me, and I kept a firm grip on it.

That was one of the weirdest things about the Schola—being expected not to carry anything. And

another weird thing? Not a single vampire attack since I’d got here. Three whole weeks. I’d gotten

so used to one every couple of days, it was like a vacation.

A vacation where I was actually going to classes and learning about the Real World, that is. And

getting some sleep because Ash was up like clockwork between 4:00 and 5:00 a.m., just the time

when everyone was winding down and going to bed. That took up all the time that I’d normally use

for homework, which meant a couple hours of slogging after dawn and then falling into bed while

Graves half-snored in the sleeping bag on the floor. We went round and round over working out

some schedule for sharing the bed or getting a camp cot in here, but he was stubborn. Like it this

way. Good for my back. Go do your chem homework.

I suspected it was because he thought anything coming in the door would have to walk over him to

get to the bed. But how could I ask him about that?

We didn’t talk about anything I really wanted to know. He kept his distance, at least an arm’s length

away at all times. I was beginning to seriously think kissing him was a dream. God knew the Technicolor nightmares were popping up every night, though I’d stopped waking up screaming.

I hadn’t seen hide or hair of Anna. The Council “requested” my presence every two or three days,

an uncomfortable hour of not-so-small talk where they went over everything about me. Where Dad

and I had gone. What I remembered about Mom. Everything Christophe had ever said to me.

Kir stared at me through the whole thing.

They didn’t ask me about Anna showing up at the other Schola, and I didn’t say anything. I figured

it was the safest course. Besides, I was too busy to worry about her right now. She didn’t take classes; she was fully trained and fully bloomed. She was occupied with running the Order, and I guess

that made for a lot of paperwork. I gathered she was a world traveler, always jetting off somewhere.

Paris for the spring season, London when she wanted a change of pace, Fiji when it got too cold,

Russia when she wanted something exotic. Plus, I guess, if she moved around a lot the suckers had

less chance of finding her.

When and if she showed up again, I’d figure something out.

The windows were full of the syrupy gold of sunset, white marble and greenery both glowing outside. It was actually really pretty, and as soon as we got down the stairs and took a sharp right, we