Nightshade Academy Episode 2: Bloodlust: Nightshade Academy, #2

By Kestra Pingree

I gave in to my bloodlust.
I almost got Kian and myself killed because of it.

Monster hunters, demons, Nighshade's mysterious benefactor. There's a lot about this world I don't know, and it keeps getting worse.

Kian's blood is the only thing I can stomach. Our Colors react, and he knows things about me he shouldn't.

The headmaster of Nightshade Academy says she's never seen a blood sensitivity as bad as mine, which is probably a nice way of saying my bloodlust is out of control.

I'm starting to think I'll never get out of here or see my mom again.

But I'm not giving up. I'm going to beat this—if Kian doesn't ruin me first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kestra Pingree
• Release date: Sep 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393159858

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Days.

Weeks.

I don’t know how long I’ve been down here in the dark, damp dungeon with no bed and only a threadbare blanket to keep me warm aside from the lonely torches mounted on walls and the gray scrubs that have replaced my Nightshade Academy uniform.

It’s just as well. I’ve found my clothes in tatters more times than I can count, so why would Madeline give me something nicer? A monster like me doesn’t deserve anything more than this.

Is this self-loathing? I’ve never really experienced it before.

I want out of here.

I want my stomach to stop hurting.

I want Colors to stop bleeding through the edges and occasionally painting the air when there’s nothing there.

Nothing I drink satisfies the hunger. It’s like poison on my tongue, volatile acid in my stomach, and I keep wishing for Kian’s sweet-spicy-minty taste. From his neck. I want to take it straight from his neck with my fangs buried deep into his flesh.

And then I remember him gasping in pain, and I come back to my senses for a moment. 

Butterfly-shaped Colors flit around down here sometimes. I wish I could say they were a comfort, but that’s not true. They don’t distract from the loneliness and isolation. Except for when the pixies decide they want to pull my hair. 

I wonder if they hate me for what I did to Kian. They seem to like him—or they like to bother him. Maybe they feel like they own him.

I curl up tighter into a little ball and pull the blanket over my head while my stomach makes an awful chainsaw-like growl. It shreds my insides like a chainsaw, too.

Nova.

I flinch at the sound of Madeline’s childlike voice. It’s not that it grates on my ears or anything, but it’s the voice I’ve come to associate this torture with, so it might as well.

We’re trying something new today, she says. 

At this point, I hardly care. I’m too weak and sick to respond.

Nova, you’re not done fighting already, are you? It’s only your fourth day.

I’ve been down here for four days? I scowl so deeply it immediately turns into a throbbing headache. To alleviate some of the pain, I smash my forehead into the cold blackish stones underneath me. I grind into them, trying to find a pressure point, trying to bash my skull in or rub off all my skin if it’ll make me feel better.

Madeline unscrews the lid of an insulated bottle. I only know because the cap hits the stones below with a soft ding. I dig at spongy moss underneath my fingers. I’m not drinking any more of that shit. Other vampires might be able to adapt to different blood, but I’m not one of them.

I choke out a pitiful laugh. 

Vampires. That’s my life. I’m a vampire.

Liquid sloshes around; it’s a nearly silent sound. Then Madeline sets the bottle down somewhere outside of the burning cell bars, baiting me. I barely lift my head to take a whiff of it. I expect sour and rotten. What I get is honey-sweet, chai spices, and mint leaf. It’s faint, but it’s there: Kian’s blood.

For the first time in four days, I salivate. At first, it just means there’s some moisture in my new perpetual dry mouth, but then it intensifies, the dam demolished.

I snatch the bottle with a speed that blurs in my own eyes. Somehow, I don’t spill a drop of it, because my hand is just that steady. I hold the bottle to my lips and inhale like I’ll never inhale again. The smell is more potent this close. I can imagine how good it’ll taste when it hits my tongue.

But I hesitate.

It’s not quite right. Kian’s smell is in there, but it’s been diluted. Something like sweaty, smelly socks lurks underneath.

I almost gag.

Almost.

Try it, Madeline encourages. I’ll be very surprised if you can’t keep this down.

My eyes flicker, catching on her bleeding vermilion before settling on the permanence of her frilly gothic dress. The smell of this bottle’s contents has given me enough willpower to think straight again, so I guess tasting it won’t kill me. Even the worst of the worst hasn’t killed me.

Yet.

I tilt the bottle back and brace myself for the first drop to hit my tongue. I flinch, prepared to recoil when the cold trickles down my throat. The taste, though… The taste is bearable, almost good. I take another experimental gulp. My stomach accepts it without protest. For a moment, Colors stop bleeding so intensely through their containers. The weird effect is there, the Colors appearing brighter than they should be, but it doesn’t give me a headache to simply look at them anymore.

Kian’s blood is like magic.

I expect to see my Color back to lotus pink, but it’s retained a muddy quality since I first drank Kian’s blood, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. 

Well? Madeline says softly. How do you feel, Nova?

The Colors are more normal, I say. Your vermilion is like moving sand again instead of a bright blotch of red. I bite my tongue too late. I shouldn’t have said that. I sound crazier than before. Madeline doesn’t know how I see things.

Colors, Madeline muses. Are you an aura reader, Nova? You didn’t write down anything about it. You didn’t tell Kyrie anything either. If you’re afraid you’ll become a social pariah if others know about this, don’t be. A sixth sense is nothing to be ashamed of.

I don’t—oh, forget it, I say. According to your little questionnaire, yeah. I’m probably what you’d call an aura reader.

Very good, but that can wait. I want to get you back to your classes. To do that, we need to make sure you aren’t going to jump Kian the first chance you get.

That sounds so bad, but I take another drink of this mixture that has a good portion of Kian’s blood like it’s a smoothie. It’s as refreshing as one—even with the smelly socks aftertaste. 

I ask, Then why are you feeding me Kian’s blood? Sure, you mixed it with something else, but I know this taste.

Yes, well, I was worried you’d die otherwise, and Kian volunteered to help.

Volunteered. I’m not sure why that surprises me. I mean, it should make me feel better. The alternative would be that Madeline harvested his blood for this concoction without his permission. That’s much worse.

I’ve never seen a blood sensitivity as bad as yours. Madeline smooths down her puffy skirt. So, instead of cutting you off like a clean bone break, as I tried initially, we’re going to wean you off his blood. Thanks to Kian volunteering, and Zanza’s skill with blood mixtures, I’m hopeful it won’t take long. We’ll have you feeling good and back on your feet again before you know it.

CHAPTER 2

I pace back and forth in my cell. The energy I’ve regained is great except for how it makes time pass so slowly. Since there are no windows, I have no idea what time of day or night it is. I’ve been