Читать книгу Hunter - Sydney Robinson - Страница 7

Chapter One

The light of the full moon filled the room with light as bright as the morning sun. It was the curse of living in the western dorm; the light always filled the room and woke those on the edge of sleep. But then again, it wasn’t as if the room ever really saw people awake at an hour where this would prove a problem…until recently.

For the past month, Angel had watched the moon’s path across the night sky, which she could see sitting in the bay window of the dorm room. Almost like clockwork, she had awoken to see the very edge of the moon peeking around the upper edge of her window. On trained silent feet, she would cross the full expanse of the room, passing the twelve rows of beds, to sit curled up on the windowsill until the moon dropped below the tree line.

Angel didn’t think of anything really as she sat there; her mind was as quiet as it had always been, or at least as long as she could remember. It was odd, really. She knew, as everyone her age did, that they had a past, and yet much like everyone else in the school, she didn’t question the lack of one. In fact, she embraced it.

A shadow passed over the moon, and for a brief instant, Angel saw a soccer ball fly through the air and slam into a net. But she blinked, and it was gone. As it should be, they didn’t play soccer there; she wasn’t supposed to play soccer and honestly didn’t want to. Sports were a waste of time. She had seen several Guardians arguing about a football game in the yard once and had watched as one of the Elites had gone to speak to them about their loud tones.

The corners of Angel’s lips turned upward as she remembered this event, and she quickly brought her hand up to push her cheeks back down to a flat line before returning her attention to the world outside the window.

An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, yet it was close enough that she could hear it through the cool glass. Angel let her head rest against it as she hunted the pine trees that stood sentinel around the school, looking for the owl. Her headache worsened. It was the main reason she sat up at night. Every time she saw things in her sleep, she would wake up with a headache. The headaches had started to plague her during the waking hours as well, though she wasn’t sure why. As the trees swayed, blowing in the late winter wind that plagued the north this time of year, Angel was reminded of fire crackling in a harsh, dry heat, burning and consuming everything—the very fire that plagued her nightmares. It was coming for her. Angel pushed herself away from the window and fell to the hardwood floor of the dorm with a solid thump. Her legs, from the knees down, were still up on the bay windowsill.

Angel’s heart was racing; she could feel it beating in her chest faster than normal, almost faster than when she ran in the mornings. She inhaled sharply and then slowly let the air out through her nose, attempting to calm herself down. Once her breathing was back to normal, she slid her legs to the floor and eased herself to a sitting position.

Angel braced her elbows on the cushioned bench built into the window and watched the trees sway again, this time, unaffected by the afterimage of the flames. She didn’t understand where the image was coming from or why it bothered her so much. Something about it was wrong; she just didn’t know why. Well, no, that was incorrect; she knew why it was strange that she was having nightmares, because she had never had nightmares. Or if she did, they had never affected her this badly before.

Angel shook her head, causing her shoulder-length blond hair to fall in her face. She pushed it back behind her ears and climbed to her feet. The moon was almost behind the trees at this point, and not long after that, the morning bell would go off, waking the students for morning PT. Quietly Angel crossed the room again to her bed in the far corner. Crouching, she reached for the drawers under her bed, which housed the few possessions she owned, which amounted to seven sets of black pants, black shorts, white or gray T-shirts, gray pajama pants and navy pajama tops and two sets of shoes. These were regulated to her by the school, with her name written in Sharpie on the tag. Chores were traded off between the students, with the older kids doing the cooking and the younger ones doing the laundry on a regular basis. But Angel also had a nonregulation object stashed under one of her pj tops that she never wore. This object was a knife.

She had no idea where she had obtained it. It was old, with a sapphire embedded in the hilt (her birthstone, but it might have been just a coincidence). The knife was in a leather sheath that had the constellation Orion pierced into it. This she was sure was an allusion to her name in some way; it might have been for her last name from her life before. But they didn’t have last names at the school, no familiar ties or alliances. Not until assigned, that is, when you chose your last name.

“You shouldn’t be awake,” a female voice whispered from behind Angel. With a jump, Angel dropped the knife into her drawer. She grabbed the sides to steady herself and reassure her mind that no one was at the door. She rose to her feet just as the bell rang to wake up.

Angel crouched again and pulled a T-shirt and a pair of shorts from the top drawer. Carrying the bundle of clothes in her arms, she made a beeline for the door to the dorm. She reached for the door the same second that someone else did. Angel paused and looked up at the owner of the hand. Staring back at her was Erik, a black-haired boy who occupied the bed in the row across from her. Angel glared at Erik and clutched her clothes closer to her person.

“Is something the matter?” he asked. His green eyes alighted with curiosity, but his face remained stoic. Angel did not dignify his question with a reply. She couldn’t trust Erik; he seemed to be watching her. Every time the training seemed to slip, he was there studying her.

