warehouse, the one who'd saved me.

He stared back at me without speaking, his expression one of disdain.

"Tara?" Grandma's voice came from somewhere behind him.

Again, I opened my mouth to say something, but he gave a curt nod and stepped around me, disappearing around the corner of the building. I stared after him, wondering what had caused him to look at me like that. Surely, he’d recognized me.

When he was gone, I joined Grandma and my mother; neither of which commented on the boy I’d seen. Then again, he’d darted away so quickly they probably hadn’t recognized him from that far away.

As Grandma reached for the door, it swung open and a short, stocky man stepped out, holding it ajar with his backside. He smiled expectantly at Grandma–an action that pushed his round glasses further up his nose–and crinkled his eyes so his irises disappeared behind tiny slits.

"Edie, it's good to see you," he said, holding his hand out towards her.

"Vernon." Grandma took his hand and then leaned in to kiss the man's cheek. His already flushed cheeks flamed a little brighter from her attention, and his eyes flicked to my mother.

"Hello, Elizabeth," he said shyly.

My mother smiled back at him, a gesture that was more genuine than I'd expected. "Vern, how are you?" She, too, leaned down and kissed his cheeks before passing through the doors.

Vernon reddened again and then looked back at me. "Miss Godfrey. I’m Headmaster Whitfield. Welcome." He waved me inside with a polite gesture.

"Thanks," I mumbled. Headmaster? Was this place above using the word “principal?”

I heard the door close behind me, and the robust headmaster stepped around me, heading for Grandma.

"You made good time," he said as they took up the lead and drifted towards a side hallway.

Grandma responded with something about traffic and the Hummer being a smoother ride than you’d think. I tuned it out and stared at the lobby. The walls next to me were covered with long tapestries colored to look like foreign flags and interspersed with large oil paintings of some alumni or another from decades past. Bronzed plaques hung underneath the paintings, giving names and dates. Again, I was struck by how little this felt like a normal school; College, maybe. More like the UN, though.

And what was that boy doing here? Did he go to school here? Grandma would know, since she'd brought him with her that day as part of her team, but I couldn't ask her now. She was still locked in conversation with my new principal. Sorry, Headmaster.

"Tara." I turned at the sound of my mother's voice. She’d paused at the edge of a hallway where Grandma and Headmaster had disappeared. Her foot tapped a harsh beat against the gleaming floor.

"Coming," I said.

The hallway we turned down felt much more like a school office. Flyers for various protocols and procedures were stuck to the walls or hung on bulletin boards. I passed a few doors, mostly open, and was greeted with polite smiles from secretary-looking women who looked up at me over the rim of their reading glasses before going back to the click-click of their computer keyboards.

At the end of the hall, I followed my mother into an office and found Grandma already sitting in a leather chair across from Headmaster, who sat behind the biggest desk I'd ever seen. Despite his roundness, he looked tiny behind that desk; or maybe his chair was too low to the ground. I couldn't decide. He and Grandma were still talking and laughing, but grew quiet when my mother shut the door behind me with a click. Grandma gestured for me to join her.

I sat in the chair next to her, while my mother lowered herself onto the sofa that lined the wall behind us. There were more framed portraits in here, with more names I'd never heard of, and a dark green tapestry covered the wall behind Vernon's desk with some sort of seal on it that depicted an eagle with a sword in its beak.

"Tara, this is Headmaster Whitfield. He runs Wood Point Academy," Grandma said, calling me back to the moment.

My eyes flicked from hers to his and I managed a polite smile. "Nice to meet you," I said.

Headmaster Whitfield, on the other hand, was grinning widely at the mention of his proper title and responsibility. His chest puffed out as he spoke. "And you, Tara. It's a privilege to have a Godfrey at our school again. We're very excited to have you. Do you have any questions for me?" I shook my head and he went on. "I know, due to your, er, circumstances this is a bit rushed. There isn't much time to do anything but jump in. Then again, from what your Grandma tells me, you're making up for lost time in your combat capabilities with raw talent. Still, we need to get you caught up. I've arranged for a tutor to help with that. If you work hard, you should have no trouble catching up in time to graduate next year."

"Sounds great," I said, wondering if he could hear the absolute lack of energy in my words. If he did, he ignored it.

