8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Bronwyn

Igasp, jumping and whipping my head around to see none other than Wilder standing there with his shoulder against the door frame. His white hair practically glows in the poor lighting. He reaches out, running a hand over the water dribbling from the lock, holding it up. The droplet glistens in the bobbing light of my sphere. "But you are just full of surprises."

I straighten so fast that I knock over a stack of papers on the desk. They flutter to the ground, landing in heaps at my feet. My eyes dart to the door that I had relocked behind me then back to Wilder. If anyone was going to walk in on me, he was the last person I was expecting. "How did you get in?"

He smirks, holding up a gleaming brass object. A key. "I asked nicely." He drops the key, catching it midair and arches a single pale brow. "But this isn't about me. What are you doing in here?"

"I… uh," my mind races for an explanation, until I realize that I don't owe him one. "I don't need to tell you." I bend over behind the desk and begin picking up the papers just as much to hide my expression as to clean up the evidence of my presence here.

"Oh, I think you do. That is unless you want the good professor to know of your nightly visit." His voice is dripping with moral superiority when in truth he doesn't have a moral leg to stand on. Any morality he may have once had is a rotten hollow husk that was eaten by his ego and cruelty.

"And risk revealing that you were in here as well? I think not." I keep my attention on the papers as I try to show him just how little I care, but then something catches my eye. It's my name written across the parchment.

Bronwyn the Eel. Father Elwis the Eel is a notable merchant and landowner. Mother Vala owns a reasonably successful inn. She and her two sisters are all adopted, original parentage unknown—suspected a low-class farmer. Seems reasonably proficient in magic and a quick learner but lacks ambition. Is the first magic wielder in her family line. What can she offer? Money but not much else.

I reach out, spreading the paper revealing the sheets underneath it. There are more names. Meruna Kotov, Asimov… name after name. These sheets are filled with the names and information of the students here at this academy.

"Difference is, my dear Eel, that I was asked by the good professor to come to his office, and I'm willing to bet that you were not so get explaining before I grow bored." There's a moment of silence and then he heaves a frustrated sigh. "Are you even listening to me?"

I push to my feet holding the paper with my name on it. I turn it toward him. "What is this?"

Wilder goes still, and I look down to see that there are two or three papers of a similar parchment held in his hand. I squint back down at the paper and gasp. "This is your handwriting!"

Wilder pales even though I had not thought it possible for his pallor to increase, but it seems I was mistaken.

I step around the desk, clenching my jaw. "Wilder Zubkov, why is my name on this paper? Why is my father's name on this paper?" I shake it in his face. "Just what are you up to?"

His eyes dart to the paper clutched in my hand then back up to my face. A tinge of red, just the faintest hue of color, meets his cheeks. "N—nothing."

I don't know what is more unsettling, that Wilder had all this information about me, that he would dare accuse me of lacking ambition, or that now professor Morozov has this information about me.

And why would Wilder think I lack ambition? He is the one who is riding on his daddy's powerful name while I'm here actually making a name for myself and not relying solely on my father's influence.

I stalk toward him, crumpling the offending paper between my fingers. "This certainly doesn't seem like nothing."

Nervousness flashes across his face before it becomes as still as stone.

"Does this have anything to do with the fact that you're a vampire?"

He flashes his teeth, I'm not sure if it's a smirk or a grimace, but it's enough to reveal the pointed edges. They could be mistaken for simply sharp teeth to the untrained eye, but I was raised by a vampire, and I know what a fang looks like.

My eye is very trained, and it is focused on Wilder Zubkov.

"Is this really what you want to do, Eel? Do you really intend to extort me when you're the one who broke in here?" He lowers his voice, leaning toward me. His fingers glance across my arm, cold as ice, at least I presume that it was because of his touch that a shudder runs down my spine. His hands stop at my hand, prying my fingers from the paper and taking it back. "And what made you think you could threaten a vampire in a dark room all alone in the middle of the night?"

I snort, yanking away and folding my arms. "If you think I should be afraid of you, you have another thing coming at you." My eyes flick up and down him, from the tips of his polished shoes to his white hair. "Cause no matter how scary you try to make yourself out to be, I know the truth. You're nothing more than a common pest."

"That's a funny way to address a monster of the night."

I step toward him, raising my chin as if daring him to make good on his threats. My neck is exposed. I notice his eyes dart down to it, and he swallows, but there is no bloodlust in his eyes. Instead, that nervousness is back.

Good.

"My father is the stuff of nightmares," I whisper. "Compared to him you are a gnat."

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. No matter how far Wilder has gone, or what he has done to humiliate me, I've never invoked my father. It's important that people only ever see him as a powerful and influential merchant. A businessman. A counselor and friend to some of the most powerful people of Ruskhazar.

But never anything more.

They can't know that he runs a criminal empire, that he is a necromancer, or that he is a vampire. All are things that are highly frowned upon in polite society.

Confusion dances across Wilder's features, but just then I hear footsteps sound outside the door. There is a growl and a, "Where is that boy?"

I feel my eyes widen as they fly to the door. I can already see a shadow moving into it. It's too late to try to hide. I look up at Wilder half expecting him to be smirking at my trapped state, but he looks just terrified.

"What?" I begin in a low tone, but I'm cut off when he lunges forward, slamming his lips against mine.