I was trapped between three stone walls as tall as the heavens. I huddled against the middle wall, for the vampire stalked past the only escape available.

I held my breath. If the vampire even heard the sound of air escaping my lips, it would turn. It would turn and…

The vampire disappeared behind the next wall. I exhaled, safe.

When I blinked, Le Savant held a red leather book between both hands, his cobalt robes and indigo facial tattoos bright even in the darkness. His lips moved, but the sound didn’t carry to me. I tried to tell him I couldn’t hear him, and his lips moved farther apart as he spoke, as if he tried to yell, but still, I heard nothing.

Le Savant’s eyes moved behind me. There couldn’t be anything to see. It was a wall.

I was safe.

I was safe!

Two hands gripped by wrists and pulled them sharply back. Seeing without seeing, I felt its fangs hovering over my neck.

“My toy,” the vampire whispered, before he sank his teeth into me.

My eyes flew open.

Blurred letters danced before me. The only stability in the world was the table I laid my head upon. The comforting muffled whispers of the library blanketed me, assuring me I was all alone. No vampires ever passed West Ridge’s wards.

Yet, my heart still beat like I’d just sprinted to L’Oeil… or run from a vampire.

It was only a nightmare. Funny how the events of that night escaped me, yet I still had nightmares. I remembered enough, I supposed. I rolled my head to glimpse the stacks of books towering over me, the spellwork gleaming in the lamplight.

A shadow fell onto the book I cradled my head on. Someone was behind me.

I bolted out of my seat, snatching up a weapon, and only coming up with the inkwell. Not even the fountain pen.

Two tables down from me, a gaggle of junior students burst into laughter, too muffled to hear, but nothing blocked me from seeing their open mouths. But that wasn’t the most humiliating part. Valere stood behind me — it had been his shadow.

Damn it to the vampires. The first night I’d gotten away from Blaise, and I’d proved him right.

“Nightmare?” Valere didn’t glance at the inkwell I wielded, small favour.

I nodded once.

“The vampire.”

I looked away. “I barely remember anything, but still…”

Valere’s eyes hollowed, and he stared past me, as if he stared into the depths of Cain’s dream of hell. “I used to have those. Now I just dream of the dark. Something in the dark slowly, slowly, step by step, steadily coming.”

A shadow that wasn’t a shadow.

I shivered. Why did he choose to associate with vampires? Unless he had no choice. Perhaps I should have asked. “I’m sorry.”

The chill returned to Valere’s eyes. “You don’t cause them.”

While Valere had been the reason I had mine.

Valere’s eyes roved over my table. Eager to make up time, I’d pulled piles of books. My finished pile only consisted of one book before I’d fallen asleep. “Your friend damned you.”

And Valere. In public. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Have you found anything?” Valere asked.

“No. Not yet. No mention of ‘blood’.” I whispered the last word.

“We don’t need a reference to blood,” Valere said. I hissed as he said the last word, looking around in case someone had snuck up close enough to eavesdrop, even with the muffling spells in place. “We need an indicator.”

I straightened. “An indicator?”

“Like litmus or a spark test. A test to determine specific properties.”

“You can’t strike a liquid.”

Valere stared at me.

“Oh, of course, some kind of indicator.” Right, a test like a spark test but for liquids. Litmus test, litmus test… I searched my memory. We didn’t use litmus tests in Practicum class anymore, and when we had, it had only been a couple of classes before post-sixth. We had spent the whole time mucking about with little strips, trying to make them turn certain colours, based on… acidity. That was the reason. “Litmus only works on liquids. They don’t work on anything else.”

“Blood is a liquid.”

“Shh!” I searched around us again for a spy. “I know. But if it’s based on an indicator, how can we repurpose it for the field? You know, a method that doesn’t involve questionable liquids?”

Valere said, “It doesn’t need to be repurposed.”

“No one will volunteer their… blood.”

Valere made a sound. It sounded like a scoff. I blinked. This wasn’t a stupid suggestion. It could be the only path on this project leading to acceptance into the guild.

“There has to be another way,” I said. “Some sort of spell cast on a metal stone to turn it different colours when… when in proximity, or something.”

“How?” Valere asked.

“I… don’t know. That’s what we have to figure out.”

Valere shook his head. “The litmus is the easiest path.”

“It’s a dead end. Even if you discover how, the guild won’t accept it.”

“The guild?”

“You’re asking them to encourage children — children! — to willingly share their blood for testing in order to be admitted into a guild academy. It’s unspeakable. It’s morally outrageous. It’s downright sycophantic. No one will accept it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

What kind of argument was that? “Of course it matters!” I hunched down, biting my lip. I must keep my voice down; not even the muffling spells covered everything. “How do you expect to get into the guild if they reject our project?”

“I don’t.”

My jaw dropped, the blood rushing from my face.

Valere didn’t expect to get into the guild?

I clenched my jaw, as if that would take it all back. Fine for me if Valere didn’t want to enter the guild. It opened up the way for me. But I had to. At all costs.

“There’s a reason for the lack of references,” I said, keeping my voice low and calm. “Your project assumes Le Savant’s gifts will work on blood. I can’t even find a spell to hide this.” I motioned the mark on my neck.

“Sorcery won’t aid a vampire,” Valere said.

“But I’m not a sycophant!” Damn it, my nerves were wrenched tighter than a fresh spool of wire. “We should change our project.”

“No.”

I looked up. Power flared over his skin.

“No,” Valere repeated.

“Valere…”

“The project was decided long ago. I already notified Roux.”

“Roux accepted our project?” Despite its questionable morality?

Valere paused. “… Yes.”

“Did you tell him about…” I couldn’t bring myself to say that word again.

“…Yes.”

Valere clutched his stomach with one hand, the other on the table to hold himself up. Power rippled off him in waves, feeling cold and damp, smelling of blood and damp dirt. It prickled my skin.

Le Savant’s power didn’t act like that. It waited to be called upon; it didn’t loose itself like a tempest. I couldn’t leave it there, though. “But—”

“THIS IS THE PROJECT!”

The words rang through the air, as clear as if there were no muffling spells at all. Students at other desks and cubbies all raised their heads, shocked. I choked on the taste of dirt on my tongue. Dirt and blood and cold and things I didn’t even recognise.

Valere had never looked so beautiful.

He threw himself away from the table as the cold, dead power rained off him. He stormed out of the library, lost to me.