Authors: Jessica Sorensen
Still, I was the one asked to watch out for her and ten minutes into her first session, she blacked out and smacked her head on the floor. I should have been watching her more carefully. The first session as a Bellator is the hardest because it exerts the body more than we’re used to.
“Hi, Kayla” Maci says in a frail voice.
I pat her gently on the head, feeling a small connection with the kid because we’re both orphans. “How are you feeling?”
She gives a small smile. “Better. Maybe I can even go back to my room soon and get back to my training.”
I smile back, reassuringly, but I secretly feel sorry for her. The poor kid looks like death, and I don’t think returning to her room, or to her Bellator training, is in her near future.
Monarch feeds one of her tubes with a shot of black liquid. I watch it drift down the tube, disappearing into her skin. Her heart rate slows, until it’s nothing more than a soft murmur. By the time he’s finished, she sleeping again.
I hop onto a bed and roll up my sleeve for my shot. “Stab away.”
“Well that was quick trip to your room and back,” Monarch jokes, setting the needle down on the metal tray.
It is our little joke, my quickness. Because I’m fast—faster than any other Bellator. I return his smile, but barely. My thoughts lie elsewhere.
He takes a vial out of the glass cabinet, stabs the needle into the lid, and drains out the medicine. “So do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
I scratch at my arm, wanting to tell him, but knowing I won’t. “Nothing really. I just ran into a couple of vampires, but I managed to escape.” This is as far as I go with the story. Any more truth and my tongue will start to burn.
“I’m sorry you had to go out so close to night.” He flicks the needle, his fingers shaking with age. “If it wouldn’t have been an emergency, I wouldn’t have asked you to go.”
I glance over at Maci. “I know.”
“You didn’t tell anyone I sent you out so late, did you?” He asks.
I shake my head. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I sure hope so,” he mutters. He wipes my upper arm with alcohol and points the needle at it. “You know, you can tell me if something else happened? You know that, right?” He says, but he’s scared I actually will.
“Nothing else happened,” I say. “I promise.”
Monarch nods, looking relieved. “Good, I’m glad it went well. Sometimes I feel guilty for having to send you out.” He sinks the needle into my arm.
“You don’t need to feel guilty. It’s what I was chosen to do, right?” My blood burns, my head sings, and the tile floor starts to sparkle. I lie down until my head stops humming an unknown tune. “Did a Higher come in here today with Bernard?”
Monarch tenses, his heart rate quickening. “You shouldn’t be asking those kinds of questions, Kayla.”
“I know,” I say, unsure of why I asked it. “Sorry, it was a momentarily slip up. I promise it won’t happen again.” Another lie. I know it; he knows it.
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he replies tensely. “You need to be more careful.”
“Have I?” I flop my hand over my forehead and block out the light. “So did something happen to Bernard? Was he punished?”
A shatter ripples the air. “I think you should go, Kayla.”
I sit up. Broken glass and pools of medicine sprinkle the floor. “Why? What’s wrong?”
Monarch stares at the fragments of glass and puddles of liquid. “Nothing. I just need to get this cleaned up.” He bends down and starts picking up the glass. His fingers, worn with age, are trembling. I bend down to help, but he shoos me away. “No. No. I can get this.”
“Let me help.” I reach for a piece of glass, but he flicks my hand away, panic shining in his grey eyes.
“Kayla, this stuff’s toxic,” he practically snaps. “You can’t touch it.”
I eye the various colors of liquid. “But you’re touching it.”
He lets out a sharp, anxious laugh. “I’ve been a doctor for so long, I’ve become immune to most of this.” He’s scared. Scared that I’ll find out something.
“Monarch, what’s wrong?’ I ask, stepping back from the mess. I bite my thumbnail. “You’re not acting like yourself. Is there something you’re afraid of?”
“Kayla, please go.” His voice is strained. “I’ve got too many things to do today to deal with this.”
“Well, if you’d let me help then—”
“Leave now.” His voice is as sharp as the glass. His eyes widen as he quickly collects himself. “Sorry, I’m just a little stressed. Why don’t you go get something to eat and get some rest? I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
I’m hardly exhausted and he knows it. But since he obviously wants me gone, I back toward the door. “Alright, I guess I’ll see you later then.”
He nods, but he’s not paying attention, picking up glass, lost in his troubles and fears. I pull the door open, but pause when I catch sight of a something silver and metallic. Bernard’s necklace. I pick it up from the counter. Black shapes and lines cover the plate. I haven’t seen words before, but I don’t think these are words. No, they look like numbers.
I turn the necklace in my hand, over and over again. It shimmers in the light, reminding me of the time at Lessons when Bernard knocked out the instructor, but only because the plate reflected into his eyes.
I don’t know what compels me to do it, but I glance over my shoulder, making sure Monarch’s not paying attention. Then I shove the necklace into my pocket.
“Kayla, please go,” He calls out with a heavy sigh.
“Sorry.” I leave, obeying just like I’m supposed to.
I sometimes have nightmares about the day I was found. Although Monarch assures me it didn’t happen this way. In it, I’m a breakable little girl with ash covering my skin. Fires roar up and down the streets and the air smells like burnt flesh. It’s a toxic smell and I can hardly breathe. I’m hugging a doll, with blonde curls and a flowery dress that matches my own. I walk down the middle of the street, my black shoes crunching against the debris. There are vampires everywhere, in the buildings, in the streets, blood pouring out of their eyes.
