“Do it, and I’ll bite you,” Grace warned as I silently stared at Peter. He’d said “dhampir” like it was somehow a bad thing. Sure, I was terrible at magic, but I was physically stronger than he’d ever be as a warlock. Plus, I only required a small amount of blood to get by.
I was still staring at him when I asked, “Do you have some kind of problem with dhampirs?”
“Of course not. Why do you ask that?”
“It was your derogatory tone,” Grace said, drawing his attention. “With your family history, it seems likely that you might be a little xenophobic towards anyone who isn’t a full-blooded member of the magical families.”
“I don’t hold those views,” Peter argued. “I merely called her a dhampir because that’s what she is. And I would never use a derogatory tone when speaking with Darya Cristescu. If she didn’t chop my hand off for it, then her father surely would.”
At that, I grinned. “My father wouldn’t need to do anything. I’m very capable of chopping off hands all on my own.”
His eyes landed on mine, and I tried to calm my erratic pulse. Rare as it was, his attention was intoxicating. Peter was often alone, and he seldom took an interest in others. That was what made it all the more mesmerising when he deigned to take you in.
My skin prickled in a pleasant way, butterflies filling my stomach.
“I don’t doubt it,” he finally replied, then looked away. I instantly mourned the loss of his attention. “Well, I’ll leave you to your New Years’ trespassing,” he said before turning and walking away. At that moment, I wished our family histories weren’t so fraught. I wished we could just be a boy and a girl who attended the same school and shared some classes. If that were the case, then maybe I’d have the courage to sit beside him one day. Strike up a conversation. Perhaps even ask him out on a date.
As it stood, I’d never be brave enough to do any of that because it would become the biggest piece of gossip to hit St. Bastian’s all year. And I hated being in the spotlight. It was hard enough being a Cristescu without bringing extra unwanted attention on myself.
My family was important in this city. The Cristescu name stood for many things, peace, prosperity, the end of war. Both of my parents were instrumental in ending the conflict that had plagued Tribane for decades. Now they each held power, influence, and respect.
My father, Ethan Cristescu, was the only vampire in living history to be able to walk in the sun. My mother, Tegan Cristescu, was the sorceress whose magical blood had transformed him, giving him extra powers and making him one of the strongest, most invincible vampires ever to grace the planet. She was also a legend in her own right. It had taken her a mere fifteen years to transcend from a witch into a sorceress, pipped to the post only by her best friend, Rita, who managed to transcend in ten. It normally took decades to achieve such a feat.
My father founded the democratic Hawthorn Council, which was made up of representatives from each supernatural species living in Tribane. Our city had once been a place ridden with war and segregation, meaning vampires and the magical families didn’t mix as they do now. Instead, the vampires lived in their territory on the south side of the Hawthorn River, while the magical families lived on the north side of the river.
Dad envisioned and subsequently funded the building of my school, St. Bastian’s Institute for Magic and the Supernatural, where students were educated and prepared for their future lives, ranging in ages from thirteen to nineteen. Up until the age of thirteen, most of us were homeschooled, though some families chose to send their children to human schools so they could learn how to be social and adapt to living in a city with a predominantly human population.
If you were a witch at St. Bastian’s, you attended classes teaching all the various magical disciplines like Herbology and Telekinesis, on top of the usual subjects like Literature and Mathematics. If you were an elf, or a vampire, like Grace, for instance, you learned the usual school subjects while being allowed to specialise in others, such as martial arts, weaponry, or supernatural biology and evolution.
Career-wise, students of St. Bastian’s went on to work in jobs within the supernatural community, of which there were many options. For instance, you might operate a stall in the Market Below, or you might be hired to cast spells for wealthy clients, or you might enrol to join The Hawthorn Guard, our city’s supernatural police force. You could also go on to attend a supernatural university in one of the nearby cities, where you could complete a degree or a doctorate in your chosen field, thus allowing you to go on to teach.