It was odd to look out at all the roomfuls of students and think that he was supposed to be an authority figure for them. They looked roughly the same age he looked most of the time, and the four centuries he’d walked the earth did nothing to change the fact that, deep within, Balthazar felt that he was a teenager. He always had, always would. Vampires never truly changed, after death—they gained experience, gained knowledge, and yet their souls remained, like their bodies, frozen in time.
And if there was any more proof that being a vampire was a form of damnation—well, Balthazar had never heard of a purer definition of hell than eternal adolescence.
His final hour at school was to be spent supervising an actual study hall in the library, which turned out to be Skye’s study hall as well. As she walked in and saw him again, he had to turn his face away so as not to smile; it was going to be tough, pretending not to know each other every day.
But that didn’t mean they couldn’t communicate, as demonstrated by the fact that, about three minutes after Skye sat at her table with a friend, his phone vibrated to tell him he had a message.
He carefully slipped his phone in front of the Ancient Civilizations text he was reviewing to read: OK, I’ve been wondering. Why didn’t you just transfer in as a student? Then we could, you know, talk to each other during the day.
NO WAY. I’ve tried real high schools several times in the past couple of centuries. They’re all horrible. Unless another version of Evernight Academy comes along, I’m done being a student forever. So I figured I’d try it on the other side.
Doesn’t being a teacher suck even more than being a student? I mean, it looks like it would.
That’s only because, most of the time, being a high school student is temporary, and being a teacher is permanent. In my case, that’s reversed.
There was a long pause before Skye’s next text; she clearly was holding on to her phone, but thinking hard, perhaps unsure what to say. Balthazar stole a long glance at her across the library—a bright room with pale gray scrubby carpet that was still soft underfoot, posters with various celebrities who thought everyone should READ, and bright orange movable bookshelves all around. Skye sat at the end of a long white table, sunlight painting warmth into her deep brown hair. She had a delicate face—more delicate than he’d realized before, more than he’d been able to see when she wasn’t silent and still. Thick lashes visible even at this distance, pale skin that went rosy at her cheeks, and the elegant length of her throat—
—and that was just one more reason why he had a No Humans rule. Thoughts like that. Balthazar breathed out sharply as his phone vibrated again.
Are you really going to teach here every day until Mr. Lovejoy comes back?
Or until we get rid of Redgrave. Whichever comes first. Until then, I’m on faculty. I’m even sitting in on basketball duty tonight, so you can go to the game with your friend. Check with me about that stuff first, will you? I would’ve thought last night would make it clear that we have to be careful here.I’ve been trying to get out of that all day! I wasn’t going to go. I don’t even want to.
Damn, Balthazar thought. Now he had Tonia Loos hanging all over him and basketball duty, for no good reason. Obviously I’m the one who should’ve checked with you. Well, I’m stuck now. Can you go to the game anyway? I really don’t want to leave you alone more than necessary at this point.
Skye looked more depressed by this than he would have anticipated—it was only a basketball game, wasn’t it? But she sent back, Sure. That means I’ve got to hang out with Madison at Café Keats until the game starts, though.
I’ll make sure you get there safely, he promised.
Then her red-haired friend—Madison, presumably—began whispering to her, and their conversation was on hold.
Balthazar forced himself to stop watching Skye and to turn his attention to more critical matters. He was here to protect this girl; time to think less about the girl, more about the protection.
Now that he’d made sure he would be near Skye most of the time, he knew he was in a good position to stop Redgrave if he came after her. Now he needed to go on the offensive. To figure out what Redgrave meant to do with Skye, and the quickest, best way of stopping him, permanently.
Tailing Skye to Café Keats turned out not to be difficult. Balthazar was just one of several students and teachers who were headed toward the nearby Darby Glen town square; nobody would particularly notice that he happened to be about ten feet behind Skye and Madison at all times. There was a faster route to take to the center of town, a path that dipped into a small gorge but was perfectly walkable—but it was so severely ignored that he suspected it was considered uncool, somehow.
Apparently Café Keats was a coffeehouse. It looked inviting—bright turquoise walls, bright white tables and chairs, and some kind of stage in the back complete with a dark red piano. Students were crowding in, but others had already claimed the best tables. The place was packed. Skye would be safe there; no matter how bold Redgrave might be, he was nowhere near the point of trying an attack anywhere so crowded.
No, that would require getting Skye alone and Balthazar didn’t intend to give him that opportunity.
For a moment, Balthazar watched Skye standing in line with her coffee, laughing with Madison, looking like the normal girl she deserved to be. He hoped she felt that way, at least for a while.
Then he took off. Before he devoted himself to Skye’s protection full-time, he had one last logistical matter to handle.