Origins (A Demonkin Novel) (9 page)

"Good night, Ashlyn," Doctor Gibbs said and laughed at his own joke.

The two of them left through my door and I watched it close behind them. I tossed my backpack in the closet and stripped out of my clothes. I tossed them in a pile by the desk and opened the top drawer and found the little combination lock. I followed the directions on how to open the thing and memorized the combination. After putting it through the locking rings and snapping it shut, I had secured my cash and clothes away for the day. I felt exhaustion creep back into my limbs, so I walked over to the bed and lay down on top of the blue coverlet. I yawned and thought about putting on a tee-shirt in case someone came in. Eek, a naked vampire! I laughed and my brain finally shut down for the day and I fell asleep, never making it to the closet for my T-shirt.

Chapter 8

Incessant knocking finally woke me several hours later. I glanced over and found a small digital clock next to the bed and saw it read after seven. I dragged my exhausted carcass from my bed and headed to the door. I caught my reflection in the full length mirror mounted on the door before I opened it, and thank gods I had. I looked at a reflection of a naked me. My fuzzy brain told me I had put clothes on last night, but obviously I had been dreaming.

"Hold on a second!"

I opened the closet after fumbling with the annoying little combination lock, and fished out some clean jeans and a T-shirt. It represented the last of my clean clothing. I needed to do some laundry if I didn't want to start recycling dirty clothes. I fumbled with the jeans and finally succeeded in pulling them on over my hips. The T-shirt presented a much easier task. Once on, I walked back over to the door and turned the heavy silver knob. It clicked when I turned it so it must automatically lock. I would have to remember to grab a key whenever I left.

I pulled the door open and Agent Walker stood there waiting. He had his arms crossed and his hands gripped his extraordinarily taut biceps. He had on sweats and an FBI T-shirt again, but with my eyes I could tell he wore a different set than he had on last night. The shirt seemed a little tighter to start with, and the pants he had on last night had a hole about the size of a match head right above his right knee. His attention seemed focused on something down the hall when I opened the door, but when he heard it swing open, he turned his torso and faced me.

"Good evening, Ashlyn. Are you ready to go?

"Sure, give me a minute. Come on in."

I held the door for him as he crossed the threshold. He sat down on the desk chair and crossed his legs while I put on a clean pair of socks and my tennis shoes. I locked up my closet and turned, ready to go.

"Do you need to use the lavatory?" I shook my head no. One of the greatest advantages of being me, is that I didn't need potty breaks and I woke up without morning dragon breath. I rarely even showered, unless I had been playing in the dirt. My body had no scent or sweat glands so it just wasn't necessary. Although, I will admit, I did like the feel of standing under the water.

"Where are we headed?"

"Since classes don't start till tomorrow, we're going to get you your standard issue FBI training clothes and essentials. We need to hurry though. A lot of the offices stay open all the time, such as processing and medical, but some don't. Provisioning is one of them. They close at eight o'clock, so come on."

"Let's go, I'm ready."

We headed out the door of my room and proceeded to leave the dorm. The provisioning department lay nestled on the bottom floor of a building I hadn't been to before. We walked in and met a middle aged man in green camouflage. Hat, jacket, and pants in olive greens and browns from top to bottom shouted military.

"Staff Sergeant, I have another recruit for you," Agent Walker said to the man in green.

"This little thing is your new agent in training? The FBI sure picks 'em before they're ripe. You sure you don't want to let her grow a little first?"

"Nah, they're harder to train when they're ripe. Too set in their ways like most marines I know."

I watched the banter between the two as it continued for several minutes. The marine insulting the FBI, the FBI making fun of the intelligence quotient of the marines, and then they switched to insulting each other's maternal lineage. I found it all quite fascinating. Then the testosterone levels became a little too high in the room for me though. I coughed just a little to "clear my throat" and they both turned their attention to me. I smiled apologetically at each of them, but my ploy worked.

