Hey, you," he says, hugging me tightly.
"How was your training session last night?" I ask.
"Who cares," he says, laughing a little. "How was your first night flying solo?"
Okay, until I found out what Victor really is.
"Fine," I say.
He waits for me to elaborate. When I don't, he echoes me, "Fine?"
"Yeah. Fine. Boring, really."
"You're in front of the head of the Valentine family, by yourself, in the middle of nowhere, negotiating for the lives of everyone in this city, where a single mistake can get you killed—and it's boring?"
"Well, when you say it like that…"
He hugs me again, taking all the humor out of the situation. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's all right. I'm just glad you're okay," he says.
"Michael…"
"I didn't sleep at all last night. All I wanted was to see you again. Nothing else mattered."
I sink into him, want to tell him all that's happened, but I can't burden him. "Everything's fine," I say. "I won't see him again for two weeks. Until then, it's just paperwork." I'll discuss things with Rachel and she'll keep me updated of where things stand with the Agency, but at this point, I'm more of a figurehead—except for my encounters with Valentine.
"Promise?" Michael asks.
"Promise."
He pulls back and smiles. Maybe we should skip school. Take some time for us. After what I went through last night, I deserve a little spoiling.
"Well, isn't this cozy."
I glance over to see Lila Hursch walking toward us. Her red hair is pulled back into a ponytail that swings with her movements. Three words can sum her up: bitch, bitch, and bitch. I'm surprised she wasn't standing beside her father while he was ranting at the blood site. She's Daddy's little darling. Whenever she gets in trouble, his money and influence bail her out. She hates me because I barter with vampires. Even though I'm doing it to protect her neck, she doesn't care. Besides, she's been after Michael for some time now. It's no big secret.
"There's no kissing allowed at school," she says, stopping in front of us, hands on her hips.
"Dawn was just telling me about her visit to Valentine," Michael says, trying to keep things cordial.
"Yeah, so how'd that go?" she asks.
"Top secret. You'll have to wait until my report is released to the press," I tell her.
"Daddy can get it. He should be the delegate, not you."
"Your father believes we should stop giving blood to the vampires."
"Don't have a problem with that," she says smugly.
"You don't get it. It would provoke them into attacking us to get what they need," I tell her.
"We'd destroy them during the day, when they're sleeping."
Frustration causes me to grit my teeth. "You really need to pay more attention in history class. We tried that, remember? It cost us thirty years and a few billion people. If we couldn't do it then, we sure as hell can't do it now."
"Coward," she spits out.
"Hey," Michael interjects sternly. "Dawn's the bravest person I know."
I don't think I've ever been so touched by Michael's words. I wrap my hand around his and squeeze. He squeezes back.
"Maybe we should take a field trip beyond the wall sometime; let her prove it," Lila says.
"That's not going to happen," I tell her. Lila knows the rules as well as I do—the government thinks anyone underage is too immature, too willing to get turned by vampires, to allow them outside at night. But that doesn't stop teens from wall-walking. The wall surrounding Denver is so large that while there are patrols, not every area can be scrutinized. Kids sneak out there and scour the wall, looking for ways out of the city. Not many people find one, because the wall is sealed pretty tight. Which is good, because a spot to get through works both ways—if kids can get out, vamps can get in.
But I wouldn't put it past Lila to wall-walk, to have the mistaken impression that it would make her appear tough instead of reckless. Even now fury burns in her eyes. She can't stand the fact that I'm the exception to the under-twenty-one rule.
"You're not the boss of us," she says.
"Real mature. You're definitely ready to go out of the city on your own."
"I can handle myself better than you."
And before I know what's happening, she takes me down. My head and hips slam against the wooden floor, the air in my lungs rushing out all at once. Straddling me, she pulls a fist back.
I let her throw the punch, knowing it's going to be weak. I grab her wrist with both my hands before it connects, and in the blink of an eye, I roll her over. I take a deep breath to get my air back and watch her struggle against my grip. I smack the side of her face. The crack is followed by oohs from our gathering audience.
