The Awakening (Daray Hall #1) Page 3

  Chapter Three

  All I can think is, Vampire? Holy shit, beautiful or not, this bitch is freaking nuts!

  She smiles, and she manages to not look crazy in the process. But now, instead of feeling calmed at her presence, I start to worry. Am I in a hospital? Is this woman a patient from a psych ward or something? Am I about to get stabbed or strangled?

  “You don’t believe me,” She says, sounding unsurprised. “Didn’t you think it odd that I managed to beat you to the door?”

  I don’t answer, because I don’t want to encourage this woman.

  “Kylie, I am sixty-eight years old, but physically, I look only twenty-five or so. And I will look no older until the day I am killed. I am a vampire. My name is Jillian Daray; I started Daray Hall almost thirty years ago, so that young vampires like you would always have a safe place to develop and grow without being threatened by society.”

  I just stare at her, completely amazed. She honestly believes what she’s saying.

  Jillian sighs, gets to her feet, and walks over to where I’m sitting on the edge of my bed. She leans in, peering into my face, and she opens her mouth. With a light clicking sound, her canines extend, growing to incredibly sharp points.

  I jump back against the metal bars of the bed, smacking my head against it. She backs away slowly, trying to show me that she means no harm, but I’m too busy hyperventilating to notice her gestures. Oh, my god! She has fangs!

  For a second, I just sit there, staring at Jillian in wonder. Is it possible? Can she really be a vampire or am I just insane, too?

  Jillian smiles. “Kylie, I understand what must be going through your mind right now; I’ve been in your place. Finding out, just like you, that vampires aren’t just the mythical beings of legend. Realizing that I would slowly but surely become one of those monsters. It’s a lot to take in, and if you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them to the best of my ability.”

  After a moment of silence, I finally ask my first question. “How is this possible?”

  “Well, there is actually quite a bit to explain. First off, we worship an entirely different deity than humans. We worship Selene, the ancient Greek goddess of the moon. She is widely considered to be the mother of vampires, as her daughter, Pandia, was revered as the first vampire.

  “Selene knows all of the humans that have been or will ever be born on this world. She knows which of them she wants to become her children. Out of all the possible young women in this world, she chose you to be a part of this magnificent journey.”

  “Why me?”

  She cocks her head to the side. “I’m not sure. Once you get more used to the idea of being a vampire, you’ll have to ask her.”

  “Will she answer?”

  “Perhaps. Selene plays a major role in some vampire’s lives. Some of us are gifted with special abilities: the ability to read minds, control the winds, become invisible, speak with animals, the list is absolutely endless.”

  “Can you read my mind?”

  She shakes her head. “No, dear; I have no extra gifts from Selene. I spend my time training young arrivals how to control their growing bloodlust. You’ll begin experiencing that very soon and, when you need help, you’ll be able to come to me.

  “There are others here that are gifted though. They often have a guard, or Protector, with them at all times. Those Protectors are trained by Carlos Hensley. They often meet in the gym, and are looked over by those with special gifts. Sometimes they’re chosen as Protectors; if not, they spend their time training and protecting the rest of the fledgling vampires here.”

  “Fledgling?”

  “All new vampires are called fledglings. It’s simply a name for babies of our kind,” she says with a smile. “Don’t worry; you’ll only be a fledgling for a couple of years.”

  “A couple of years?”

  “Yes, depending on how old a person is when they’re chosen by Selene. Some are as young as fourteen, and will spend three to four years as a fledgling. Others like you are seventeen, and can spend anywhere from a couple of months to a year as a fledgling. It varies wildly.”

  “So basically, I get less time to learn the ropes before becoming a bloodsucking monster.”

  She frowns. “Kylie, you are not a monster, nor will you ever become one. Vampires are not like they’ve been portrayed in film and literature. We’re very sophisticated, gentle people. We’re just a little stronger, faster, and more gifted.”

  I sigh, and glance around the room. “So, where am I again?”

  She smiles. “Daray Hall. It’s a mansion that I purchased and renovated. I had rooms added to accommodate the number of fledglings I have here. Right now, including you, there are almost a hundred and twenty of them. There is also an additional eighty Protectors on the premises right now, but that number tends to fluctuate a little, as they are not required to stay here year-round. They have their own “barracks” on the grounds.”

