Infinite Days (7 page)

The woman’s operatic soprano filled the room from the stage. She began her aria, “Se pietà.” She hit a surprisingly high note, though I had no physical reaction to its beauty. The collective reaction of the crowd told me that she was no common opera singer—she was able to move people through their bodies, through their souls. For me, the aria put out the light. It dimmed the spark so I could sink into the sound.

I gripped the chair when I sensed a shift in the air and a pair of hands gently caressed my shoulders. Then Rhode’s lips were close to my ear. He sat down behind me. “Have you learned Italian yet?” he whispered.

I shook my head, my lips parting.

“Too bad,” he said. His chin almost rested on my shoulder.

“What is she saying?” I whispered.

“That she is Cleopatra…and her grand plan is collapsing around her.”

The love Rhode felt for me coursed through my shoulders, down to my feet, and I wished I could shiver. The vampire emotion of love works in just this manner, as a reaction—a fulfillment—relief. Murdering my victims for their blood wasn’t working anymore. The love Rhode and I shared was all I had left.

“She thinks her love is dead,” he said.

I opened my eyes to Rhode’s stare—that rugged face whose features softened only for me. He had sat down next to me. The singer, dressed in an Egyptian costume, raised her hands from her sides and knelt before the stage bed.

“The game has lost its sport,” I said.

Around Rhode and me, the singer’s voice crescendoed with the orchestra—it was a deafening beauty. I felt the crowd’s swelling emotion, the union of their happiness. I ached.

“The music calms me. But I know I will forget myself again. The savagery prevails, the pain returns, and the longing to hurt takes over…it always does. How do you bear it?” I asked. “I’m on the brink.”

“You,” he said calmly, plainly. He took my hand into his and brought my fingers to his mouth. Under my nails was some leftover blood—he licked it away. “I think about you, and it’s enough.”

“How?”

“We are allowed very little, Lenah. I focus my energies not on the pain but on what I can do to avoid it.”

“So I am your distraction?”

“You,” he said, his face coming within inches of mine, “are my only hope.”

I surveyed Rhode’s beautiful features. His eyes probed mine for a reaction. I placed a hand on his cheek.

“I’m unraveling. I know now. No amount of blood or violence will alleviate the loss I experience every day. I want to run my fingers along skin and
feel
it. I want to sleep, wake, laugh with a crowd. This”—I pointed to the dead couple—“is no longer enough.”

Rhode brought my fingertips back to his lips. He closed his eyes as the aria swelled around us.

“Let’s go,” he said, opening his eyes and then standing up.

“To where?” I asked.

“Anywhere,” he said. His eyes set into mine and bore deeply into what would have been my soul, if I had one. “Anywhere you go, I will go,” he said. We turned from the balcony, the only indication of our presence…the carnage.

“This way, Lenah,” Tony said, and I shook my head, focusing back on the doorway into the auditorium.

Once we entered, I could see why Rhode had sent me to Wickham. It was easily the most elegant school I had ever seen. The auditorium rivaled some of the more beautiful homes I had experienced over the last five centuries. The walls and ceilings were modern. Nothing in my home in Hathersage was made from metal, just stone and wood. Wickham was different. It was the kind of place where lights were encased in stained glass and they brightened with the easy push of a finger. The seats rose up and away from a single podium in the center of the room. The stairs leading up to the many rows of seats were lined with a red carpet and track lighting.

“Just the upper school has an assembly here,” Tony explained as we walked up the stairs. Many of the students congregated in tight groups. “Sit over here,” Tony said, and showed me to a few rows of seats to the far left. All the kids already seated there were dressed like Tony. Some had interesting shades of hair, and one older boy had his mouth and eyebrow pierced. Gavin, a vampire in my coven, loved stakes and knives. He would have enjoyed piercing himself. Perhaps he had by now.

I didn’t see Justin. I have to admit, I hoped to. Though I did see his horrible girlfriend, Tracy Sutton, and her two friends sitting across the aisle. The self-proclaimed Three-Piece were sitting together, heads close, whispering. Tracy looked up and caught my eye. I looked away. When I sat down, I removed my backpack and placed it at my feet.

I couldn’t help it. I turned back to look at her and watched her mouth move. She leaned to the smallest of the blond girls and said, “That new girl is sitting with the art kids.”

The small blond girl turned her head, and I looked away just quick enough.

“She’s pretty,” she said.

Tracy scoffed. “Whatever. She’s paler than me in mid-November, and what’s up with that tattoo on her left shoulder? Can you say weird?”

It was a “needle scratch on a record” moment. The palm to the forehead, stupid things I had completely forgotten about. I was so stupid. I had completely forgotten about my tattoo. An expression is tattooed on the back of my left shoulder. Only those in my coven had these words tattooed on their skin:

EVIL BE HE WHO THINKETH EVIL.