"Give up?" I ask, half question, half demand.
"Not as long as you breathe."
I'm about to hit her again, but she looks so pathetic squirming on the floor that I hesitate. Big mistake. She wiggles out from beneath me, kicking me in the gut along the way.
When we stand up, the students surrounding us chant our names. I can't tell who they're rooting for the loudest.
Lila comes after me with the same blind rage her father blasts when he's preaching his antivampire propaganda, even screaming a little as she charges. I use her fury against her, easily throwing her onto her back with a simple move that Jeff taught me. She lands with a satisfying thud.
Suddenly a strong hand clamps onto my arm and I'm yanked away. Mr. Timmons, the head defense coach, is holding me. His assistant, Ms. Richards, is stopping Lila from lunging at me. I take pride knowing the bigger teacher immediately moved to restrain me, not Lila.
"Save it for the vamps," he says in a commanding voice.
"She started it," Lila whines.
I just roll my eyes. Unbelievable.
Mr. Simmons shoves me toward the dummies. "Stake practice!" he yells.
I wrench free of his hold and head toward the torsos that line the wall. Kids are shuffling out of my way, and I know my movements and expression are telegraphing, Don't mess with me. The only one who dares to follow is Michael.
"Why didn't you tell Simmons that Lila attacked you first?"
"I have more important things to do than worry about her." I walk past the dummy and grab a stake from the wall where they are neatly stored. I pick a nice, heavy metal one. I plunge it into the dummy. A direct hit to the heart. I know because red gel begins to ooze around the stake.
A vampire's heart bleeds out so fast that nothing can stop it. As long as the stake is held in place, the wound can't heal. Within four to five beats, the vampire dies. Bullets can't do the trick. Too small. The heart will heal, pushing any bullet out or sealing up after it if it passes through. That's why stakes work. The first hit stuns them, weakens them just enough for the human to hold them down while they bleed out.
"You ever think about doing that to Valentine?" Michael asks quietly.
To Valentine and now Victor. I've never been on a first-name basis with vampires. I don't like it. "All the time." As a delegate, I'm supposed to be neutral, the perfect arbitrator between vampires and humans. An image I'm expected to project at all times. But after my fight with Lila, I'm in no mood to play diplomat.
I slam the stake into the dummy again, overdoing it and lodging it deep within its plastic torso. Gripping it, I try to pull it out, but it's in too far. I'm about to put my foot just below it for extra leverage when Michael takes hold of it.
"Easy," he says with a smile. "You're really worked up, huh?"
I take my first real breath since the scuffle with Lila. God, she just gets under every inch of my skin.
Michael twists the stake and slowly pulls it out, then flips it and hands it to me. "Still up for watching the Night Train roll in this evening?"
The Night Train is the only train that runs across the country; it moves practically non-stop, twenty-four hours a day. Literally, one train, one track. It was written into VampHu as the only alternative for long-distance travel, now that airplanes are outlawed. It's slower, bumpier, and less reliable, but it gets the job done. It mainly redistributes blood and other goods among all the cities, taking passengers on and carrying mail. I know, it sounds boring. And during the day, it would be. But at night … rolling across those empty plains, just an inch of steel separating the passengers from thousands of hungry vampires—the thought makes me shudder.
Each city is an island. That is the core plan of the VampHu. Getting supplies from one to the other is hard enough, but passing information is almost impossible. The vampires didn't want humans to compare notes anymore. We might get an agent once a year who's making the rounds on the Night Train, updating all the cities on the comings and goings. But besides that, it's quiet. All news is local news. All radio and television shows are made within the city, for the citizens. Sometimes, it feels like the world outside these walls could simply disappear one day, and it would take us years to notice. The vampires destroyed all means of communicating with others beyond our wall. There's a tradition whenever people visit other cities: they bring back as many newspapers as they can. Even if they're irrelevant to us, the news outdated by the time we even read them, it still helps us feel like we belong to a larger world. It makes us feel part of the human community.