The staff sergeant turned behind him and started looking through cubbies of sweats and shirts. He found my size and plopped down five T-shirts in cellophane packaging and five pairs of folded sweat pants. He returned to the cubbies and grabbed what looked like two sweatshirts and added them to my pile. A bag of tube socks went on top of my growing stack as well as a pair of running shoes. The shoes being the only item he asked what size I preferred. He did a double take when I told him a size eight. My foot is actually a six, but if I didn't want my claws poking through the front of my shoe, I needed an eight.

After he deposited the shoes, he pulled a black nylon shoulder holster from a storage locker. I could identify it only from watching late night episodes of NYPD Blue. I did have a problem though, I had never witnessed someone put one on in the television show. It wasn't wrapped or boxed so I had a feeling I would have to give it back after training. While I stared at the contraption, the Staff Sergeant disappeared around a corner. I heard a large metal door swing open and then close again with a large bang, and then the Gunnery Sergeant came back into the room with a box in his hands.

He placed the box on the counter with the rest of my gear. He pulled a sheet of paper off the top of his desk area and set it and a pen in front of me. He told me to sign for the weapon and placed the sheet of paper in a file folder on his desk. He moved to another storage closet on the back room of the hall and opened it. He pulled out a pair of safety glasses with yellow lenses still in their blister pack, and a water bottle with belt and clip. Again the items made their way to my growing pile. I grabbed the water bottle and handed it back to him. He placed the item back on my pile and turned away before I could hand it back to him again.

He made his way back to the desk and grabbed a different form. He placed it on the counter and began checking boxes next to items. When he finished he turned the sheet around and told me to sign this one as well. I complied and thought about trying to give him back the water bottle I would never use, but just gave up on it. I would just give it a home in my closet.

"You're done, miss, you have it all," he said as he pulled a plastic bag from underneath the counter for me to put the various items in. "Thanks for shopping at FBI mart. Flip the closed sign on your way out would you, Walker?"

"Come on, Ashlyn. Let's get all this stuff back to your room. Is there anything else you need? We could stop by the campus store," Walker said to me.

"Actually I do need a few things. Let me take this to my room first and let me grab some cash. Wait right here." I walked around the corner and vamped it up. I shot back to the dorm in a few seconds and then had the door open and the items stowed away in a few more. I wanted to blend in as much as possible so I stripped my clothes and threw on the tee and sweatpants combo and changed my shoes and socks. I grabbed a handful of twenty dollar bills and stuffed them in a pocket with my room key and stood in front of Walker in less than a minute.

"Ready?" I know I had acted a little childish showing off for the hunky agent, but I'm still a teenage girl. He gave me a double take and looked around to see if anybody else saw my little stunt. Satisfied no one else was around, he just shook his head at me.

"Ashlyn, your class is going to be mostly made up of supes, and it's fine for you to be more than human during training like on the obstacle course, or hand to hand combat, but not around the campus. We consider what you did showboating for the norms and they don't like seeing it on a daily basis, okay?"

I felt my heart sink about six inches lower in my chest. I wanted to impress Walker not end up the recipient of a lecture. I knew he wasn't normal; I could smell it on him. "Okay. What kind of supe are you anyway?" I could tell he wasn't expecting it either.

"I'm a werewolf. How did you know?"

"I can smell it on you. It's what makes me different from other vampires. I can't feed off of "normal" humans. I can only drink from supes. If it's someone I can feed from, I catch a "scent" from them." I watched his face for any signs of revulsion, but I found only sympathy.

"You don't like being a vampire do you? I can hear it in your voice. How long have you been one? How long did it take you to get use to it?"

"I don't know. I've always been a vampire. I have never been human," I replied. Telling people I was a vampire kept getting easier every time I did it. I saw a confused look from Agent Walker, so during our walk to the campus store I told him my story. I really needed to get a digital tape recorder and record my story. Then I could just hit "play" and let it run in the background. I could even add some sad music and kind of make it like my "theme" song. I could play it whenever I walked into a room!

We had reached the store long before I finished with my story, so we waited outside for the remainder of it. I decided I liked Walker, even after his little lecture earlier, so I had hopes for a "Gosh you've had a rough life, if there's ever anything I can do for you," but all he said was, "Wow."

