Acropolis (12 page)

"They've noticed you," Deidra whispers.

She is at my back now, clinging to the
loopholes in my jeans, her face just visible at my side. A strange
feeling sweeps through me, a warm one. It's the first time I've
ever been considered a protector by anyone. I wonder briefly what
I'm supposed to do if I have a panic attack. Jump under a table and
bring Deidra with me?

And then I notice the silence.

All eyes are on the door, on Marion, on me.
I'm not quite sure how to handle the attention. It's the first time
I've ever been in a public situation where I haven't been
completely overlooked. My palms are sweaty, and my heart is beating
so fast I can feel it in my temples. People are sneering now,
waiting.

I get a quick glimpse of Conor's face, but he
is avoiding my gaze. I'm alone, and for the first time, I realize
that it's not only the hybrid-Demons who are watching me, it's the
gargoyles. Their stares are intense, watchful, and I realize they
expect me to make a mistake. I am being tested.

"Everyone's a critic," Deidra snorts. Her
words make me smile despite my terror. She is a crass little thing,
evidently worried about the people inside the dining hall, but she
is fearless in ways I'll probably never be.

Marion moves ahead of me, and I follow her
slowly, my eyes on her back, Deidra still clinging to my pants. If
people are so determined to dislike me because I'm terrifying, they
are getting a whole new perspective. It's hard to be scary in a
boy's jeans, a practically cropped black top, and an imp clinging
to my backside.

Chapter 17

Conor

She's getting better at hiding her fear.

My eyes track Emma as she moves across the
dining hall. All eyes are on her, but she moves forward. She isn't
confident, but in my opinion, that makes her braver.

"She's going to fail," Tom Henry says from my
right. He guards Lyre, a greedy she-Demon with a bad attitude.

"I'm betting she finishes ahead of your
mark," Grace Withers says from farther down the wall. She guards
Fiona, another she-Demon, no less greedy but potentially a good
protector.

"She's too skittish," Tom argues.

Grace snorts.

"You are about as observant as a piece of
toilet paper, Henry. Watch her eyes."

I watch Emma as she turns, taking a plate of
food from a woman near the kitchen. Deidra Alexander is still
clinging to her. The small imp hasn't had a good experience at the
Acropolis. She has been attacked twice, her assailants no longer
students. They have been exterminated. I suspect she's been
attacked more than this, but there is no way to tell.

"She's scared shitless, and you think she'll
come out ahead of Lyre," Tom says with a laugh.

I am watching Emma's eyes now. They are wide,
searching. Her head cocks to one side, and she flinches. Her
movements are almost spastic.

"Oh, she'll come out ahead," Grace says.
"She's a sensitive. One of my past marks was a sensitive, but she
was trained, aware."

Grace's words have garnered the gargoyles'
attention. I push away from the wall, my thoughts scrambling over
the new information. Emma's eccentric behavior, her fears, her need
to lash out . . . it all makes sense now.

"A sensitive?" Will asks.

"No shit," Rachel swears. "I can't believe I
didn't catch on to that sooner."

I agree with Rachel. Emma's eyes are narrowed
as she follows Marion to a back table. It is mostly empty, and
Marion waves at the surface before leaving Emma and Deidra alone.
Gargoyles can only interfere so much. The rest is left up to the
instructors and the Guardians. Guardians are security. We make sure
no one is killed.

"What's a sensitive?" Will asks again.

"A sensitive has heightened senses. They can
see and hear things no one else can hear. Some, but not all, even
have a sixth sense. This means they are in tune, not only with
their surroundings, but with emotions, with some thoughts. They
feed off emotion. Untrained, this can lead to paranoia, fear,"
Grace answers.

We're all looking at Emma's table now.

"Wow," Will breathes. "That's our Emma,
alright."

Rachel rolls her eyes as Tom laughs
coldly.

"Our?"

I see Will's face redden as he realizes his
mistake.

"Did you get assigned as her Guardian,
Escort?" Tom sneers.

I feel my jaw tighten. Will is more tolerant
than most. He didn't enter the Inner Circle until the new laws
about Demons had passed. He doesn't understand the hatred the same
way the rest of us do.

