Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles) (7 page)

“Support your Warrior Eagles this Friday!”

Bets and I turn to see the distraction in the form of a chirpy cheerleader. The red and black uniform she wears is two sizes too small, showing off her tiny midsection, and the skirt barely covers her black bloomers. Her bleached blonde hair is put up in pigtails with red and black ribbons tied on the ends. She's your typical, ditzy cheerleader, and when she hands us each a flier that states the time of the pep rally and game, an image crosses my mind—the image of me tearing off her cute little pigtails and shoving them down her puny little throat. A bit harsh, I know, but sometimes it's hard to squelch the built-up rage in my system. Rather than the situation resulting to violence, I take a deep breath and direct my anger onto the flier.

Ripping the bright red flier in two directly in the girls face I respond, “I'd rather drill screws into my skull than show up at some moronic, adolescent waste of time!” I throw the two halves in the air, my eyes never leaving hers. Shock covers her face like a mask and her cheery lips transform into a frown. She covers her mouth with her hand and runs away, her blonde pigtails swishing back and forth.

Facing Bets again I see that she's watching the girl push through the crowd, her expression thoughtful. Then her face brightens when she smiles and her eyes come back to me.

“I just figured it out!” she cries excitedly. “You've got PMS!”

“
Yeeaah
,” I reply, cracking a grin, “that's it.” Actually that's not my problem. The truth is I have no clue what the problem is. Thankfully the bell rings for first period, bringing our conversation to a steaming halt.

“See you at lunch Gracie-Baby! Oh, FYI, Billy may sit with us today.” Leaning closer she whispers, “Also, for your sake, keep your foot out of cheerleader bums today.” She winks, spins around on her heels, and skirts off to her Biology class.

With a sigh I walk the other way, trudging down the hall which is quickly becoming empty. Students scurry around like mind-controlled rodents, eager to get into their boring routines. There's a few stragglers hanging in the hall, and when I walk by I hear them whisper and snicker to each other. I figure they're talking about my albino-like skin and hair, or my black clothes and pierced eyebrow. Good thing I don't care what these idiots think of me.

Anyway it's high school, and high school sucks. End of discussion.

Entering my first class of the day, English Lit, I make my way down the aisle, keeping my eyes lowered to the ground. My desk is in the very back of the room, away from everyone else. I sit down and throw my twenty pound textbook on the desk. Even though I'm the social deviant in school and very proud of the title, I can't help but feel a touch of jealously. Watching my fellow classmates laughing and conversing together makes me realize how unfair life is. They seem so happy and content, comfortable with their places in life, having no clue they're being targeted by demons. That their very souls are in danger.

They have no clue that monsters are alive and well on this earth, stalking them and waiting for them to fall into their designated traps.

They have no clue that I'm part of a group that's dedicated to saving lives; They have no clue that I'm here to protect them from their own stupidity.

I wonder...

If they knew the truth about who I really was, would they treat me different? Or would they continue to think that I'm just some out-of-touch
G
oth chick with an attitude problem?

Yeah, most likely that last one.

Zavebe's words echo in my mind: You are better than they are. Why do you risk your life for these pathetic beings?

Yes, why
do
I risk my life for them?

For a brief moment I believe his words. Gazing around, taking in my surroundings, I suddenly feel superior over every person in the room. Who do they think they are, treating me like I'm dirt underneath their fingernails? If I chose to I could join Zavebe and make every single person here my slave, and the ones who didn't conform to my rules would be snapped in half and—

Whoa! What is my problem?

A shudder rips through me and I zip up my black hoodie, wrapping my arms around myself. A wave of nausea crashes into me, then quickly recedes. What is wrong with me? Why had my thoughts turned so evil and malicious? I'd been created to
protect
humanity, not destroy it.

