Darkness Above Page 3

  In other words, getting to the Administration building from the Hall meant walking the entire diagonal length of the campus grounds.

  We walked fast.

  Night had descended while we were in the Hall. Moonlight painted the grounds with a silver radiance, elongating the shadows of the tall maples and oaks that separated each quadrant.

  Even though vampyres and vampires don’t sleep, our cousins in the Coalescent army kept nocturnal hours. So naturally, we Hunters did the same. ‘Early to bed, early to rise’ in our world meant lights out at nine a.m. with the breakfast bells ringing at five-thirty p.m. The longer summer days, however, meant Hunters of all ages could be found sunbathing on dorm room balconies before bed, or stretched out on the grass enjoying a picnic breakfast by the duck pond before training.

  I liked sunshine as much as the next human, but there was something undeniably beautiful about the dark. Though perhaps the allure had something to do with the vampire walking soundlessly beside me. I couldn’t help admiring how Torrance’s pale arms seemed to shimmer under the iridescent moonlight, or the way her shoulder-length hair looked like layers of silk, the color so dark it bled into the shadows.

  She kept her hair in a ponytail, as was customary during training hours, but this morning she had worn it down for the party. I remembered how she looked, with just the slightest touch of makeup, the orange glow of birthday candles illuminating her angular cheekbones as she attempted to swipe a piece of confetti from those raven locks. A single silken strand had caught against her lip gloss, and I had reached out to brush it aside. Her smile as my fingertips grazed her cheek had been shy, her dark lashes downcast. I’d wanted to—

  “Hello, Earth to Jordan?” Torrance stood in front of the gray stone walls of the Administration building. She held open the glass door of the main entrance with one hand while waving the other in front of my face. “Anyone home in that head of yours?”

  I gave her a wry smile. “After you.”

  She put her hand on her hip. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to the Tin?”

  “We’re already here,” I said while entering the building. “We’ll get you a blood bag on the way back.”

  Torrance followed me inside. She went as far as the polished wood banister lining the staircase in the foyer and leaned her narrow hips against the rail, crossing her arms over her chest. Moment of truth.

  My gaze went to the end of the hall, where two freshly brewed pots of coffee sat on their burners atop a lacquered station outfitted with cream and sugar options. Despite the Administration building’s main use as the showpiece of the campus—with its stained-glass entrance, vaulted ceiling, and award-filled displays—most cadets had no reason to visit beyond their first day. However, since Head Huntsman Chayton used it as a receiving hall for guests and other people of importance, he personally kept the coffee station stocked with the good stuff. Everyone else usually made do with the sludge in the vending machines at the Tin because the Tin was conveniently located between the Hall and the dorms.

  Sneaking a cup of joe from Administration, however, wasn’t unheard of. I’ve done it a handful of times. Only, this time I had an ulterior motive. I did want the java, but I also wanted the Sergeant, and my vision strayed to the office door on the left.

  Torrance scoffed. “I knew this was a booty call.” She drew a breath and then raised her voice, making it echo in the grand hall. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

  “Says the vampire!” I whispered while pressing my index finger to my lips.

  Torrance stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes. I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to laugh. Narrowing my gaze at her in a conspiratorial warning, I sidled over to the closed door of the Head Huntsman’s office and bent forward to peer through the keyhole.

  The building was old, the knob and lock made of cast iron that, from the looks of it, would require a very large key. Through the keyhole, I could see one corner of the Head Huntsman's massive oak desk, as well as a portion of someone’s pant leg. Voices came through as well.

  “No, sir,” said Finch. “It’s just ….” He drew a deep breath, as though choosing his words carefully. “Germany is further away than I anticipated. I guess I thought you would keep me on Canadian soil, protecting our own.”

  “Ordinarily, I would.” Head Huntsman Chayton’s stern baritone was easily recognized. “But this order comes directly from the King. Things are dire out there for the Coalescent. You’re the most experienced Hunter I have.”

