Читать книгу Hunter - Sydney Robinson - Страница 10

Chapter Four

Read-eez, it turned out, was an old two-story bookshop. Crunched in between a Laundromat and a hardware store, the building was falling apart. A light was on. Angel could see it faintly in the front window, which meant it was in the back of the shop. She casually walked up to the door and tried the lever. Even though the sign read Closed, it swung open. Angel slid through the door and grabbed the little bell above the door that she had noticed glinting off the streetlight. Easing the door shut, she flipped the lock to make sure this meeting wasn’t interrupted by anyone.

The room before her was filled with shelves of books. It was a tiny shop on the outside, and the cluttered merchandise made it feel even smaller, almost to the level of claustrophobia. Angel made her way through the maze of bookshelves to the front counter located at the back of the shop as a separator of the work space from what must have been Scott’s living space.

Pressing her hands to the cold wood, Angel vaulted her body over the counter and landed with a soft thud on the other side. She dropped to a crouch and made her way toward the open doorway where the light was coming from. With her back placed to the wood of the frame, Angel stood up slowly and took in the room as she had been trained to do. As she did this, she also reached her right hand behind her back and freed the knife from where its sheath was tucked into her waistband and brought it forward.

The room before her was stuffed with almost as many books as the shelves in the room behind her. Large and small piles formed their own labyrinth in the back room, which must have been a workshop. Stuffed into a small gap between two large oak shelves was a small workbench. There was a stack of books on each side of the bench—one that looked worn down and one that had a newer look to them.

Looking just as cramped into the remaining space as everything else in the room was a man. From her position, all Angel could see of the man was a head of mossy brown hair and a gray sweater. She entered the room, as she would have to get closer to do anything or gain any information.

As her right foot came down, the man sat back in his chair and stretched. She could faintly hear a yawn as he did so. It was now or never. Angel bolted into the room, following the path she had mapped out prior to moving. The man gave off a slight yelp as Angel brought the knife around to his throat with her right hand and braced him to the chair’s backrest with her left.

“What, what…I…what do you want?” the man stuttered out.

“Who are you?” Angel asked in a half-whisper.

“I…I’m no one, just a book salesman and repairer. That’s all, nothing important.”

“Give me a name.”

“Scott! It’s Scott McClellan. Or at least it is now. It was Hunter. But you know all about that, don’t you?” Scott’s tone changed as he spoke, realization seeping into his voice.

“What are you talking about?”

“That knife. You’re a Hunter too.”

“You can’t even see the knife.” Angel was beginning to suspect the man was crazy.

“I can see the reflection of the blade on the wall. I know that constellation and its meaning.” Scott’s voice had changed completely from panic to calm, and Angel could feel she was losing control of this conversation fast.

“What of it?” Angel asked, snarling as she did so and pulling the knife’s blade closer to his throat, breaking the skin slightly.

“You don’t know.” Shock colored Scott’s comment. “You’re from the institution then. Fresh out of the gate, not even a full Guardian yet.”

As he spoke, Scott’s hand came up and clasped onto Angel’s wrist. He pulled it and twisted her arm, sending her slamming into the desk in front of him. Angel growled in pain as her head connected with the wall shortly after the small of her back hit the table. Angel was finally able to get a good look at the man. He was taller than her, so it came as no surprise that he was able to overpower her even in a seated position. His eyes matched his hair color, hidden behind a large pair of round glasses. The combination gave him a mouselike appearance. But his face was elongated; his jaw came almost to a point at his chin. And his chin seemed to block out his throat entirely when he was upright. It was almost horselike in appearance, lined from years of frowning and a lack of smiling.

Scott, who was on his feet, pacing now, ignored all this as he spoke to himself.

“But if she’s not a Guardian, then why is she here? No team with her, so they haven’t found me. But then why is she here? She has the Hunter knife, but she could have gotten that from anyone. It doesn’t mean it was his. And he wouldn’t let her go there anyway. So what does it all mean?”