The encounter with the fallen angel had definitely done something wicked to me. Zavebe's words had left a damning mark on my soul, twisting my thoughts and wants, trying to turn me against the ones I've been chosen to fight for. The only choice I have is to speak to mom as soon as possible on this matter. She's the only one that can help me get my priorities back on track, and maybe give me a little background on Zavebe.

If she'd ever open up, that is.

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The bell rings, signaling for all classes to start. As the teacher walks in I prepare myself to listen to her boring, nonsensical lectures. But before the door closes a new student enters the classroom. His eyes catch mine and my heart falls flat to the floor.

The new guy is a Night Viper.

81

Silver Mortal

chapter 7

My hands grip the bottom of my seat as I struggle to stay calm, the Silver Eagle waking within me. My enemy just walked in, anger and fear rising in my chest, though another feeling began rising above all the others. One I could not explain.

Security.

One of my number one powers is the gift of discerning whether people are good or bad. This Viper in particular didn't make my stomach quiver with rage. Instead I feel this one will not harm the Untouched, which is extremely strange since we are sworn enemies. But that couldn't be right. How can I feel anything but hatred toward this foul human who has been touched by such wickedness?

Keeping my eyes focused on him and only him, I watch as he walks up to the teacher's desk, flipping his dark shoulder-length hair out of his tanned face. He smiles, handing the teacher a piece of paper. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the new student, most likely wondering if he's eighteen yet. The two of them converse a moment before she turns to the rest of the class and smiles, her eyes a little glazed over.

“Class,” she begins in a chirpy voice, propelling her to clear her throat, “we have a new student joining us today. Everyone say hello to Phoenix Brooks.”

A few mumbled hellos resound through the classroom. The Viper—Phoenix—smiles, his teeth bright white against his sun-kissed complexion. No one can see the coiled black viper just underneath his skin, located on his right cheek. No one but yours truly. Giggles from across the room erupt from a small group of cheerleaders, all gazing at him with flirtatious expressions scribbled on their faces. I can't stop the roll of my eyes, the nauseating scene making me want to hurl.

Sure this Phoenix guy is cute, but he's not what the high school girls called “all that”. He's tall, about six feet, toned, and his hair is dark brown and straight, falling just above his shoulders. His black t-shirt and jeans fit him to a perfect tee and...alright, I'll say it. This guy is
gorgeous
will a capital
G.
But seeing what others don't and knowing he's potentially the most dangerous person in school (besides me) makes me cringe with discomfort. Also seeing immature girls fawn all over him meant my job was about to get much harder.

I have to contain a shout of disagreement when the teacher says, “There's a couple of empty desks in the back. Please take your pick and we'll get started.”

Great. Just great. Because I'm an outcast and people are turned off by my less-than-lovable personality, of course there's a couple of empty desks next to mine. Not only is my enemy in my class, but he's also going to sit right next to me.

Freaking unbelievable.

“Yes ma'am,” he replies, and I nearly lose my breakfast when the same girls giggle some more. I'm sure they're reacting this way because of his deep, silky voice. Even the teacher is spellbound by his presence.

I watch...no,
everyone
watches as he glides smoothly down the aisle and settles in the desk to the left of mine. As he sits the desk makes a creaking sound, then he lets out a sigh. I shoot daggers at him through my eyes, hoping my glare looks as menacing as I feel. Evidently it's not. He smiles at me, showing off his perfect teeth.

Hurriedly I turn away, but before I do I see how dark his eyes are, as dark as black ink. For a moment I think about how good looking he is. But only for a moment. The black viper sitting beneath his skin helps to keep my guard up, reminding me that no matter how innocent he may seem on the outside, the inside holds a monster eager to steal human souls for the dark side.

I still felt disturbed, and this is the reason: He was here, in my presence, my silver eagle blood burning and anticipating a fight, yet something is different.
He's
different. Out of all the other Vipers I've come in contact with, this one seemed not to be a threat.