"Here is your schedule." He handed me a sheet of paper. "We used your previous school's records to determine placement in English and Math. The rest is pretty standard here, but if you have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to voice them. We want this transition to be as seamless as possible. Oh, and there's a map of the property, and I've marked your room number and building so you can find it later."

Headmaster Whitfield handed me everything across the desk and glanced at Grandma, looking very much like a schoolboy seeking his teacher’s approval. She rewarded him with a smile and a nod that I took to mean she was satisfied. Headmaster Whitfield beamed.

I skimmed the schedule, trying to figure out what the names of the classes meant. I recognized English, and Algebra II, and American History, but the rest were foreign to me. There were classes like ‘Hunter History’ and 'Defensive Maneuvers 2'. Those actually sounded interesting. Then my eyes caught on a class called 'Lineage', and I remembered what Grandma had said about Hunters family lines being a source of pride here. So, I had to study genealogy? I’d rather do math.

"Oh, honey, I'm so excited for you," Grandma said. I looked up and saw that she was smiling at me, her face shining with pride.

"Thanks, Grandma." I held up my schedule. “Everything looks really, uh, interesting.”

Headmaster Whitfield cleared his throat. "Well, I think you belong in Defensive Maneuvers 2 right now."

"Right, we should let you get settled," Grandma said. She turned to Headmaster. "Oh, Vernon, her bags are still in the truck."

He waved his hands. "I'll have a student aide take them to her room for her. She can get right to class and unpack later."

"Thank you.” Grandma rose, and I followed her lead.

From the back of the room, my mother did the same and held the door open for us again. Grandma put her arm around me and guided me out.

"Let us know if you need anything, okay? And we'll visit in a few weeks." She pulled me into a hug before I could respond, which was good because words caught in my throat. A few weeks? I was stuck here for a few weeks before they’d be back to check on me?

I blinked the tears back, not wanting to show how upset I was. It wasn’t like I’d never been away from home. I’d done summer camps before and this wasn’t much different, but it felt so foreign…and final. There was all this unspoken pressure for me to live up to a family legacy that I didn’t even know existed until now.

Grandma stepped back, holding me at arm's length for a long look before finally letting me go. My mother stepped up and reached out for me. Behind her tight frown, her eyes were sad and, as usual, worried.

"You be careful, okay? Stay on school grounds. Don't leave at all," she said, into my ear.

"Oh, don't worry, Elizabeth. Students aren't allowed to leave school grounds at all," Headmaster Whitfield said.

My mother gave me a look that said “never stopped her before” and shook her head. Then they were walking away, down the long hall towards the lobby. At the end, they waved once, and then they were gone. I stared after them, feeling empty.

The sound of Headmaster’s voice made me jump. I’d almost forgotten I wasn’t alone.

"If you'll wait in the lobby, your tutor will be along in a few minutes to show you to your class," said Headmaster Whitfield.

I nodded, and he disappeared back into his office.

I made my way back to the lobby and wandered along the wall, pretending to study the portraits I'd seen earlier. A few kids came and went; most of them didn't even bother to hide the fact that they were staring at me. I assumed they were trying to figure out who the new kid was, until I heard one of them whisper, "That's her," as they passed by.

“
What a freak,” said the other one. Both of them looked at me like I was day old seafood.

I watched them walk away, feeling confused more than offended. I did a quick outfit check. I knew I didn’t look runway ready in my jeans and hoodie, but I hadn’t had time to change after the trip. And now, with my bags being sent to my room, I guess I wouldn’t. I ran a hand through my hair and used the tie on my wrist to pull it up into a quick ponytail. Maybe that would help.

A couple more students passed through the lobby, and I got funny looks again, but they weren’t close enough for me to hear what they were saying. I was getting paranoid. I wandered towards the wall where the polished plaques of dead alumni hung and used the reflective glass as a mirror. I pulled a lip gloss out of my backpack and slid some over my lips.

Someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned and found myself face to face with the same green eyed boy from the parking lot – and the warehouse.

"I know you," I blurted, finally managing words this time. He looked back at me with lifted brows. "I mean, I saw you. In the warehouse. You saved me. Thanks." My words were rushed partly because I was afraid he was going to bolt again and partly because my nerves were starting to get to me.

He shrugged like he wanted to be done with it, and when he spoke, his words were fast and clipped. "No biggie. I'm Alex.”

“
I’m Tara.”

“
You ready to go?"

"Go?" I blinked at him. "You're my tutor?"