Page 47 of Cloak of the Vampire
That was great. Spending two weeks with my ex who hated me and the asshole Lord I had dry-humped, then had a strange sexual interaction with in the greenhouse, and whom I was absurdly attracted to despite hating his guts?
It was a disaster waiting to happen.
When I was in tenth grade, I’d gone on a field trip to Washington, DC, arranged by my high school.
I remembered being happy to be away from my hometown for the first time ever and being even more excited because Logan had gone with me, being my classmate at the time.
But Logan was popular. With his good looks, outgoing nature, and soccer-prodigy status plus being the captain of the school’s soccer team, he had many friends, and a bunch of people fancied him to the point of blunt obsession.
And yet Logan knew that he was the only friend I had, and he spent the entirety of that trip by my side, ignoring everyone else. Tessa Garland, the head cheerleader and Logan’s childhood friend who’d been carrying a huge torch for him without Logan noticing, gave me the stink eye the entire trip. She tried to monopolize Logan’s time, but he refused to let her get away with it.
That field trip had been the first time our classmates were aware of our relationship beyond being simply friends, and it seemed none of them liked it whatsoever.
And yet here we were now, sitting in a spacious bus, with Logan surrounded by most of my current classmates, not paying me any mind.
It had been years since that high school trip. The water wasn’t simply under the bridge; the bridge was flooded, drowned by a vicious downpour.
I always knew Logan would turn out okay, that he would do well. Now, seeing him here with Ragnor confirmed that despite what I had done, Logan had turned out just fine. In fact, he was better than just okay.
I sat by myself near the back of the bus, away from prying eyes, my beaten-up earbuds plugged into my rusty old MP3 player Ragnor’s people packed from my former apartment. I laid my head against thebus window, watched as the New England greenery passed us by, and tried to find some sort of reprieve from the mess that was my life.
Tansy, who was sitting alone as well in the seat in front of mine, was sound asleep, her loud snores filling the air. Ragnor was somewhere up in the front, sitting by Abe, who was driving the bus. The rest were with Logan in the middle of the bus, their excited chatter loud enough to wake up the dead.
I unfolded the itinerary Abe had handed us yesterday. It included a map of the States and a red line showing where we were heading, including the stops. With the Rayne League being someplace in Maine, our first stop was the Atalon League in Rochester, New York.
Meaning we had about an eight-hour drive.
We were each given a large bottle of AB positive—the blood type most neutral in taste—an avocado sandwich, and a big chocolate chip cookie. I was currently biting into said cookie as I scanned the itinerary and the map and concluded a few things.
First of all, there were no Leagues in the Southeast. The westernmost League was in Oregon. I wondered if there was some sort of a reason for that.
Secondly, out of the seven Leagues in the US, there was only one Lady: Maiana Kalama of the Kalama League in Oregon. It seemed that the Vampire Society was quite patriarchal.
And finally, there was the Gifted count of each League. All the Leagues had more or less the same number of vampires—roughly around five hundred—but only the Rayne League had close to fifty Gifteds, while the rest had, at most, about ten. How had Ragnor managed to acquire all these Gifteds?
I remembered Jada’s explanation about the Imprinting process and the loopholes around it. Still, it seemed too drastic of an imbalance. And that begged a couple of questions: Why had Ragnor gone to such great lengths to get his hands on all these Gifteds, more so than the other Lords, it seemed, and why had no other Lord questioned him about that?
Or maybe they had. I knew nothing about the vampiric political climate, after all. Perhaps this field trip was a chance to change that. And that irritated me because I needed to know. Since I was to be a full part of this damned Society, I refused to stay in the dark. I refused to just go along with everything and not ask questions.
I folded the itinerary and put it back in my bag. For the next couple of hours, I dozed off with my head against the cool window, rock music playing in my ears.
Then something shifted in front of me, and my eyes snapped open. Someone had slid into the seat next to Tansy, and when I caught sight of a shaved head, I realized it was Bryce, a burly guy a couple of years older than me, and a friend of Zoey and company. Leaning forward, I turned my gaze to Tansy, who seemed frozen in place.
“Have you thought about my suggestion?” Bryce asked Tansy, spreading his arm along the back of her seat. He didn’t seem to notice, or care, that she was tense, obviously uncomfortable.
Tansy’s ponytail barely moved when she jerked her head tersely. I couldn’t see her face, but I had a feeling it showed nothing good.
Bryce did not get the message. Through the gap between the seats, I could see the predatory look on his face, the eagerness in his dark eyes. “You should,” he murmured softly, drawing closer to her, which made her tense even further. “I’m a good bet, you know. Magnusreallylikes me.”
At the Lieutenant’s name, Tansy whipped her head toward Bryce, her eyes impossibly wide. “I’m not interested,” she whispered, her voice wobbly.
It seemed to spur Bryce on, because he leaned toward her, cornering her against the window. I tensed. “Trust me, babe,” he murmured in a voice so low that I barely heard it. “All you have to do is lie on your back and enjoy the ride.”
Wow. What a scumbag.
Bryce raised his hand. Tansy’s eyes filled with horror before she shut them, trembling from head to toe, folding into herself. It made Bryce grin and inch closer.
But I was done watching. I jumped to my feet, got out of my seat, moved into the aisle, and grabbed Bryce’s shirt collar, pulling him with major force away from Tansy.
