Isle of Night

My heart exploded into high gear, but I forced myself to keep my pace. Forced my arms and legs to pump neither faster nor slower.



He hid in the shadows, but something told me he wouldn’t do anything. Something told me these vampires craved an audience. I assured myself of this as I ran toward him, into the blackness of the hedgerow.



A whisper echoed in the leaves. The sound didn’t originate in a single spot; rather, it cloaked me from all around, a hiss that felt as ancient as the land. “Run.”



Adrenaline dumped into my veins. I tasted it, sour on my tongue. But with it came fury. Torture and hazing and monsters lurking in the dark. I’d hoped for some sort of special college for geniuses, but this macabre mockery of a school? This was definitely not what I’d signed up for.



I relished my anger. Let it bloom into determination.



Time compressed.



I didn’t see or hear the vampire again. My thoughts distilled to two single, bright lights. Vengeance. Freedom. I’d make Lilac suffer, and then I’d get out.



Ronan had said the only way to get off the island was to succeed. I’d wanted to stay under the radar. I’d thought I could quietly do well and then find a way to escape. But Lilac had screwed that up for me. Now all the catsuits knew who I was. I was no longer anonymous—I was the girl who’d fallen in the shower.



By my third lap, my feet had cut an irregular band of black footprints through the melting snow. The rhythmic thump-thump of my pace mesmerized me. The path was slushy and muddy and squished with each stride. All I knew were these sounds. All I perceived was the up-and-down pounding of my breasts. The up-and-down of my frozen cheeks as each step threatened to jostle the flesh free from my skull. The air still stung my lungs, but I forced my focus instead on the white cloud of each exhale.



Thump-thump. Vengeance. Thump-thump. Freedom.



I knew three things: I was cold. This was Lilac’s fault. Lilac would pay.



When I reached the dorm at the end of my final lap, my Proctor Amanda was standing outside, waiting. She was a vision, standing still and tall in a fitted coat. She’d donned her hood, and it haloed her face with a cloud of fur. Her dark skin was luminous in the watery moonlight.



I was watching her, not my step, and I slipped, catching myself with a hand to the ground before I toppled all the way.



“Careful.” She chuckled. “The snow’s a bit dodgy.”



“Yeah.” I stood and dusted myself off. My hands ached to the bones with cold—I felt they might shatter from it. “I got that.”



“Care for a pointer, dolly, before you head back in?”



The moment I stopped running, I’d started to tremble. My face was a frozen mask, too cold to speak, so I just nodded jerkily, my curiosity piqued.



“Them’s wolves, not girls. You let this stand, and boo, Lilac’s the boss of your little pack.”



Lilac had to pay—Amanda didn’t need to tell me twice. But how?



By now, I was shivering violently, my brain was addled, and I could only stare dumbly in reply.



“And he tells me you’re the clever one? Listen,” she said simply, as though she had to explain something to a particularly dim child. “Lilac wins this round, you’re as good as snuffed. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But our girls are wolves, and Acari who smell weak don’t last long.” She kicked at the snow, fighting a smile. “Now, then . . . Your roommate’s like a babe asleep in her bed. And have you felt how cold the snow is?”



I looked at her like she was insane. I was practically hypothermic, and she was asking me if I knew how cold the snow was. “N-no, I’m finding it quite balmy, actually.”



“Drew,” she scolded sharply.



I cursed myself. She may be my Proctor, but she was still an Initiate.



“Drew,” she said again, more kindly. “I promised Ronan I’d help you, but I can’t paint you a picture.”



She told Ronan she’d help me? Had he asked her to look out for me? If he and Amanda were that close, were they, like, that close?



I forced myself to focus on the matter at hand. “A picture,” I repeated.



“You might . . . say . . . bring our Lilac a memento.” She looked meaningfully at the snow. “Let her know you was thinking of her.” Her thinking sounded like finkin’.



Finally I got her gist.



“Whatever you do, make it fast,” she said. “You need to get inside before you catch your death.”



“B-beats evisceration,” I muttered. My cheeks were so frozen, I could barely form the words.



She swung on me. “For fook’s sake!” she whispered in an angry hiss, sweeping her eyes left and right. “Don’t you ever let anyone hear you say that, or you’ll wake belly-up under the stones.”



I gaped.



“That’s more like it. Now, keep your trap shut and start acting as clever as they say you are.” She began to walk away. “Cheers, dolly. Go get some sleep.”



