Blood Isn't Always Thicker Than Water

“Tell us about the fairies,” Stefan requested.

I nodded. “I’ve meet two. One was an outlaw. He was a grungy guy. He had dark hair in dreadlocks, grayish skin, ragged, tattered clothes, and he had a needle strapped to his waist. It was his ‘sword’.”

Law chuckled. “Did he tell you his name?”

I nodded. “Sacha. Spelled S-A-C-H-A, but said ‘Sasha’.”

Law nodded and Stefan requested a description of the other one.

“Starling, the girl, couldn’t talk out loud like Sacha. She spoke to me with her mind. She was blue all over—her skin, her hair, her clothes, her huge eyes. And her personality was like sour milk.”

Law snorted. “Nice.”

“So, now it’s my turn to get my question answered,” I said.

‘What is it?” Law asked.

“He wants to know how a vampire can use magic,” Stefan told them.

Sakar let out a sharp sigh. “You’ve got to be immune to Guardian magic. There are no descendants of both Guardians and vampires, so what usually happens is that a young vampire was exposed to Guardian magic or a fairy or something like that at a young age.”

Oh! So I could maybe possibly use magic! Sacha and Pete had used Guardian magic on me when I was about a week old.

“But you need to befriend a fairy and convince him or her to lend you the magic that the fairies have. And that usually means convincing a Guardian’s fairy to leave the Guardian. And any fairy that agrees to work with a vampire is shunned by their race. They aren’t allowed back to Never Land, or wherever they come from.” Sakar didn’t look at me the whole entire time he was talking.

“Hmm. Harsh,” I commented. So Dyrren is hiding a fairy somewhere… “Can anyone in this school use magic?”

Law nodded. “The only guy in the twenty-two class. And Sakar wants to be able to.”

I looked at the Skunk in surprise. “Really?”

He glared at me and nodded. “I’m hoping my status as a halfblood will let me be able to withstand Guardian magic. And if it doesn’t work the first time, I’ll keep trying until I build up an immunity toward it.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind trying with you. I want to be able to use magic.”

“I work alone,” Sakar spat, then stormed into his room.

I smirked as I watched the “GO AWAY” sign rock a bit from the impact. “He just threw away a huge resource.”

“What do you mean?” Law asked.

“He should have agreed to work with me. Because, unlike him, I actually have access to Guardian magic.”

“How?” Stefan inquired further.

“I’m in touch with two Guardians and therefore fairies.” I’m turning all of this into a show. I’m so weird.

“Holyshit!” Law exclaimed, jumping out of his seat and staring at something on the wall. “Sakar!”

“What?” I asked when Stefan rushed toward the door that led out to the hall.

“We’re late!” Stefan called and I immediately bolted after him, a grumbling Sakar bringing up the rear of our little parade.

“What’s so special about this lunch?” I asked Stefan as the four of us raced down the halls.

“It’s also an introduction, or a welcome back for those who have come here before,” he told me.

I still didn’t get what was so special. But I let it go. I’d find out soon enough.

Turns out that we weren’t late, since we ran so fast. We made our way to a table labeled “18” that had only one occupant at it before we sat down.

“Hey,” I said as a greeting to Raine.

She gave a small wave. “Welcome to the eighteen class.”

“This will be your class for the whole year,” Stefan told me as we sat down, “regardless of whether you turn nineteen or not.”

I shrugged. “I just turned eighteen last month. I’d be stuck in this one anyway.” I looked around at the five of us. “So. Is this it?”

They all nodded.

“Okay.” When none of them made any sort of attempt at conversation, I used the silence as an opportunity to check out the cafeteria. It was, as everything in the school was, huge. There was no paisley-like print or whatever on the walls. They were good old plain white with simple Doric columns about ten feet away from each other along the walls. Each column was gigantic. If there were three of me and we all held hands, we might be able to encompass one of them.

Nine circular tables dotted the floor, each one labeled with a number (sixteen through twenty-four). These had benches attached and were big enough to comfortably fit about ten people. My table had room to spare. I was between Stefan, who was on my left, and Raine, who had about half the table to herself. For some reason, we guys crammed together opposite her as if she had cooties. But I couldn’t bring myself to break the invisible barrier and get closer to the lone girl. Everyone would think I like-liked her. Not to mention I’d be infected with cooties.

“Sakar Ángel! Straighten your back! Elbows off the table!”

I whipped my head around to see an angry-looking dude march up to Table Eighteen with a clipboard. He had lined skin that looked like granite, eyes that seemed to be about as black as mine, and silver-gray hair. Sakar followed his every word immediately and immaculately. What, was this guy his personal drill sergeant?

“That’s-a-boy,” the gray guy with the clipboard said. “That’s what I expect from my son.”

