The Gray Institute (The Gray Institute Trilogy Book 1) (17 page)

Tia seems to have gotten over her fears – safe in the knowledge that it's
my
blood Sir Alec wants. I am the star culprit, public enemy number one; I must be dealt with behind the closed doors of Sir Alec's eerie study.

The headmaster knows how to play the game, how to unsettle someone. Ensure that they're never relaxed, always tense and anticipating his next move.

To summon me in Practical when I most expected it, that would have been too easy; he wants to make me wait – to keep me glancing over my shoulder, to turn me into a nervous wreck before he finally deals the blow.

With a heavy heart and racing mind, I force myself back into the Practical hall, guarded closely on either side by Tia and Richard, who have released each other long enough to sense my unease. We're early and the students trickle through the doors as we wait patiently for the hall to fill. Students stare as they pass me, averting their eyes when Tia shoots them a menacing glare, keeping a protective arm around my waist.  

'Eve?' An unfamiliar voice sounds over my shoulder and I turn to see a girl I vaguely recognise standing beside Richard, her short, dark hair falling across her eyes. She's a first year, a friend of Tomos', she always sits at the back of class, laughing and joking with a select few girls and never paying attention to the lesson.

She has a striking appearance with large blue eyes, a very lean build and a full pink mouth. She stares at me with an expression of awe and respect.

'Your attack on Tia was awesome.' She grins, showing off an alarmingly deep voice as I wrack my brains to remember her name.

'Thank you...' 

'Max!' Another first year – whose name I know to be Rhys – interrupts my awkward reply, addressing the skinny girl and nodding his head authoritatively. 'Let's go to the back.' He gestures to the furthest corner of the hall but the girl, Max, shakes her head dismissively. 

'I'm good here.' She replies in her Californian accent, beckoning to her beefy third year Mentor.

'Michael!' She calls, waving her arm as the tall boy raises his eyebrows in recognition, beginning a slow, sauntering journey in our direction.

'He thinks he's hot shit,' Max mutters in my ear as Michael smiles lopsidedly at Cheryl Berry in passing. 'I don't have the heart to tell him I'm not into guys. I think it would crush his inflated ego to the ground.' She sniggers, straightening as Michael reaches us and giving him a friendly pat on the back. 

'You don't mind if we stand next to you?' She asks me, raising an eyebrow as I shrug. 'Might learn something for once.' She punches Michael playfully on his arm as Alexandrov finally enters the hall, carrying in his hands something worthy of silence. Katarzyna follows him, clutching the other end of a large white screen, wheeling it slowly through the hall doors. Like a giant whiteboard; the screen is shiny and opaque, stretching the width of the room, partitioning it into two halves.

It blocks our view of the small exit door opposite the main entrance, and Alexandrov and Katarzyna leave a three foot gap between the screen and the wall to allow us to travel between the two halves of the room.

Even the third years – who are perfectly used to Alexandrov's bizarre teaching methods – appear confused and a little worried as he claps his hands together, his scarred face excited.      

'Today, class, you have been blessed with a privilege other Institutes can only dream of,' He booms, rubbing his palms together with glee. I glance at Tia who shrugs – as baffled as I am – whilst others hiss and whisper, excitement rippling through the crowd. 'A new method of learning, never before attempted within these walls. It will be invaluable to your education and will greatly benefit you in your future endeavours.'  

'What is this? I don't remember doing this in first year...' Richard mutters under his breath.

'However!' Alexandrov raises his forefinger, commanding our attention as his eyes narrow. 'This practice is controversial, especially as half of you are so premature in your development. But I believe the best approach to education is a practical one; you must be tested and pushed to your boundaries in order to find them. Pushed to the limit to realise your strengths and weaknesses and above all; challenge your minds to believe in the unbelievable.' Alexandrov's eyes sparkle as he glares at each of us in turn, gauging our reactions. Tia shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, clasping Richard's hand tightly.  

'This method has never been practised at the Institute before and – due to its nature – Sir Alec will be overseeing our lesson. It will allow him to make a sensible and well-informed decision on whether or not to continue this practice, and to study its effectiveness.'

Sir Alec strides, head held high, through the open doors as a young, blonde woman scurries behind him, eager to keep up. She rushes to the stack of empty chairs beside the wall and wrenches two out, setting them down side by side before Alexandrov. Sir Alec takes the one on the left, crossing his legs and resting his chin atop the palm of his hand. 

A loud murmur begins amongst the anxious crowd as another figure – dressed in black – saunters through the entrance, taking the empty seat beside Sir Alec. Her pale eyes dart cautiously around the crowded room before settling briefly, with a smirk, on mine.

Lorna Gray leans back in her plastic chair, folding her arms across her chest and twisting away from Sir Alec. Despite her amusement at me and obvious resentment towards Sir Alec, beneath her stubborn demeanour she is distressed, her eyes anxious – haunted.

'What the hell is she doing here?' Tia hisses, her confusion fusing with her anxiety as she glares steadily at Lorna. 

'I have a bad feeling about this.' Richard mumbles, the statement for mine and Tia's ears only.

'Why?' I frown, glancing at Richard's sombre face, his forehead wrinkled with worry lines.

'Well, she knows why she's here,' He nods in Lorna Gray's direction. 'Look how terrified she is.' 

Alexandrov closes the heavy oak doors and strides across the room, throwing a quick glance at Sir Alec which is met with a nod of approval. The burly Russian man squeezes through the three foot gap at the screen's edge, disappearing from view behind the shimmering white plastic. 

