This is the strangest questionnaire I’ve ever seen. Do you see ghosts? How about visions of the future? Can you move things with your mind? How about people’s auras?
The aura one sounds kind of applicable to me. There are several examples of what an aura might look like. Colors are one of them. I answer “not applicable” to everything. Telling people I see Colors rather than faces has never done me any good before, and I see no reason to tell these strangers.
I might be a vampire, and I might be dangerous to my mom, but these people still kidnapped me. I don’t trust them.
“Are you done filling out your paper?” Kyrie asks. Or the Crow. All of the students seem to call him the Crow. I can see why. He’s always perched like a bird, and he really does have silky black feathers almost all over him. I’m pretty sure his arms are also wings, like how bats have little thumbs or whatever attached to their wings. His clothes are still baggy, but he’s not wearing layers to hide everything anymore. I’ve never seen a silhouette like his, and if I hadn’t taken a couple more pictures of him, I’m not sure the feathers would have ever registered in my head.
I’d probably stick with the name Turquoise, but the Crow works for me. If it means blending in around here especially. Fading away into the shadows, that’s me. It’s always been me. Even with my “eccentric” look. No one cares to see past that. I get labeled the weird girl, and I’m left alone.
Which suits me.
“Yeah.” I hold up the paper, and the Crow takes it.
“Since this is a period meant for sixth-sense discovery, I’m gonna have you walk around with me for a bit,” he says.
I resist a sigh. There are, like, thirty other students in here, which means there are only about thirty new students at Nightmare—I mean Nightshade—Academy this year. This is a thing students only go through once, and only when they’re new. The Primary Colors are newish, but apparently not brand new since they aren’t here. Maybe they just flunked Vampires 101 last year.
“C’mon,” the Crow says. “It won’t be that bad.”
I stand up and grip my blood bottle. I hurry and take a sip, too. The Crow leads the way to a shiny black podium with a human skull mounted on it.
“So, this is fake, right?” I ask, though I know it probably isn’t. It looks like something that should be in a museum; it’s falling apart.
“Nope, but it is pretty old. I found it outside in the tundra a few years ago, frozen. According to his ghost, he got killed in a polar-bear attack. That was one hundred years ago.”
“Just how far north are we? I thought we were in Alaska and that polar bears lived in the north pole.”
“We’re pretty far north. Polar bears will come down here—not into Nightshade specifically, but outside the borders, sure. You could see one.”
I shiver. Never in my life did I think I’d have to worry about bear attacks, let alone polar-bear attacks.
“Wait,” I say. “According to his ghost?” I throw out my hands to indicate the dusty skull.
“Yes. His spirit refuses to leave this piece of his body. Most of Nightshade is a dead zone for spirits, as we said at the beginning of class. In fact, this is the only one sticking around, and I think it’s out of pure spite. He wants someone to lend him their body so he can explore the rest of the world as flesh and blood. He says it’s no fun when you can’t feel it, taste it, smell it.”
“You’re making all of this up,” I accuse.
The Crow’s turquoise turns warm somehow, like a stone heated by a fire. Based on that shadow on his face, he’s smiling. “Unless Zanza is lying to me, it’s the truth. I can’t see spirits myself. And I certainly can’t talk to them.” The Crow picks up the skull. I don’t mean to put out my hands, but it’s a reflex when he holds it out to me and drops it in them. Gross, it’s grainy like loose sand.
“See anything?” The Crow folds his arms.
“No.”
“Hear anything?”
“Other than you, the other students, and the teachers?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“All right, so ghosts aren’t your thing.”
“Thank God for that.”