I stared at Sakar in surprise as the graying oldish guy slapped a hand onto the Skunk’s shoulders. That was Sakar’s father?

Another table was being brought in for the Nineteen Class, which couldn’t fit all of their people onto one table. And once set down, the second table was over half full. The nineteen class was by far the largest. However, excluding the nineteen class, only two other classes had a higher amount of students than mine.

“Hola, eighteen-year-olds,” Sakar’s father said. “You all had me last year. Well, minus you, chico. What’s your name?” I swear he glared at me. Or it might jut been the creepy blackish piggy eyes.

“I’m Caspian Royce,” I spluttered out.

He nodded. “Señor Ángel. I’m your class leader, meaning you’re under my control. I keep all of you in a close watch. I monitor your grades. I proofread your essays. I assign you a diet, and you follow it. And if I have my doubts about you, I spy on you.” He gave us a look that said “you have been warned” before he shoved his face in mine. “Some say I’m like a drill sergeant.” Must’ve read my mind. “I say not. I’ve been in the army, punk.” His Spanish accent wasn’t helping him out that much. “I’m a right pixie compared to the other gun-happy meatheads out there. You got that?”

“Yes sir.” My back was beginning to ache from where it was pressed against the white-topped laminated table. Well, it looked like it was laminated, at least.

Señor Ángel continued to glare at me. “I am also your Physical Education teacher.” So much for me getting to enjoy that particular class. “If I tell you to do push-ups or sit ups, you go at it until I tell you to stop. When you run and are timed, you give it more than you all. You run until you’re winded, clutching your chest in pain, and yawning all sorts of colors.”

What a nice guy.

“When I tell you to jump, you ask, ‘How high?’ When I tell you to jog, you ask ‘How far?’ When I ask you if you’re unable to participate, you say, ‘No, Señor.’ When I tell you to get somewhere, you get there half an hour early. If I’m ever not able to make it to anything, you perform as if I am there, and you perform well.” He straightened up. “I don’t tolerate slackers. I pummel, squash, and ultimately pulverize them.” He squinted at me then scribbled something down on his clipboard. “Tread carefully, Caspian Royce.”

All this Spanglish was annoying. And my gym teacher was positively frightening. You know, Table Nineteen got a very nice-looking and smiley lady. Unfair.

My insides—and outsides, come to think of it—froze as something began curling around my midriff. I snapped my head around and saw Sandy sidling over, his arm around me in advance. Quite a few vampires were staring.

“I ain’t sittin’ ovah at tha’ table with some sketchbawl,” he said, and shoved an un-stretched-out thumb over his shoulder at Table Twenty-Three, which had a generic-seeming guy sitting there in all his average-ness, a slight red beard and mustache succeeding in making him look very sketchy.

I nodded to Sandy as he sat down next to me, breaking the invisible barrier. Raine really didn’t seem to mind, and everyone else was just either looking in wonder and revulsion at Sandy or staring stonily straight ahead. You know who that was.

“’Zup, Raine?” Sandy asked, looking blearily at her. She nodded in return. “Eh, Cassy, wanna innoduce me to your…friends?”

My face went red, and my eyes might’ve a little bit too. But I really hoped not. “Cassy?!”

Sandy nodded blankly.

I sighed in frustration. Of course. If he couldn’t say “Princey” or “Rossy”, of course Sandy would go ahead and use “Cassy”. Sometimes you really gotta hate the guy. “This one next to me is Stefan. Next over is his twin, Law. Then there’s Sakar and his father who’s standing next to him. He’s our class leader. And you already know Raine. Class Eighteen, this is my very good—albeit annoying—friend Sandy.”

“Uh, what’s up with his arm?” Stefan asked kind of quietly.

I shrugged. “He’s got a special power that allows him to kind of…liquefy himself. Most of the time he’s basically made of gel. Oh, also, he loves to sit on my back.” I turned to look at my short blonde servant. “Not today. You got that? No piggyback rides. None.”

He nodded. “But why not?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Because I said so. Now stop pestering me.”

Sandy, keeping his face perfectly emotionless, slid himself in front of me and sat on my lap, basically straddling me, his head resting on my right shoulder. “You only said no piggybacks,” he said, and I knew he had closed his eyes and settled in for a little daytime nap.

I sighed and glared at the ceiling, hissing out, “You are hopeless.”

Law leaned toward me across Stefan and asked, “What exactly did you mean by ‘friends’?”

I glared at the young gray-haired vampire. “By ‘friend’ I meant just that. Friend. I’m straight. He’s just…kinda clingy.” I sneezed as some of his hair tickled my nose.

Señor Ángel was glaring at Sandy in between jotting notes down on his clipboard.