  “Except I’m not a Hunter,” Finch murmured.

  “You’ll have your team. Besides, it’s just a supply run. You’ll be on the aircraft the entire time.”

  A moment of silence stretched between them. Then the Sergeant murmured, “Yes, sir. Of course.”

  “Good man.”

  Footsteps shuffled toward the door, and I jumped out of the way as it opened. Both men stepped into the hall only to pause at my presence. Finch’s expression was dark. A thin line creased the center of his brow as he looked away, avoiding my gaze. Before I could get a word out of my mouth, Head Huntsman Chayton straightened.

  “Miss Korento. Just the cadet I wanted to see. Come in.”

  “Sure,” I said, hiding my disappointment as Finch marched past Torrance and shoved open the glass door of the main entrance. His footsteps were wide and forceful as he rounded the corner.

  Glimpsing Torrance, who still stood by the banister, I entered Chayton’s office and closed the door. The Head Huntsman sat behind a desk piled high with paperwork as he smoothed a hand over his feather-white hair. I took my time approaching the two chairs stationed in front of the desk, letting my gaze roam the matching varnished wood bookshelves.

  Commemorative plaques lined the panels behind him, accompanied by framed photographs of his wife, children, and grandchildren. My own grandfather’s likeness peered at me from one of the photographs. Gramps was a young man in the photo. Probably the same age I was now. Chayton and Gramps were old friends. They still golfed together on occasion.

  “I hear you’re to blame for all the tardiness tonight,” said the Head Huntsman.

  I decided against sitting and remained upright. “Sorry if the Tin is a mess. I’ll clean it.”

  He chuckled. “The Tin is spotless, my dear. I’m just sorry I couldn’t attend the festivities.”

  I looked at the floor and chewed on my lower lip. Did he even get an invitation? I hadn’t questioned how everyone else found out, since word of mouth moved like wildfire through the dormitories.

  “Here.” Chayton opened a drawer in the massive desk and unearthed a small box wrapped in shiny green paper with a silver bow. Neo-Draugrian colors.

  I blinked, taken off guard. “You got me a gift?”

  Despite being a family friend, this was a first.

  “Tonight is a very special night.” Chayton set the box on the desk and folded his hands together. “It’s a vita protegat.”

  My gaze widened. The vita protegat talisman was a powerful protection charm given only to Hunters who were recruited to the front lines. “I’m being sent into the field?”

  I’d dreamed of this moment countless times but had lost hope. Dad had put his foot down. Did Chayton convince him?

  “Huh?” The Head Huntsman pursed his lips and then laughed. “No, of course not. I just thought it would please you to have one. Go on, take it.”

  My hands fisted at my sides. “That talisman is reserved for soldiers who need it.”

  “I didn’t pry it from anyone’s hands, Miss Korento. I had it made special by the Elders. Its design is more befitting for a ….” He looked me up and down as though searching for the correct terminology.

  “A princess?” I seethed.

  “A young woman of your caliber.”

  “Are you kidding? You must see how giving me, of all people, a vita protegat is a mockery.”

  Chayton frowned. “The only mockery would be if you did
not accept it. Don’t waste the Elders’ time.”

  Did he not understand? After everything?

  Cramer’s stupid comment came to mind. Some of us are risking our lives for real.

  I stomped my foot, startling the Head Huntsman. “This isn’t right, and you know it.”

  “Jordan—”

  “I graduated at the top of my class with honors. I excel at battle enchantment. I aced strategy. I’m the only cadet who trains full time with an actual vampire. I should be in the field. Instead, I’m teaching basic stances to first years.” I threw my hands into the air, then let them slap against my thighs.

  “Training the younger cadets is just as important,” Chayton stated. “Are you truly so eager to become cannon fodder?”