In the center of the street, not too far ahead, stands a little boy with dark hair and sparkling eyes. I hold out my hand to him, wanting to reach him, wanting to save him from the vampires. I’m scared—I can feel the fear coursing in my veins. But I just walk, one foot in front of the other, determined to get to the boy. Then Monarch materializes from nowhere and snatches me up. He’s wearing his white coat, stained with blood, and it blows in the wind like a cape.
“Shhh …” he says. “It’s okay. I’ll keep you safe.”
Then the vampires charge. Their sharp fangs snap out, and the blood dripping from their eyes splatters against the pavement.
That’s when I wake up.
I never get to see what happens next.
Or what happens to the boy.
I wake up drenched in sweat, the faint feeling of the nightmare lingering in my body. I’m not sure how long I’ve been out, but my stomach lets out a grumble. I climb out of bed and go to the cafeteria. There are too many people crammed in there at once and the air always stinks of all their fears and worries. Twelve tables hold at least ten people and every single person looks peaceful, content with life. As if they are more than happy to be here.
Tristan’s sitting at one of the center tables, talking with his parents. I’m hesitant to go over. Tristan’s parents have this idea in their head that Tristan and I will end up together. The idea overwhelms me. Yes, Tristan is a nice guy and everything and being with him would probably be perfect. But I’m not sure I want perfect.
Besides, I’m a Bellator, so my life expectancy is short. Especially if I’m chosen for The Gathering.
I stand in the middle of the cafeteria, holding my tray, until his parents leave.
“So are you going to tell me what happened last night during your little raid?” Tristan asks in a low voice the second I sit down.
I set my tray on the table and take a bite of my boiled potatoes, keeping my voice hushed so the Watchers won’t overhear us. “You’ve been sitting around, just waiting to ask me that, haven’t you?”
“You have me worried.” He smiles and gives my hair a playful tug. Then he lets his hand linger in my hair, twirling a stand around his finger. He’s been doing this a lot lately, little touches whenever he gets a chance. “You looked like such a mess when you showed up at the entrance ... and you look tired. Are your nightmares keeping you up again?”
I shake my head. During a weak moment, I broke down and told Tristan about my nightmare. I’ve regretted it ever sense because it’s all he worries about every time I see him. But it’s not worry for me, its worry for him. He fears the Highers will find out he’s been spending time with someone who can remember when the virus first spread, even if it’s just a nightmare.
I pick at the stale bread. “No, the nightmares have pretty much disappeared.”
He looks thankful and takes a bite of his peas. “Good. I’m glad.” He leans in close and puts his lips next to my ear. “You know I think you look beautiful, even when you look worn out.”
I should be flattered—feel the shivers Nina talks about—but I just feel trapped by these invisible chains. Still, I smile, hoping I don’t seem fake even though my lips feel like plastic.
He leans back and fidgets with his spoon nervously. “Can you meet me tonight?” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, scared I’ll reject what he wants. “There’s something I want to ask you.”
My body grows ridged. “I can’t tonight. Monarch needs my help with something.”
He frowns. “Well how about tomorrow morning?”
My insides twitch. I’m not ready for this. Not now. Maybe not ever.
He wraps his hand around mine. “Please, Juniper. It’s really important.” Then he flashes me a hopeful smile.
I stare at our hands, our fingers intertwined, knowing there should be more than what I’m feeling and wondering why there isn’t. “Okay, I’ll meet you tomorrow morning when I wake up.”
“At the clock tower,” he says, cheerfully squeezing my hand.
Not meeting his eyes, I nod. Then I stab my fork into my potatoes as the invisible chains are tugged tighter.
“So guess what I heard.” Nina plops down on the bench across from us, a devious sparkle in her emerald eyes. “Hold on.” She raises her hands in front of her dramatically. “I think I see something here.” She points a finger at us. “Were you two finally confessing your love for one another.” She laughs. “It’s about time.”
My head pounds, choking away my oxygen.
“Yep, you caught us.” Tristan yawns and puts his arm around my shoulder exaggeratedly. “That’s exactly what we were doing.”
I feign a smile, telling myself to breathe.
“Joke all you want.” She grins. “But one day you two will end up together. I just know it.”
Tristan squeezes my shoulder and gives me this knowing look. I should return the look. He’s kind, obeys all the rules, and is a great friend. But he deserves someone who is perfect, someone that isn’t me. He doesn’t need someone who secretly dreams of challenging the Highers one day, someone who is so … different. I’m not the person he thinks I am. I’m Kayla Juniper with no last name, no parents; the girl that can hear heartbeats and is never afraid, but can sense when others are.
A girl even vampires won’t touch.
Nina sweeps her honey-brown hair out of her eyes and starts chattering. But her voice is muffled as Monarch rushes into the cafeteria. He glances around frantically, searching for someone. At first I think it’s me, but his gaze skims over me and lands on Taggart. He waves Taggart over with urgency. Taggart is the Mortician of The Colony and I rise to my feet, thinking of Maci and wondering if she’s passed away.