Two weeks later, dusk fell in purple bands across the city and the Schola Prima woke up. Here there was no bell for wake-up or between class periods. There wasn’t even a Restriction bell. I was nervous about what would happen if the suckers attacked, but Benjamin said it didn’t happen often.

Not like the reform Schola. And that was just the beginning of the differences. All in all, I liked this place better.

Sort of.

Graves shrugged back into his long black coat, ran his fingers through his hair again. It stood up in wild, vital springing curls, and he grimaced as he ripped through a tangle. He shoved his rolled-up sleeping bag up next to the bed. “Come on, you’re going to be late.”

“Shit.” I hurriedly wrote down the last two answers, slammed the book shut, and scooped it into my bag. Grabbed a piece of toast and a new red hoodie and was heading for the door when there was a rattling series of knocks. Graves swept the door open and Shanks poked his head in. He was on duty for the last hour before classes in the morning, and Benjamin seemed okay with a werwulf hanging out at my door so everyone could get ready for the night.

“Jesus,” the wulf said, swiping at the emo-swoosh of dark hair across his forehead. It was a popular style this year. “Are you going to be late every day?”

“Hey, Bobby. Girl just can’t get out the door on time.” Graves sounded relieved.

It’s not my fault. “Shut up.” I hitched the new brown canvas messenger bag up on my shoulder and tried to stuff all the toast in my mouth at once. Graves and I piled out the door, Shanks gracefully avoiding me. He has the longest legs I’ve ever seen on a boy and moves with a kind of halting lope, waiting for the rest of the world to catch up to him.

Dibs was in the hallway, his golden hair disarranged. He looked like one of those cherubs you see painted on old-lady plates. All cheeks and curls. “Hi, Dru,” he mouthed, and immediately blushed and looked down.

Benjamin appeared out of thin air, handing me a sheaf of paper in a plastic report binder. “I got your paper printed. Leon will be with you until lunch; the others and I have a combat practical this morning. Have you eaten?”

I swallowed a huge mass of toast and almost choked, got it all down and nodded. Leon stepped out the room next to mine and swept the door shut. He was carrying—oh, thank God—two paper cups that stood a good chance of being coffee.

“I did.” I took the report binder, thought about jamming it in my bag, and decided just to carry it. “Jeez, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“My pleasure.” He grinned, and for a moment he looked very young. His dark eyes sparkled. “I’ll bring your Para Bio and chem books to lunch, okay? And George’ll get your gym bag before afternoon sparring.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” For once, I didn’t think about the irony of saying it to a djamphir. “Go on, go. I’ll be fine. I’ll just make it to class.”

“Not if you don’t hurry up, you won’t.” Graves grabbed my arm and pulled. He already had a cigarette lit. “See ya, Benjy.”

Oh, for Christ’s sake. But Leon was already there, subtracting my hoodie and report, handing over the coffee, and giving my bag a hard look. I hitched it up higher on my shoulder and hurried to keep up with Graves. “Thanks.”

“Nichts zu danken.” Leon looked about ready to grab at my bag again. But Graves didn’t let go of 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 were in a long gallery with windows all along one side. The sun lit up Dibs’s hair, gilded Shanks’s perfect skin and white teeth, and fired in Graves’s eyes. Me, I just blinked and tried not to look half-asleep—and tried as well not to choke on huge gulps of banana latte.

Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Banana latte is awesome.

The end of the gallery was a big set of double doors, and I inhaled sharply just like I did every evening before Leon swept the door open and glanced out. He nodded, and it was only then that Graves eased up on my arm and we all got through the doors and into a crowded hall full of boys.

Attending a Schola is like walking into a sea of extras from toothpaste commercials and sitcoms. The wulfen are taller and the djamphir are built slighter. They’re in every conceivable human shade. Wulfen tend to be more brunet, djamphir to have more extreme hair colors—not just blond but platinum or gold, not just dark-haired but raven or sandalwood. The skin colors are even and beautiful, not a pimple or discoloration to be found. The eyes are glowing or gemlike, and djamphir have sharper facial features. Plus, they move differently. Wulfen move like they’re shouldering fluidly through long grass, and boy djamphir move with an eerie natural grace. It’s not so noticeable if you’re just looking at one, but a crowd of them? The wrongness just explodes all over the inside of your brain and tickles that little instinctive spot on the back of your neck. The one that tells you something is dangerous.

Or that could just be me. Because as usual, the moment I stepped out into the hall, they were looking at me.

I guess I’d be curious about the only boy in an all-girls school. It’s just, you know, being the only girl in an all-boys school was different. Because it was me being stared at. After practicing invisibility as an art form in school halls all over the U.S., this was new and unwelcome.