I pressed my lips together and I looked about the room. What was I going to do? How would I explain that phrase to everyone who saw it? Especially the girls in the Three-Piece. I pressed my back into the seat so no one else would be able to see the tattoo. I let my hair down though I knew when I walked or moved anyone would be able to see it. The straps of the tank top were extremely thin. It was a poor fashion choice, but I had no time to run across campus and change.

I hated that I could read lips. I hated my vampire sight. I wished I had worn a sweater.

Tony must have noticed I was staring at them because he leaned over to me. “Bunch of bitches.”

“Why do they call themselves ‘the Three-Piece’ again?”

“Because they are always together. The three of them. Tracy Sutton, Claudia Hawthorne, and Kate Pierson. Rich, popular, and dangerous. Kate is a weekday student. She lives with her family in Chatham.”

“How can those three girls possibly be dangerous?”

Almost as I was saying the words, I understood what Rhode meant that day in the fields as well as what Tony meant. These girls were effortlessly beautiful. They flipped their hair with ease and a carefree swipe of their hand. They were dangerous because in their beauty they believed they held all their power.

Ms. Williams spoke and ruined my examination of the Three-Piece. “Students and faculty, please take your seats,” she said over a microphone.

The chatter slowed, there was a bustling of bodies, and after a few moments everyone sat down. I still didn’t see Justin anywhere.

“Welcome back. It is my privilege this morning, as it is each year, to welcome you to another academic year at Wickham. What is my wish? For you to achieve the highest level of education available. For you to grow not only academically but as young adults. Here at Wickham you are the best example of this country’s future. And as the upper school, you are the example for the rest of Wickham Boarding School.”

“Blah blah blah,” Tony whispered in my right ear, and my chest warmed. I was grateful to have him by my side.

“Before we dive into the highly anticipated schedule changes there is some preliminary news. We have accepted only four new students to join the upper school this year. Can you all come down to the podium, please? Lenah Beaudonte, Elizabeth McKiernan, Monika Wilcox, and Lois Raiken.”

My stomach dropped. This was not going to be good.

To my left, three students stood up and began the walk down the long aisles toward Ms. Williams. I looked to Tony, my eyes wide and my mouth dropped. He held his hand over his mouth. His big shoulders bounced up and down. Even though his mouth was covered, I could see the apples of his cheeks were red with glee. If only he knew what my tattoo meant…once I stood up, everyone would see it. Everyone would ask.

I stood up.
Don’t fall,
I prayed
. Don’t you dare fall.
I stepped down, one sandaled foot at a time. I ripped off the floppy hat so the brim squished in my right hand. Slowly, but surely, I made my way to Ms. Williams. I was careful not to look anywhere but at the stairs in front of me. I could already hear some whispering. The tattoo was small. No larger than average textbook print, but the scrawling cursive was specific. It was Rhode’s handwriting etched into my skin with ink, blood, candle flame, and a small needle.

Ms. Williams stepped to the left of the podium to allow room for us. The other three students faced the audience, I did the same. Then I felt a hand on my left shoulder.

“Why don’t you go first, Lenah? Just tell them a little about yourself,” she whispered. I stepped up to the microphone. I could only assume I was supposed to talk into it, as I had seen Ms. Williams do. It exaggerated her voice, and I already had an even, smooth cadence.

The student body stared. Hundreds of mortal eyes looked at me and waited for me to say something that would define me within their world.

“I’m Lenah Beaudonte, and this is thoroughly mortifying.”

Laughter erupted. I could feel that they were laughing with me and not at me. My hands gripped the side of the podium. I searched for Tony, who gave me a thumbs-up. It was then that I noticed Justin Enos sat in the seat directly behind mine. My heart thumped in my chest, and I had to look away. He had also seen the tattoo. He must have. Either way, he looked unbelievable. Delicious, even. His skin was bronzed, a golden color that one could only achieve from being in the direct line of the sun. I wondered for an instant if I touched him how warm he would be.

“I’m from a small town in England, if you couldn’t tell from the accent. I’m sixteen, and…well, I guess that’s it for now.”

I walked back to my seat, this time exposing my tattoo to the teachers who were seated behind me. The whole time I stepped up the stairs I locked eyes with Justin. His lips made it clear what he was thinking. I felt like a hybrid: half beast, half human, because it was easy for me to read him. He looked straight at me, with a smirk. One where his lips just rested on the edge of a smile. He didn’t have to speak to me in the rain. He didn’t have to say anything out loud because he said it all with his eyes.

I want you.