“Ladies, gentlemen and others!” a voice called out. All heads turned toward a man who was standing on top of Table Twenty-Three. He looked young and strong with dark hair and blue eyes. “Welcome back—or, simply welcome—to a new year at G. Ross U!” A smattering of applause followed that. “For those of you who don’t know me, I am Dorian Ross, principal or headmaster or whatever term you want to use, of this school. I am also a cousin of our late King George Ryan Ross II, and a microphone-hater. I like my voice the way it is, thank you very much.” It looked like he’d say the same about his face. But whatever. He’s my uncle once removed or something like that. We’re related—good enough. You can tell by the weirdness. I’m guessing it runs in the Ross family. “We’ll be getting schedules out very soon, and while you’re waiting, feel free to go through the buffet and get yourself some chow.” He gestured toward a blank wall that opened up like an automatic garage and became a gateway to vampire food heaven. Or something like it. I could see all manner of uncooked meats, rolls and butter, mashed potatoes, salad, some really gross-looking stew that I could smell from here—although that facet of its properties was pretty darn good. There was also a man standing behind some metal waist-high thing that must have been a container for blood, and a stand that had ice cream.

“I’m out!” Uncle-Once-Removed yelled, then jumped off Table Twenty-Three, waking up the red-haired sketchball.

I expected mayhem when we all go up to get our food, but everyone stood and walked steadily—and slowly—to the hole in the wall. I was scrambling to get Sandy off of me.

“Hello! And who might you be?”

I turned my head to see Uncle-Once-Removed smiling iridescently at us. The rest of the table’s population was long gone.

“Um, I’m Caspian Royce,” I said, staring in dismay as half of Sandy’s arms stayed around my shoulders when the other half got pulled away. This guy was really making me miss Jeremy.

Uncle-Once-Removed sat down next to me and said, “I feel bad for you, mate. That one there must be quite the handful. But, anyway, I’m here because it is my normal procedure to personally greet and welcome newcomers. You are the only two this year. We’ve almost reached fifty!”

“Great,” I told him, while yanking on Sandy’s hair. You would think that getting your face plastered all over your master’s neck—and it staying there when you sat up—would wake you up, but no. This guy just had to be different.

“You know…you look a little like my dear late cousin, the King. And he even had a son named Caspian… I only saw the kid once before he died. He was a tiny little tyke, not even a week old, barely out of the hospital. And I have never seen a more inquisitive baby in all my life. He had gigantic eyes. That was what stood out about him the most. And at that young age, he was already grabbing at anything he could touch. So adorable… Tried to pluck my eyes out.” He chuckled. “That poor mother. She had the hardest time breast feeding him. He simply wouldn’t stay still. Usually babies just go for the gold”—haha, nice—“but this one just wouldn’t have it.”

Sandy was finally awake. How did he manage to fall asleep that fast? It’s impossible! He is now officially a stranger vampire than Jeremy.

“Woo! I havven’ re-gelled in a long time!” Sandy proclaimed once his mouth was back on his face. “That felt good.”

“Um, hello,” Uncle-Once-Removed said to my extremely special blonde friend.

“Yo, Dorian. You like that guy from the myth-legend? You got a special paintin’ tha’ keep ya lookin’ like tha’? ’Cause you lookin’ good, man!”

Uncle-Once-Removed blinked. “Um, no. You must be referring to Dorian Gray. He was real, though. And a vampire. He, being the genius he was, found a way of making himself immortal. He had people use dyed blood and paint a picture of him. Fairy magic fit in there somewhere. It lasted until his cat found the portrait. And, well, you know what happens next…”

I grimaced. “This is most wonderful and all, but I’m starving.”

“Starving? Or thirsty?” Uncle-Dorian-Once-Removed asked.

“Starving,” I told him. “I had blood yesterday.”

He nodded. “I’ll get you some stuff, seeing as your legs are still…under wraps…”

Sandy’s thighs had melted and molded around mine. “Thanks,” I said, and once Uncle-Dorian-Once-Removed was out of earshot, I began swearing, using all manner of phrases, managing to even impress Sandy.

“Dude… Haha… Hahaha… Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!” He kept that up for a while, then he let out a really big one. “HA!” After a couple seconds, he calmed down. I glared blackly at him. “Oho… That was good…hehe…” He took a deep breath. “I [gotta remember those.” He then effortlessly unstuck himself from me and began walking to where a line was slowly moving.

My head landed on the table and I growled for a couple seconds. Man could that guy be infuriating.

“What’s up your ass?” Raine asked as she sat down next to me with some bloody meat and a metal can that looked like any old soda can. I could smell the scent of blood drifting out of its popped-open top.

“Nothing,” I sighed and straightened up.

“Do you mind if one of my friends comes and sits with us?”

I shook my head. “No. Not at all.” Then I saw who it was and almost spontaneously combusted. “Wha… What are you doing here?!” My eyes were wide and I was gripping the table tensely as I stared up at the blonde girl. Then I noticed that both of her eyes were light blue and settled down. “Oh, um, sorry…” I muttered. “Go ahead. Take a seat.”