'Please move between the gap.' Katarzyna barks as she ushers us to press our backs against the wall. We huddle in the narrow space, noting that Alexandrov has disappeared through the small back door. From our position in the gap we are able to see both sides of the hall, the partitioning screen in the middle, Sir Alec and Lorna to our left – unable to view the second half of the room. 

Once we're all in our place, Katarzyna follows Alexandrov, slipping quietly through the door as we wait patiently for their return. Lorna Gray avoids eye contact, keeping her head firmly bowed, one hand shields her eyes as though from an unpleasant sight. 

'I don't like this,' Tia mumbles, shuffling her feet uncomfortably. 'I don't like this at all.'

Richard's grip on Tia's shoulder tightens as a strange yet familiar noise reaches our delicate ears. Every head lurches right to stare at the back door. We hear them before we see them; a low murmur of voices, afraid, some hysterical. We smell them; the scent of so many overwhelming, their sweet, exotic fumes setting my veins on fire and making my head spin. Tia clutches my arm for support and I grip her tightly in return, steadying the both of us.

Since my transformation, I've known little to no pain. Couldn't even recall a distant memory of the sensation – but now, I am awash with it. My throat burns like fire, my chest jerks and aches with a desire so intense it makes my knees buckle. Stronger than any withdrawal symptom, stronger than any heartbreak, I grit my teeth together just to stop myself from running. 

Catching sight of them only intensifies the hunger. My gaze latches itself onto their thick, throbbing veins beneath paper thin skin, the blood pumping steadily through their arteries.

It's not like the instance with Lorna at the ball. One human – though tempting – is easy to resist, a flock of them being herded in my direction – not so much.

They stumble their way across the hall, hands tied at the waist, eyes wide and panicked. They stare fearfully at our group of forty, darting, desperate – like mice in a snake pit. Some are hysterical; crying and shrieking, others appear bizarrely calm and blasé, strolling confidently past us as though on their way to work, oblivious to the upset of their peers. 

'What the hell is this?' Richard hisses as Alexandrov lines the humans up along one side of the screen. He, himself, appears anxious but gleeful also as he glances our way, seeking our approval.  

'What the fuck is going on?' Max barks loudly, her accusatory tone less subtle than Richard's. Sir Alec is silent and still; not fazed by the drama unfolding before his eyes.

The same can not be said for his daughter, who squirms in her seat, fingers twitching, poised to run or defend, I'm not sure which. I will her silently to keep quiet, to maintain her composure, but I'm the last person on her mind as she listens to the sobbing of her fellow humans.

A sudden hammering on the double doors startles us as well as the humans. Loud pounding thumps before the hinges swing open to reveal Penelope Carmel – the fourth year Head – her long, blonde hair a flurry of movement, her eyes wide and accusing. She seeks out Sir Alec and strides purposefully towards him, ignoring Alexandrov as he barks at her to leave.

'Sir Alec, I beseech you, you must stop this!' She wails as she halts a foot short of him, waving her arms wildly in Sir Alec's composed face. 'I voted against it, as did the majority of the faculty. Does that count for nothing?!' She shrieks, attempting to shake herself free as Alexandrov restrains her. She's surprisingly strong and gives the bulky man a difficult time, but Alexandrov's strength wins and he drags her from the room, arms pinned behind her back.

'It's inhumane! It's against our policies!' Ms Carmel screams in vain as she's forced from the hall, thrashing her legs and directing her angst at Sir Alec even as the doors are bolted in her face.

Tia's eyes are frantic and uncomprehending as she clings to Richard's forearm. She can't seem to understand how her upstanding and courteous Institute has plummeted to the depths of social depravity. Even I'm struggling to understand Sir Alec's judgement; why he would allow a faithful member of staff to disintegrate into such a wreck, allow his human daughter to be made so uncomfortable.

'Proceed.' His low growl is authoritative and irritated, setting Alexandrov in motion. He crosses to the human side of the screen and clamps his hand on a young boy's shoulder, leading him around the partition, out of sight of his fellow humans.

He pauses before Sir Alec, stationing the young boy in the centre of the room. No older than sixteen, he displays a brave and defiant face; but beneath his courageous exterior, his hands tremble in their bindings.  

'In our previous lesson, you practised your attack on your Mentors,' Alexandrov addresses us, his tone void of emotion. 'Now you may practise on the real thing.' He beams proudly, his eyes already searching for a likely candidate. 'Berry, you may have the honours.' He smiles, beckoning the timid Cheryl forward.

'Who allowed this?' Richard mutters, barely beneath his breath. It's a rhetorical question, to which we all know the answer.

'We're going to have to do it at some point, I guess.' Tomos shrugs, his tone careless. Richard whips his head around, eyeing O'Brien with a steely glare.

'Yes, Tomos, but when we do – outside of the Institute – our attacks will be on unsuspecting humans who'll have no time to think or comprehend what's happening before it does. They won't be herded like sheep to their deaths and will be executed by trained, fully grown Immortals, not amateur apprentices as a first time trial.' Richard spits furiously as Tia and I stare at him, shocked. Neither of us have ever heard Richard speak with such conviction, so seriously and indeed, rudely. 

'Point taken.' Tomos mumbles, averting his gaze.

Our attention is diverted as Meredith steps forward, pushing Cheryl Berry protectively behind her before addressing Alexandrov.

'Mr Oblonsky, with respect, Cheryl doesn't wish to take part in today's lesson.' She states stiffly, her voice wavering, her fists clenched into balls.

Alexandrov frowns, unable to comprehend the notion that a student wouldn't want to participate in such a coveted lesson. He glances to Sir Alec for support, taking a step back at the same time Sir Alec leans forward, eyeing each of us in turn – a threatening stare.