Chapter One
To fight is to not. To not let your opponent to see your emotions, to not let them anticipate your next move. To not show mercy, to not allow instinct to take over. My father taught me that at age four.
The words echoed in my head as I ducked the vampire’s elbow jab, then swung my arm out to block her when she doubled back. The creature laughed, enjoying the challenge. She moved in a blur, squatting to swipe her leg. I anticipate it, though, and jumped over her like we were playing hopscotch. She somersaulted, avoiding my jab, and once she was facing me again she bared her teeth in a feral smiled. I didn’t smiled back as I lifted my fists, studying every feature of her angular face as if I was memorizing it.
“Like what you see?” she purred. This vampire was passion, and she showed it in our dance. She circled me, her lithe body relaxed, as if I was hardly a threat. I just watched her with narrow eyes, waiting. After four seconds she went on the offense again, lunging at me with glinting fangs. She was expecting me to jump to the left or the right.
To fight is to not. I met her head on. With one hand I gripped her throat, twisting my torso to avoid her grappling fingers, and with my other I reached into the waistband of my sweats to pull out my knife. Making a strangled sound, the vampire stilled when I pressed the edge of the blade to her pale throat. Once I had her immobilized, I relented my grip around her neck and grasped her wrists together, leaning close to her so I could look her in the eyes. I could hear a clock ticking somewhere, marking the frozen seconds.
“What are you waiting for?” she hissed, her black gaze flaring with ludicrous delight. “Are you going to play with me first?”
She wanted me to respond, she wanted to rattle me. My face remained impassive and my hand steady. Now was when I would normally make the kill. Now was when I would do my duty by the rest of the world and eliminate the danger. To fight is to not. Without warning, my father’s face pressed in all around, his expression drooping with sadness. I could feel the vampire staring at me, wondering, and I clenched my jaw. I lowered my knife.
The vampire surprised me by darting forward and licking my cheek. “Jesus, Ria!” I snapped, and she laughed, dancing out my reach.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist! You should have seen your face!” She approached me again, smiling gleefully. “Here, let me help—”
I growled, shoving her away and swiping at my cheek. She plopped down on the mat-covered floor, still laughing. The sound bounced off the walls and rushed back at me. I stalked to the door, the smell of blood pungent on my own skin. Ria arched and leapt to her feet. She caught up with me easily, resting her cool hand on my arm.
“Come on, take a joke for once,” she said. “We need to have at least a little fun before—”
“Before we go out into the field?” I cut in, the door to the practice room clicking shut behind us. The paneled hall loomed, and our voices echoed through the air. “Fun is the last thing we need. And now I have your dinner all over my face. If you pull stunts like that out in the real world, Ria, you’ll be dead in a week.”
“Less than a week, probably,” she replied absentmindedly, holding out her hand to study her nails as we walked. “And it was just a squirrel, Jas.”
The bell rang over our heads, the end of third period, which meant that I needed to get to History. I had a one-hour window between second and third which I always used to practice my combat, usually without Ria. Now I was remembering why that is. I sighed, looking over at her. My only friend in the School. What was I going to do with her?
It’s like she was reading my mind. “I’ll be fine. And are you seriously going to wear that to class?”
“There’s nothing wrong with wearing my practice clothes,” I answered, striving to keep my voice even.
“Yeah, but Wes is in History, right?”
I quickened my pace. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Ria snorted. “Honey, the real question is, what does that not have to do with anything?”
“That didn’t even make sense,” I snapped at her. The hall opened up to what we called the common room, which was most popular area of the school. There were several couches, tables, and flat screens for the students to use between and after classes. It was nearly empty today, which meant one thing: I was late.
“Just listen to me,” Ria hissed in my ear as a dryad brushes past us in her hurry. “I’m 106 years old; I think I know what I’m talking about.”
“That’s funny, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I would have to go to class without my books and notebooks. No matter—I already had the material down. I realized I was frowning, and Ria was still talking. I tuned her out and forced my mouth into a thin, expressionless line. My class was on the other side of the building. Damn, I shouldn’t have sparred so long with Ria. I couldn’t afford to get bad marks now, right before I got my first assignment.
“…and you need to learn to seize the moment. After all, you and Wes will be heading your separate ways in a few days, and you two could really—”
“Ria.” I stopped and faced her. She lifted her face expectantly. She was so short and tiny; even with her vampire strength, I knew I would worry about her being out on the field. “You need to go to your class, okay? I know you can ace the tests without studying, but you need to actually take the tests to get the grade.”
She raked her hair back impatiently. “Fine. But make me a promise, or I’ll follow you.” I lifted my brows in question. She grinned, her fangs sharp and mischievous. “When Wes tries to talk to you—and don’t said he won’t, because he always does—attempt to have an actual conversation with him, okay?”
I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. “Just get to class.”