But I didn’t. Not right away. Even though my body was quaking uncontrollably, even though I’d lost feeling in my fingers, I bent to gather snow. I scooped it into a huge mound, carrying it in my arms. It seized my aching joints with a burning cold. But the thought of Lilac asleep in her warm bed numbed the pain.



My legs thudding clumsily under me, I staggered back into the dorm. The blast of heat sent relieved tears streaming down my cheeks. I made it up to our room. Though soaked and shivering, I bypassed my bed. I didn’t grab my blanket, my towel, my coat.



I went straight for Lilac.



She was sleeping soundly, her lips parted, hands pressed, palms together, under her cheek as though in prayer. Her shining hair swept behind her on the pillow, gleaming and perfect, even in sleep.



She was vulnerable, and I stood for a moment, savoring the power of it. I felt creepy, like an intruder, hovering there, staring.



But then I smiled. And I dumped the mound of snow in the crook between those peacefully bent arms and that long, pale neck.



Lilac’s shriek was piercing enough to shatter glass.



“What the—?” She sprang from her bed, hopping free from her tangle of blankets. “Fucking snow! This fucking place.” Panting and screaming, she frantically brushed snow and ice from her body. “What the fuck? Who the—?”



She spun on me. “You! I’m gonna kill you.” She jabbed her finger toward me, her eyes looking as if they might bug from her head. She was like a madwoman, the front of her hair soaked and hanging in limp strands around her face. The neck of her flannel nightgown was plastered to her. “I’ll get you for this, Charity. Oh, I will get you. It’s on.”



But I found it hard to care about her threats when I was about to freeze to death. My body was wracked with tremors now, bones locked and muscles spasming from the cold. I’d despised the showers earlier, had sworn never to stand under hot water again. Now I couldn’t get there fast enough.



I turned and stumbled to the washroom. Lilac’s shrieks followed me down the hallway.



A few girls peeked from their doors, questions in their sleepy eyes. “What happened to her?” one asked me.



I shrugged. “I must’ve tracked in some snow.”



I BOLTED UP IN BED, heart pounding. I clutched my blanket to my neck, expecting to find last night’s vampire looming over me. His silver eyes had glinted through the night, watching me from my dreams.



But the only monster in the room was Lilac. She sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair methodically, staring at me. She looked all dead-eyed, like some sort of maniacal doll you might find in a horror movie. It gave me the creeps.



I turned away and didn’t glance back, managing to get dressed and ready without looking at her again. I was aware of her, though. Of her movements, her breathing, her location and distance from me. I’d need to watch my back every moment from now on.



Despite functioning on only a couple hours’ sleep—and those fraught with nightmares—I felt remarkably clearheaded. I had a plan. Survive, excel, escape.



I was lacing up my boots when I heard a rustling outside our room. Lilac and I both froze. Two envelopes slid under the door, each bearing a name in elaborate script.



My roomie sprang up first and, with a look of disgust, tossed me my envelope.



She opened hers right away, but I sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating mine. The paper was yellowed, like parchment.



“Aren’t you going to open it?” she taunted.



Not with you watching. “Later.”



She was using hers as a fan. “Are you afraid, Charity?”



Frankly, I was. That we’d both gotten one made me wary. Did someone find out about my stunt with the snow? Was I in trouble?



“It’s just your class schedule. Freak.” She flounced out the door, slamming it behind her.



I jumped from the bed, shoving the envelope in my pocket. I’d been desperate for a moment alone so I could hide my iPod and photo in a safer place. I had no choice—the Initiates had made it clear that I could be disrobed and hazed at any moment.



I’d emptied most of my kit bag in the wee hours. Though many of my clothes were still strewn about the room to dry, I’d tucked the Japanese box safely in the bottom drawer of my dresser.



I retrieved it, taking a moment to touch a reverent finger to the metal throwing stars. I wondered what they could possibly expect me to do with them, but still, they were the coolest things I’d ever seen. I took them out, then carefully pried out the tiny brass tacks that secured the velvet lining to the box. I plucked out a corner of the fabric and slid my treasures underneath before putting it all back together.



The iPod was flat and smooth, and the box made the perfect camouflage. I just hoped the odd weight wouldn’t betray my hiding place, should my roommate get curious.



A gong rang. It was a beautiful sound, heavy and clear, like something you’d hear in a Tibetan monastery. It resonated in my belly, and for a flicker of a moment, I felt I was a part of some bigger thing. The call to breakfast, I realized.



Which meant I was running late.