Crossroads (Crossroads Academy #1), Page 2

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  “It’s beautiful,” I breathe, catching sight of the school, as we turn the corner and approach the circular driveway. The place is freaking awesome. “The pictures don’t do it justice.”

  “No, they certainly do not.” Anya smiles smugly. I suspect she’s seen this reaction from first timers once or twice before.

  In many ways, the school reminds me of an old European church. The façade is comprised of worn gray stone and houses long sweeping windows which give way to pitched roofs and soaring steeples.

  “The detail is amazing,” I comment, squinting a little bit to better admire the intricate designs embedded in the flying buttresses that connect the towers to the main building. Although imposing the school somehow manages to look warm and inviting, perhaps due to the lush landscaping.

  Even with the car windows sealed, I can smell the intoxicating aroma of the rose bushes that line the lengthy drive. Like everything else I see before me, they are flawless and appear to be cared for by a very diligent maintenance crew. We pass one perfectly pruned bush after another, and I note that they are all the same size and variety, each blossom large and healthy with a deep blood red hue. I wonder if this is someone’s idea of a perverse joke but know without a doubt that the people who run this school don’t deal in humor. Like Crossroads the roses are about prestige, perfection, and entitlement.

  As I glance around, taking in the colorful scenery, I half expect to see birds chortling and splashing in the fountain like something out of a Walt Disney movie. A far cry from the dark, dank crypts most people associate with vampires, I think ruefully. I wonder if it will look so inviting once winter sets in, leaving the campus bleak, gray, and covered in snow.

  “Most of our first timers are taken aback. Don’t worry though. The school is far more modern than it appears at first glance.” She points through the windshield. “The front, which you see here, was the original school and home to our founder. As we’ve grown the building has acquired several additions, including dormitories, which you will find quite comfortable.”

  “Great.” I grit my teeth and bite back the urge to tell her I could care less about posh accommodations. My childhood didn’t include butler service and designer clothes, so I’m pretty sure I’ll be comfortable anywhere. Instead, I pull on my sunglasses, yet another gift from Aldo, to protect my eyes from the piercing rays of the sun.

  Experience has taught me that the early afternoon rays will begin to sap my energy as soon as I step foot outside of the vehicle and the protection of its deeply tinted windows. I tolerate the sun well, but prolonged exposure to its direct rays will leave me rashy and uncomfortable. For many the rashes become openly burning sores that rage across the skin unable to heal, as the light eats away at the flesh. The condition can be fatal, leaving nothing put a pile of ash and bone if sun exposure is prolonged for an extended period of time. I’m told it’s an excruciating way to die—one that is reserved for the vilest of vampires.

  “Well, Katia, this is where we part ways,” Anya states, breaking my train of thought. She releases the trunk hatch as I climb out of the car. “I’ve arranged for one of your peers to show you to your room, and I have no doubt Lexie will be along momentarily. I need to get this vehicle back to the garage before dinner. Which reminds me…” she trails off, delving into her purse in search of what I can only imagine.

  “Ha!” she cries triumphantly, fishing a shiny silver key ring from her bag. “A final gift from Aldo. It’s in the East Garage. He said you’ll know which one it is,” she finishes, thrusting the key into my open palm. The key is cool and hard against my skin. I do my best to appear unmoved by yet another reminder of Aldo’s over-the-top generosity. In truth though, it’s not something to which I’ll ever truly grow accustomed.

  I drop the key ring into my bag without glancing at the insignia and thank Anya for the ride, reminding myself that I’ll be seeing her again in just a few days for our first counseling session. As I watch her pull away, I note that the campus is eerily quiet and contemplate the merits of a fast getaway in my new car.

  Before I can make a break for it, the massive wooden door at the front of the school opens, and a lithe redhead sashays forward, appearing weightless. She’s a little shorter than I am, with a mass of fiery red curls that hang past her shoulders and somehow manage to look stylish despite being totally unruly. Her hazel eyes, though wide set, compliment her pixie-like features and high cheekbones.

  They don’t get much perkier than that I think, giving a mental eye roll. I instantly wish Anya had found someone a little more down to earth to act as my guide, the getaway sounding even more appealing than it had just minutes ago.

  “You must be Katia,” she drawls, extending both of her hands to shake mine delicately. Her accent is a dead giveaway for an American-born, southern upbringing. I take quick note of her clothing, recognize more than one designer label, and come to the disappointing realization that this school will be no different than any other I’ve attended in the past. It will be a breeding ground for social climbers, where good genes and wealthy parents determine who is in and who is out and where my classmates will step on one another to get ahead without thinking twice. “Alexandra Worthington. Everyone calls me Lexie, though. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  I nod politely in acknowledgement but don’t bother to return the sentiment. She takes the hint and forges ahead with what I suspect is a carefully thought-out script.