Angel blinked at him and reached for the door at the same time. She threw it open and made her way down the hall, clutching at her head as she did so. Angel passed through the carpeted hall heading to the bathroom. She had just opened the door and made her way to the shower when she realized she had forgotten her shower caddy and towel in her room. With a sigh, Angel dropped her clothing on the shelf in the shower and reached for the knob.

The warm water hit her hand as she tested the temperature. She could hear the sound of the other girls assigned to this wing of the complex enter the room. The sound of their feet hitting the tiles was all the noise that was made before five more showers turned on. Angel waited five minutes before stepping into the shower. Angel could feel her blond hair turning into a matted ball. She missed her shampoo and conditioner even more now than she ever had in her life. She attempted to run her fingers through it and maybe untangle some of the knots.

Realizing her attempt was pointless, Angel turned off the shower and pulled on her clean clothes. Angel balled up her dirty ones and walked out to the sink. Her toothbrush had been left behind as well. Cupping her hands, she splashed water on her face. As it dripped onto her shirt, leaving behind more water spots on a shirt that she thought was already as saturated as possible, Angel stared at her reflection. She traced the X-shaped scar that covered her face and crossed at the bridge of her nose. She had had the thing for as long as she could remember.

Angel pulled a hair tie from around her wrist and pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail. She looked down as she did so and was struck with yet another realization, one that was much more problematic—she had forgotten her shoes in her dorm. What was wrong with her this morning? Blaming it on her dreams, but also silently thanking them for waking her early enough to have the time to run back, Angel stuffed her dirty pajamas down the laundry shoot and ran to her dorm.

Her bare feet thudded on the carpeted floor, echoing just as loudly as her heart beat in her chest. This was worse than anything she could have possibly done in the past. Not only was she running in the halls of the school but she was also forgetting things. Ashlin’s words rang in her ears as she ran, recalling the last time something like this had happened.

Elika, a new girl several years ago, had left her bag in one of Ashlin’s classes. She had run back to get it, but in the process, she had not only interrupted the class taking place but was also late to her own.

“Insolence like this will get you killed,” Ashlin had commented as he held the bag to Elika. The girl had meekly taken her bag back, hoping that her hair fell in her face to conceal that she had been crying. Ashlin would have none of that and had barked at her to look him in the eye when he was talking to her. Terrified, Elika had looked up, and upon seeing her crying, Ashlin had taken her to the Council room. Angel wasn’t really sure what had happened to her after that, except she wasn’t there anymore.

Thankfully, her dorm was close, and she reached it within two minutes. She grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open, quickly darting inside. Angel paused long enough to catch her breath when the door was shut behind her before walking into the dorm and heading for her bed. Angel’s hand had just reached her shoes when a voice cut the silence.

“Shouldn’t you be down at the track?” the same voice from earlier asked. Angel once more jumped and turned to look behind her. Sitting on one of the beds across the room right next to the bay window was a girl around her age. Angel couldn’t remember seeing her around much. She might have been a year older than her, but then she did also look vaguely familiar. Angel fought to block the information dump that her mind almost instinctively took in upon meeting a new person.

The girl unfolded her crossed legs and stood up. She was shorter than Angel, but her face was crueler. Her short black hair looked like it was cut with a razor or a dull pair of scissors. She stalked across the room slowly to stand in front of Angel. She stuck her hand out almost robotically and looked at Angel expectantly. Angel didn’t move; she looked at the girl’s hand then at her face in confusion.

“You shake it,” the girl said, looking at Angel. She sighed and took Angel’s hand forcefully and placed it in her own. Giving it a shake, she smiled at Angel. “I’m Ashlee.”

Angel ripped her hand back and turned to her bed. “I know how to shake hands,” she muttered.

Ashlee made a sound behind her, and Angel turned to look at her. The other girl had her head thrown back and was holding her stomach. She was making that sound again, almost like she was gasping for air. Angel shook her head. Idiot, she thought to herself, she’s laughing.

“That’s good to know,” Ashlee commented. “I was afraid you all were zombies or something. Come on, we have to get down to the track.”

Ashlee grabbed hold of Angel’s wrist and pulled her along. Angel broke free of her grasp and slid on her shoes.

“My name’s Angel by the way,” Angel commented as she ran to catch Ashlee.

“I know,” Ashlee replied as they caught up to the other students in the entry hall. The students stood in silence as they waited for one of the Elites who would be watching over their PT to show up.

Much like every morning, Angel took the time to study the high ceilings of the room. The door was a double heavy oak one, and Angel suspected that this was once a mansion that only a few people lived in. She knew the school was old, as was the town close by, but she never really had given the past of the building a thought until she was standing in the foyer.

“Why does no one talk?” Ashlee whispered in Angel’s ear. Angel cast a sidelong glance her way as Sara, their Elite instructor for the morning, entered. The group moved outside, guided by Sara, toward the track. Angel pondered Ashlee’s question as they walked. Why did no one talk? As she considered it, more questions formed in her mind, one echoing louder than the others. Why was she only now beginning to care?