  “So, where are my parents? Do they think I’m dead?”

  “No, we’ve explained everything to your mom.”

  Something in her voice makes me wary, and as I look up at her, I realize something. “She doesn’t care, does she?”

  Jillian hesitates for a second, before finally sighing. “Your father used some very…disturbing words. But yes, they don’t seem to care that you’ve started a new life. They gave us permission to clear your room of some of your things to make you more comfortable here.”

  “They’re probably happy that I’m finally out of their lives. They’ve been waiting for this for years. Harry thinks I’m the biggest brat on the planet, and that’s only gotten worse since Tara’s death.”

  Jillian raises a perfectly-shaped elegant eyebrow. “Tara?”

  “My best friend, Tara Irwin. Did you know her?”

  Jillian smiles softly, confusing me. “I’m sure you won’t miss her much longer. Things here tend to keep you busy. Come. I’ll show you to your room, and your roommate can give you a tour of the place.”

  I get off the bed and follow Jillian to the door. When we’re standing out in the hall, I finally notice that I’m dressed in only jeans and a white camisole. My socks and shoes are gone, and so is my sweater. “Jillian, where are the rest of my clothes?”

  “There was so much blood on the sweater we had to burn it. I’m sorry. But you can change when we get back to your room. We brought a bunch of your stuff from home; I think you’ll be able to find something to wear to dinner.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Yes, it’s just after six. Dinner will start in about an hour. Hopefully that will give you enough time to get a basic layout of the place.”

  As Jillian leads me through the halls, I do my best to start memorizing my surroundings. We go up to the third floor, and Jillian explains, “The boys sleep on the second floor, and the girls sleep on the third floor. There is a mandatory lights out at eleven for all fledglings, and boys are not allowed on the girls’ floor after that.

  “We understand that experimentation between fledglings, especially with blood, is perfectly normal. However, we don’t want anyone to get into trouble, or get hurt.”

  When we reach the third floor landing, she leads me down a narrow hallway that is filled with door after door after door. There must have been fifteen doors on each side. As we pass, I try counting them.

  “Twenty-eight,” Jillian says without stopping. “There are fourteen doors on each side. This allows us to house fifty-six female fledglings at any given moment in time. Right now there are fifty-two, counting you. Your roommate has never had to share a room before, but with the growing number of residents, she’ll have to learn to get along with others.”

  “Is she friendly?” I ask, surprised she’d refuse a roommate.

  Jillian shrugs gracefully. “I’ve heard the others say no, but whenever I see her, she’s always an angel. I’m sure what I’m seeing is probably just a mask. So if she gives you problems, just come talk to me, and I’ll figure some
thing out. But I’m sure you can win her over if you try. In fact, I think the two of you will become good friends.”

  She knocks on one of the last doors in the hallway, and it slowly opens. There’s a girl standing in the doorway, and she instantly plasters a smile I recognize as fake on her face. “Hi, Jillian! Can I help you with something?” Oddly enough, she doesn’t look surprised to see her, or me for that matter.

  Jillian smiles back. “Chloe, I wanted to stop by and introduce you to your new roommate. Kylie, this is Chloe Olson. Chloe, this is Kylie Redding. I’d like you to show her around a little after she’s done settling in. Alright?”

  Chloe hesitates, and I can already tell she doesn’t want to do it. Finally, she nods. “Alright, I can show her around.”

  “Good. I hope you two get along,” Jillian says, turning to me. “Kylie, remember. If you need anything, come to me.”

  She turns around and walks back down the hall, leaving me standing alone in the hallway with my new roommate. I can already tell this girl doesn’t like me, even though we haven’t actually spoken to one another yet.

  “Are you gonna come in or not?” She snaps.

  I turn to her, unsurprised to find a sneer on her face. She walks back into the room, flipping her long, platinum blonde hair in the process. She’s super skinny, but she sashays like she’s got a perfect curvy body, instead of the almost anorexic looking one she does.

  She sits cross-legged on her bed and looks at me as I close the door. She points at the twin-sized bed on the left wall and says, “That’s yours.” Then she grabs a bottle of pink nail polish and starts to paint her nails, ignoring me with a well-practiced ease that I recognize instantly.

