The Keep

“Annelise, I don’t trust that look. You must promise you will avoid trouble.”



“Check. No recklessness.” I gave Ronan a smile. Unfortunately, it felt as weak as my promise.



Assassination class was as hideous as I’d feared.



After Alcántara had complimented me on my kill for the umpteenth time, I finally snapped. “I beg your pardon, Master Alcántara,” I said when I sensed my moment to get a word in edgewise. “The thing is, I didn’t mean to kill Toby.” It felt good to be honest. Ronan’s words had resonated with me—I’d keep hold of who I was, of my humanity. I was the master of my soul.



“Ah, querida, but kill him you did. And in a most magnificent way.”



I squirmed in my seat. “But killing him wasn’t my intent.” Not truly. Maybe if I repeated it enough, it’d become truth.



“A boy of the land,” he continued grandly, clearly ignoring me, “a young farmer, killed by an agricultural implement.” He chuckled, looking tickled.



It infuriated me. Because of me, there’d been more death. And I was being praised for it. He was crediting me with the kill. More, he respected me for it.



“Yeah, the ho used a hoe,” someone said from behind me. Giggles erupted throughout the room.



I whirled around in my seat to glare and couldn’t help noting how the class had thinned even more in the past weeks. Apparently, not everyone was as “successful” at their assignment as I’d been.



Like roots forcing their way into cold earth, my anger—at Alcántara, at this hideous island—twined deeper into my soul. I would not become a monster. The monster Alcántara wanted me to be.



Rather than discipline the girls, Alcántara actually grew serious over the asinine insight. “It is my understanding that Acari Drew used a pitchfork. Although a hoe would indeed have added a compelling layer of meaning.”



I sank low in my chair. Because…What. The. Hell. We were so not having this discussion, were we?



He strolled to the back of the class, and I fantasized I might trip him as he glided by. But instead he paused at my desk, telling me in a confiding tone, “This was my dream for you.”



I remained silent. What could I say to that without digging an even deeper hole for myself? Alcántara would know how much I was hating this. He held my gaze, trapping me further. When he spoke again, it was slowly and with intent. “I knew you’d not disappoint me.”



It was my own fault. I’d lost control. My actions had painted me into a corner. I was becoming the island, and Alcántara would know I’d hate that most of all.



Yasuo’s fate held a lesson for me. His transition would be my cautionary tale about what happened when you lost sight of the important things—things like mercy, or compassion. My friend might’ve been gone to me, but I had a chance to come back from the edge.



The first step would be to get myself under control. Ronan had said it best: Blind rage killed. All my anger, my self-righteousness…all this emotion roiling inside me. I needed to tame it. To be calmer. Clearer about my goal. Because that goal had crystallized, growing beyond a simple desire to break into the keep and uncover its mysteries. I vowed to myself, I wouldn’t become the environment around me. I would triumph over the monsters.



I would triumph over Alcántara.



“As Acari Drew has demonstrated, violence is a craft,” Alcántara said, resuming his lecture. “Today we begin our unit on the Arthashastra, an ancient Indian text and one of the first to address the art in such courageous detail.” He’d wandered back to the front of the class, looked at his desk, and frowned. “Ah, but I have forgotten the book in my office.”



I went on instant alert. There was no “forgetting” with Alcántara. Every single thing was considered and remembered.



“Acari Drew,” he said, and I thought, Here it comes. “Perhaps you can help.”



I stood, bracing. What did he have up his sleeve? “Yes, Master Alcántara?”



He grabbed his black leather man-purse from where he’d hung it on his chair and pulled out a key chain. “Please go to my office and retrieve the book for me.”



My breath caught. This was not what I’d been expecting. Some bizarre, previously unimagined cruelty unleashed on me in front of my fellow classmates—now, that I’d have guessed. But his keys? I definitely hadn’t anticipated keys.



Did this mean he’d considered my offer and that I was to be his teacher’s assistant? Had he given Masha access to his office? I pushed away the thought—I couldn’t afford to consider the implications of his trust, only the potential benefits. Because keys made me think of that locked gate.



Surely Alcántara had in his possession the means to unlock his own tunnel.



“Come, come.” He jingled the keys. “We’ve not all day. And this is a task to which you must accustom yourself…if you are to be my research assistant.”



“Your…Pardon me?” Would my plan go this smoothly? Had I heard him right? The gasps behind me suggested I had.



