Free Vamped by Lucienne Diver Page B

arrangements to make.”
    “But—”
    “ Now ,” he said, and I felt a vague wash of sensation sweep over me, like all the hair on my body had been ruffled at once … like he’d been trying to influence me, even though he knew it wouldn’t work.
    “Whatever,” I said back. Wasn’t like I was getting answers anyway. At least I was starting to figure out the questions.
    I crept back through the hallways, no thanks to my new co-conspirator, who went his own way instead of providing me cover. Luckily, the halls were still eerily deserted. It was like a ghost town.
    When I got to the dorm, I saw that “sanitized” meant that all the pictures had been taken off the walls and the beds stacked up like they weren’t in use. Product had been cleared from the bathrooms, which made them seem almost spacious. I’d seen spy shows where cleaners could make a whole crime scene disappear, but I’d never have believed it could be done so quickly if I hadn’t witnessed it. Melli had even gone so far as to have her people use an unscented cleanser. With my vamp senses I could smell it if I inhaled deeply, but it wasn’t the tell-tale pine or lemon I was used to at home, or even the really industrial chemical scent of the one they splashed all over school.
    I hated to hand it to the lady, but maybe she wasn’t just a pretty face. Dammit.

12

    M y classmates returned, erupting up through the trap door and pouring into the room, only to crash up against each other like the Three Stooges when they saw the complete desolation of their space. It was clear that no one had warned them, and they all looked at me—the single near-living thing in the room, sitting on the solitary bunk I’d pulled down for myself—in accusation.
    “Not me,” I said in defense, but no one could really hear me over the indignant cries of the kids who couldn’t make it out of the hole because those who had stopped cold were jamming up the works.
    Things One and Two were no help. They pushed through, ignoring questions with a simple, “We’ll be back.” Luckily, they returned before the tide could really turn on me, with two Santa-sized bags of belongings, toiletries, and sundries. The place erupted into chaos. It looked like the year-end sale at Bergdorf’s—kids fighting over this picture or that shirt, neither of which made out well in the melee.
    I watched with a kind of reality-show fascination until something moved in to block my view.
    I looked up to see that Marcy had planted herself in front of me, fists jammed into her hips, and I thought, here we go .
    “Do you believe this?” she asked, and I looked around to see which this we were talking about—because I could well believe anything at this point.
    But she wasn’t looking at the mayhem all around us, only at the globs of bright purple paint decorating her outfit like so-called modern “art.”
    “Um,” I began cautiously.
    She flopped down next to me on the bed and I hoped she’d had time to dry, but I didn’t think so. “Not that I dressed up or anything. I mean, they warned us when they called us all out for their little war games, but still. This is never coming out.”
    I blinked. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”
    She gave me a pout she’d stolen from my arsenal. “Oh, come on, like anyone else feels my pain. This tank is raw silk . Besides, I can’t stay mad at you. You’re the only one here who knows a Jimmy Choo from a Margaret Cho.”
    “Isn’t she a comic?” I asked.
    “See!” she answered triumphantly, bumping my shoulder companionably.
    I bumped her back, even if I was still a little steamed.
    “So, why aren’t you in the melee?” I asked.
    She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Please! Like this stupid game”—she flicked a hand at her purple splotches—“didn’t wreak enough havoc on my manicure. And whoever wins is just going to get their picture grabbed the second their back is turned. Not really worth the effort. Besides, have you