"No, he didn't," I say coldly, my eyes on
Emma. "I did."

The entire wall of gargoyles goes quiet.

"Conor Reinhardt? A Guardian to a
she-Demon?"

I don't know the gargoyle who utters
the sarcastic question, but I know they all mirror his sentiment.
The Acropolis is a fairly new idea. Rehabilitating Demons is
something most gargoyles
don't
support. Those assigned to the school are usually there
because they are being punished. Whatever their transgression, it
isn't enough for a demotion, but it is enough to get them assigned
to a Demon. No one ever volunteers.

I am the son of Paul Reinhardt. The
Reinhardts are legendary. I am suddenly less in their eyes. Will
stiffens next to me.

"He vo-"

I elbow Will in the ribs. He coughs. If he
thinks a Reinhardt being assigned as a Demon Guardian is bad, he
has no idea what it will do to our family's reputation if he lets
it slip I volunteered.

I give him a look before focusing on Emma's
table again. She's attempting to eat, but she's mostly just picking
at the food, her shoulders taut. She looks on edge. A sensitive. An
untrained sensitive. Damn.

"Reinhardt, I think I speak for all the
Guardians here when I say we'd love to know how you got assigned to
this hellhole," Sean Thomas says with a laugh. He's a burly man in
his mid-twenties with russet hair and green eyes. He looks even
bigger standing next to Grace who is average in height and skinny
with brown hair and blonde highlights.

I shrug.

"We all make mistakes," I say simply while
avoiding Rachel and Will's gazes. I'm thankful Roach isn't
present.

"Well, I'm placing my bets on Conor's mark
this year," Grace says indifferently.

Tom bets against her. This continues down the
wall.

"You're betting on who will finish and who
will die?" Will asks, shocked.

Tom leans forward, his eyes on Will's
reddened face.

"What else do you expect us to do to
pass the time? You think that's cold, Escort? Wait until you see a
training class.
Your
Emma is
going to have a hell of a time then."

Tom laughs, highly amused at himself. He
looks down the row.

"Get it?
Hell
of a time," he spits.

The joke isn't funny. Rachel moves closer to
Will and me and lowers her voice.

"I never even considered her being a
sensitive."

I nod as I watch Emma's table. Watching her
now, it's easy to discern. It also changes things. Her survival
rate is higher.

"She is going to be fine," I say, the words
confident. Rachel watches me.

"She might stand a chance, Con, but it
doesn't mean she'll be fine."

I look down, my eyes hard.

"In two days, she's lost everything.
And we've not only
taken
everything from her, we've taken who she thought she was. We
have torn her apart. She has to start from scratch now. And she's
still standing. Fearful, less than confident, but still standing.
Could you say the same about yourself?" I ask. Rachel doesn't
answer. "And you question whether or not she'll be
fine."

"She's a Demon," Rachel whispers.

I know her hatred. I still fight it daily.
But my perspective is changing. I'm not any more tolerant, but I'm
beginning to see the promise in rehabilitating half-mortal
Demons.

"Two days ago, she was just a girl."

Chapter 18

Emma

"You ready?" Deidra asks.

I'm not quite sure what she's referring to,
but I don't think I have much choice. Lunch is over, and it was
uneventful. Terrifying, overwhelming, but uneventful.

"Ready for what?" I ask.

"Training," she says. "It's where they take
us Demons, tear us apart, and then put us back together again."

The concept is both frightening and
amusing.

"Like a jigsaw puzzle?" I ask.

Deidra groans.

"No, jigsaw puzzles are pretty when
finished."

We are in the hall now, standing at the foot
of the spiral staircase, and I stare at her.

"And we won't be?"

I have sudden images of myself wrapped in
Conor's arms in the sea, horrible monsters in the air as we cower
beneath the waves. Funny that I consider a wise evasive move
cowering. I had wanted to confront the beasts. Rule them even? The
images are fuzzy, a nightmare I can't really remember, but I had
felt power. I had enjoyed the rush. Deidra is right. Jigsaw puzzles
are prettier.

"We're already broken, you know," Deidra
whispers.

