2. Darkness in the Blood Master copy MS 5 by Vicki Keire Page A

Shadows.
    Amberlyn reached over and squeezed my hand. “Are you all right?” she asked. Dr. Christian had started his presentation. Not trusting my voice, I nodded. The words on the front of the packet ran together in a nonsensical blur. I leaned my forehead against the cool plastic surface of my desk, feeling as if I’d just run a marathon.
    Something was badly wrong. A sweet old lady had been brutally attacked in Whitfield, where nothing ever happened. And now I had to sit through almost two hours of lecture about some dead culture given by my least favorite teacher in the universe.

Chapter Nine:
    A Little Wild

    I scrolled through the messages on my phone as I cut through the park. Work, work, Amberlyn; I stopped at Logan’s last message: “News. J. Roth’s. Important.” My thumbs hovered over the keys for just a minute while I thought about a reply. Did they know already? I thought of ways to pack the news of Mrs. Kenner’s assault, and Dr. Christian’s callous response, into text message form. I snapped my phone shut with a grunt that surprised me in its savagery. I’d wait.
    Dark emotions swirled through me like the tide. I’d left Andreas at almost a run, ignoring my best friend’s offer of a ride and Ethan’s order to travel in pairs. I needed the exercise, needed to burn off some of my fury before pasting a pleasant smile onto my face and serving espresso to unwitting customers all night long. I took deep breaths, almost gulps, of fresh park air to try and clear my head. Fantastic creatures spat water from the triple-tiered fountain I loved so much. Before, I’d always thought the fountain was just a whimsical thing, meant to enchant the town children who tossed pennies into it and sometimes waded in it on very hot days.
    Knowing what I now did about Whitfield and its secrets, I wondered if the gargoyles, wolf heads, mermaids, dragons, chimeras, and strange winged creatures had a deeper meaning. If so, was it a warning or welcome?
    Just how much did I know about my town and its secrets, anyway?
    “Get it! Get it!”
    “No! It’s mine!”
    Something hard, moving incredibly fast, struck me in the back of my right knee. It knocked me forward, scattering the contents of my knapsack, and would have planted me flat on my face had I not managed to get an arm out in time. “What the hell!” I yelled, rolling with the force of the blow so that I ended up on my rear end. Muddy fingers clutched a soccer ball inches from my face.
    “Sorry,” a frizzy head of dark curls secured by a red bandana claimed, although I wasn’t quite sure I believed him. I squinted.
    “Timothy? Timothy Eden?” I accused. His eyes widened slightly, as if being identified made punishment for his crimes that much more certain. A few other muddy pairs of hands and tennis shoes ringed him, whether in solidarity or as witness to his shame, I couldn’t tell. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” I said, jumping up in one quick motion. “You need a haircut.”
    He blushed crimson. “Sorry I hit you, Miss Caspia,” he recited with an appropriate degree of contrition, completely ignoring my haircut comment.
    “You knocked me down flat.” I looked pointedly at his soccer ball. “My books, too. Now the polite thing would be to pick them up for me and apologize.” He blushed again, while around him his friends muttered and poked each other. “But I was your age once too.” With one lunge, I snatched the soccer ball from him. “And I was wicked good at soccer.” I dropped the ball so that it rested under my booted foot. I grinned at a thoroughly confused Timothy, pleased to find my bad mood lifting. For that alone, I would have kissed him, but it would have earned him eternal torment from his peers. “If you keep landing kicks like that, you ought to think about going pro.” I shifted my weight backward and kicked as hard as I could, sending the ball flying. “Run, run, run like hell!” I yelled as I watched Timothy Eden and