Chapter 4 I have the courage of being myself
He sighed, as if he was getting bored by the whole thing and didn’t have that blade still pressing against his thigh. His life was worth nothing to her. She could kill him and no one would mourn his death.
“The only way to get to Dante is to get into the Academy.”
“The Academy is still open?” she was shocked. “I thought it burned down.”
She knew exactly what he was referring to. Zeadore Academy, a place high society vampires sent their snobbish kids to prepare. Izabella wasn’t sure what exactly this preparation consisted of, but she assumed those who graduated from that academy would be her major future enemies.
“Shows how much you know,” he snorted. “It’s in Romania now. In the Carpathians.”
“Is it still an elite shithole for preppy vampires?” she asked.
“I’d say so,” he nodded.
“How do I get in?”
Emile laughed again, but more quietly this time. There was disbelief in his eyes.
“A slayer wants to get into the top secret vampire academy?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard her right the first time.
“I need to get to Dante, any way I can.”
“You need a whole new life to get in there,” he explained. “New identity, new background, references, everything,” he was telling her what she wanted to hear, but it was obvious from the tone of his voice that he doubted she could pull it off.
He doubted anyone in her position could pull it off.
“I can get everything apart from the references.”
“You can’t get in unless an old vampire clan suggests to Dante that you are worthy of being schooled there.”
“Shit,” she snorted. “How do I do that?”
He scratched his head, then took a gulp of his beer, placing it down on the table. She was raking her brain but no ideas were coming to her. How the hell would she get those freakin’ references? Which vampire would be crazy enough to give a vampire slayer references for Zeadore Academy? It sounded crazy even in theory, let alone in practice.
“My wife is the daughter of a clan leader. Carpe Noctem,” he started, as if he was just thinking out loud about her problem.
“Your wife is Zetta?” Izabella was shocked.
Zetta was the beautiful daughter of Adam Cline, the still living leader of the Carpe Noctem clan. Izabella and Brandon had fought only one member of that clan, and that was only because he went against their main orders and was banned, so he had to fend for
himself. Carpe Noctem was a close knit clan and they usually weren’t harmful to anyone: humans or animals. They tried to live in unity with Nature and that meant that they live and let live. Izabella could respect that.
“I had no idea you were married,” she added.
“You think I’d send you a wedding invitation?” he moved back. “I’m talking now, could we get this blade out of the way, please?”
Izabella agreed, hiding the blade back in her pocket but her hand still rested on it, just in case.
“She doesn’t know anything about my clan and what happened. I feel…” as he spoke, Izabella was surprised to hear remorse and shame in his voice. She never expected that from him. “She just thinks I managed to escape the infamous slayers. I’m a different person now, ever since I met her, I’m a better…”
“Alright, Romeo, spare me the sappy story. How go I get those references?” she interrupted him.
She wasn’t here to listen to his love story and how love changed him. She didn’t believe that love could change anybody. It was just a chemical reaction in your brain, nothing else.
“I’ll tell her you need them,” he said, matter-of-factly.
It was Izabella’s turn to laugh now. This sounded highly implausible.
“And, she’s gonna give them to me, just like that?”
“No, we have to… lie to her. We have to tell her that you’re on your own, a vampire orphan, from my own clan and you need references for Zeadore Academy. She can get her father to write you one. There are no better references than ones which come from a clan leader. You’re bound to get in.”
Izabella eyed him suspiciously. It all seemed so convenient, almost a little too convenient. Maybe this was their plan the whole time, to get her there, and Emile was in on it. Then, once she was there, it would be so easy to kill her and dispose of her body. It would be like she never existed. It all sounded so frightening, but she couldn’t back down. Not when Brandon needed her help.
“How do I know I can trust you?” she asked. “Maybe this is all a trap to get me there.”
“I want out,” he suddenly told her.
“Out?” she repeated, not understanding what exactly he meant by this.
“I don’t want to be your source anymore.”
She could hear the fear, but also confidence in his voice. It probably took him a lot to muster up the courage to tell her this.
“I want my life back. I don’t want to live in between,” he continued. “That is why I want to help you this one, last time. I don’t know where your brother is. I don’t even know if Dante took him. I can get you there but that means we’re done.”
He finally finished his monologue. Izabella could tell that he had probably practiced this speech many times before but never had the guts to actually tell her until now. His whole body was shaking, as if he expected her to smite him down and get it over with. Instead of hate, she was washed over by a sense of relief. To his surprise, she smiled at him. A real, genuine smile, the kind he had never received from the likes of her.
“Your wife is pregnant, isn’t she?” she asked, not being able to imagine any other reason for a man to be willing to change so much and for the better.
He lowered his head. This wasn’t something he wanted to share with her, she knew that. Her knowledge of this was a risk, a danger. But, she read him like an open book. He couldn’t hide it.
“Then, I can’t protect you anymore,” she replied, and they both remembered that one time when Brandon and Izabella saved his life, allowing him to run away, while they dealt with everyone else. “We will be on opposite sides. If we come into battle, then…”
“If that is what has to be, so be it,” Emile nodded, smiling back at her.
“Alright then,” she agreed. “As soon I get accepted at the Academy, I will erase your number and you will never hear from me or my brother again.”
“Thank you,” he echoed his gratitude.
“I’ll call you in a week,” she quickly motioned, unwilling to rest on the emotional side of their conversation any longer.
“It’ll be ready,” he told her, in a reassuring voice..
She was already standing on her feet, ready to go.
When she turned around, she noticed that the biker gang was gone. The place was almost empty, save for a few sad faces trying to drown their sorrow in cheap liquor. She couldn’t wait to get out of here.