Some Girls Bite (Chicagoland Vampires #1)(3)
Author: Chloe Neill

Helen handed me the book, which must have weighed ten pounds. I centered it in my lap, distributing the mass.

"You won’t need to memorize the rules, of course, but you’ll want to read the introductory sections and have at least a passing familiarity with the content. And of course you can refer to the text if you have specific questions. Make sure to read about the Commendation."

"What’s the Commendation?"

"The initiation ceremony. You’ll become an official member of the House, and you’ll take your oaths to Ethan and the rest of the Cadogan vampires. And speaking of, payments typically begin two weeks after take the oath is taken."

I blinked. "Payments?"

She gave me one of those over-the-glasses looks. "Your salary, dear."

I laughed nervously, the sound strangled. "I don’t need a salary. I’m a student. Teaching assistant. Stipend." I was three years into my graduate work, three chapters into my dissertation on romantic medieval literature.

Helen frowned. "Dear, you can’t go back to school. The university doesn’t admit vampires as students, and they certainly don’t employ them. Title VII doesn’t cover us yet. We went ahead and removed you, just to avoid the squabble, so you won’t have to worry about – "

My pulse thudded in my ears. "What do you mean, you removed me?"

Her expression softened. "Merit, you’re a vampire. A Cadogan Initiate. You can’t go back to that life."

I was out the door before she was done talking, her voice echoing behind me as I rushed to the first-floor bedroom that served as our office. I wiggled the mouse to wake my computer, brought up a Web browser, and logged into the university server. The system recognized me, and my stomach unclenched in relief.

Then I brought up my records.

Two days ago, my status had been changed. I was listed as "Not Enrolled."

The world shifted.

I went back to the living room, my voice wavering as I fought through the quickly rising panic, and faced Helen. "What did you do? You had no right to take me out of school!"

Helen turned back to her satchel and pulled out a sheath of paper, her manner irritatingly calm. "Because Ethan feels your circumstances are . . . particular, you’ll receive your salary from the House within the next ten business days. We’ve already arranged the direct deposit. The Commendation is scheduled on your seventh day, six days from now. You will appear when commanded. At the ceremony, Ethan will assign your position of service within the House." She smiled at me. "Perhaps something in public relations, given your family’s connections to the city."

"Oh, lady. Wrong move, bringing up the parents," Mallory muttered.

She was right. It was exactly the wrong thing to say, my parents being one of my least favorite topics. But it was at least jarring enough to wake me from my daze. "I think we’re done here," I told her. "It’s time for you to leave."

Helen winged up an eyebrow. "It’s not your house."

Brave of her to piss off the new vampire. But we were on my turf now, and I had allies.

I turned to Mallory with an evil grin. "How about we find out how much of the vampire myth is actually myth? Don’t vampires have to have an invitation to be in someone’s home?"

"I love the way you think," Mal said, then went to the door and opened it. "Helen," she said, "I want you out of my house."

Something stirred in the air, a sudden breeze that blew through the doorway and ruffled Mallory’s hair – and raised goose bumps along my arms.

"This is incredibly rude," Helen said, but yanked her satchel up. "Read the book, sign the forms. There’s blood in the refrigerator. Drink it – a pint every other day. Stay away from sunlight and aspen stakes, and come when he commands you." She neared the door, and then, suddenly, like someone had flipped the switch on a vacuum, she was sucked onto the stoop.

I rushed to the doorway. Helen stood on the top step, glasses askew, staring back at us in disheveled shock. After a moment, she straightened her skirt and glasses, turned crisply, and walked down the stairs and toward the limo. "That was – very rude," she called back. "Don’t think I won’t tell Ethan about this!"

I gave her a pageant wave – hand cupped, barely swiveling.

"You do that, Helen," Mallory dared. "And tell him we said to f**k off while you’re at it."

Helen turned to look at me, eyes blazing silver. Like, supernaturally silver. "You were undeserving," she sniped.

"I was unconsenting," I corrected and slammed the heavy oak door shut with enough force that it rattled the hinges. After the scritch of rocks on asphalt signaled the limo’s retreat, I leaned back against the door and looked at Mallory.

She glared back. "They said you were on campus by yourself in the middle of the night!" She punched my arm, disgust obvious on her face. "What the hell were you thinking?"

That, I thought, was the release of the panic she’d suffered until she learned that I was coming home. It tightened my throat, knowing that she’d waited for me, worried for me.

"I had work to do."

"In the middle of the night?!"

"I said I had work to do!" I threw up my hands, irritation rising. "God, Mallory, this isn’t my fault." My knees began to shake. I moved the few steps back to the couch and sat down. Repressed fear, horror, and violation overwhelmed me. I covered my face with my hands as the tears began to fall. "It wasn’t my fault, Mallory. Everything – my life, school – is gone, and it wasn’t my fault."

I felt the cushion dip beside me and an arm around my shoulders.

"Oh, God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m freaked out. I was so scared, Mer, Jesus. I know it’s not your fault." She held me while I sobbed, rubbed my back while I cried hard enough to hiccup, while I mourned the loss of my life, of my humanity.

We sat there together for a long time, my best friend and I. She offered Kleenex as I replayed the few things I could remember – the attack, the second set of vampires, the cold and pain, the hazy limo ride.

When I’d sobbed my body empty of tears, Mallory stroked the hair from my face. "It’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll call the university in the morning. And if you can’t go back . . . we’ll figure something out. In the meantime, you should call your grandfather. He’ll want to know you’re okay."

I shook my head, not yet ready to have that conversation. My grandfather’s love had always been unconditional, but then again, I’d always been human. I wasn’t ready to test the correlation. "I’ll start with Mom and Dad," I promised. "Then I’ll let word trickle down."