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THREE<br />
THE LOBBY OF MY DORM was abuzz when I sprinted downstairs to my before-school<br />
practice. The commotion didn't surprise me. A good night's sleep had gone far to chase away<br />
the images from last night, but I knew neither I nor my classmates would easily forget what had<br />
taken place outside Billings.<br />
And yet, as I studied the faces and clusters of other novices, I noticed something weird. The<br />
fear and tension from yesterday were still around, certainly, but something new was there too:<br />
excitement. A couple of freshmen novices were practically squealing with joy as they spoke in<br />
hushed whispers. Nearby, a group of guys my own age were gesturing wildly, enthusiastic grins<br />
on their faces.<br />
I had to be missing something here—unless all of yesterday had been a dream. It took every<br />
ounce of self-control I had not to go over and ask somebody what was happening. If I delayed,<br />
I'd be late for practice. The curiosity was killing me, though. Had the Strigoi and their humans<br />
been found and killed? That would certainly be good news, but something told me that wasn't<br />
the case. Pushing open the front doors, I lamented that I'd just have to wait until breakfast to<br />
find out.<br />
"Hath-away, don't run-away," a singsong voice called.<br />
I glanced behind me and grinned. Mason Ashford, another novice and a good friend of mine,<br />
jogged up and fell in step with me.<br />
"What are you, twelve?" I asked, continuing on toward the gym.<br />
"Nearly," he said. "I missed your smiling face yesterday. Where were you?"<br />
Apparently my presence at the Badica house still wasn't widely known. It wasn't a secret or<br />
anything, but I didn't want to discuss any gory details. "Had a training thing with Dimitri."
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