Chapter 21
Violet
“Violet, wait!” a familiar voice calls from behind me. I decrease my pace, more in curiosity than anything else.
A second later, Cheryl stops beside me, panting heavily.
“Damn, girl. You’re fast.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “One of the only perks of being a vampire, I guess.”
We’re both silent for a moment as we stare at one another. Cheryl rocks back and forth on her heels, anxiously nipping at her lower lip. She forks her fingers through her mane of hair before dropping her arm back to her side.
“Did you kill them?” she asks abruptly, crossing and then uncrossing her arms.
“Who?”
“The guys who did that to you.” She nods to my abused flesh. “Did you kill them?”
My heart seems to be growing in a steadily shrinking vise.
“No,” I whisper at last, dropping my gaze to focus on my combat boots. “I didn’t.”
“What they did was fucked up,” Cheryl continues, a hint of anger in her voice. “And that’s coming from me. And…and I’m sorry. About outing you like that. It was a real bitch move, and again, that’s coming from me.”
I can’t help the tentative smile that curls up my lips, but I still stubbornly keep my gaze lowered. “What can I say? You are a bitch.”
She snorts. “Can you blame me? My boyfriend left me for you. I think I deserve to be a little bitchy.” An awkward silence ensues once more as we both struggle to think of something to say. Finally, I lift my head and meet her piercing blue eyes. “If you find the assholes who did that to you, I’ll help you hide the bodies. But, like, don’t go thinking this makes us friends or anything like that. I still hate your guts, but just not enough to want you to physically die.” With that ominous statement, she flips back her flaming hair and hurries down the hall.
“What the fuck?” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. Shaking my head at the sheer bizarreness of that entire conversation, I hurry out of the academic building and into the frigid air. Winter is fast approaching, and the bitter winds and deteriorating leaves are evidence enough. As I walk down the familiar pathway to my dorm building, I allow the biting cold to soothe my ravaged emotions.
“Pinkie! Pinkie! Pinkie! Wait up!” This time, I don’t bother to slow down as I hear the crackle of leaves and foliage. Mason materializes out of the trees a moment later and jogs towards me, stopping when he’s able to match my pace.
“I’m not going to be good company, Mase,” I warn him stoutly as we step in front of the ancient dormitory.
He shrugs. “We could be sitting in absolute silence, making faces at each other across the room, and I’d still want to be with you.”
Knowing that nothing I say will deter him, I nod for him to head in first. “Lead the way, Snake Man.”
“Snake Man… Are you thinking of nicknames for my cock?” he teases as we pass the front desk and walk to the staircase. “I’ve always called it Little Mason, but I’m open to suggestions.”
“Sorry. I’m pretty sure Tic Tac is already trademarked somewhere.”
“Ouch, Vi. You wound me.” We finally stop in front of my door on the second floor, and I push it open quickly, determined to hide beneath my covers and forget this shit day ever happened. It’s only when the lights are on that I get a good look at the once pristine—if a bit dusty—dorm room.
It’s as if someone ransacked everything. Tables and nightstands are overturned, and my blankets have been cut to shreds. All of my textbooks are dripping with an undefinable green liquid. One glance in my closet confirms that my clothes have also been altered beyond recognition, the shirts having more holes than fabric and the skirts cut into thin strands.
“Fucking hell!” Mason breathes as he surveys the destruction of my room. I know I should feel horrified or upset about the damage inflicted, but instead, I just feel numb. It’s a similar sensation to how I felt in the alleyway last night, when those monsters carved hurtful words into my skin. There’s only so much shit I can endure before it becomes too much. I’m getting buried beneath six feet of pure concrete, and no matter how loud I scream, no one can hear me.
“It’s fine.” I drop my bag onto the precariously standing desk, two of the legs bent at odd angles.
“It’s not fine!” he seethes, chest heaving. “It’s not fucking fine!”
“So, what can we do about it?” I eye my bed wistfully before grabbing one of my shredded blankets and pulling it around my shoulders. Once I’m safely cocooned, I sit on the ground with my back against the wall. Mason hesitates only a second before moving to sit directly beside me. “People fear things they don’t understand, and vampires? We’re the epitome of that. We’re stronger, faster, and more durable than any other monster.”
“People are dumbasses,” Mason protests venomously. “They have no idea what the fuck they’re talking about.”
“They hate me,” I continue, ignoring his outburst. “And they don’t even know me.” Squeezing my eyelids shut, I release a bark of humorless laughter. “Ironically enough, I might not even be a vampire.”
Mason tenses beside me, only his head moving to stare at me attentively. “What do you mean?”
With a sigh, I rest my head on his shoulder. His arm automatically comes up to wrap around me, hugging me to him.
“Ms. Stevens…” I begin, confessing a secret I should’ve told them weeks ago. “She mentioned something. Something strange.”
He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t demand me to hurry up. Instead, he’s content with allowing me to process the information at my own pace.
“She said Dracula wasn’t my father. That I was found by him when I was just a baby. She also said that I’m not even a vampire.” The words tumble out of me in a rush, but it’s a relief to get that weight off my chest. Since I heard that information, it’s been a constant pressure cutting off my air supply. Only now does it feel like I can finally breathe again.
“She’s a lying, psychotic bitch who tried to kill you,” Mason protests adamantly. “You can’t believe a word she says.”
“It’s not just her.” Absently, I draw circles into his chest over his shirt. “My dad acted really weird when I mentioned Ms. Stevens the other day. He told me to meet him in person to discuss it further.”
“When?”
“Tonight,” I say. “He’s supposed to text me a location.”
“Do you want me to come with?” Mason peers down at me, nothing but worry in his gaze. He doesn’t demand to come with me like some of the others might. He trusts my judgement—sometimes even more than I trust it.
“Yes, please,” I whisper, stretching my neck to kiss the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t know if I can handle this alone.”
“You’re Violet Dracula,” he says immediately. “You can do anything.”
I press my face to his shirt to hide my smile, his faith in me staggering and quite humbling.
“I was also thinking…” Mason trails off, and I can’t help but glance up at him, surprised to see his cheeks crimson. When he catches me staring, his blush deepens.