I dug a vial of Uncrossing Oil out of my bag and dabbed a little on my wrists. Poppy’s stuff was good, but I’d need the most potent blend to get rid of all six hexes. Still, it would make it easier for me to locate where the hexes were anchored on my body and loosen their hold on me. I’d have to ask for more in my letters home, or maybe just sneak enough ingredients to brew the oil myself. I steepled my fingers on the desk, breathing slowly, trying to bring my mind into a meditative calm. I wasn’t going to undo what had been done if I panicked.

  The cursing, bathroom, itching, and tongue-tie hexes were easy to locate and unravel. The witches who cast them either weren’t powerful enough to make them stick or hadn’t put any real malice behind them in the first place. It was probably a mixture of both. Some of them were bottom feeders, gravitating toward the most powerful predator around, and some of the others were probably decent people on their own, but forced into compliance for fear of being the next victim. Would I have been in that category, if I’d gotten most of my schooling from my old coven? I hoped not, but I couldn’t confidently say ‘no’.

  The last two hexes wouldn’t come loose, no matter how hard I tugged at them. They clung to me like vicious little barnacles, refusing to come away. And the more I pressed, the more they dug into me. If I’d been standing, my legs would have given out entirely, dropping me to the floor so hard, my head would have bounced off the stones. The sleep charm was worse, piling on top of me like the smothering weight of a dozen blankets. My eyelids slid closed of their own volition and my head bowed.

  I was asleep before my forehead could touch the cool surface of the desk.

  ***

  Something cool traced the column of my neck. A soft, tepid touch that reminded me oddly of Lorcan’s. I couldn’t help but find it soothing. I’d fallen asleep next to him on the couch more than once, with his soft, lilting voice sending me off with Irish lullabies. But while the voice that spoke was accented, it wasn’t Lorcan’s familiar brogue. It was crisp and distinctly British.

  “Leave her alone, Jack. If she wakes up and starts screaming bloody murder, you’ll be strung up by Headmaster Thorne. You know how important cooperation is to the senile, old man.”

  “Cooperation,” another male voice (presumably Jack’s) sneered. “More like cowardice. The Thornes should have never made an agreement with those damned witches. You know they’ll make our lives miserable whenever they can. It only seems fair to return the favor.”

  “Jack…”

  “I won’t blood her. I’ll just play with her a bit until Professor Valserak shows up. It serves her right for staying out past curfew and taking a snooze in one of our classrooms.”

  The last sentence cut through the haze and sent my heart into a dead sprint. The sleeping hex. It must have gone into full effect when I tried to remove it, and I was now alone and defenseless against vampire and infernal students. Oh goddess, I was in so much trouble.

  Jack laughed, pressing his thumb into my pulse point. “Ah, look, she’s awake. Hear that beat, Dan? You could dance to it.” Then he looked right at me as I opened my eyes and the room started to come into focus. “You scared of us, ginger?” he asked. “I gotta say, you confused me for a moment. I smelled a witch but was pretty sure I was looking at a faerie or somethin’.”

  “I’m a witch,” I managed, even though my voice sounded like I’d just awoken from a hundred-year sleep.

  “Just a witch?” Jack asked.

  “Just a witch,” I managed.

  He chuckled as he wound his fingers into my hair and then yanked my head up painfully and I found myself staring into his face. He towered over me, a tall, broad man with ashy blonde hair, a crooked nose, and a beard that failed to completely hide the fact he had a scar running along the length of his jaw. His blue eyes bored into mine, full of barely contained violence. The sight of him made my heart scale my ribs, only to get stuck in my throat, choking off the impulse to scream. The last time I’d seen a vampire this close, had one touch me like this, they’d choked me unconscious in the back of a moving van.

  I couldn’t find the will to breathe, let alone speak. For a horrible second, I was back at the warehouse, bound, bruised, and soon to be blooded by a psychotic vampire war criminal. If Maverick hadn’t been there to throw himself on top of me, I’d probably be in the night class with this jerk-off. I cast around for something, anything to say, but came up blank. I just wanted to run away from this asshole as far as I could get.