The tall older girl frowned at me. “Is everything all right?” she asked nicely, her eyebrows frowning a little. Her blonde hair was long, silky and obviously very well taken care of. She had a hair band in, and a kind, open face. I couldn’t believe that I had seriously thought she was Callie. Fail of All Time.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I thought you were someone else. Please, sit.” I gestured for her to.

Knee high boots disappeared under the table as the blonde sat down. “Hi. I’m Raine’s friend April. Who are you?” She smiled kindly at me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Raine twirled a lock of her own red-brown mop around her finger as she ate the meat with her other hand, no utensils in sight.

“Caspian,” I told her simple, then jumped in surprise when I looked down at the place in front of me. A tray of meat sat in the stead of the emptiness that used to occupy this space of the table, and an unlabeled can of blood was set beside it. Ah, dear Uncle-Once-Removed, you are quite insistent. I smirked as I looked the meal over, then my eyes darted around in search of Uncle-Dorian-Once-Removed. I saw him at the last moment possible. He was slipping out of a door and into the hall. Our eyes met right before he rounded the corner and he disappeared. That shook me. His blue eyes had seemed to glare at me in a convicting way, as if he thought I was a criminal.

My heart sank as I considered the thought of him having figured out I was the Prince. I’d believe it in no time if it was true. He couldn’t be the principal/headmaster of a vampire college for nothing.

“Eh, newbie!” Some dude flew over to me and alighted on my table. Yes, flew. And alighted. He had golden wings coming out of his back and almost-chin-length blonde hair that flopped al over the place. His brilliant green eyes shone brightly as he held out a hand to me. “Just wanted to say ‘hi’ and welcome to G. Ross U! I’m Taylor Bergen.” He shook my reluctant hand enthusiastically.

“Um, yo,” I said back in slight confusion. “Do you use magic?”

“What? Oh, these?” He gestured to his wings with his hand that wasn’t shaking mine. “Yeah. But no one’s allowed to see my fairy, so don’t bother asking.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I told him sincerely as my arm continued to be jiggled around in my socket by his vigorous hand-shaking techniques. “Seeing another fairy is the last thing on my mind.”

“Another?” Taylor Bergen asked in confusion. “How many fairies have you seen?”

“Two,” I told him truthfully.

“Really?” He looked absolutely ecstatic. “I’ve only seen one, and that’s my own! She left her Guardian for me. I was kinda bleeding to death. The Guardian didn’t want to help me. But the fairy—my fairy—thought that that was wrong and decided that she’d rather help those in need by herself than stay with her partner and ignore people who needed her. Lucky my dad’s a halfblood, eh? And then the fairy realized I had no family or friends left to turn to and offered to stick with me—allow me to use her magic. And, well, she wouldn’t let me refuse.”

“Is this your welcoming ritual…?” Sakar’s cold voice asked. He plopped down a quarter of the way around the table from me, his dad settling in beside him, still glaring at everyone and everything. Law and Stefan were talking with some other guys on their way back. Sandy was lest in line, just beginning to get food for himself.

And Taylor was still shaking my hand. “Just about!” he crowed, then bade me goodbye and took off, leaping into the air and flying over to one of the nineteen class’s tables.

I tilted my head a little. “My life seems to consist mostly of hyper blondes…” I observed to myself, for some reason saying it out loud.

“Like who?” Sandy asked, dumping himself almost happily down next to me.

“You.”

“I’m not hyper!” He glared petulantly while shoving some drippy stew into his mouth.

I raised my eyebrows. “Of course you aren’t. Um, Hannah, Sandy the Second, that girl he hangs out with”—saying Callie’s name just didn’t seem like a smart thing to do—“Jeremy, and…well, whaddya know. That’s it.”

“You, young grasshopper, just failed in epic proportions.”

I hugged him. “You used big words!”

Not a good idea.

“Ew!” April, Raine’s friend, screeched when my arms kinda went though Sandy, all but slicing him in half.

“Can’t you solidify yourself?” I asked in annoyance, drawing my arms out before the gel could congeal and trap my arms inside my servant.

Sandy shrugged. “Maybe.” He popped a piece of potato into his mouth.

“Well do it.” I glanced around at the people sitting at the table, then ducked down and whispered, “That’s an order,” into Sandy’s ear.

He rolled his eyes when I pulled away, but did as told. His middle reformed and the sound really wasn’t that pleasant. His white shirt unstuck from his back and sides and he shook out his hair. “Agh. I hate being fully substantial.”

“Why?” I asked curiously.

He stared sadly at his halfway devoured stew. “I can feel myself getting older…”

I blinked. Well, alright then.