hissing noise started to break from my throat. It was embarrassing and practically a disability. As I child my blood had been tested a gazillion times because the Sect suspected I had demon blood, but the tests always came back negative for shifter or witch genes. The month people thought I was a witch was bad, and if I'm honest the worst of my life. Freaky and unexplainable stuff started happening when I was nearby. Naturally, the solution thought up by the community was to blame the weird kid. Having no family to protect me I had been mocked, beaten to a pulp and ridiculed. People had spat at me and even thrown stones. The matrons at the orphanage were afraid of me and did nothing; they probably hoped someone would kick me in the head too hard and take me off their hands. But I'd always been resilient and a quick healer. Bearing the burden of being hated and feared had set me apart as strong, and the Sect enrolled me in the Cleric training programme less than a season later.
As a Disciple my life was better, still difficult but better. I even had friend now.
Walking into the class, ignoring the other Disciples already in the room, I sat down and rested my cheek on my palm as Alex wandered off to mingle.
Mind drifting, a memory of silver eyes had my heart picking up speed and turned my breathing shallow. Feeling the heat in my cheeks, a glance around showed everyone was too wrapped in their own world to notice my heaving chest. Not that people paid me much mind. Why was I getting all hot and heavy over a fairy-boy I would never see again? He said he was going to come for me, and I had used this to help me get through my encounter with the vampire, but there was no way he would risk coming onto the Temple grounds. That would be stupid, and Breandan seemed anything but stupid, right?
Bored of waiting for the lesson to start, I stood to stretch, and the satisfying pangs of my muscles loosening helped chase away some of the dull drum. Wandering from my desk, I twisted my fingers together and paced the room. There had to be something to inspire a break of remembering those cold and mad eyes. Why was he mad? He was definitely upset about having to help me back to the Temple, but why?
There was no way in hell I was ever stepping another toe past the Wall ever again, so I had to stop tormenting myself with the questions eating away at my composure. Questions like who was he? Who were the 'we' he kept referring to and how did he know I was a fairy? Why was I given up at birth? Were my parents still alive?
I thought I would go mad. If only I could see him one more time, talk to him again, I might actually learn something instead of being left confused and uneasy.
Glancing out the window I did a double take. Calm and still, a figure stood on the grass outside. Breandan stared at me. His eyes followed my steps as the wind and rain lashed his body. He'd found me, and he did not look happy. What could I have possibly done to make him more upset? Lifting a hand he held it out, and crooked a finger. Pulled as if tethered, I took a step forward then another. His eyes widened, face became troubled. He beckoned to me again but waved his whole hand. My pace quickened into a skip in my hurry to reach him. I fully intended on smashing through the wall and glass.
Colliding head first into a chest, I staggered back. 'Excuse me,' I mumbled and cringed all over.
Body contact was difficult for me when I was focused and prepared. Unexpected, it was like experiencing a full body hiccup.
Forced to spare a glance at the boy I bumped, I felt a thrill at the heart shaped face and green eyes watching me. It was my lucky day because he was the third boy I'd seen that morning who was delightful to look at. The thought had me veering of course. Breandan was beautiful; he was a fairy, which was one of the more attractive demons in existence. The only other boy I'd seen was the vampire-boy, Tomas. Did I really think a dead guy was attractive? Hadn't I already decided his look did not appeal to me? Uh, what a nasty thought. I shouldn't find a blood drinker sexy.
I reeled myself back in and focused. Devlin, the boy I had headbutted, was a Disciple like me. He was smart, quick and strong, as most of us were, but he was also popular. The kind of Cleric in training the Priests like to parade around the civilians to inspire hope and obedience. He'd started about a month ago and was pretty much perfect at everything he did. He was adored by the girls and worshiped by the teaching Clerics. Strangely enough, he had always tried to talk to me and be nice. I'd never paid attention and ignored him because the friendliness had always seemed, forced, and had an undercurrent of falsehood. But still, I smiled back when he grinned at me, or bobbed my head when we past in the hallway since he made a big show of saying hai. Most didn't understand his interest in me, and for a while I'd been higher on everyone's radar, but after a week or so things returned to normal. When I say normal, I mean I ignored everyone and everyone ignored me. Devlin remained perfect and gorgeous, of course.