My best friend flounced away in a whirl of blood and smiles. I watched her go for a second before turning away with a heavy feeling in my heart. Three days, I kept thinking. Three days before I take the Test. Three days before I get my assignment. Three days before my partner is chosen. Three days before my life changes completely. Usually I tried not to dwell on it, but there was something that I wouldn’t even tell Ria… I was scared. The School had always been safe, a place where I knew what I was doing and what my purpose was. Out there, in the world, the rules were different. I wouldn’t have Ria as a buffer from the past.
“Jasmine?”
I knew the voice instantly, and, clenching my fists as I turned, I met Wes LeFaive’s blue, blue gaze. He was cocky, he was talented, and he wanted me. I hesitated, and Wes grinned. “Thinking about running?” he asked, tilting his golden head.
There was a thinly-veiled challenge in the words. I glanced behind me—the door to our classroom was just three feet away—and faced him again. He was so… perfect. Perfect in a way I could never be. For a brief moment I let myself admire his strong jaw, the perfect hair brushing over his forehead, his enticing smiled. Then I turned my back on him.
“Not running,” I said. “Just being smart.”
“You sure about that?” Two quick strides and he was right behind me, his breath light on my ear as I shoved the door to History open. Our teacher, Rick, only glanced at us, but I felt the heat of his gaze all the way to my seat in the back. I slid into the constraining desk, swallowing a sigh of relief. No marks against me, at least.
Quietly and swiftly, like a ghost, Wes sat beside me. Like every other day, I could sense him looking at me, thinking about me. And not for the first time, I wondered what he saw. My long dark hair? My green eyes? No. Most just noticed the glaring, crescent-shaped scar that circled the right side of my face. Only people like Ria, and a select few of the trainers, managed to look past the scar. I didn’t know which kind of person Wes was, and I wouldn’t ever have the chance to find out.
Three days.
“And can you tell me, Jasmine, when and why Gifted and Nonhumans began to emerge?”
I jerked upright, and Rick glared at me expectantly. I lifted my chin and the sunlight spilling through the window warmed my skin. “From what historians recorded,” I answered flatly, “and to the extent of our research, Gifted and Nonhuman beings have always existed. In the old days they were burned, accused of being witches or demons. As to why, there are no definite reasons. Some think it’s genetic and some believe it’s random, even some kind of magic at work.”
Our teacher regarded me with a warning in the flat line of his mouth. He turned his attention to the boy next to me. “And will you, Mr. LeFaive, give me the correct definition of both a Gifted and a Nonhuman?”
“This is basic material,” someone bravely noted. “Is this some kind of review for a pop quiz?”
“Very observant, Mr. LeFaive,” Rick growled. He was one of the trainers at the School, and he was a bear of a man. The growl wasn’t so unusual coming from him, but some still cowered. Waiting for a response, Rick pinned Wes down with his black gaze. I fixed my own down on my hands, which were flat on my desk. My nails were short and unpainted.
Wes sighed. He didn’t sound the least bit intimidated. “The correct definition of a Gifted is a human with unusual abilities, and a Nonhuman is, obviously, a creature considered to be something other than human, also with unusual abilities.”
Rick nodded and leaned back against his desk, crossing his legs at the ankles. “And the reason I am bringing this up, is because some of you”—his focus flashed to me for an instant—“are leaving the safety of the School soon, and you need to be reminded of these facts. Fact, you are not ordinary. Fact, you have a responsibility to protect those that are. Fact, there are some people out there that don’t believe our intentions to be good. So, above all, don’t be stupid, and after you’re done saving the life of a civilian, looked after yourselves, as well.”
He really does care, I thought, hiding behind my curtain of hair to avoid Wes’s probing looked. The thought brought a spark of memory, along with a tight sense of pain in the center of my chest.
“Never forget that I care about you, okay, baby girl?”
I pursed my lips and shot a glare at Wes, tired of his constant scrutiny. He just winked, and I quickly concentrated on the front of the room, on our teacher’s hand motions as he spoke. He had moved past the short speech about our survival on the field and was now going over the rise of werewolves in the 1900’s, and I did my best to pay attention. Before I knew it, the bell was ringing again, and chairs scraped against the floor as kids rose and hurried to the door. I lingered behind them all, ignoring Wes even when he slowed to wait for me at the doorway.
Rick glanced up at me in question, his big hands holding a sheaf of papers. “Was there something you needed, Jasmine?” he asked when I didn’t speak.
There were so many answers to that question I wouldn’t know where to begin. I clenched my fists in the back of my shirt, frowning. The clock on the wall kept on ticking away, marking the prolonged silence. I cleared my throat once. Twice.
Frustrated, I finally just shrugged. “Never mind.” I swung away and went to the door. Wes had, thankfully, disappeared.
“Hey.” When I turned, Rick smiled—a rare thing for him. “I have a feeling that you’re going to hold your own out there,” he told me. His timbre was rich in its sincerity, and the tight sensation in my chest loosened, just a little.
I couldn’t bring myself to smile in return, because it was a rare thing for me, as well. “Thanks.”