  Unfortunately, there were about four other vampires and one demonic student blocking the only way out. Even If I sacrificed some of my hair to Jack’s grip, I’d still have to contend with them. Had I been well-rested and prepared; I could have probably taken one or two of them in a fair fight. But I wasn’t. I’d been dragged out of bed before dawn, underfed, hexed within an inch of my life, and left to rot by my own people. Headmistress Aurea would probably consider this a fitting punishment for daring to contradict her in the entrance interview.

  “You think you’re special?” Jack continued, glaring at me. “Ignoring your curfew...”

  Jack’s face twisted in rage when I didn’t answer. He got a tighter grip on my hair and shook me so hard that my teeth clacked together. Blood burst into my mouth as I bit my cheek.

  “Answer me, witch! You some kind of princess? Think you can treat this whole castle like your own personal dorm room?”

  “No,” I said, ashamed when my voice shook. “I’m not. I’m sorry. There was a hex—”

  But Jack wasn’t listening. He used his grip on my hair to drag me from my seat. I yelped and reached for his hand, trying to pry it loose. I might as well have been grappling with a boulder. He drew me close enough that I could smell the blood on his breath. There was something not-quite-sane glimmering far back in his eyes.

  “I think you’re a liar,” he said in a deadly whisper. “You think you’re so damned powerful that you can handle whatever goes on after curfew.”

  “Let go!” I said, slapping at his forearms as real panic started to take hold of me. If he didn’t let me go soon, I was going to do something drastic. Like hex him. Or cry. “Please let go!”

  Jack’s lips tilted upward in a mocking smile. “Ooh, please, is it? Well, if you’re going to say please...”

  He let me go so abruptly, I swayed and nearly fell over. Which was when the last of the hexes decided to play its nasty hand, tilting me just a little further off balance. My foot came down wrong, slipping off the edge of the top stair. I had just enough time to let out a breathless shriek as gravity wrenched me down. I hit the next stair on my shoulder, the impact so jarring that it sent lightning streaking down my arm. My momentum dragged me down the rest of the way down the descending staircase, hitting every corner or uneven patch of stone until I lay battered and bloody on the ground floor.

  And then my head hit the edge of a lectern. Stars burst behind my eyes, and I felt something warm and thick sliding down one side of my face. The room spun in dizzying circles when I tried to lift my head. Bile crept up my throat, and I turned my head to the side, just in case I threw up what was left of my lunch. I blinked blearily and found a group of the night students standing over me, though I could only bring the nearest two into focus.

  “Nice going, arsehole,” the one with the British accent said with a sigh. He was shorter than Jack, with wavy brown hair and pale green eyes. “We’re going to be expelled for this.”

  “I didn’t push her, Dan!” Jack raged. “The bitch fell on purpose! She knows if she shows up with so much as a bruise, we’re in trouble.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she risked breaking her neck just to spite you,” Dan drawled. “Just step away from her, you bloody imbecile. I know that look. Go find your girlfriend if you’re peckish.”

  Jack’s nostrils were flared wide, eyes glittering with barely suppressed hunger as he stared down at me. It reminded me so viscerally of Janeth that I curled into a ball, trying to make myself smaller. If Jack sank his fangs into me and took a significant amount of blood, it was over. I’d be dead.

  Dan looked interested too, though he was hiding it better than Jack. If I was a betting woman, the others were probably leaning forward, scenting the air, enjoying the smell of my blood, even if they weren’t going in for a taste. Thanks to one little hex, I was bleeding in front of a crowd of vampires and it would only take one of them losing control to do me in.

  Jack began to reach for me but froze in place when a voice directly behind him snapped, “Lay a fang or finger on her, and I’m going to break every useless bone in your body, Collins. You’ve been warned about this before.”