"Thanks," I said back to him with just a modicum of sarcasm.

I turned from him and entered the store. I heard him come in behind me and tell me he had to pick up a few things too. The store carried mostly snack items (for humans) the sort of items you would find in a drug store. Medicines for ailments I would never have to worry about, and bandages for people whose wounds didn't close up before their eyes and other much more mundane items like magazines and books, upright coolers with glass doors so you could see the merchandise without opening, shoelaces, and shoe polish, and aisles of "best sellers", mouthwash, toothpaste, and deodorant. I didn't need any of them, but I did like to brush my teeth. Wouldn't want to give somebody a neck infection, I always used to joke to myself.

I grabbed a pink toothbrush with hard bristles (I hate the soft ones) and a tube of minty whitening toothpaste. I wouldn't want to end up with yellow fangs. I went in search of what I really came in for, brassieres and underwear.

I found them in the rear of the store by the men's boxers and briefs. I wasn't expecting a "Victoria's Secret" but what I did see bordered on the pathetic, sports bras and granny panties. Oh well, it's not like Agent Walker had plans to ask to see them anyway. I grabbed a six pack of each and stuffed them under my arm. I don't know why I bothered with them anyway. Due to my unique physiology, I don't get my "monthly visitor", so feminine hygiene wasn't an issue for me, nor did I urinate in anyway. I probably had no reason, other than modesty, to wear them at all. Maybe I should give them up for Lent. As for brassieres, let's just say I suffered from a hellacious mammary deficiency. I wasn't completely flat, but I would never end up with back issues either. Let's just say I'd never end up with a job as a stripper. If it weren't for my nipples I wouldn't even wear one.

Purchases in hand, I walked up to the register. I did stop along the way and pick up my one weakness, romance novels. I didn't realize it until I set the little book down the man on the cover art looked just like Agent Walker. I had just looked at the title and author. I had recognized the author and enjoyed her work. My aunt had been addicted to romance novels as well. If it weren't for her I wouldn't be hooked. Romance novels and medical journals occupied my life until the invention of the internet and Amazon.com.

I placed the remaining items on the counter and looked up at the cashier, a lovely middle aged woman of African heritage. She looked at my novel selection and smiled, and scanned the rest of my items and shoved them in a plastic bag with the words "thank you" printed on the front. She told me how much and I handed her the money. As waited for my change, Walker came up behind me and put his candy bar, soda, and gun magazine down on the counter. I took my bag and stepped aside to let him check out. When he had his items in hand we left the store and headed back out into the cool night.

"I've got to get over to processing. Your class is seven recruits shy and the first of them will be here in about an hour. Feel free to explore, but don't leave the fence. We're situated on a Marine base, and they love to catch recruits where they shouldn't be. If you've got nothing to do and don't feel like exploring, you could come with me and help me get everyone situated in your rooms."

"Helping sounds like more fun than sitting in my room. At least I'll get to meet my classmates," I said as we started walking. "By the way, how is this going to work? Am I going to be trained separately from the rest of the class since I can't go out during the day?" Enquiring minds (mostly mine) wanted to know.

"Every month we start three classes. The first two classes are strictly human agents. Each class is separated by about a week with about ten to fifteen recruits. The third class is mostly supes, and there are usually only about five to ten people, but believe it or not, most supes will be working the night hours when they become agents so we prefer to train them at night, so you'll fit right in," he said and smiled.

We walked on in silence as I pondered the logic of their training schedule. We made it to the admin building without me even noticing and for the remainder of the night, I helped Walker shuffle recruits from medical to processing and then to their dorm rooms. I ended up with a young woman just a little older than me who smelled like rosemary as a roommate. She introduced herself as Rose Gates, and she had just finished her degree in criminal justice. She had been given the chance to apply for the FBI by her father, who worked as a Special Agent in New York. She didn't say much as I walked her to our room and I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about her raised my hackles. She wasn't anything but polite, and answered all my attempts at small talk, but something bothered me about the dark haired beauty. I let it go for the moment and returned to help Walker finish.