“What are you babbling about, old man?” Angel asked. She was sitting on the desk, watching him, confused. She had no idea why he was walking back and forth. That couldn’t help ones thinking, could it?

“You, who are you?” Scott asked, stopping at the far left of his track and rounding on her.

“My name is Angel.”

“Yes, but Angel what? Oh, never mind, you wouldn’t know anyways. But wait a minute, why are you here?”

“A friend of mine snuck out of the academy. I followed.”

“Academy, what academy are you referring to?”

“The one up the hill. It’s been there forever.” Angel couldn’t figure out why she was answering this man. He had no right to this information, and yet she was answering as if he did.

“The institution. That’s not an academy.”

“Yes, it is,” Angel insisted.

“Really? And how many academies have bars on the windows? Or don’t you look outside?” Scott began to pace again as he spoke. “No, why would you? A Guardian would have no need to be drawn in by outside distractions, not with the promise of freedom to go and do what they want only a few years out of reach. Soldiers, on the other hand, now they would want to look outside, look at the world around them, it’s distracting. But how and why would they look? We took away the questioning and…”

Scott stopped and looked at Angel. He walked slowly back over to her, and Angel took the opportunity to get off the table and crouched into a hand-to-hand combat defensive stance. Scott kept coming, and Angel held her knife at the ready, unsure of what this man was going to do. He was out of his mind. Something was wrong with his brain; he couldn’t be trusted. There were no answers for her there.

“Why did you say you were here again?” he asked, stopping short of where she was positioned.

“My friend—” But she was cut off.

“Hessians don’t have friends. You’re defective.”

“What are you talking about?” Now it was Angel’s turn to panic. This man knew far too much. Something was very wrong here. “My turn to ask questions, who are you?”

“I am a Guardian.” Scott deadpanned as he stopped three paces in front of her. Ice flooded Angel’s system as she began to breathe heavier and deeper. It hadn’t occurred to her that this might not have been a trap for Kelly at all but for her instead. Time seemed to slow down around her as her mind went into overdrive for an escape plan. She could feel the adrenaline about to hit her system and empower her to get away. She almost missed his next words.

“Or at least I used to be until they threw me out.”

“You’re a Rouge,” Angel muttered, dropping her guard. This man was a former Hessian who had left, abandoned the practice, and was on the run. That would, at the very least, explain why his mind seemed broken. It was a trait of Rouges these days.

If Scott had heard her, he appeared not to care. Scott seemed to look around the room for something before he continued. He reached for a wristwatch on the table behind Angel, muttering an “Ah, there it is” before looking at it.

“Good,” he commented, placing it around his wrist, “we have time.”

Scott turned and walked toward a door on the adjacent wall. It was only now that Angel realized this room had three doors—one that she had come in through in front of her, one to her left that was open a crack (and Angel could just make out a set of stairs climbing upward, most likely to Scotts living space above the shop), and one that Scott was opening now. Angel followed him slowly.

“Time for what?” she asked as he opened the door. Scott didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he began to walk down a flight of stairs into what might have been a basement.

Scott’s voice echoed back up to her as he made his way down the stairs. “You have to be back by dawn, do you not? We will need to be quick about it, but we have enough time for me to help reinstate some blocks before you go. It is what you came here for, correct?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Angel commented as she followed him down. The staircase turned halfway down at a landing, and the wall was covered in blue light dancing across its surface, almost like…

“It’s called the memory pool, or at least the original is,” Scott commented as she rounded the corner and descended the last five steps. The basement was taken up for the most part by an in-ground swimming pool. It was relatively shallow, probably only three feet deep, and it couldn’t have been more than six or seven feet across its center. Located in the center of the pool was a metal chair, partially submerged and looked like it was a reclining one. Scott was standing in the water next to the chair, unaffected by the fact that his clothing was getting soaked.

