The Hidden (The Hidden Trilogy) (4 page)

“
Now
they’re listening.” That almost-smile tugged at his lips, and I wanted to smack it off his dumb, beautiful face. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. Just forget I asked.”

This guy was obviously not right in the head. I resumed copying notes, mumbling, “Okay, I will.”

He laughed quietly. “I thought you’d be different, but you’re not, are you? You’re just like the rest of ’em.”

Just like the rest of
whom
? I set my pen down and stared at him. “
What
are you talking about?”

He gave me a sour look. “Oh, don’t give me that. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

I threw my hands up in the air, laughing in disbelief. “Dude, what is your deal?”

“My
deal
is that you’re–”

“
What?
” we both snapped to the people in front of us, who had turned around once more. Their eyes widened at our outburst and they sunk down into their seats as they looked back to the front.

He scowled and started copying notes. “Forget it.”

“This is a joke, right? Did Beth put you up to this?”

He stopped writing and looked up. “Who is
Beth
?” he asked, pronouncing her name like it’d left a bad taste in his mouth.

I stared him down for another few seconds, scrutinizing his face. He seemed to be telling the truth. And he seemed just as confused as I was, if his expression was any indication.

My features were grim as I faced forward. “Whatever.”

My eyes flicked over to the girl several times during class. I couldn’t help it. She was like a festering sore I couldn’t stop picking at.

She wanted to blow me off and act like she had no clue what I was talking about? Fine.
Excuse me
for trying to make conversation with the one goddamn Healer I’d come across in the last few decades. I was such an asshole.

As Her Highness gathered her things after class, she avoided eye contact–probably trying to pretend the big, mean man sitting next to her didn’t exist. I
should
have left without dignifying her little tantrum with a response, but I just couldn’t do it. Something in me needed to pick at the sore and see what came out.

I leaned forward and she paused, her eyes watching me from the corners. Lowering my voice, I whispered, “Just so you know, bitchiness is not an attractive quality. You should probably work on that.”

The look on her face was priceless–a mix of shock and indignation–and was exactly what I’d aimed for. I stuck my pen behind my ear, smirking as I stood up and walked past her. The humans in the crowded aisle next to her parted as I left the classroom and walked into the hall.

Damn, that felt good.

Chapter Three

It took a second to get over his verbal slap in the face, and I sat there, shocked.
I
was the bitchy one? Did that
seriously
just happen?

Heat blazed across my skin as I tensed, my nails digging into my palms as my fists clenched. I bit my bottom lip until I tasted blood, trying to refrain from giving in to what my middle school counselor called my “violent tendencies.” At least that’s what he wrote in my permanent record. It also stated that I bite.

The Incident, as it came to be known, happened in sixth grade, when I was eleven and Chris Donaldson kicked my chair as he walked past my desk. It was an accident–I knew that–but at the time, I didn’t care. Something inside me snapped, and rage filled me within half a second.

I got out of my seat and lunged at Chris, knocking him down to the ground and pinning him there as I beat the living hell out of him. It took three teachers to pry me off and now each one had a crescent, mouth-shaped scar courtesy of yours truly.

Was I sorry? Absolutely. Chris Donaldson didn’t deserve that. I
still
felt like shit for what I did to him, and I always would. I really couldn’t explain why it happened, either. I remembered every second of it, but it was like someone else had taken over me.

And the really fucked-up thing was that a small part of me enjoyed it. It
enjoyed
making someone my bitch. I mean, what the hell, right?

Thankfully, it had never happened again. Sure, there were times I’d get really upset and just want to break everything in sight, but who didn’t feel a little stabby every once in a while?

However, this guy was seriously asking for a fist to the face.

Before I could stop myself, I flung my bag over my shoulder and ran into the crowded hallway. I had no idea which direction he went. I stood on my tip-toes, trying to scan the top of the crowd, and finally spotted him through the exit doors, heading down the outside steps.

I ran after him, weaving in and out of people, but it was only when I caught up to him that I realized I didn’t know what to say. I was so mad and infuriated that I was at a loss for words. After all, how could you articulate the desire to nut-punch someone?

I settled with the first thing that came to mind.

My skin tightened at the sound of rushing feet behind me.

It’s not who you think it is. It’s not–

The girl’s shrill, demanding voice broke through my train of thought. “
What
the fuck?
” She grabbed my arm, and I tensed, causing her to release me.

My nostrils flared as I seethed in silence. “Your eloquence makes up for your lack of common decency, no doubt about it.”

“What the hell is your problem? You don’t even know me!”

I knew enough. She was just like the rest of them–spoiled, manipulative, and completely narcissistic. In other words, she was not worth my time, not worth wasting the air in my lungs just to tell her to go to hell.

But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t feel good. I turned to face her, not bothering in the slightest to mask my contempt. “I doubt there’s much to know.”

She gasped as her eyes widened.

Good. It was about time she got the message that not everyone was going to ask “how high?” whenever she said “jump.” Only…shouldn’t she look more angry or offended? Instead, she looked–

“Your
eyes
,” she breathed.