  I turned away and stared at a blank spot on the wall. My cheeks burned, embarrassed by the outburst but also frustrated by the injustice. “I was six years old the first time you brought me here. You picked me up from my father’s manor. During the drive, you told me I was not to expect any special treatment. That I was to work and train like everyone else. Well, I did that. I worked my ass off. I earned my place. And now everyone acts like it didn’t count. Like I’m just playing at being a soldier. Do you know what the other cadets did when they found out about my title? Because they sure as hell didn’t treat me like royalty.”

  Chayton arched his brow. “And yet, even after graduation, you did everything in your power to stay here.”

  What other choice do I have? My only options were to stay at the Brotherhood or move back in with Dad. Besides, once Torrance started attending the Brotherhood as my bodyguard, Cramer and the other bullies backed off. Going to class became more bearable, and I soon came to think of the campus as home. But they never befriended me. Instead, I was ostracized.

  “Just one mission,” I begged. “I know I’ll make you proud.”

  Head Huntsman Chayton’s mouth crooked into a sympathetic smile. He picked up the shiny box and held it in my direction. “You know why I can’t.”

  I did know.

  Chayton would have me leading squadrons against the Rebellion by now if not for Dad. He was king, and he didn’t want his only child risking her life.

  But it was more than that. Not only was I not allowed to serve in the field, but I didn’t think Dad had any intention of ever letting me do anything at all. I would never inherit the throne because Dad was a vampire. He’d lived thousands of years already and would live to see a thousand more. I was human. Mortal. Which meant sooner or later, my father would bury me.

  The Brotherhood was a cage, but at least it was a cage where I could be useful, training cadets who would see battle and hopefully live to tell the tale. That was the compromise: I was allowed to stay and make something of a life here, but it would never be real; never go further than these very walls.

  I looked at the gift-wrapped box and shook my head. “Give it to a recruit.”

  Chayton leaned back and released a defeated sigh. He nodded, dismissing me.

  I turned and went to the door, opening it.

  “Say hello to your mother for me,” he added in a wary tone. “Tell her I did my best.”

  I stood facing the hall, where Torrance straightened her posture in anticipation. Without looking back at the Head Huntsman, I nodded and closed the door behind me.

  I didn’t realize he even knew my mother.

  5 LOGAN JUNIOR

  Lavender carried on the soft breeze, and I started. The rough bark of an aged sycamore scraped against the meat of my palms as I balanced atop the highest branch that would support my six-foot-three frame. My knees tapped my shoulders as I crouched against the trunk, hoping the leafy canopy would hide me from sight. I could always phase, but I wanted to see what happened next. My palms perspired just thinking about it.

  “Here she comes,” said Al.

  I know.

  My alternate personality didn’t seem to share my acute sense of smell, so Al was always telling me what I already knew. Gisele’s lavender perfume never failed to turn my head for a chance to glimpse the soft ringlets that framed her round cheeks. I peeked from behind the leaf covering, waiting for her footsteps to catch up with her scent. Soon, my vision detected what my nose had promised.

  Gisele.

  She appeared from behind a row of firs. Her dark curls bounced about her shoulders as she approached a lone maple. I released a small breath, thanking the stars above that the foot soldier I had entrusted with my message had actually delivered.

  Gisele’s sparkling gold irises scanned the red ribbon I had tied around the trunk of the maple. She touched her fingertips to the velvet material and followed it around to the bow, where I had secured a white envelope.

  Her rosebud lips curved into a satisfied smile as she reached up and untied the ribbon, freeing the envelope. She ripped it open. Inside was a note and something more. Her breath hitched as the something more fell from the envelope and landed in the grass between her sensible shoes. She plucked the item from the ground and her eyes widened. Moonlight reflected off the thin gold bracelet, making it shine as she turned it over in her hand. Her gaze lifted to the treetops, searching for the gift giver. I dispersed, becoming invisible.

  “Gisele? Gisele!” Missus Porter, the head cook, called out from the rear-facing door of the abbey’s kitchen entrance. I solidified in time to watch as Gisele stuffed the bracelet and note into her apron pocket before dashing across the grounds to meet her summons. “I said ten rabbits, girl. Did you forget how to count?”