His blonde hair so light it was white, and when he smiled I had to blink. 'You are excused,' he said and an expression flickered across his face too fast for me to catch.
At his steady appraisal I became flustered, but I did remember I needed to get outside. I navigated around him then faltered. The space outside was empty. Rushing to the windowsill, I pressed my face to the glass and turned my head at every angle. There was nothing but well-tended grounds, Northhouse — the boy's dormitories — and the outer wall snaking around the Temple. Crushing disappointment shook me up. Stomping back to my seat I knocked into someone as I sat down. I focused on my lap and sucked it up; trying to figure out if I'd lost my mind before the next period started. A difficult task when I was not sure I was fully sane to begin with. Maybe I'd cracked at some point but hadn't recognized it yet.
Alex yanked out her seat, dumped her bag and slid into a chair beside me as the bell chimed.
Pulling myself together, I knew I needed to show good manners, and looked over my shoulder with an apology for the person I had knocked. I stiffened then looked forward, but the damage was already done. Not feeling up for a confrontation, I tried to make myself as small as possible in my seat. You know how people say if you stand up to bullies they'll back down, leave you alone, and show respect? It's a load of bull in my experience. I stood up to Zoe on my first day; I wasn't a pushover after all. She'd never laid a finger on me again, but swapped physical beatings for mental torture. Zoe was a large, sharp, pain in my ass. I wanted to be left alone to do my own thing, but she couldn't help but make me feel more like a misfit. I peeked to see if she was going to start something.
She glared at me, her heavily freckled face twisted. 'Reject,' she spat dragging a brush through masses of over dyed purple hair. Her sleeve fell down with the stroke and I saw she'd been marked now, a snake eating its own tail wrapped around her wrist.
Alex heard her, and whilst I sunk further down in my seat, she twisted round to flip the finger so forcefully the table rocked. She added a mouthed 'screw you' for good measure.
'You see her mark?' Alex said in a low aside to me. 'Takes more than the power of the Ouroboros to purify a she-devil.'
This exchange hadn't gone unnoticed, and the other Disciples turned to look at me. My morning was slowly tumbling into hell, and my best friend was not helping. Alex was older than me in age not maturity. She'd turned twenty a few months before and was a few weeks behind me in classes. I had hoped she would take the final exam the same time as me so we could go over to the Temple together. It wouldn't happen if she failed her physical. She'd have to retake the whole of grade six, and I didn't want to have to fail another exam to keep pace with her.
A milky brown skinned boy with thick cornrows threw a wad of paper at the back of Zoe's head. 'Not cool, Zo. Leave her be.' His black-rimmed eyes looked overly large in his thin face, and his blazer hung open to show his naked chest, belly piercing and marks. Jeans worn and slashed at the knee, his boots were scuffed and unlaced.
I smiled warmly. 'Hai, Ro. Where have you been?'
'Slums, on assignment,' he replied. His eyes were on Alex who now stared at the table.
I twisted round further in my seat and bit my lip. I had loads of questions I wanted to ask. The slums were melting pots of every religion, race and minority you could think of. So intermixed there was little distinction between skin colors. Occasionally you got the odd throw backs, like Alex, who were dark and some, were pale or oriental in appearance and feature, but most were a creamy tan.
Slum shacks were shabby structures tacked onto old buildings. Made from wood, plastics, metal basically any material you could get your hands on. Nothing was wasted but then nothing was fixed either. The result was a mish-mash of junk and bric-a-brac homes, riddled with drug dens and whorehouses. The occasional Sect church stood out like a bleeding human in a hungry vampire nest. The Sect took over the churches and gutted the insides to fill them with literature preaching the Doctrine that kept us safe. The luxuries held in Sect churches, like books,
