The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1) (16 page)

“
I know what she is,” he said softly, voice as hard as steel. “But if you’d like to personally take it up with General Frost, I’m sure I can arrange an appointment.”

Her skin turned even whiter and I felt her fear. “Fr- Frost?” she stammered. “No, no that won’t be necessary. If the General commands it…”

Aden smiled in cool satisfaction as she scurried away to retrieve whatever items I needed to fill out and sign. I glanced at him and caught his wink from the corner of my eye.

The woman returned in a flurry of rustling skirts and papers, so anxious she nearly dropped them in the process. “All right, Ms. McAllister,” she said with a tight smile. She handed me a pen. “I just need you to fill out a few things, and we can get you all squared away.”

I reached up to take the papers she offered, but Aden snatched them from her grasp. “As I’m in a bit of a hurry, I think I’ll speed things along.” He turned to me. “I’ll explain the fine print later. Just sign here, here, and here and that should be adequate for now.”

“
What about the physical?” I asked, pointing to a clause.

“
Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly, taking the pen and scribbling what I assumed was a signature. “I’ll see if Paris can squeeze you in sometime later.”

I blinked.
Calm down, Aden. I don’t think they’ll fire you, or whatever they do down here if I’m a few minutes late to class.

“
O-kay,” I said slowly. He handed me the pen back and I signed my name where he said, not asking any questions. As I signed away my life – my freedom – I felt a knot coil in my stomach. By agreeing to this, it meant forsaking my humanity, in a way.

I took a deep breath as I handed the papers and pen back to the secretary.
This is only temporary, to make ends meet. I won’t be doing Leo any good if I’m dead.

Aden bid the secretary farewell and we left with my schedule in tow. It was fairly generic, a handful of education classes on top of some basic hand-to-hand combat training. “They want to observe you, to know they can trust you not to go guerilla on us after we’ve put you through the full training course,” Aden said. “Once your probation is lifted, you’ll have more combat training, though you’ll still have a few general education classes. They want everyone enlisted to receive a well-rounded education.”

Inwardly I scowled, my mind stuck on his first comment.
Great, as if being babysat wasn’t bad enough.

I nodded, acting as if it didn’t faze me. “Understandable.”

Deep in thought, I idly followed Aden across the main lobby and down a hallway lined with classrooms. I figured I’d be watched, but I hadn’t counted on being under 24/7 surveillance. How was I supposed to look for a way out if I never had a chance to be alone?

At the end of the hall was a locker room. It was kind of creepy, with a low ceiling and poor lighting that flickered erratically, like it might go out any minute. Aden showed me my locker – which was basically a grey, rusty box – and handed me a slip of paper with my combination before leading me back down the hall to an open door. I looked inside. For the most part, it looked like an ordinary classroom, with desks and a chalk board where a willowy woman in a red military uniform stood.

“
Your first class is calculus,” Aden said, handing me the schedule. I brightened a bit at the mention of my favorite subject and thought maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all. Math had always come naturally to me. The numbers, the rules; they all fit together in a way life couldn’t match. With mathematics, everything had a logical place and it was simple.

Aden reached into his pocket and produced a shiny bronze name badge. He stepped toward me, so close that our chests nearly touched, and pinned it on my lapel. An unexpected blush crept to my cheeks at his closeness and I squirmed under his gaze.

“
There,” he said softly, stepping back. “Now it’s official. Welcome to the Syndicate, Sergeant McAllister.”

I looked down. There on the badge was my name, preceded by the abbreviation SGT. I reached up and touched it, this new item that branded me as a true vampire supporter. Anger, old and restless, stirred in my gut, and I quickly pushed my mind to other things, afraid I would focus too much on my hatred and forget my promise to Leo.

Aden’s mouth curled at the corner into a small smile. “Do you know how to salute?”

Without hesitation, I raised my right hand to my forehead at an angle. “I’ve spent almost the past two years around my mother, who was a Marine, remember?”

Aden nodded and my hand fell back to my side. “Of course you’d know. As a note, whenever you see me or someone of similar ranking, you are to stop, face them, and salute. Is that understood?”

“
Yes, sir.”

He suppressed a grin and I resisted the urge to smack him on the arm. “All right,” he said. “I have some business to attend to, but I’ll meet up with you later, around lunch.”

He started to walk off. “Wait a minute,” I called. “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding me or something?”

He turned around and threw me an amused look. “I think you can handle things for an hour or two.” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, a sliver of his natural self slipping in. “Unless you want to admit you need me.”

I flushed under his intense gaze, caught off guard. “That’s completely ridi –”

“
There you are!” squealed a bubbly voice. “I was wondering what had happened to you.”

I turned around, coming face-to-face with a pair of wide blue eyes. Excitement radiated in waves off of Angel as she tugged at my arm, pulling me into the classroom. I glanced over my shoulder, but Aden was gone.

Some bodyguard he is.

“
Over here,” Angel said, still tugging at my arm. “I saved you a seat, just in case.”

I blinked. “Oh, er, thanks.”

Every conversation stopped the moment we entered the room, and I felt the accusing stares of our colleagues on me. Emotions – fear, disgust, hatred, and rage – roved toward me in waves, so strong that I nearly choked on it. My thoughts had been so preoccupied with Aden that I hadn’t prepared myself for such an onslaught of almost telekinetic power. My skin broke out in a cold sweat from trying to suppress the multiple connections struggling to form without my permission.

What’s happening? Why is my glamour so out of control?

Angel picked up on my distress. “Hey,” she said, gripping me by the shoulders and shielding me from the class. “Just take a deep breath. Focus on your breathing, and push the thoughts away.”