  “Sorry, Missus Porter.” Gisele rushed inside and the door closed.

  I released a deep breath, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. Do you think she likes it?

  “She’s a kitchen wench. She’ll cherish any trinket you give her,” said Al.

  Don’t say that. I slumped against the tree trunk and winced. I had been too cowardly to sign the note, and a spark of regret burned through me. She probably thinks it's from one of Uncle Brinnon’s soldiers. The male soldiers were constantly flirting with the maids.

  “You are being watched,” Al warned.

  I frowned at the change in subject. I know. He comes every year.

  “He?” Al inquired.

  I used my mind’s eye to show Al what I meant. Pierce Kyllo, a green-eyed Neo-Draugrian vampyre who looked strikingly like my father, hid in a cluster of shrubs less than a quarter of a mile away. Far enough that Gisele did not notice, yet near enough that I caught the spice of his scent.

  Thirteen years ago, Pierce delivered me to King Brinnon. Every year since, on the eve of my birth, he returned. When I was nine, I noticed him hiding in the loft of a dilapidated barn behind the castle where the Alpan royal family once lived. I ran to him, overcome with the belief that he’d returned to take me home to my father. But I hadn’t yet learned how to phase, and Pierce dispersed before I could reach him. I had been in such a rage, I managed to kill a soldier’s horse. I didn’t remember doing it. I only remembered standing in the stable, drenched in blood and trembling, the carcass cut to ribbons at my feet.

  As punishment, I’d spent a day without meals and a month cleaning out the stalls. The following night, Aunt Sara took me aside and explained that I was never going back, though she didn’t say why. I ignored Pierce from then on. ’Far as I could tell, he was only interested in watching. Fucking creep.

  “Fascinating,” said Al. “But he is not to whom I refer.”

  The dove, then? I aligned my gaze with the angry squawking turtle dove perched on a twig directly above me. She’d landed while I was thinking of Pierce.

  “That is the one,” said Al. “She seems rather miffed.”

  I lifted a hand toward the bristling bird. She hopped onto my palm, still chirping and chittering in disapproval.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said out loud. Not because I could speak dove, but because I could speak Aunt Sara. I wasn’t supposed to be outside.

  The dove stopped squawking an
d tilted her head. I dispersed us both and flew back to the fortress, soaring high above the woods, then shooting straight down into the earth’s crust.

  I solidified us in the receiving hall of the underground keep, where spare clothes hung from racks, and stepped out to give Aunt Sara some privacy. My jeans and hooded sweatshirt stayed in place, phasing and unphasing with me at will. Shapeshifters, however, weren’t as lucky, which was why we kept an array of spare uniforms and other conveniences available.

  The fortress was dark and smelled of damp earth, but despite being completely underground, the lighting was never quite dim enough for my comfort. I turned away from the harsh glow of the candelabras that sat within the sconces lining the corridors.

  We used to live in a castle a couple of hours from Berlin, but our enemies knew its location, so it was no longer safe. The fortress was top secret classified information, its whereabouts entrusted only to the highest-ranking officials of Uncle Brinnon’s inner circle. Built within the remote altitudes of the Alpine mountains from which the clan took its name, the only way in or out was to phase.

  Initially, this presented a small problem for the Alpan royal family. Alpan vampyres could shapeshift, but they couldn’t phase like Neo-Draugian vampyres. However, Uncle Brinnon feared the use of tunnels would give us away, so Father sent him Neo-Draugrian soldiers to act as ushers and guards, moving men and supplies as needed via the abbey.

  The abbey itself was a front. Disguised as a home for orphans of war and men of the cloth, we used it as a post that contained Uncle Brinnon’s most trusted generals and a small number of troops.

  Aunt Sara emerged from the receiving hall. She wore jeans and a wool knit sweater that hung off her petite frame. She was Uncle Brinnon’s youngest sister, and neither of them were related to me by blood. Brinnon and Sara were merely very good friends of my parents’.