  Jack backed away so quickly that he almost left an afterimage with a hasty, “Yes, Professor.”

  It left a man of medium height and build standing where he’d been a moment before. He was very… stark. He was dressed in black. Shiny black dress shoes, tailored black dress slacks, the standard Blood Rose dress shirt with its obligatory crest. The only spot of color in the ensemble was the ruby earring that hung like a droplet of blood from his right ear. He looked to be in his late thirties, with a few streaks of gray threading through the sleek darkness of his hair. This must have been the man that Jack mentioned. Professor Valserak.

  His lips pursed in distaste as he stared down at me. “Can you stand, girl?”

  I pushed up on my elbows, slowly, swallowing convulsively as nausea rose to choke me. I made it about halfway up before I retched and had to lie flat again. The professor sighed.

  “Chesley, take her to the nurse’s office and stay with her until they determine whether or not she has a concussion.”

  Another vampire elbowed his way through the crowd and knelt next to me. One of his arms slid beneath my shoulders, while the other cradled my knees. He lifted me without effort, keeping me pressed close to his chest. I prayed that the smell of my blood wasn’t as enticing to him as it was to Jack, or I’d never make it to the nurse’s office alive.

  My rescuer took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the mutters of the vampires and demons behind us. Then we were sweeping down the hall, the stone arches streaking by in my periphery. I struggled to focus and found myself staring at a familiar, chiseled profile.

  “Rook?”

  His dark eyes flicked to my face, somber and unhappy. “What?”

  “Don’t take me to the nurse’s office, please. I don’t want Vivian to know her hexes worked.”

  His mouth twisted, and he spat a curse. “She did this to you?”

  I shrugged. Or at least, I tried to. The motion jarred my arm, drawing a whimper from me. Rook picked up the pace.

  “I’m not going to let you suffer or die for your pride, Depraysie,” he said after a moment.

  “I won’t,” I said. “I have healing ointments and elixirs in my room. I just have to… close the wounds before I lose too much blood.”

  Rook gave me a long, searching look. “What did you do to piss her off?”

  “None of your business.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “It is my business if you want my help. Quid pro quo, Carrot Top.”

  I glowered at him. Infuriating vampire. I hated that he was cute—actually, with that square jaw, Roman nose and large eyes, he was really cute. If he’d been as unlikeable and plain as Jack, I could have held his gaze longer. As it was, I was just grateful that I didn’t have enough blood to waste on blushing.

  “Fine,” I said after a moment. “Find a private room with a first aid kit, and we’ll talk.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Give me that,” I said, holding out a hand for the curved needle and thread. “I can thread it. And stop holding your breath around me. It makes you look constipated.”

  Rook fixed me with a dirty look, but didn’t hand over the needle and he didn’t say a word, apparently unwilling to waste what untainted air he had left. I rolled my eyes and snatched the thread from his hand. The curved surgical needle was different than the straight needles I was used to handling around Wanda and her endless sewing projects, but I managed to guide it through the eye after a few tries. He eyed me curiously when I handed it back to him.

  “I’m not holding my breath,” he answered.

  I frowned at him because I knew better. “Don’t make yourself uncomfortable on my behalf,” I insisted. “I know you don’t have to breathe, but it’s still an impulse. I’m told you do it automatically, even though you don’t need the oxygen anymore. Just one of those holdovers from humanity.”

  Rook blew out a breath and straightened my arm out on a stone bench. We’d found a defunct corridor to work in after he stole what we needed from the nurse’s station. He’d also purloined a few towels, using one to wipe down the workstation, the next to staunch my bleeding head wound, and another to catch any blood that spilled when he tried to treat me.

  “Know a lot of vampires, do you?”

  “Seven of them, actually.” He appeared surprised at that. “There used to be eleven in Haven Hollow, but Marius and Mihaela decided to move, and took their kids with them.”

  Technically, they’d only had one undead child left when they decided to move, but I didn’t see the point in muddying the waters by mentioning her murder. Rook would assume, and I didn’t want to make an ass out of him just yet.