I did as she said, though when I closed my eyes, I swayed. Her tiny hands tightened around my shoulders, holding me steady. “Breathe,” she whispered. “Think of a calm, secret place.”

Having no choice but to place some trust in her, I did as she said, seeing myself lying in the shade of a tree, a mere dot in the ocean of grass stretching out on either side of me. The air smelled of wildflowers, and sunlight dappled my skin. A gentle breeze caressed my hair, urging me to relax, as the sounds of the room faded away, replaced by the doldrums of the meadow.

“
Good,” Angel said, sounding farther away. “Now push every thought out of your head. If one comes up, just brush it aside. Don’t judge any sounds you hear as negative or positive. Just let everything go, and focus only on your breathing and your secret place.”

At first, it was difficult to do as she instructed. My head swam with stray thoughts, some not my own, and it took some effort to force them away. But soon my head cleared and I felt a perfect stillness I hadn’t known in years. My breathing deepened and my shoulders relaxed.

Someone loudly cleared their throat and I sleepily opened my eyes. Angel blurred then focused, smiling. “Feel better?”

“
Yeah,” I said, a bit dreamily. “Loads. Thank you.”

She shrugged it off, beaming. “Don’t mention it.”

“
Ladies,” said the teacher sternly. “Unless you plan on teaching today, I need you both to find seats.”

“
Sorry, Professor Sanchez,” Angel said with a disarming smile. She grabbed my hand and we wove our way through the desks. I plopped down in the desk beside hers in the far corner of the room, grateful she’d had the foresight to position us near the back so I was less inclined to be stared at for the remainder of the class. Though Angel’s technique had helped, it hadn’t completely blocked out people’s feelings. I still picked up stray thoughts and flutters of emotions. But as people’s attention drifted away from me, their emotions calmed somewhat, allowing me to breathe and think again. It was like coming up for air after being submerged underwater for too long.

I sank back against my seat, shaken. What was that? How come I had all of a sudden been “attacked” by glamour? I hadn’t encountered anything like that before.

Angel went to a shelf on the back wall and retrieved a rather worn textbook, placing it in front of me. “Here you go. Your own Book of Fun.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or as I call it, the Book of Doom.”

I smiled, not sure if I should tell her I found the first title more appropriate, at least for me. Angel sat down and handed me an extra notebook, a calculator, and some pencils and pens. “Aden asked me to pick these up for you,” she said upon my curious look. “Figured you’d be running late today, with the paperwork and all.”

I stopped and quirked a suspicious brow at her. “Has he asked you to spy on me?”

Angel’s surprise was apparent. She blushed sheepishly. “Maybe. Sort of. Not really.”

I sighed, suppressing a giggle at her discomfort. “It’s okay. I thought it was too good to be true when he said he had other business to attend to this morning.”

So much for freedom…

Angel looked a bit hurt and I hastily said, “Not that I mind. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, and I could definitely use a friend right now.”

She seemed to brighten at this and I gave her a tentative smile. Angel was nice – really nice, actually – but there was something about her that didn’t quite set well with me.

It’s because she’s one of them… a vampire.

No matter how human she acted, no matter how normal everyone appeared, I knew better. We were a far cry from our mortal selves, and I couldn’t forget that ever, not if I wanted to get out of here to warn Leo.

The teacher began her lecture, asking us to open our textbooks to a certain page, and Angel and I both settled back into our seats, doing as she asked. I frowned when I saw today’s lesson. Back in my old life, I had already gone through this. Oh, well. At least I knew I wasn’t too terribly behind.

As the teacher droned on, writing out examples on the board, I scanned through my schedule. Everything was lined up in seven one hour blocks, with a thirty minute lunch between the fourth and fifth sessions. It read:

1
^st
block: Calculus

2
^nd
block: English Literature

3
^rd
block: Endurance Training

4
^th
block: World History

LUNCH (half hour)

5
^th
block: Hand-to-hand combat

6
^th
block: Offensive/defensive strategies

7
^th
block: Sword fighting

“
Sword fighting?” I said, keeping my voice low. “Are they kidding me?”

“
Let me see.” Angel leaned over and I pushed my schedule to the edge of my desk. Her eyes scanned the paper and she clucked her tongue. “It looks pretty basic for a first year, actually. Well, except for the advanced gen. ed. courses. You’re a senior?”

“
Yeah,” I said, grimacing. “Or at least, I was. I’m not really sure what I am anymore.”

Angel gave me a sympathetic smile. “It’s not so bad, this way of life. At least we’re safe down here.”

Something occurred to me. “Am I… stuck like this? You know, forever?”

Angel blinked and cocked her head, making her curly pigtails sway to the side. “Stuck like what? A teenager?”

I nodded. Near the front of the room, the instructor was scribbling what looked like an assignment on the board.

Angel pursed her lips. “Not exactly. You’ll still age, though it takes a while for it to really show.”

“
Like, how long are we talking?”

“
Eh, I don’t know. Something like one year for every three hundred.”

“
Every three hundred!”

The people in the rows in front of us turned around to glare and I flushed. “Sorry,” I muttered.

Thankfully, the instructor hadn’t seemed to notice my outburst. I glanced at Angel, but she was already buried in the assignment. I sighed and popped the point out on my pencil, settling in to do my work.

As the period wore on and people’s attention turned to their homework, the mask of fear and hatred drifting on the air faded away. I had never been so grateful for homework in my life. I was the first to finish, and when I went to turn it in to the teacher, she looked it over with growing surprise. Brows raised, she wrote 100% at the top in red ink and handed it back to me. “Excellent, Sergeant McAllister,” she said. She looked at me in awe, though I sensed her unease lurking beneath the surface.