“Children,” he said in answer, “congratulate your peer. Her most successful completion of this assignment has merited her the role of class helper.”



His little helper. It was just as Ronan had warned. Alcántara and I were playing a game of chess, and with each move, I came one step closer to becoming his pawn. His monster.



By killing an innocent Trainee, I’d crossed a line I’d never crossed before. Alcántara thought this transgression declared me as his. I couldn’t change the past, but I could take control of my future. The Spanish vampire wanted to claim me as his creature…and I wouldn’t let him.



I would stop him.



“We’ve not got all day, cariño.”



“Of course.” I kept my voice even, while inside my heart was hammering. I accepted the keys. There were only a few on the ring, all of them resembling the ones we girls had been issued—old and tarnished, looking like things that might unlock pirates’ chests. “It will be a supreme honor,” I lied with a smile.



Ronan’s warning echoed in my head. I needed to temper myself. Alcántara’s office was just upstairs. What was I going to do? Toss his desk, looking for something—a medallion, a plaque, what?—that had an infinity symbol on it, all in the ninety seconds it’d take for me to go up there and get his stupid book and come back down? Not hardly.



This was a long game. I’d be patient. Work it through. I’d be as canny a strategist as he was.



I allowed myself a moment to scan his office. He certainly had ulterior motives for appointing me his assistant. Did he want to make me feel trapped in a corner? Merely keep an eye on me? Whatever his reason, it didn’t matter. I’d make it benefit me as much as it did him and memorized as many details as I could, no matter how ordinary.



I snagged the book from atop his desk and headed back to class, walking slowly, my mind racing. My hand began to ache, and I realized that, in my nerves, I’d been clutching the key ring so hard it was cutting into me. I looped it on the fingers of my other hand and wiped my palm on the leg of my catsuit. The keys had left a faint impression in my skin, the ghost of them highlighted by rusty smudges.



An impression.



That was it. I’d make an impression of that infinity symbol. Maybe if I made a cast of it, I’d be able to puzzle out the key.



I was just a few yards from the classroom when I realized Alcántara had stopped speaking. He was waiting for me, and I was dawdling. Good way to lose my new job before I even began.



I jogged the last few steps, but my foot hit a wet spot on the tile, and I slipped, needing to catch myself on the doorjamb not to fall. A bunch of girls laughed, and I stamped my boot, glaring at the melting slush we’d tromped in from outside. It was January—it was impossible not to track in the stuff. Gritty puddles were everywhere.



And that was when it hit me. I knew who had materials good for casting. Things like putty and caulk and chemicals that would be easy to steal.



The janitor.



In my whole time on the island, I’d spotted the maintenance man just once—slipping like a ghost into the boiler room—and that was only because I had a penchant for visiting the science library at odd hours.



I placed Master Al’s book on the lectern and gave him a great big sunny smile.



Ronan was right: I didn’t want to be this person I was becoming. This monster, respected by monsters. I knew now what I wanted, and it wasn’t the vampires’ praise.



Carden had once told me how I was his light. I’d tasted darkness, and one day I would come away from it. But first I’d need to linger just a little while longer.



I’d think this through and do it right. I’d be like Sonja, the Sonja from the runes, a woman who’d ruled. I’d draw my power from within. I’d be strength and grit and calm vision.



I’d see inside that castle if it killed me. Because now I had an additional plan.



First I’d sit through class. Later I’d go back to the dorm. I’d wait till Frost was at dinner. I’d hone my stakes.



Soon I’d track the Spanish vampire in his lair. I’d track him and then I’d stake him.



I’d stake Alcántara.



My thoughts were that simple.



I’d get Alcántara before he changed who I was.



CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE



I couldn’t exactly wander the halls, hoping I’d run into the custodian. And even if I did run in to him, then…what? Just walk up to him and ask if I could borrow any materials he might have that were capable of casting a shape at an awkward angle and then hardening despite the cold and damp? Or I could simply sock him on the head and take what I needed.



Not.



Recalling Alcántara’s almost comically revolted expression at the sight of that puddle was ultimately what gave me the solution to my problem. I didn’t know if it was the result of being hundreds of years old, or if it was the thing that made a creature survive for that long in the first place, but these old dudes, they put a high price on neatness and order. And there was someone on the island who particularly despised untidiness. Someone who had a fetish for all things custodial.