Sacrum - 7. Chapter 7: The American Protection League

7. THE AMERICAN PROTECTION LEAGUE

“What the hell was all that about?” Angelo asked after we got back to my room, while Laura sunk down on my bed with a nervous look on her face. We all felt very uneasy about the information we learned from the exchange between Trusting and the black-haired woman.

“This... is much worse than anything we could have anticipated,” she muttered.

“Who was that woman?” I asked, clueless about the gravity of the situation.

“I wasn’t entirely sure before, but now, after hearing her speak, I’m almost positive that it’s Arani Deadnus," Laura replied.

“Oh,” Angelo mumbled out abruptly. As usual, I was the only one who didn’t know what that meant. Vinicius always kept my TV intake to an absolute low, and I didn’t exactly read newspapers for fun.

“That name means nothing to me,” I admitted.

Laura sighed, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. “She’s the Commander of the American Protection League. Essentially, the vampire police. The American Protection League deals with catching vampires who have committed crimes. No wonder they're keeping tabs on Vincent. Anyone from the Carandini family would be a prime suspect for them,” she explained to herself and us.

The weight of the information threatened to topple me. Vincent was in danger, that much was clear. "I need to warn him," I blurted, urgency twisting my gut.

Angelo and Laura locked eyes in a silent exchange. Laura spoke first, her voice laced with concern. "Vincent is capable of taking care of himself, Dani. What’s much more worrying is their interest in you."

Worried for Vincent’s safety, I had completely forgotten that the black-haired woman had inquired about my medical records.

“I’m sure it’s just regular Special protocol,” I offered, the words hollow even to my own ears.

Laura's gaze held a depth of unease. “It didn’t sound like that, Dani. It sounded like they’re waiting for something to happen."

Angelo's frustration crackled in the air. “Something like what, a fever?” he asked, clasping his hands in frustration.

“Something like a secret power," she countered, her voice a low whisper. "Something Vinicius didn’t disclose to them.”

I thought about it for a while. Vinicius hardly taught me anything about the power I already knew I had, I doubted that he would have left me another secret one to figure out on my own. It didn’t make any sense.

Laura squeezed my hand, her voice tight. “Just be careful Dani. Don’t tell the nurse anything that she doesn’t need to know about. Arani Deadnus is known as a ruthless Commander who will stop at nothing to administer her version of justice. Anything outside her vision of what’s deemed normal does not stand a chance." I wondered how Laura knew all this, but decided it was better not to ask for now.

After they left, I embarked on a fruitless search for Vincent. I looked in the library, his room, the cafeteria, and our secret meeting place – all empty. What secret mission could consume him in the coming weeks? I hated all the secrets between us. How could we ever truly know each other when there was so much hidden in the shadows?

Dejected, I got back to my room and opened up my books once again in preparation for my dreaded meeting with Maratoni the next day.

Vincent was still nowhere to be found the next morning, so I headed straight for my mentor’s office. I knocked at the door, but there was no answer. When I entered, the dim room was surprisingly empty.

I sat my backpack on the table and walked towards his extensive book collection. One title, "The Carandini Dynasty," snagged my curiosity. Heaving the hefty tome onto the table, I flipped through its pages. The weight of history settled on me as I read about the Carandini bloodline, one of the oldest vampire families in existence. Photos of Vincent's ancestors stared back at me. The book culminated in a picture of Vincent's brother, Gianni, and a baby Vincent himself. A caption revealed his full name: Salvatore Vincenzo Romero Carandini. The ancient ruling family, nearly eradicated in the Rebellion of The Clans War, had dwindled to two known survivors – Princess Alessandra Letizia Carandini, the daughter of King Romero Carandini, and her youngest son.

Maybe this is why I felt so drawn to Vincent. He was, after all, almost as alone in this world as me—with only his mother, who had survived the unthinkable to keep him alive, as the only source of love.

The door creaked open, jolting me back to reality. I quickly put the book away, not wanting Maratoni to accuse me of touching his things. He strolled in, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, as if he had forgotten about our meeting. Behind him there was a skinny man with a peculiar mustache.

“Ah, I forgot about you,” Maratoni said looking at me, pleasantly as ever. “Ekhart, this is our famous Special.” I didn’t think anyone could look at me with more disgust than Maratoni, but I was wrong. Whoever Ekhart was, he was no fan of mine.

“What a... pleasure,” he said in a low tone laced with venomous sarcasm. “You’re Vinicius’ boy, is that right?” His eyes, narrowed like a viper's, seemed to bore straight through me.

My chin jutted out in defiance. “That’s right," I said with pride.

A sneer twisted his gaunt features. “What a shame about your mentor. Too feeble to deserve the gift of immortality." The urge to rip into him, to tear those mocking words from his throat, clawed at me.

“Vinicius wasn’t weak, sir,” I replied, as Maratoni searched through the drawer in his desk, patiently looking for something.

“Who gives up immortal life, if not a weak coward?” The man asked, his voice rising. Maratoni’s eyes suddenly shot up. A flicker of panic momentarily breaking his practiced composure.

“That’s enough Ekhart," he snapped, "He doesn’t need to know any more."

But Ekhart wasn’t done. Reveling in my discomfort, he sauntered closer, his reeking cologne adding another layer to the suffocating atmosphere. The air crackled with his undisguised animosity, a tangible wall of hatred pushing against me.

"Look at you," he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Look at what he’s created. You make a joke out of the Specials program. It figures, though, considering your washed-up former mentor. A fraud, masquerading as a formidable vampire," he sneered in my face, then quickly grabbed my arm and shook me with force.

A jolt of pain shot through me, but a far more potent surge of fury coursed through my veins. I felt faint with a suffocating, blinding inferno threatening to consume me.

Just before I blacked out, a searing agony ripped through him. Ekhart shrieked, the stench of burning flesh filling the room.

He recoiled, clutching his sizzling arm, his face contorted in a mask of horror.

“He burned me!” The man with the mustache yelled, and Maratoni, eyes wide with a mix of fear and fury, swiftly took him out of the room.

Dazed, I slumped back in a chair, the acrid smell clinging to the air. When Maratoni returned, his face was a thundercloud.

“If you don’t learn how to control that, I’ll have you expelled from this school. You are a menace and a liability. Now get out of my sight before I put hands on you myself.”

“But sir," I stammered, my voice lost in the maelstrom of emotions. "How am I supposed to learn if you won’t help me?” I asked, feeling helpless about what had happened. Maratoni wouldn’t listen.

“Out, NOW!” He yelled. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing my backpack and fleeing the office. Someone in this school had to help me eventually before I burned the whole place down.