Shocked. She looked completely and utterly shocked.

My eye color must have darkened. They did that on occasion, usually when we were very angry or very turned on. To us, it was normal, so why…?

I searched her face for any other emotion, but only saw wide eyes and a frozen, gaping expression. Like a deer caught in the headlights.

This didn’t make sense. She was a Healer. She should be accustomed to our changing eye color, not reacting like she’d never seen it before. So why did she react like…a 
human
?

I’d vaguely noticed people staring, but hadn’t realized we’d caused such a scene until some guy walked up to her. He wrapped his arm around the girl’s shoulders and stared me down, asking, “Everything okay, Emily?”

Emily?

The tension left me as I stared at the girl. Could this be...
the
 Emily? She had the same dark hair, pale skin, hazel eyes, and this 
was
 the town I’d met her in, after all. How old should she be now?

I quickly tried to do the math in my head. 

That was, what...thirteen years ago? And the little girl had been... 

Shit, I had no clue. For all I knew, she could’ve been anywhere from five to nine–

The birthmark!

My eyes darted to the spot on her neck, just under her ear, as my head tilted, trying to see around the guy’s inconveniently placed arm. 

Jesus Christ.

There it was–a small, light brown heart dotting her otherwise porcelain skin. I breathed her name with the remaining air in my lungs.

Her eyes narrowed, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. “Yeah…?”

It had occurred to me that she could still be here, but I thought the chances of running into her were too astronomical. She’d grown up beautifully. And I was a dirty, 
dirty
 bastard for my lewd thoughts earlier.

Shit…

I looked at the ground, rubbing the back of my neck as I stepped back. “I have to go.” My voice came out quiet, having lost most of my gusto. I didn’t wait for her to say anything, I just turned and started in the opposite direction.

This would explain the faint scent of the female I’d come across that day in the woods. Healer children always had very faint scents. It intensified the closer they got to maturing, and if Emily’s scent was any indication, hers was right around the corner.

I thought back to that day, to the child that had such an impact on my life. It was my encounter with her that made me realize how lonely I’d really been, and I’d decided that night to end my self-imposed exile and return to humanity.

But why had she been in a human suburb, with a human grandmother? And why didn’t she seem to remember me?

Chapter Four

THOMAS

The sound of my shotgun reloading echoed around me. It was the only sound in the quiet streets. I aimed it in front of me and took a tentative step, rounding a corner into a dark alley. My feet scraped against pavement as I moved forward, rats scurrying in the dumpsters as I passed. My tiny flashlight was ineffectual and blackness was all I saw at the end of the alley.

A low, inhuman growl rumbled ahead of me.

There.

I fired a shot in its direction, lighting the dark alley for a split second, like lightning. It was long enough to see there was nothing there. The growl rumbled again, to my right–

The zombie pounced on me before I even had a chance to turn. He mauled me as I struggled to fight him off, tearing flesh from me and spraying my blood everywhere.

“Brian!” No response. “Brian, I’m down!” Still nothing.

Damn it, where
is
he?

My health bar rapidly decreased on the screen, flashing red as it got lower. I was gonna die. Brian couldn’t save me at this point. I’d lost too much health.

“Son of a–” I squeezed the controller in my hands, cracking the thick plastic as I watched my avatar die on my television screen.

Rustling movements filled my earpiece, followed by crunching. “You died,” Brian said around a mouthful of food. “That’s like the millionth time tonight.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I know.”

More crunching. “You’re playing really shitty tonight, Thomas.”

“I
know
.”

He swallowed. “How come? You usually kick my ass.”

I frowned and leaned back against my couch. “I’m just having an off day, all right? And where the fuck were
you
? I wouldn’t have died if you’d been there.”

“I told you I was gonna make nachos. You should’ve paused the game.”

“Motherfucker,
why
would you leave to make nachos in the middle of the–” 

I inhaled a sharp breath between my clenched teeth, then exhaled. “Whatever, I’m done for the night. See you tomorrow.”

“ ’Kay,” he mumbled through his food.

Truth be told, I knew
exactly
why I’d played so horribly tonight. It was because of
her
. Emily.

I checked the time on my cell phone, then set it down on my coffee table next to my open laptop. It was 11:46 PM.

I was proud of myself, I really was. All day I tried to talk myself out of doing this, but who was I kidding? I knew I wasn’t strong enough to hold out. No, my victory was that I’d waited eleven and a half hours to do this, even though it ate away at my thoughts all day.

I leaned forward and picked up my laptop from the coffee table. It wasn’t hard to hack into the school’s computer system. After a couple clicks, I found the only Emily in my Intro to Sociology class was Emily Hayes. Her transcripts on file were from a high school in Dallas. It all looked good and well, but that was the point, wasn’t it? It was all part of her cover. She wouldn’t want any glaring discrepancies in her records.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. All that “information” was worthless. That probably wasn’t even her real last name, and that damn sure wasn’t her high school. Our kind didn’t do public schools–it was nothing but top-notch private tutoring for our young because, God forbid, our children attend public school with humans. Oh, the horror.