Most Vipers I've encountered in the past have had evil rolling off of them in tidal waves, but Phoenix's feelings seem more docile. Sitting in my desk, just inches away, all I can feel rolling off of him is peace, sadness, and loneliness, which are three emotions I would never match up to a Viper. It strikes me as strange; it confuses the ever-loving crap out of me. Until I figured all this mess out I'd have to really pay attention to this guy, and also find out if he's connected to the blond Viper that knows my name.

The teacher is in the middle of a coffee-driven lecture when Phoenix grabs my attention.

“Psst! Hey, you got a pen I can borrow?” he whispers.

I turn my head and glower at him. “
What
?”

“A pen,” he replies, gesturing with his hand.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath. I pull a pen out of my book bag and start to hand it over when I “accidentally” drop it on the floor. As he leans down to retrieve it I mimic his moves, getting right in his face. His hand touches the pen just as my hand smacks down on top of his.

Time to lay down the law...
my
way.

“I don't know where you came from or why you're here, but I know exactly what you are.” My whisper is harsh but I don't care. I squeeze his hand until my knuckles turn white, continuing on with my threat. “If you lay a hand on anyone here I'll personally cut your head off. Do you understand where I'm coming from?”

He stares into my eyes before responding, his face a complete blank. “Meet me outside after class, in front of the school, on the steps. I'll explain everything.”

Again we stare at each other, my hand still baring down on his. I shoot him a funny look, tilting my head to the side.

“What, like, you want me to skip class?”

He smirks. “All the power in the world and you're
afraid to ditch class? Are you saying that
underneath
your
hard, tough exterior is a weak little girl?” His remark hits a nerve, so I pinch his hand, causing him to yelp like a puppy.

“Gracen? Phoenix?” the teacher calls from the front of the classroom, a hint of worry salting her voice. “Is everything alright back there?”

Quickly we sit straight up in our seats, pitching our gazes forward. My face burns with coarse abashment when the whole class turns around and stares at us. I try to speak but my mouth is suddenly bone dry.

“Everything's fine,” Phoenix answers for the both of us. His short reply pleases her, so she continues on with her lecture. Thankfully the rest of the class turns their attentions back to the front, with the exception of a couple of girls giving me
go to
H
ell
looks.

I let a few minutes pass before telling him, “I'll meet you after class...
Viper
.”

“Good,” he says, adding, “We've got a lot to discuss, Gracen Potts.” I shake my head, gearing my attention back to the rambling teacher. How did he know my name?

“Un-
freaking
-believable,” I mumble, and when he laughs lightly my blood runs hot.

***

There's a chill in the air, the Fall wind trying its hardest to knock me down. I pull the hood of my jacket on and blow into my hands as I sit on the steps in front of the school's brick building. Second period has already started—I am officially ditching class, a first for me. Not that I'm afraid of being caught, it's just I've never had a reason until now to do it. And that reason is ten minutes late. Figuring he isn't coming I stand to my feet, deciding I may as well go to class. That's when shock jolts my body, my bones almost jumping from skin.

Leaning against the wall of the school is Phoenix Brooks. His arms are crossed and it appears he's been standing there awhile.

“Think I wasn't going to show?” he says with a smug smile.

“No,” I shoot back sarcastically. “I was still clinging to the hope of you
not
showing up.” His smile vanishes, twisting into a frown.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he tells me, narrowing his dark eyes.

I tilt my head back in defiance. “I don't accept your apology.”

Again we find ourselves in a staring match, each waiting for the other to make the first move. When I say move, I mean speak, and I so didn't want to be the one to break the ice. He had asked to meet me, so he should be the one to speak first. Though after a few uneasy seconds of silence and the cold wind tearing through me, I force myself to break the uncomfortable barrier.

“Look, I'm freezing my butt off here,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself. “So if you want to talk, talk. If not, I'm going to class.”

“We can't talk here,” he states quickly. Shaking his head he adds, “They may be watching us.”