  “Anya’s asked me to see you to your room. I can also give you a quick tour if you’d like?” she suggests eagerly, the sincerity of her offer obviously genuine.

  “Just my room will be fine. I don’t want to impose, and it has been a really long day already,” I tell her feigning regret.

  “Very well,” Lexie nods, doing her best to hide the disappointment. Too bad it’s written all over her face. Oh, well. I never was a very convincing liar. “It’s just that this place can be a little confusing for newbies. If you change your mind…” she trails off, turning to head back indoors with me close on her heels.

  “So this is your first year at Crossroads, right?” she asks, slowing her pace to match mine. We both know the answer to this question. There are only a couple hundred vamps at Crossroads, and I’m certain she knows them all, so I decide no answer is necessary and remain silent.

  “Kind of a late start,” Lexie tries again. Apparently she’s not one to give up easily.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I reply halfheartedly, glancing around and committing the route to memory. I continue to be surprised by the feeling of warmth within the school. It’s not at all what I’d imagined. It’s way better.

  The highly polished wooden floors are protected with plush oriental rugs that, like the hallways, seem to go on forever. The paneled walls are tastefully adorned with estate portraits of prior students and faculty, and, though tinted, the windows provide a fair amount of sunlight, illuminating even the farthest corners. I smile happily, as I note wood burning fireplaces in several of the common rooms we pass. Perhaps this won’t be so bad after all.

  “And, Aldo Lescinka is your uncle?” she prods, not the least discouraged by my lack of enthusiasm. I’ll have to work on that. The last thing I want to do is recount my path to Crossroads with everyone I meet.

  “Great uncle,” I respond, as she stares at me with a look of exasperation. I’m reminded of the look my mother gave me as child when I was ornery. At least I won’t be the only one here with wayward manners.

  “Is that weird? I mean, a few years ago you didn’t even know him, right?”

  “Excuse me?” I can’t believe her lack of subtlety. I just met this girl five minutes ago, and she’s already digging around in my personal life?

  “It’s just that he’s a very prominent figure. And, an estranged heir is a big deal. He wasn’t going to be able to keep something like that under wraps for long. People are curious. Sorry.” She shrugs unapologetically. Though she tries to keep her face expres
sionless, I can tell by her eyes that she’s pleased to have finally elicited an interesting response from me.

  As I stare at her incredulously, I quickly count to ten in my head before responding. Even if I am desperate for a drink, I can’t very well take it from this girl. I’m pretty sure that it’s against school rules and far be it from me to get kicked out before classes even start.

  “I’m not really sure that it’s anyone’s business,” I reply, my anger thinly veiled.

  “Oh, I completely understand. Especially with your tragic circumstances,” she sympathizes, eager to assuage my temper. “Anyway, this place runs deep with gossip. You’ll get used to it, I suppose.”

  “Mmm…” I wonder how many other people know my story and if any of them will be bold enough to ask me about it directly. If this conversation is any indication, I guess it’s inevitable.

  “Almost there.” She smiles at me in what I can only assume is supposed to be a consoling way and turns left at the end of the hall. “If you’re interested, I’d be happy to show you the ropes, introduce you to the right people. Crossroads can be pretty intimidating at first. ” She stops in front of 139, my room, and hands me an electronic keycard. “This key will allow you access to your room and all common areas open to students. Don’t lose it.” She pauses briefly, allowing the importance of her words to sink in. “Dinner’s at six. I’ll meet you outside of the dining hall.”

  I know this is Lexie’s way of trying to extend the proverbial olive branch and smooth things over. What I’m not sure about is her motive. Does she feel bad for being insensitive or is she simply worried about offending someone so well connected? Probably she just wants to pump me for more information. But for what purpose? Gossip? Leverage? Whatever her reason, I seriously doubt it’s in my best interest.

  “Thanks, Lexie. I may just unpack and meditate for a while,” I lie, dodging her offer. I’m not really interested in making friends, but I don’t need enemies either. Besides, who knows? She could prove useful later.

  “Suit yourself. I’ll be there either way,” Lexie responds, her words dripping with saccharine undertones. She’s laying it on so thick I’d probably go into sugar shock if I weren’t so irritated. I take a deep breath and will my racing heart to slow as I watch Lexie retreat down the hall, leaving me to enjoy my solitude for the first time all day.