Page 25 of Savage Hope

The desire to hear it quickly dwindles to nothing as my excitement is replaced by a clawing panic. My limbs tremble, my eyes unable to focus as I rise from my seat and carefully make my way to where Professor Whitmore stands.

I don't think I can take it. I don't think I can bring myself to know. It feels like I'm going to self-combust. But despite the inner turmoil, I reach the chalice in the center of the table and look to Whitmore for guidance.

Can I trust him? No.

Should I be expecting him to lead me? Definitely not.

Is he the only option I have for direction? Yes.

Dammit.

With a single nod from the professor, I feel every nerve-ending zap through my body as I dip my hands into the water and bring the liquid to my lips. A tingling sensation courses through my veins and my head tilts back as my eyelids slam closed.

A gasp falls from my lips, my body bracing for impact, when the crackle of the booming voice echoes in the air around me.

“Polaris Beauchamp.”

Emotion gets the better of me as I hear a word that refers to me yet holds a meaning I'm not yet familiar with.

Polaris.

Polaris Beauchamp.

That’s me.

Blinking my eyes open, I turn to Professor Whitmore, ready to hear my supernatural fate as I feel everyone’s eyes on me.

“My dear, you are a witch.” I look down to where he points to the glowing light on the chalice to see a star illuminated. “Join your quadrant,” he commands, pointing toward the cheering crowd, and I gulp as I follow his line of sight. It’s impossible to process what any of this actually means, and as I feel myself start to sink, my eyes draw to the left, settling on a familiar face and a cocksure grin that has been haunting me since I first collided with them.

He knows he has my attention. He winks like before, but I quickly shake my head and turn away, only to see a row of ridiculously hot guys flanking both sides of him.

Wolves.

It seems they’re a soft spot for me already.

Shaking off the distraction, I turn my attention to my new group and approach them. Just like with everyone else, by the time I reach them, no one’s paying me any attention anymore. I take a seat at the back, and a few actually turn to smile at me. I hope I return the sentiment, but something in their eyes tells me I’m coming across as cold and distant as ever.

There’s no time for me to delve further into overanalyzing because S is called to join Whitmore on the stage. Excitement coils in my stomach as I watch her swoop her hands into the liquid, bringing it to her lips before the familiar booming voice rings in the air.

“Sian Gloom.”

Tears instantly stream down her face, her disbelief evident as Professor Whitmore points to the chalice. “Sian, you are avampire.” He points to the glowing symbol that looks like it’s shaped like a teardrop, perhaps a drop of blood.

A vampire.

It’s going to take me forever to wrap my head around the fact that I’m apparently a witch and my not-friend is a vampire. This is bizarre.Toobizarre. But if a blood curse is possible, I guess all of this is too. “Welcome to Trinity Falls Academy; please join your quad,” Whitmore adds, smirking in amusement at how slack Sian’s jaw is. Nervously tucking her hair behind her ears, Sian joins the group sitting center.

T is called up next, and despite my irritation towards him, I gape at the announcement of his name.

“Terence, you are a vampire.”

I’m still reeling from all of this new information when the final person takes the stage.

V.

I watch in awe as she cups the water, and her name is echoed around the room.

Veronica.

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