Ivy turned her attention to the bunches of Oxynamon clutched tightly in her hands. She’d snatched them up in the forest, hoping that they could become her excuse if she was found there. She’d planned to say she’d been collecting samples for extra credit in Herbal Science. Like anyone would believe that lame excuse. But she couldn’t help feeling that this wasn’t all her fault. Why have an obstacle course there if you didn’t want someone to try to complete it? Surely it was a challenge as much as a deterrent, wasn’t it? Avisrova had said something about handing the love letter over in the ‘customary’ way – did that mean that other people had run the Gauntlet before Ivy?
Yeah, right. Ivy checked her train of thought. Wallachia Academy was a school built on thousands of years of tradition. And here she was, thinking one snarky American girl was going to turn all that on its head in the space of a year? Fat chance.
She couldn’t change Wallachia, and she didn’t want Wallachia to change her. So how could it really be the right place for her?
The office door was flung open. Avisrova’s monster bat flew through, settled on a windowsill and stared at Ivy. Then Avisrova herself strutted into the room. I bet she’s here to gloat, thought Ivy, imagining all the ways her teacher could drag out her detention in order to make it as painful as possible.
Avisrova lowered herself into her high-backed chair. But as the teacher rested her elbows on the desk and her chin on her fists, Ivy got the sense that something was different about her. She didn’t look disgusted, like she normally did. Actually, by the way she was twisting her mouth and knitting her brow, Ivy would have said she looked more curious than anything else.
‘Tell me,’ said Avisrova, relaxing back in her seat. ‘Why do you have this constant urge to flout authority?’
‘I –’ Ivy started. Avisrova held up one finger, silencing Ivy immediately.
‘And why, exactly, do you get so much pleasure from breaking the rules?’ Avisrova scratched her chin with one long unpainted fingernail.
Ivy waited to make sure Avisrova was done with the loaded questions. ‘It’s not that I enjoy breaking the rules, it’s just that when the rules are as strict as they are here, they . . . Well, they break very easily.’
Avisrova smiled. It was the first expression Ivy had seen on her face other than a scowl. ‘You are just like your father was at this age.’ She sighed.
‘My father? Really? Did you know him?’
Avisrova nodded. ‘I was his . . .’ Her gaze slid to one side. ‘Classmate.’
Ivy’s eyes narrowed. Something in her teacher’s voice, in the way she had paused, made Ivy think that Avisrova was being pointed when she said the word ‘classmate’. Why couldn’t vampires just say what they meant?
‘If you are going to be a student here, Ivy Lazar, we will have to re-train you. Your insolent American ways will have to go. Wallachia has agreed to accept another Lazar into its illustrious student body, but we must undo your father’s grave mistake.’
Ivy’s breathing hitched. ‘Grave mistake?’
‘The Lazars are one of the few great vampire families left, but rather than stay and raise the next generation here in Transylvania, your father chose to bring you up in a foreign country: the United States. That is not where you belong.’
Ivy blinked. ‘But if it weren’t for my father leaving and going off to America, he would never have met my mother.’ She realised, as she said it, that this single rogue decision her father had made had shaped their lives and her very existence.
Miss Avisrova slapped her hand on the desk with a loud Bang! ‘Exactly.’ No sooner had she made her outburst than the teacher was folding her hands together in her lap and rearranging her expression into something unreadable. But it was too late. Ivy knew now. There was a history between this frosty teacher and her father.
Did she really want to know the truth? It didn’t matter. The pieces of the puzzle were already starting to come together; there was a reason why Avisrova picked on her and kept referring to her ‘American ways’ like Ivy was some sort of barbarian.
Ivy suddenly felt disgusted. Let’s get this punishment over and done with, she thought. Then I can get away from this awful woman.
‘Miss Avisrova, aren’t I supposed to be in trouble for my adventure in the woods?’
Ivy thought that Avisrova would jump at the opportunity to scold her. Ivy had given her the perfect opening for a world-class lecture. How could she resist? But instead, Avisrova appeared to ignore Ivy’s comment altogether.
‘I’m not going to punish you,’ she said, pulling open the top drawer of her desk.
‘You’re not?’ asked Ivy slowly. This must be a trick. She watched Avisrova carefully, trying to tell if she was lying.
‘More’s the pity. No.’
She took out a thin golden necklace with a ruby pendant in the middle and handed it to Ivy. The chain was cold against Ivy’s skin. Ivy stared at it, half expecting it to bite her. Now she knew this had to be some kind of ploy, one of those punishments in disguise that some adults liked to call ‘lessons’.
‘Go on, it’s not a trick.’ Avisrova’s half-smile was smug. ‘Surprised? It’s your reward,’ she explained. ‘This ruby –’ she pointed to the red centre stone – ‘was cut from a larger gem that was recovered from the house of Count Gregario, one of the oldest vampires in history and a founding father of Wallachia Academy.’
‘Thanks,’ said Ivy, closing her fingers around the necklace. ‘But I’m not sure I understand. Why am I getting a reward for breaking the rules?’