She sounds sad suddenly, and I look down at
the top of her head. She is too young to be without a family. I am
in that funny stage, that part of life where I'm supposed to be
disentangling myself from childhood and entering adulthood. I am
alive, and I am utterly alone. I am standing on a precipice and
there is nothing I can do but jump. I reach down and take Deidra's
small hand in mine.

"Broken but fixable. Always fixable," I say
softly.

She looks up at me, smiling, her eyes lighter
until she looks over my shoulder. And then I see the fear.

"Daughter of Enepsigos," a female voice says
lightly.

There is laughter in her declaration and
something darker. I read the emotion easily, and my spine stiffens.
The Demon world is remarkably similar to the wild. The weak is
never safe. Her voice is full of challenge.

"It's unheard of, you know."

I turn slowly, my eyes landing on a curvy,
raven-haired girl. She is shorter than I am by a few inches, but
she stands tall, her jeans and red top hugging her body like a
glove. Her eyes are onyx. I don't speak because I don't really
think she expects me to. Deidra stands defiantly at my side. I
think the imp gives me too much credit. I am at a disadvantage
here.

"Enepsigos has never been known to have
offspring. Strange it should be you," the girl says.

I don't rise to the bait. She isn't aware of
my upbringing, or if she is, she doesn't realize it has prepared me
for verbal attacks. I don't fear them, I avoid them. I stare at
her, willing my shaking hands still. She isn't pleased with my
reaction.

"Are you mute?" she asks.

The words are dripping acid. She isn't a
typical "mean girl." I am pretty sure this school doesn't have a
caste system. She is merely circling a potential enemy.

I am still, unmoving, my eyes locked with
hers. I can feel her emotion. I can feel her unease. It is
startling. If I was able to do this before, I was unaware. But I
had also avoided human contact. Now, I am being thrust into
society, a new potentially deadly society, and in one stare-filled
moment, I suddenly know what it is to be a Demon.

Demons are solitary beings, territorial, and
ruled by their own greed. By power. The only thing they fear is
each other. They fear being controlled by stronger Demons. They
fear possession.

I shudder despite my attempt to appear
unflappable. The girl smiles. She doesn't realize my fear is her
fear.

"I am Lyre. I am the daughter of Pleiades. I
cannot be ruled, you understand. I'll kill you first," she
warns.

I am not prepared for the attack. I am not
prepared for the power that suddenly rushes through me. I am not
prepared for the blood I taste in my mouth when my head hits the
wall opposite the staircase. I am not prepared for the hatred that
overwhelms me. It isn't my hatred. It's hers. I am the daughter of
Enepsigos. Her mother is weaker. She hates weakness.

Deidra is suddenly next to me, and I use the
back of my hand to wipe away the blood dripping from the corner of
my mouth. I have bitten my tongue in the impact. It smarts, but the
wound doesn't feel deep. It is the blood running down the side of
my head that is startling. Head wounds tend to bleed profusely.
Mine is no exception.

"I don't want to rule anyone," I whisper as
Lyre moves toward me.

Her eyes are red now. My head is pounding. I
can feel how pleased she is. She lifts her hands, and I duck my
head, my back going into the wall just as I hear Lyre scream.

"Oh, my God!" Deidra says next to me, and I
look up to find Conor Reinhardt standing before the screaming
she-Demon, her mouth open as he holds her wrists in his stone-like
hands. His eyes have her entranced, and she cannot move. I don't
know what he's doing to her, and I don't have any desire to find
out.

"Tom!" Conor yells.

Lyre flinches as a tall, brown-haired man
moves through the hall. He is dressed as simply as the rest of us,
jeans and a solid green tee. His hazel eyes are trained on Conor
and Lyre. Conor doesn't move, his eyes still locked with the
Demon's.

"Control your Demon, Tom, or I'll gladly kill
her."

Tom shrugs as Conor finally lets go, shoving
Lyre gently toward the other gargoyle. He turns to me, his eyes
searching. Deidra's hand is lying on my shoulder, and it
tightens.

"I'll be damned," Deidra mumbles.

I touch my head carefully. There is blood
everywhere.

"What?" I ask as Deidra begins to stand, her
eyes on the approaching gargoyle. Conor looks determined,
resolved.