Free 2. Darkness in the Blood Master copy MS 5 by Vicki Keire Page A

through it?
    I smiled grimly at the gigantic Styrofoam gas station Big Gulp cradled against my forearm. As long as no one came up and sniffed, it would fool everyone into thinking I’d suddenly developed a healthy appetite for sodas. I didn’t have a problem. I just needed coffee to stay awake in class and deal with one tiny hangover. I could quit anytime.
    “Images of Art in Literature” was a core class at Andreas Academy. Close to one hundred of us sat, in various stages of sleep and boredom, throughout the campus’ largest auditorium. Mrs. Kenner taught the class, just as she had for the last twenty years. She was a kind but unenthusiastic teacher who gave her lectures in a pleasant monotone. The cushy auditorium seating, dim lighting, early hour, and soothing lecture voice all combined to give her class the nickname “Organized Group Sleep.”
    Amberlyn was my only fellow sufferer in this class, and she was late, as usual. Mrs. Kenner was too, which was highly unusual. If she didn’t show up soon, I was going to sink into blessed sleep before she even called my name for the roll. My phone buzzed against my hip. I had just enough time to scan the first few lines of Logan’s text when a freesia-scented arm knocked me on the back of my already-pounding head. My phone came perilously close to knocking over my forbidden, and therefore valuable, coffee.
    Amberlyn, predictably. “Looking for this?” she teased, her spiral curls twisted into a messy bunch at the nape of her neck.
    “Is that a paintbrush holding your hair together?” It hurt to look up, even though the light was dim. “I hope it’s paint free.”
    She rolled her eyes as she slid into the desk next to mine. “I hope that’s not coffee in a Big Gulp cup,” she countered, tossing my phone at me. “Not only is that just sad, but coffee in Styrofoam? Nasty, Caspia. It’s got to be carcinogenic, or bad for the ozone layer, or something.”
    “What isn’t?” I muttered. “Besides, even if it was, which I’m not admitting to, by the way, how else am I supposed to stay awake in here? Logan thinks he can cut off my coffee supply, and Mrs. Kenner is really late. I need it. Don’t tell, please?” Amberlyn shook her head at my pleading whine. The rest of the class had become restless, checking their watches and openly using cell phones. “Isn’t there a time limit when we get to leave or something?”
    “I don’t know,” Amberlyn said, a tiny crease appearing between her golden-green eyes. “I heard that was just an urban legend. I know Dr. Christian gave an entire class zeroes when they tried to pull that once.”
    “Yeah, but he’s evil,” I countered, reaching for the Big Gulp. What the hell, I was already busted. I took a deep sip and winced. Coffee and Styrofoam really did taste terrible together.
    Amberlyn pulled a sheet of iridescent blue paper from somewhere and began to make tiny folds with the precision of an open-heart surgeon. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said lightly. “Temperamental often goes along with genius, right?” I stared at her in shock. The blue paper rapidly took on the dimensions of some kind of flower. “Do you have any classes with him this semester?”
    I choked down the acrid, lukewarm coffee. “Um. You know this one already. The gods have smiled on me for once. So no. Remember?”
    She didn’t meet my eyes. “Oh, right. Forgot. Sorry.” Her slim caramel-colored fingers made faster and tinier folds. All around us, students shifted in their seats and grumbled.
    Suddenly, the back of my neck started to tingle. I wondered if this was some hangover symptom I’d never heard of before. The door to the left of the far podium flew open violently, exactly as if it had been kicked. Students, many roused from the brink of sleep, shifted uneasily around me.
    When Dr. Christian came storming in instead of mild mannered Mrs. Kenner, I almost dropped my coffee.
    Oh, hell, I had time to think before he took the stage