“
They
?” I reply, quirking an eyebrow. “Who are you talking about?” Before I can blink he stands beside me, his shoulder touching mine.

“Follow a few steps behind me,” he orders softly, pulling the hood of his black jacket over his head. He scans the buildings surrounding us, squinting against the bright sun as he takes them in with concern. “They're all over the city, searching for me and the others. If they know we've found you, we're done for.”

My heart thunders loudly in my ears, and before I can ask once again who “they” are, he brushes passed me, leaving me to stand there with my mouth wide open. I start following him a few steps later, keeping a good fifty feet behind him. My senses are on full alert, reaching out as far as they can go, searching for any signs of danger. Fortunately I sense no enemies except for the one I'm following—and strangely I don't sense any threat from him.

Odd. Very odd.

A couple of blocks later Phoenix enters Tony's Breakfast Bar. Nonchalantly I look around, then casually make my way across the street and enter the restaurant.

Once inside the eatery I scan the booths until I find the Viper. He's chosen the farthest booth in the back, which is a wise choice since most of the patrons have taken up the front booths. Walking slowly to the back my ears pick up on every noise in the busy restaurant—dishes and silverware banging together, obnoxious laughter, a cell phone ringing, the cook whistling, a toilet flushing. My head begins aching with all the ruckus that's part of everyday living. Seriously, having super hearing is not as fun as it sounds, especially if you're prone to migraines.

Sliding into the booth, I slip off my jacket and settle into the red-cushioned seat. He's staring at me, studying me, as if trying to peer into my brain. Which is never going to happen. Yes, he's powerful being a Night Viper, but he's not strong enough to read minds. Silver Mortals don't hold that power either, though we can sense feelings, and right now he's feeling anxiety and fear. His heart is fluttering wildly, and before he speaks I notice his hesitation. He's afraid the outcome of this conversation will not go too well. And that causes my already jittery nerves to explode into absolute distress.

“You hungry?” he questions, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“No,” I answer.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Because they have the best omelets this side of—”

Losing my cool, I reach across the table and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him halfway onto the table.

“Look,” I hiss, “I'm not hungry or thirsty or care about their stupid omelets. All I want is for you to start explaining yourself. If you don't start talking then you're wasting my time, and if you waste my time your chafing my nerves, prompting me to rip you a new one with my very long and very sharp knife.” I lean my head to the side, narrowing my eyes. “Is that what you want?” He stares calmly at me.

“I'm not your enemy,” he says softly. “I'll explain everything if you'll let me. Please. Let go.”

My eyes gaze down at my hands on his collar and it dawns on me that maybe I'm being a little too dramatic. Letting go of him, I slump back down in my seat. He does the same, straightening his shirt and running a hand through his disheveled hair. I feel bad for being so harsh, immediately regretting my overreaction, but not bad enough to apologize.

“Are you normally this irate?” he inquires, his eyes flashing across the restaurant.

I shrug my
shoulders
, slumping over as a weary feeling flits through my body
. “Only when I'm sitting with the enemy.”

“Gracen, I'm not your enemy!” he exclaims, appearing flustered. His reaction brings a smile to my lips.

“Prove it,” I push relentlessly, adding, “Start talking or I'm gone.”

“Fine,” he replies through gritted teeth. “But promise me you'll keep an open mind about what I'm saying and listen to every word.”

“Sure,
why not
,
” I tell him, again shrugging my tired
shoulders.

He shakes his head. “No, you've got to promise me.”

Rolling my eyes I concede with, “I promise.”

“Good. That's good.” He clears his throat. “First let me put this out there. I'm not like others of my kind. I'm not as evil and vicious as you think, and I'm telling you this because I know you're going to have a hard time believing what I tell you.” He pauses, looking directly in my eyes; I nod for him to continue. “I don't want to be a Night Viper. I don't like to cause others pain, I don't want to be the cause of any suffering mankind goes through. I don't like to lie, cheat, and I absolutely loathe demons.”