3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The schedule at the academy was brutal. We started at 4.30am, which wasn’t too bad for me because it was dark, but then the sun came up. When it was at its height, I had to fight vampire-induced daylight exhaustion all day long. That sucked because I finally got my mojo back when it was lights out at 10pm.

The last few weeks had been a battle with my very nature to function. It was fair to say I wasn’t showing the academy my finest parts – though I doubted they’d appreciate my fine derrière anyway!

Everything would change when we had our ‘graves’ week’, a full week of being nocturnal. It was designed to teach us low-light skills, which was pretty essential considering Alaska had a polar night that lasted more than two months in some places. I couldn’t wait; when that started, I was going to kick so much arse.

Sidnee and I slipped into our seats moments before the class began and I opened my heavy law tome. I’d already read the section for today’s lesson and, with my eidetic memory, I was pretty confident that I was well-prepared for whatever they threw at us.

We had one of the guest instructors today, Lieutenant Polk. He was a law professor who’d decided a career change was in order, thrown in a life of academia and become a state trooper. He was pushing fifty and had a receding hairline and paunch to go with it. To be honest, he looked like he’d be more suited to a cerebral life rather than running down criminals, but good on him for following his dreams.

Polk was visiting from Fairbanks and we’d had two classes with him already. He wasn’t my favourite teacher because his voice droned and I struggled to focus, especially in the morning when the sun was really dragging at me and bed was calling to me repeatedly like the strumpet she was.

Polk started his lecture. Sidnee was already desperately taking notes. I took out my own notebook so I wouldn’t stand out too much, but it was mostly full of doodles. I pretty much only took notes if something came to mind that I wanted to ask a question about or if I wanted to note a reference to a book in the library.

Theodore Thorsen looked over at my non-existent notes and sneered. I gave him a tight smile, friendly but aloof; I was trying to be the bigger person though I still couldn’t make myself call him Theodore. ‘Theodore’ was an upper-class British man with a trust fund, a ramshackle castle and a rigidly determined path to his future. Thorsen was a total twat and I couldn’t call him anything but that or by his surname. It wasn’t likely we’d ever be on first-name terms.

I was sure that he and I would have it out before our time here was done. The fun thing was that he didn’t know that he was going to lose because peds didn’t have a chance against most supernats; whether he liked it or not, I was the alpha predator in this scenario. His ignorance was kind of fun. I wondered idly whether a lion ever felt smug before it pounced on a gazelle. Probably. I smiled at Thorsen. Just call me Leona.

The class roared with laughter. I had tuned out of the lecture so I turned to Sidnee, my eyebrows raised in question. ‘Polk made a joke about the academy poltergeist stealing Jones’s notebook,’ she whispered.

I looked at Jones, who was behind me and two spaces to the right. I liked him; he was a nice guy, if on the shy side. He was in his early twenties like me, tall, lanky and utterly scatter-brained. I had no idea if the academy actually had a poltergeist but I was pretty sure Jones had mislaid his notebook. Again. ‘Let’s help him find it at break,’ I whispered.

Sidnee smiled and gave me a discreet thumbs up.

I twisted in my seat and reached back to hand Jones my notebook. A lot of people needed to write stuff down for it to sink in; not me, of course, but then I’d never been ‘most people’, even before I’d been turned into a blood drinker.

He looked at me gratefully, took the notebook and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’ Thorsen glowered harder as if my kindness actively offended him. His parents must be so proud.

‘That was very kind of you, Barrington, but you need to pass the test as well,’ Lieutenant Polk remarked. His tone made it clear that although he thought it was kind he didn’t think it was smart .

I nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

He stared at me a moment longer then turned back to the board. He continued droning on a few minutes before we got to the Q even though we were far beyond high school, nobody wanted to be marked out as a know-it-all swot.

Polk sighed. ‘Anyone? Barrington?’ He picked on me, no doubt paying me back for giving my notebook to Jones. He was generally a fair teacher but this call-out felt a little too pointed. Maybe I was being overly sensitive but it seemed like bullying lite – and I hated bullies.

Oh well. The heads-down thing wasn’t working too well so maybe it was time I embraced my inner swot. I sat straight in my chair and held Polk’s gaze as I recited, ‘First-degree theft is a class-B felony. It consists of stealing goods, property or service at a value of $25,000. If convicted, an offender may face up to ten years in jail and $100,000 in fines.’

Polk’s mouth tightened; that wasn’t what he’d wanted from me. He’d wanted me to fail. What a charmer. His eyes narrowed. ‘What if they have no prior convictions?’

All eyes flicked to me again; it was like a swotty version of a Wimbledon tennis match as their heads swivelled back and forth. The atmosphere was tense and Jones was looking at me with wide eyes. This wasn’t what Polk had been lecturing about, but it had been in the reading that I’d dutifully devoured. ‘The offender will probably be given one to three years in jail.’

Polk grunted affirmation and turned away. Sidnee nudged me with her elbow and whispered, ‘Good job.’ I gave her a quick smile.

I could feel the anger rolling off Thorsen and his cronies. His shoulders were tight and he twisted in his seat to glare openly at me. This time I didn’t bother to smile or make nice. What was the point? He was determined to despise me no matter what I did, so I might as well embrace showing him up.

I was done with pandering to his delicate ego. I’d be civil because, thanks to my mum, manners were as much ingrained in me as speaking English, but I wasn’t taking his crap anymore.

I was done playing nice.