Page 7

L OCATED NEAR A TOWN STRUGGLING TO KEEP TREES FROM SWALLOWING it whole, Uxlay University was an immovable stretch of old stone. Silent as a monastery during prayer, the campus towers caught the sun’s first light, glowing against the muted fog. They resembled ancient candles held in the arms of a large entity who woke each day to repent for the sins of its residents.

Of course, Kidan saw a cleaner way of saving their souls. The sun had to burn. Burn with enough fury to engulf those towers with flames and drown this ancient stone in holy fire. That was true absolution.

She hadn’t given much thought to the place where she’d die—but here, on this cobbled ground, wreaking as much chaos as she could before facing hell itself? It had a certain poetry to it.

Her smile reflected in the rain-stained window, a rippled slight curve.

Look at me having appreciation for poetry , she thought. Perhaps I’ll make a good student after all.

The escort who drove her through the night had stopped by the local town, giving Kidan enough time to stretch her legs and grab breakfast. She’d had no appetite, though. The town of Zaf Haven was small, but it had its own rustle of movement, with its humans who flickered with stories and secrets, trapped by the claws of dranaics and calling to her for help. She steadied herself, eyes fixed ahead, listening to June’s voice.

As their car wound along asphalt roads, by thick trees, and a sprawling university gate the color of melted gold, Kidan had forced the poor people out of her mind. She couldn’t afford to be distracted or lose herself in others.

After receiving an apologetic message explaining that the dean’s meeting was running long, Kidan walked alone in the yawning dawn. Despite the early hour, there were sounds of activity, doors opening and closing, the smell of coffee in the air.

She stumbled upon a crisp garden with twittering birds too peaceful for a place like this. A fireplace caged by a grate flickered in the middle of it. She settled on the bench across, facing her palms toward the heat.

A small figure near her feet twitched—a bird, wing broken. Something had cut into its slender neck. Kidan cupped the creature in her hands. The bird’s heartbeat fluttered, its feathers struggling in furious swipes as she whispered her intentions.

“Easy, easy. I’ll help you.”

A place like this must have an infirmary. She looked around and called to the first young man she saw. He walked with his head tilted to the sky, a finger between the pages of a book rested against black pants.

She pulled free her earbuds. “Hey, can you help me?”

He looked older up close, perhaps twenty, dark-skinned like the rest of the people in this place, but with a healthy glow Kidan only found after staying in the sun. His twisted hair was pulled back into a band, two coils free at the front. The look framed his strong jaw well.

“Her wing is broken. Is there an infirmary?”

“Not for animals.” His voice was low and secret, as if he didn’t speak often.

The book in his hand featured a bleeding sliced grapefruit on its cover.

Kidan studied the bird’s soft blue feathers and pearly eyes. They seemed to stare into her soul.

“You will kill it if you continue to hold on so tight.” His words came through a tunnel. He stretched out his large palm, waiting. “It’s suffering.”

Light cut through the remaining fog, illuminating him further. His features were cut like dark glass. An odd urge to trace the morning sun along the ridge of his brows possessed her. A ring of burnished gold had lightened his hair and crowned him like some lost king. The rest of his brown face remained in the shadows. He had the striking beauty of an eclipse, a form to be studied and admired even if it burned the eyes. Kidan didn’t want to blink. Or rather, couldn’t. She watched him with the horrible, fevered sensation of wanting something that wasn’t yours. Even when time turned the act uncomfortable and begged her to avert her attention, she kept watching him.

He let her.

It was as if they both knew he’d slip out of her grasp soon. And he did, slowly, and as gently as the clouds shifting above them and the fallen leaves dancing at their feet. Without the trickery of the rays, his eyes couldn’t conceal their truth. They were no longer focused on her face but on her covered neck. Simmering with bone-chilling want. The same hunger remained when he stared at the bird. Pure ice traveled down her spine. He wasn’t human.

Her own hands gripped tighter, and tighter still, until the fluttering slowed, stuttered, then stopped. Kidan dropped the bird into his hands. The creature lay curled, neck tucked in.

He lifted his gaze from the dead bird. “Why did you not give it to me?”

“Because you would have killed it as well.” Kidan’s skin crawled as he regarded her with mild interest. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? A dranaic?”

His complexion held the earth too close. She should have known. He was beautiful, with eyes that’d lived a thousand years and had found it all rather dull.

His lips almost stretched. “You accuse me of an evil act, yet you committed it—undeniably, you must be human.”

Kidan’s jaw tightened “I didn’t want to kill it.”

“What does it matter? Death is death.”

“Death with want is cruel. You wanted to kill it—would’ve enjoyed it. I can see it.”

He didn’t deny her accusation. Kidan rose, brushing her clothes of two feathers. The dranaic watched her, bird still in hand. He waited until they were eye to eye before he flung the creature into the firepit.

She tried to catch it, dropping to her knees and hissing when the hot metal burned her fingers. Kidan watched in horror as the feathers blackened.

A familiar lashing voice echoed from the fire: “There is evil inside you. It will poison us. Pray, Kidan.”

The vampire crouched next to her, by the warm glow, voice close.

“Death by injury, death by suffocation, death by fire,” he pointed out. “Tell me, human, which one would the bird have preferred?”

Kidan’s vision colored in black, transfixed by the eating flames. Her vocal cords tightened.

He sighed, mocking. “You meddled in its life and gave it three deaths when it could have had one. If I was you, I would be horrified. An immoral soul such as you shouldn’t walk around unchecked.”

A moment stretched around them, the fire heating her skin.

“Or,” he continued, “you could rise, applaud yourself for quite cleverly extending death beyond its dull limits, and join me for an afternoon of lovely discussion on mortality.”

Kidan did rise, slowly, to spit at his feet. His dead eyes danced with amusement, again flicking to her neck. Lingering long enough for her to notice. She wanted to adjust her turtleneck—but more than that, she wanted to hurt him, take her knife from inside her jacket and bury it in his chest, to the audible gasps of strangers. She reined herself in. A knife wouldn’t kill him, anyway. Instead, she made herself walk away. There was too much at stake, and it was only her first hour here.