34. Violet

34

VIOLET

The evening sun dips beyond the horizon as I make my way to the dining hall. The lockdown has been lifted, and the air buzzes with relief and lingering tension. Students move in tight-knit groups, their voices hushed, eyes darting nervously. It's as if they expect another body to appear at any moment.

I try to shake off the unease that clings to me like a second skin. Tonight is about normalcy and about reclaiming some semblance of routine. The guys wanted to escort me, but I convinced them to let me walk this short distance alone. I need to prove to myself, and everyone else, that I'm not some fragile thing to be coddled and protected.

As I enter the dining hall, the chatter dies down momentarily. I feel the weight of dozens of eyes on me, curiosity, fear, and, in some cases, outright hostility. Squaring my shoulders, I make my way to the blood dispensers, pointedly ignoring the whispers that follow in my wake.

The words sting, but I refuse to let them see how much they affect me. I fill my cup with blood, the rich scent momentarily overwhelming my senses. It's enough to take the edge off the constant hunger that I'm sure the anxiety about the murder and tonight's re-creation is exacerbating.

As I turn to find a seat, I nearly collide with Liam, the werewolf who'd been friendly to me before Caine decided to get a stick up his arse about it.

"Oh, hey, Violet," he says, his smile a bit strained but genuine.

I blink in surprise, touched by the simple gesture of kindness. "Hey, Liam."

We stand there awkwardly.

"We seem to bump into each other a lot," I blurt out.

"Maybe it's fate," he chuckles but then grimaces and stares over my shoulder before he turns on his heel and runs off.

I sigh. I don't need to look to know a ferocious Ice Demon is hovering. I can sense him across the dining hall.

It's a bizarre feeling, being able to sense another being. But he consumes my senses like the other two guys. It's almost like I can't fathom where I end, and they begin.

Taking a seat near the doors, I pull out one of my notebooks and flip through it. Blood Magick Basics. Apparently, I have the power to use blood magick but fucked if I know how. I need to get this bond severed from Nathaniel so I can really concentrate on these classes that have been so generously provided for me.

By the time I finish my blood, I'm raring to go. When I leave the dining hall, Flint is waiting for me, a smile lighting up his face as he sees me. "Ready for lectures?" he asks, falling into step beside me.

I roll my eyes. "You don't need to chaperone me."

"I'm not," he insists. "I just happened to be here at the same moment you were."

"What a fucking coincidence."

He snickers. "Okay, busted. But I need to know you are safe."

I nod, feeling a flutter of love for him. "Thank you. But I'm okay."

He takes my hand, and we walk in an easy silence to my first lecture of the night, simply named Vampire Studies and taught by Professor Swithson, a good-looking man who appears to only be in his early twenties, like us. That isn't to say he is only our age. Probably not, even.

Flint leaves me at the door, and I enter the lecture hall, getting a sudden pang of nervousness. This is my chance to learn more about what I've become and to understand the changes in my body and mind.

The windows of the lecture hall are heavily tinted to protect against sunlight, and there's a faint metallic scent in the air that I recognise as blood. Students fill the seats, and I hurry over to a desk near the back and sit down.

Professor Swithson starts the lecture, his voice clear and engaging. "Tonight, we'll be discussing the unique physiology of vampires, particularly focusing on the enhanced senses and reflexes."

I lean forward, hanging on his every word. He explains how our heightened senses work, the way our bodies process blood for energy, the increased speed and strength we possess. It's fascinating, and I find myself taking copious notes.

"Our senses are not just sharper," Professor Swithson explains, "they're fundamentally different. A vampire can hear a heartbeat from across a crowded room, can smell fear and arousal on a person's skin. Our eyes can see clearly in near-total darkness, and our sense of touch is so refined we can feel the individual fibres in a piece of cloth."

As he speaks, I become acutely aware of my own senses. I can hear the slow, steady thrum of heartbeats around me, each slightly different. The scent of blood and fresh winter air fills my nostrils. It's overwhelming, but also oddly exhilarating.

"Violet," Professor Swithson says, drawing my attention. "As our newest vampire, perhaps you could share with the class how your senses have changed since your turning?"

For a moment, I freeze, aware of all eyes on me. But then I take a deep breath, reminding myself that this is why I'm here - to learn, to understand. "Well, uhm, everything is... more. Colours are more vivid, sounds are clearer. My emotions are deeper, more profound, but different. There are some human emotions I have trouble accessing, but others are almost overwhelming." I pause, gathering my thoughts. "It's like I'm experiencing the world on a whole new level."