As soon as assembly was over, everyone started to move toward the exits. I didn’t want to seem eager to Justin, so when Tony and I finally stood up to make our way to class, I turned around casually. But Justin had gone. I didn’t like this position. Wasn’t he supposed to be following me? I wasn’t supposed to be wondering about him, hoping he was behind me. How frustrating.

Once we were in the hallway, I pulled my backpack close to my body so that my tattoo was covered.

“That tattoo is really cool,” Tony said, confirming my fears. We walked out of the auditorium down the main hallway of Hopper.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I replied. “Nothing? That tattoo is
not
nothing. When did you get it done? Who did it? That’s some serious ink.”

“An artist in London,” I said, though my mind flashed to a memory. I was in Hathersage, stomach down on the floor of the living room. Underneath me was a scarlet red, Persian rug Rhode brought back from India sometime in the sixteenth century. A fire roared in the oversized fireplace. I was topless, but only my back was exposed. Rhode was on his knees working the scripture into my back.

Around Tony and me, students wandered the halls, most with Wickham folders in their hands. There must have been a hundred middle schoolers wandering through Hopper building. The moment reminded me of a castle in Venice during
carnevale
. Hundreds of costumed Venetians held masks over their faces. Lions, feathers, sparkling gems, and flowing goblets spilled onto the floor. Just like this moment, it was disarming to be surrounded by so many strangers. There was no face I recognized, just eyes catching my gaze. Though, in 1605, in my confusion, I murdered the great Doge Marino when he refused to stop following me throughout the castle. I ripped his neck out and was quite “full” before dawn crept over the canals of Venice. I greatly regretted it all that next day, as I had no idea I had murdered my host. What was a girl to do? He kept following me around telling me how beautiful I was. Also, I was so bored.

“So, she’s sitting there on her knees. Like, crying,” a voice said, tearing me out of my memory. Tracy stood in the hallway and flipped her hair over her shoulder. She talked to the members of the Three-Piece as well as Justin. They stood around her at the base of some stairs. There were a few other girls standing about I didn’t know. Tracy hit Justin casually on the shoulder. “Justin goes in there and says, like, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“What did she say?” one of the girls I didn’t know asked while she sipped on a soda. Tracy looked to Justin, but he simply shrugged in response.

“She
lied.
She said she’d never heard music on a stereo before.”

Justin looked up from the group and when he locked eyes on me, his eyes were polite—surprised, even. My cheeks warmed, and I felt a stirring in my chest—I wanted to scream at Tracy and throw her to the ground. Instead, I sighed and turned to Tony, who smiled apologetically.

“The English floor is up there,” he said, and pointed at a staircase. “I can go up with you, if you want.”

The position I was in with Tracy was not to be taken lightly. I needed to go up alone. “No,” I said, though my tone was thankful. I looked back to the group, but they had started up the stairs. “I’ll be all right,” I said, grateful I wouldn’t have to pass by them after they had just talked about me in that manner.

“I’ll see you tonight. Dinner?”

I nodded and started to climb.

“Don’t forget!” Tony said, calling after me. I turned around. “B-O-B,” he said, sounding out the letters. “Bunch o’ bitches.”

I laughed and ascended the stairs.

Advanced English. Apparently, when I took the placement test that Saturday morning, I had scored “higher than last year’s valedictorian.”

On the second floor there were doors made out of mahogany with glass-plated windows and a shiny tiled floor. I walked down the hallway, past two or three glass doors, and looked down at my schedule. I pressed on a wooden door with the numbers 205 painted in black and entered AP English. This classroom had a semicircular shape, a chalkboard in the center of the room, and the teacher standing in the middle was a man named Professor Lynn. He was a short man, with a slight build and a receding hairline. His bald spot was the size of a half dollar.

Most students were just taking their seats. I didn’t see anyone I knew except Tracy. I sat as far away from her as possible. As I walked, I noticed a familiar curve of a spine seated next to Tracy. The person had a wide, well-toned back that was hidden underneath a black button-down. It was Justin and he was seated next to Tracy. I sat down without glancing in their direction.

Professor Lynn turned to the class from writing on the blackboard.

“Kate Chopin.
The Awakening
—1899. Can someone tell me if this novel is a romance, a thriller? What genre is this?” Professor Lynn asked, catching my glance.
So I guess we’re just going to jump right into this,
I thought.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I pulled the book from my bag. It was a brand-new, soft-cover copy that I had bought with Tony at the bookstore.

“Anyone?” Professor Lynn pressed. Again, no one responded. “How about our new comedienne?” He referred to his class roster. I knew what was going to happen, luckily retaining my vampire ability to read people’s emotional intentions. I knew it, like an instinct, that Professor Lynn wanted to challenge me. He came toward my desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you read the first fifty pages? You should have received a letter and syllabus over the summer with instructions.”

I nodded. Although I’d received no letter while I was hibernating six feet under the ground, I thought it best I didn’t mention that particular detail.