The Night Train serves as a symbol that while we may be isolated, we are not alone in our struggles. We are tenuously connected.
Michael and I have a little ritual that began when we were kids: We watch it coming into town together. I'm not exactly sure when it started, but it's always felt as natural as a heartbeat since.
I smile at him. "I wouldn't miss it." I touch his arm. "Or being with you."
I can tell that he wants to kiss me, but this is the one class where he strives really hard to make a good impression and follow the rules, because without a good evaluation from Mr. Timmons he won't get to stay in the elite program.
"Me too," he says. "I have practice after school. Wanna meet at Daylight Grill when I'm finished?"
"Yeah, okay, that'd be great. I have to stay after school to work on a project anyway. Shouldn't take me too long."
"Be sure you get there before dark."
I smile. "Right." His protectiveness makes me feel warm all over. I know Michael would do anything to keep me safe.
And then, as if to prove his skill to me, he turns and stakes three dummies in a row, each one drawing red ooze. His motions are calculated and efficient.
I have a feeling that if Michael ever went beyond the wall he'd survive … for a while, anyway.
After defense class, I head to Vampire Methodology, one of my few classes with Vivi. She's specializing in vampire psychology, the inner workings of their ancient minds. Which means she raises her hand for every question the teacher asks, and when our latest tests are handed back she, of course, blew the curve for all of us. So, all in all, nothing new. When the bell rings, Vivi and I head to the cafeteria.
"It's all over school that you and Lila got into it this morning in kick-ass class," Vivi says.
"Who do they say won?" I ask.
"Depends where they stand on the delegate issue. Most are giving the win to Lila, but my money's on you."
I grin. "I was still standing when they pulled us apart, so I'd say you'd get paid."
She laughs, a bubbly sound that always makes me smile, even on my worst days. "She's such a bitch."
In the cafeteria, we get our trays and slog through the line. The entree server places a plump piece of chicken on my plate. "Need to keep up your strength," she says with a wink.
The veggie lady gives me half a portion of rice and beans—along with a snarl.
Such is my new life as a delegate. I've become a love-her-or-hate-her kind of girl.
Vivi takes her tray and follows me to an empty table by the window. Michael usually joins us for lunch, but he's back in the gym getting in some extra practice, since we have plans for this evening.
As soon as we're settled, Vivi wastes no time asking the big question, now that we have some privacy. "How was it last night—being alone with Valentine for the first time?"
"Kinda scary, if you want to know the truth."
"I always want the truth. Especially when it comes to Old Family vamps. Everything they do is so … calculated."
I think of Victor and know the same applies to him. What was he really after when he came to my bedroom? And why give me advice regarding his father?
"Maybe I could go with you next time," Vivi says. "Just to see him in person would be so awesome."
"No way you're coming."
"Come on. I could help you. I could even help the Agency. I'll pick up on things you can't. I mean, you're good, Dawn. But you don't have the understanding of vampire psyches like I do."
"No, Vivi," I respond harshly, to shut her up. "You don't know what he's like. He's not a lab rat for you to study. Trust me."
She's disappointed, and plays with her chicken, a small pout on her face that won't get her anywhere with me.
"So I take it you didn't tell Michael about the hot Night Watchman," she says after a while.
I stare at her blankly for a moment, then realize she's talking about Victor. Yeah, right, I haven't told her yet that he isn't a Night Watchman. I should tell her. She could do her little psych eval thing and help me figure him out. Then again, she'd tell everyone that an Old Family vamp was in the city; I might as well give her a megaphone to do it. No, I need to control that information and release it when I want and to whom I want. So instead, I hear myself saying, "About that. I sorta promised him that we'd keep our encounter with him a secret."
"Oh, absolutely." She leans forward. "But here's the thing. I've been giving it a lot of thought, and I have a little black hole of time. From the time we left the party until I woke up in the car—even allowing for the vamp attack you told me about—it just seems like… I don't know. Too many unaccounted-for minutes. So what were we doing?"