  Awesome. I died, came back to life as a vampire, and moved into Daray Hall to start my new life; it just figures that a McKenzie wannabe would already be here waiting for me.

  Surprisingly, my bright orange, flower-covered comforter is already placed on the bed, and it looks like my clothes are already unpacked in a small pine dresser at the foot of the bed. I look around the rest of the room, seeing a similar dresser on Chloe’s side of the room.

  The top of it is covered in an array of nail polish, mirrors, makeup, brushes, and hair products. Her bed is covered in a fuzzy, pink comforter, with almost a half dozen plump pillows. Her eyes are intensely focused on her toes, but when she looks up at me, I notice that she has the darkest most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen.

  “Are you gonna get ready or what? You’ve been in the infirmary for like three days. You could definitely use a shower.”

  I discreetly sniff myself and, unfortunately, I have to agree with her. “Where’s the nearest shower?”

  She points to the door at the edge of her dresser, “Through there. Hurry it up, and don’t touch my shampoo or my robe.”

  “What about towels?”

  She sighs angrily. “There’ll be some on the middle closet rack. It’ll have your name on it. That stuff is yours, the stuff below it is mine. Don’t mix our stuff up.”

  I nod and, because there’s nothing else to say to her, I head into the bathroom to take a hot shower. The bathroom is small, holding a basic shower, a toilet, and a sink. There’s a scale on the floor by the closet, and a robe is hanging on the back of the closet door.

  Inside the closet are three shelves. The bottom one is labeled as Chloe’s, and it holds purple fluffy towels, and a ton more bathroom products. There are moisturizers, soaps, tampons, washcloths, and razors. Pretty much everything a preppy teenage girl needs in her bathroom.

  My gaze shifts up to the middle shelf, and I breathe a sigh of relief. On the shelf are my forest green towels from home, along with my own bathroom necessities. They’re not nearly as nice as Chloe’s, but for some reason, seeing them makes me really happy.

  I set one of the towels on the toilet lid, and head back into the bedroom to search through my dressers. My jeans are in the bottom drawer, my shirts in the middle, and my underwear and camisoles are in the top one. I just randomly grab clothes: jeans and a black tank top. There isn’t anyone here that I need to impress.

  Chloe sees what I’m carrying and rolls her eyes. One look at her tells me that she’s high fashion, and we’re obviously not going to bond over a similar fashion sense.

  Tara and I always argued over clothing, because she wore nice things, and I didn’t feel the need to. Suddenly, I’m feeling more miserable than before. Just the thought of Tara makes me sad. Before, when I thought I’d been dying, the thought of maybe seeing Tara again made it bearable.

  I’ll probably live forever, now. Forever without Tara…

  I turn on the hot water, hop into the shower and, hoping that Chloe can’t hear me, cry until the tears stop. I’m not sure how long I’m in there, but it has to be a good thirty minutes, because suddenly Chloe is pounding on the bathroom door, “Are you almost done? Dinner’s in half an hour, and I need to get ready!”

  I sigh and shut off the water. Purposely taking my time, I get dressed and towel dry my hair, before pulling it up into a sloppy ponytail. When I’m done, I grab my dirty clothes, and throw them in the hamper that’s not an ugly pink color, and let Chloe have the bathroom.

  As she passes me, she pauses. When I look back at her, she’s staring at me in disbelief. “Oh, my god. I thought that maybe you weren’t wearing makeup because you just got out of the infirmary, but you’re not wearing it now. You are not seriously leaving this room looking like that, are you?”

  I glance down at myself, and shrug. I know that I’m not exactly gorgeous like Chloe and a lot of other girls, but I’ve been told that for someone that doesn’t wear makeup, I’m not bad looking. I’m just a little… different.

  “I don’t wear makeup, ever.”

  Her mouth drops open, and I almost laugh at the disbelief on her face. “Why? Don’t you care about your appearance?”

  “Because I don’t,” I say, sitting on the edge of my bed. “After you’re done getting ready, can you show me around for a little bit?”

  Chloe snorts and doesn’t answer. I guess that right there is an answer.

  I’m tempted to tell her that Jillian specifically asked her to give me a tour, but that’ll probably just annoy her and make her dislike me even more. So I bite my tongue to keep from arguing, and decide to show myself around.

  How lost can I get?