“Why don’t you tell us what you think, Ms. Lenah”—he referred to his roster—“Ms. Lenah Beaudonte. What are your initial reactions to
The Awakening
?”

“What would you like to know?” I asked without removing my eyes from Professor Lynn’s. He was using me as an example, setting the stage—a power struggle. After the incident by the stairs with Tracy, I was going to win. Our stares were resentful, his eyes unforgiving. If Professor Lynn had ever been made into a vampire, he would have been frightening.

“I asked what you thought of
The Awakening
. The initial fifty pages. Any aspect of it,” Professor Lynn said. The smugness in his voice was sickening.
Just another example of human nature,
I thought.

Justin sniggered. I had never been in a classroom before this moment and already I didn’t like it. Tracy rubbed her knee against Justin’s and they both smiled at my stymied response. I shot a glance at them and then looked back to Professor Lynn.

“Well,” I said, “I’m not a girl who likes to be controlled. The main character, Edna Pontellier, was controlled her whole life. That’s the book. The main character acts out against the social restrictions against her. She feels trapped. Now, if you are truly asking my opinion and not anticipating my failure in completing the assignment, I think it’s a dreadful book.”

Silence. Then chuckles.

“‘Dreadful’?” Tracy whispered in Justin’s ear, mocking me.

“You can tell all that from the first fifty pages?” Professor Lynn asked, his eyebrows raised.

“I’ve read the book before, sir.”

Now they weren’t laughing. I scootched down farther into the seat and crossed my left leg over my right knee. My legs looked long and spindly. Professor Lynn walked to his desk and then turned back to face me. “You’ve already read
The Awakening
?”

I have a first copy, first hardcover edition, in my home in Hathersage, you fool.

“Yes, sir. Three times.”

An hour later, I dropped my English books into my bag. After scanning the room for Justin, I walked toward the doorway.

“Miss Beaudonte?”

I turned. Professor Lynn held out a handwritten note on a piece of paper. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked toward his desk to retrieve it.

“Because you are so experienced with
The Awakening
and the rest of the class is not, I am going to assign you a few more written tasks than everyone else. It’s not fair, Lenah. Your literary experience puts you at an advantage.”

I nodded, though I was silently kicking myself. I could have easily pretended I had never read the novel if I hadn’t made a spectacle of myself and Professor Lynn hadn’t singled me out. It didn’t seem very fair. Though, what could I say, really? Before a few days ago, I wasn’t much educated in the business of justice.

I wouldn’t dare sully my insides with what you are.

My voice echoed in my mind. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as a wave of relief flowed through me. I couldn’t access that kind of evil in my human state. Not yet, at least. It was with that thought I reached the door of the classroom.

“You think she’s pretty,” Tracy said in an accusatory way. I stopped walking immediately.

“No,” Justin replied, though I knew he was lying. I knew what a lie sounded like. I was brilliant at telling them.

“Yes, you do. I know you do. You were staring at her in class.”

“Professor Lynn was grilling her.”

“She’s a slut,” Tracy said. “And I heard she’s dating Tony Sasaki.”

“Yeah, great, she’s a whore. Can we go?” Justin asked.

“She’s been on campus for, like, five minutes. She skulks around with her sunglasses on and doesn’t talk to anyone except Tony. Freaky bitch,” Tracy added.

Heat circled and swelled under my heart. These human feelings, these
hormones
bubbling up under my skin…how annoying. I ran my tongue over my teeth expecting my fangs to come down. I waited—no fangs. I sighed.

“Can we stop talking about it? I have a scrimmage,” Justin said.

I gritted my teeth, threw on my sunglasses, and burst out of the classroom, purposely bolting directly between them. Justin’s eyes flinched, he gasped, just barely, but I heard it as I stormed by.

I descended the stairs as quickly as possible and stormed down the long hallway. Just before I pushed out into the meadow, I looked left. I was directly across from the art tower staircase. My anger rose in me so high that I wished for one horrible moment that I were a vampire again. That I had the strength of my coven to scare the life out of both Tracy and Justin.

Instead, I went up to find Tony.

“I don’t understand. What the hell is wrong with these people?” I asked.

Twenty minutes later I was watching the clock and pacing back and forth. Tony and I were alone in the art studio, which was nice because I could say whatever I wanted without censoring myself. I didn’t even care about my tattoo anymore. I peeked at the clock again. I had fifteen minutes before my next class: history. Now that I had to worry about the damn thing, the clock was everywhere—mocking me. I never had to even think about time before. I had as much as I wanted.

I had forever.

“I’ve heard music before,” I said, still pacing. “Just not like that—in a
listening
room.”

Or on a stereo…,
I thought to myself but decided not to mention it aloud.