Professor Swithson nods encouragingly. "Excellent observation. How have you found adjusting to these changes?"

I consider the question. "It's challenging at times," I admit. "There's so much input all the time. But also exhilarating. It's like seeing the world clearly for the first time."

The professor smiles. "That's a common experience for newly turned vampires. Over time, you'll learn to filter out the excess stimuli and focus on what's important. Now, let's discuss how these enhanced senses affect a vampire's hunting instincts."

As the class continues, I find myself fully engaged, asking questions and participating in discussions. We delve into the intricacies of vampire physiology; from the way our bodies heal to the complex relationship between blood consumption and magickal ability.

For the first time since my turning, I feel a sense of excitement about my new abilities, rather than fear or confusion. I'm not just a victim of circumstance anymore; I'm a being with incredible potential, with so much to learn and discover, and I've only just started. I have an eternity to explore and figure things out. It's mind-boggling but comforting in a way. There is no pressure because time isn't running out.

The lecture ends all too soon, and I hurry to my next one, eager and excited to learn.

In Blood Magick Basics, we discuss the unique way vampires channel magick through blood. Professor Blackthorne explains how blood acts as a conduit for supernatural energy.

"Vampire magick is fundamentally tied to blood," he lectures. "It's not just fuel for your body; it's the very essence of your power. The older the blood, the more potent the magick. This is why ancient vampires are so formidable - their blood carries centuries of power."

I listen intently, fascinated by the implications. It means that Nathaniel is really old. His power is frightening. However, this means I'll grow stronger over time, too.

Next is Combat Training, which proves to be an unexpected highlight. I enter the gymnasium, shaking slightly with nerves. Will my new abilities be an advantage or a liability?

Professor Fritz, a lithe werewolf with piercing yellow eyes, puts us through our paces. We start with basic defensive stances, then move on to more complex manoeuvres.

To my surprise and delight, I find that my body responds with grace and speed. Movements that would have been challenging as a human now feel natural, almost instinctive.

"Excellent form, Violet," Professor Fritz praises as I successfully execute a complex evasion technique. "Your vampire reflexes serve you well. Now, let's see how you fare against a faster opponent."

He pairs me with a fae student, his movements quick and fluid. As we spar, I find myself relying on my new senses, anticipating his moves by the shift in his scent, the subtle change in his heartbeat before he strikes.

It's refreshing, this dance of attack and defence. For a moment, I forget about Nathaniel, about the murders, about all the complications in my life. I'm just Violet, a student learning to harness her new abilities.

Later on, History of the Supernatural Races, which I'd expected to be dry, turns out to be fascinating as we delve into the complex relationships between different species. Professor Wiseman, an ancient-looking elf with eyes that sparkle with millennia of knowledge, weaves tales of alliances and conflicts that span centuries.

"The relationship between vampires and other races has always been complex," she explains. "Fear and respect, hatred and admiration - these emotions have coloured interactions for thousands of years. Understanding this history is crucial for navigating the supernatural world today."

As I listen, I can't help but think about my own place in this intricate web of relationships. How will my status as a newly turned vampire affect my interactions with others? How can I use this knowledge to better understand my own situation?

Time is ticking on, and I remember the re-creation we are doing in a few hours. Time has flown by this evening, and I actually feel like I belong here now. I'm buzzing with energy and new knowledge.

Caine falls into step beside me, his cool presence soothing my overexcited senses.

"You seem to be in a good mood, snowdrop," he observes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

I nod enthusiastically. "I feel like I'm finally starting to understand myself. What I am, what I can do. It's exciting."

Caine's smile widens. "I'm glad. You deserve to feel good about yourself, Violet. You're incredible, you know that?"

I feel a warmth spread through me at his words. "Thanks, Caine. For everything. I don't know how I'd be coping with all this without you guys."

He reaches out, taking my hand in his. The coolness of his skin is a pleasant contrast to the warmth I feel inside. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, snowdrop. But we'll always be here for you, no matter what."

As we walk hand in hand towards my next lecture in the adjacent ancient building, a sense of peace settles over me. For the first time since my turning, I feel like I belong somewhere, like I have a future to look forward to.

We head outside into the gorgeous night, the crisp air biting at our exposed skin. Snowflakes fall gently around us, their delicate crystalline structures catching the moonlight before melting on contact. The serenity of the moment is almost overwhelming, so different to the turmoil of recent events. I shiver, but it's not from the cold. Something isn't right.