  Rook blinked. He couldn’t have looked more surprised if I’d hit him with my static shock hex. “What?” he asked.

  “What to what part?” I demanded.

  “You know seven vampires?” I nodded, and he continued to frown. “How?”

  “Haven Hollow,” I answered on a shrug, repeating the words slowly for his benefit, secretly gratified when my tone made a muscle in his jaw tic.

  “What about it?”

  “I’ve been living there with my cousin for a while now.”

  “I thought your coven was from Portland?”

  I shook my head. “That was my old coven.”

  “Oh.”

  “The new coven is basically why the Grimsbanes hate me.”

  “What’s different about your new coven?”

  I shrugged. “We aren’t all witches.”

  “Is that even possible for a coven not to be all witches?”

  “It exists so, yes, it’s possible.” I took a breath. “And the Grimsbanes think it’s disgraceful behavior to fraternize with Blood Witches and Blood Warlocks, vampires, and gypsies.”

  “And those people make up your coven?”

  “Well, they make up some of my coven. We also have other witches, but all were kicked out of their covens for one reason or another.”

  “So… you’re like the reject coven?”

  I frowned at him. “If that’s how you want to think of us. I think of us more as… progressive.”

  He nodded and then studied my face for a moment, eyes going round when he realized I wasn’t pulling his leg. I couldn’t blame him. Two years ago, I would have thought it was a joke too. Life in Haven Hollow had completely upended my worldview. I wasn’t just comfortable being around vampires. Under the right circumstances with the right person, I could see myself becoming one of them. Sixteen-year-old Astrid would have been horrified. Eighteen-year-old Astrid was just tired of all the prejudice.

  “What?” I asked when he continued to stare at me. “No pithy comeback? I’m disappointed in you, Checkers.”

  “It’s not Checkers,” he managed to grumble.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Chesley or Chess,” he said, showing me his teeth. It wasn’t a smile. “Though my father is the only one who calls me by those names anymore. It’s Rook to everyone else.”

  “How about I make you a deal?”

  “I’m listening.”

  There was something about him—maybe the way he listened so attentively, but I didn’t think he was all bad—maybe there was a decent guy under his hard exterior. “I’ll stop calling you ‘Checkers’ when you stop calling me ‘Carrot Top’.”

  He chuckled. “What’s so bad about ‘Carrot Top’? You have red hair.”

  I frowned up at him. “It reminds me of being in high school.”

  “As in… mundane high school?” he asked, still wearing that surprised expression as I nodded. “You seriously went to high school with humans?”

  “Yeah, when I moved to the Hollow there was only one witch around to teach me, and she had a day job to do. So, I had to learn basic life skills somewhere. It was boring as hell, but I did learn a few things.”

  “Like?”

  “Don’t kiss Harry Edwards behind the bleachers. He has no clue what he’s doing, and you’ll end up with mono. I guess math was useful too.”

  Rook bit his lip gently to contain a smile or a laugh and bent over my arm again. “I think you’re trying to distract me from stitching up your arm.”

  “Yeah, a little bit,” I admitted. “It’s not like we have any painkillers, so this is going to hurt like hell.”

  “Probably. I could spit on the wound if you want.”

  “Spit?” I repeated, faintly disgusted. “That sounds... highly unsanitary.”

  Rook rolled his eyes. “I guess your vampire friends neglected to mention that vampire saliva is antimicrobial, encourages healing, and, if we want it to be, it can also have analgesic properties. Injected, it’s supposed to be better than morphine, but on the skin, it’s more like local anesthetic.” He shrugged then. “If you don’t want it, just say so.”

  “It depends. Are you going to lick me or just wet willy the cuts?”

  Rook let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Wet willy? What are you, ten?”

  Heat prickled along my cheeks. “The question still stands.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think letting you lick me is tempting fate. Jack looked like he wanted to swallow me whole.”