“Why is it called a memory pool?” Angel asked, stopping short of the water in front of the stairs that descended into it.

“You have to enter the pool,” Scott commented, ignoring her question. Angel glared at him and did as she was instructed. He motioned for her to sit in the chair. And given that her body was attempting to float, it was rather difficult to do so, but she tried anyway. When she was seated, Scott strapped her arms and legs to the chair and pushed against the back of the chair above her shoulders to lower it into a reclined position in the water.

Scott’s voice was muffled above her as he spoke, “Just listen to the sound of my voice. Close your eyes. You don’t have to focus on the words, just the sound it makes.” Angel’s eyes slid closed as she felt his hand rest on her forehead, keeping her ears below water. “This pool works as a submersion tank for a version of hypnotism. It works much better to suppress memories and emotions than the drug they use, less breaking of the brain. Just lie back and listen to the sound of my voice.”

That was the last of what Angel could make out. After that, all she could really hear was the water trickling into her ears. She could feel the vibrations in the water from her breathing, from Scott shifting his stance. She could hear his deep voice above her, and then she felt all her worries drift away, all her problems gone. She was a Hessian Recruit, and that was all she needed to know.

Angel felt Scott’s hand leave her head, and the chair raised from the water. Her blond hair was dripping rivers down her soaked clothing. Scott was smiling at her. And Angel just looked back at him.

“How do you feel?” Scott asked. Then he frowned and quickly stated, “Don’t answer that. Sorry, stupid question.”

Scott unlatched her wrists and ankles, and Angel slowly stood up. Her balance was lost for several seconds as she attempted to regain her bearings.

“The reorientation process can take a minute,” Scott commented, noticing Angel’s disorientation and unease. “I should warn you, the barriers won’t hold. Something about you is different. I can’t close everything down and lock it away like the others…almost like him.”

Angel cast a glance at Scott. “Him?” she asked.

Scott looked down at his feet and, in the process, looked at his watch. His eyes widened in shock, and he turned and began to run up the stairs. “You’re low on time,” he called back. Angel was confused for a second. Why was he afraid? And then she remembered the Hessians. She was away from the academy, and she hadn’t even found Kelly yet. Angel ran up the stairs after him.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Scott was pulling a coat on over his soaked clothing. He cast a glance at her and spoke, “We don’t have a lot of time. I can drive you to forest road, but from there, you’re on your own.” Scott approached the last door in the backroom, and Angel realized she had missed yet another thing in this room. The door didn’t immediately open to a staircase. Like the one to the basement, it had a door built into the wall as soon as you stepped into the short hall. The store had a back door.

Angel followed Scott out to a back street and over to an old gray car parked right outside the door. “If you visit again,” Scott commented, unlocking the door for her and then walking around to the driver’s side, “use this back door. It’s a lot safer than coming through the front.”

Angel nodded and slid into her seat. The car started with a loud rumble from the muffler. The tailpipe might have been disconnected or something because cars were never in good condition if they were this loud. The ride was silent though over the roar of the car, and Scott came to a stop near the path that Angel had come down on.

“How…?” Angel began, but Scott cut her off.

“All in good time, and time is not something you have right now. Come see me again when these walls start to break,” Scott commented, tapping on her forehead as he did so. Angel frowned and got out of the car. She was about to walk away from the closed door when he stopped her. “I almost forgot. This is yours.” Scott passed her the knife through the window he had rolled down.

Again, Angel went to ask him a question, and again, he cut her off. “You need to get moving. I’ll be seeing you soon. I’m sure of that. Now go!”

With that, Scott pulled off and drove down the road. Angel stood there for a second before running back up the hill. She reached the school just as the moon passed below the trees. Stopping for a second, she remembered Scott’s words. How many schools have bars on the windows? Angel looked at the windows as if for the first time and realized that they did in fact have bars on them. As she entered the school through the rubble, she began to feel more like a prisoner than a student.