Suddenly, the peace is shattered in an instant. A commotion erupts from the courtyard ahead, the sound of panicked voices carrying on the wind. As we round the corner, we're met with a scene of chaos. A crowd has gathered, their faces full of shock, fear, and morbid curiosity. In the centre of the crowd, lying motionless on the frost-covered ground, is a body.

My breath catches in my throat as I recognise the victim. It's Briar. The sight of her sends a jolt of conflicting emotions through me - pity, fear, and a shameful hint of satisfaction that my tormentor has been silenced.

Her skin is deathly pale, almost translucent in the moonlight. A dark pool of blood stains the purity of the snow, and I see that her heart has been ripped out. Her eyes are wide and unseeing, staring up at the night sky with a look of frozen terror. But what draws my gaze, what makes my newly learned vampire senses scream in recognition, are the two puncture wounds on her neck.

The scent of spilt blood fills the air, rich and cloying. I feel my fangs extend involuntarily, a primal response that horrifies me even as a part of me longs for a taste. I swallow hard, fighting against the instinct.

I feel the weight of accusatory stares fall on me. The air crackles with tension, a powder keg ready to explode. Whispers turn to murmurs, murmurs to shouts, each voice adding fuel to the fire of suspicion.

"It was her!"

"The new vampire did it!"

"She killed Briar!"

"She hated her, she did it!"

"She threatened Briar! And now look!"

The accusations hit me like physical blows, each one chipping away at my already fragile sense of self. I stumble back, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of anger and fear directed at me. The crowd seems to press in from all sides, their faces contorted with rage and disgust.

Caine's grip on my hand tightens, his skin cool against mine. With a swift movement, he pulls me behind him, his body a shield between me and the angry mob. Flint and Thorne appear on either side of me, forming a protective circle. Their presence is reassuring, but it does little to quell the panic rising in my chest that these students are coming for me.

"Back off!" Thorne's voice booms, carrying an otherworldly quality that sends shivers down my spine. Shadows writhe at his feet, dancing and twisting in patterns that hurt my eyes to look at directly. The darkness deepens around us, as if night itself is bending to Thorne's will.

But the crowd is beyond reason, their fear and anger overriding any sense of logic or fairness. Someone in the back of the crowd throws a spell, a bolt of crackling energy that lights up the night sky as it hurtles towards us.

Flint reacts with inhuman speed. His eyes flash, pupils contracting to slits, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the Dragon beneath his human fa?ade. He raises a hand, and a wall of blue-white flame erupts before us. The spell hits the fiery barrier and dissipates with a hiss, leaving behind the acrid smell of burnt ozone.

The display of power only seems to enrage the crowd further. Another student lunges forward with a snarl. His fingers elongate into claws, his face contorting into a vicious sneer.

Caine steps forward to meet the threat, his movements fluid and precise. The air around him shimmers, dropping in temperature so rapidly that I can see his breath misting in front of him. With a gesture, he sends a wave of freezing air towards the attacker. The creature's momentum carries him forward into the blast, and he falls back with a yelp, frost coating his skin.

The courtyard erupts into utter chaos. Spells, hexes, you name it, fly in all directions, their multicoloured lights illuminating the night in a deadly fireworks display. Voices are raised in anger and accusation, the words blending into an incomprehensible roar of noise. The scent of magick fills the air, a heady mixture of ozone, brimstone, and other, less identifiable odours that burn the hairs on the inside of my nostrils.

I stand frozen, my mind struggling to process what's happening. What is this? Why are they attacking me? I didn't do it. I couldn't have. The memory of my time since starting classes this evening plays through my mind in a rapid-fire sequence, but I can find no gap, no missing time where I could have committed this atrocity. It wasn't me!

As the guys fend off attacks, their magick and power on full display, I catch sight of Briar's body again. The sight of those puncture marks, so stark against her pale skin, sends a chill through me that has nothing to do with the winter air.

For a moment, I taste blood on my tongue, rich and intoxicating. I feel the phantom sensation of fangs extending, of skin giving way beneath sharp teeth. The memory, or is it a fantasy, is so vivid that for a moment, I doubt my own innocence.

No. No, it couldn't be me. I wouldn't. I couldn't. I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, trying to drown out the doubts that are crippling me.

But as the accusations of the crowd penetrate my being, as I watch the guys fight to protect me from people who were our fellow students just minutes ago, we are divided now.

"Wait!" I call out over the deafening roar of the magick zinging all around me. "Stop! I didn't do this!"

But then I feel a familiar presence at the edge of my mind. A voice I've tried so hard to forget whispers in the depths of my consciousness.

Nathaniel