Prologue

Four Years Ago

The gray light of the forest holds too many goodbyes. Goodbyes said with the promise that they aren’t goodbyes at all. A nervous girl looks up into the eyes of her parents, wishing she could believe that. They’ve tried to assure her all morning not to worry—the transfer should be straightforward. They’ll all be together in Endelor in less than an hour. But she can see the fear their eyes, hear the heaviness in their words. And she can sense a final, urgent farewell lingering beneath their conversation. Yet none of them wants to acknowledge it.

None of them are willing to admit this could be the end.

“I love you my pretistra. See you soon.” Her mother kisses her softly on the cheek. Her father pulls her in for one last hug. He squeezes her hand before he lets go, then walks through the long green grass of the port, flashing an uneasy smile over his shoulder.

The girl looks anxiously around the port, feeling guilty that everyone here may soon be in danger because of her. Three girls her same age stand at the edge of the port dressed in her exact clothes, wearing long, black wavy wigs that mimic her hair. Various Evren flutter through the trees, making last minute adjustments, pairing the decoy girls with their guards. One of the decoys crosses the port to stand with the girl’s parents, making her cringe. Her parents, along with the decoy, will be the first group to transfer.

They are the bait group.

“Psst!” A voice calls from a tree behind her.

The sound makes her jump, breaking her dark thoughts. She turns to see where it came from.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses at the blonde boy hiding behind the tree.

“I followed my parents. They’re your guards during the transfer. Come here, hurry.”

The girl looks around to make sure no one is watching, then disappears into the trees.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” the boy says, taking her hand, holding it firmly in his own. “I need to say goodbye again, without yelling this time. I’m sorry I’ve been so angry lately. I just don’t have a good feeling about the transfer. I’m worried I won’t see you again. And I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

The girl bites down on her lip. “You won’t…everyone’s been planning this for months. It will be fine.” She paints on a smile that refuses to touch her eyes. “You should be excited. It’s going to be just like we always hoped. Now that we’re thirteen, we’ll start at the Academy in a couple weeks and train together every day, without having to hide.”

“Yes, but that’s if you make it to Endelor.”

“I will, I promise.”

The boy reaches into his pocket.

“Just in case the transfer doesn’t go…as planned, I want you to have this.”

The boy slips a gift into the girl’s hand.

“You can’t be serious. It’s too much, I can’t take it.”

“Yes you can, I want you to have it. I want to be able to talk to you, no matter what.”

The boy stares at the girl intently, his green eyes desperate, silently communicating the words he can’t seem to find. She swallows hard, fighting the angry tears that prickle, threatening to spill. If this transfer does go wrong, she will lose more than her parents—she will lose her only friend too. The thought of not seeing him, not laughing with him, not training with him, leaves her breathless. She can’t bear to give him up.

The boy pulls the girl into him, squeezing her tightly. She rests her chin on his shoulder and the memory of the first time she met him flashes through her mind. He has been on her side, against all odds, even before he knew her name. He’s as true a friend as they come.

He sneaks a kiss on her cheek before darting into the trees.

“I’ll see you in Endelor!”

She stands shocked, touching the tingling spot where the boy’s lips brushed her skin. Warm blood rushes to her cheeks, the flush of red shining prominently against the pale gray light surrounding her.

A deep voice calls from the front of the port, “It’s time!”

The girl rushes back to the clearing and stands with her guards. She looks up into the kind faces of the boy’s parents. I will see everyone in Endelor in less than an hour, she chants to herself. Her guards each take her by the hand and lead her to the front of the port directly behind her parents and the decoy.

The girl’s stomach sinks in dread as she watches them disappear, slipping into the void between ports. It is widely anticipated that there will be an attack, an attempt to kidnap her, during the transfer…and now her parents, and the girl she doesn’t know, are about to learn if it’s true.

“You’ll see your parents soon,” the boy’s mother whispers in her ear.

It’s her turn.

 

 

One

Sketches and Eyes

I sit at the top of a hill, looking down over the school grounds. I slip my fingers through the velvet grass beneath me, grateful for the quiet, the stillness of the moment. I’ve been trying to remember my dream from this morning—which is pointless for me to do, since I can never remember my dreams—but I can’t stop myself from trying anyway. There was something in this dream that was new, different, and I need to figure out what it was. Because my dream was not just any dream—it was a memory. A memory I’m desperate for.

Because I would give anything to remember.

I tug on the grass, pulling the blades free from the ground. They rest in my palm, fluttering in the wind. I notice how delicate they are, how easily they can be torn from their home. A burst of wind picks them up from my hand and they scatter, dancing off into the distance. I can’t help but think of my mind as the same, memories plucked clean and tossed away, leaving behind a lost girl with no idea who she is or where she came from.

My bracelet chirps at me, making me jump. I look down at the wretched titanium thing with disgust. My free period is almost over. It chirps a second time. I can’t bear to hear it chirp a third time, so I push in the small button on the bracelet that disables the alert and shut the thing up.

Normally I try not to notice the heavy bracelet constantly pressing down on my left wrist, but in moments when I’m forced to acknowledge it, my suffocated skin itches, begging for freedom. I move my bracelet around as much as I can and scratch the sweaty skin beneath, but it’s not enough. I need it off, even for a few minutes. I look around to make sure no one is close by, and slip my fingers beneath the cold metal.

I close my eyes and pull on the bracelet, searching for the spark inside me. The metal gives way under my control, stretching until I can slide my wrist free. I have no idea how or why I can stretch my titanium bracelet to twice its normal size, but I’m not complaining—all the others girls are forced to wear theirs night and day. It scared me the first time I did it, I don’t even know what made me try, but now six months later, it’s just a normal part of me—something that comes as naturally as breathing. I drop the bracelet into the grass and sigh with relief.

The wind whips again, tossing the tendrils of my hair around me. I reach up to tame my mass of long, black, wavy hair, pulling it back down, in place. I always keep it that way. I have to. It hides one of the secrets I don’t understand about myself. But I want to look at that secret now.

The pond is a few feet away. I scoot toward it and sit at its edge. I pull my hair to the side, and turn to look at the reflection of the back of my neck in the water. At the base of my skull, a silver marking of three triangular points, shaped like the lower half of a six-sided star, glistens against the pale skin of my neck. Whenever I have dreams of my past, it lightly glows. Sure enough, small silver rays of light rise from the marking. The glowing silver looks molten, with specks of diamond swimming in the heat.

I let my hair fall back down and run my fingers through it, staring at my reflection rippling in the water. At the moment my eyes are the same dull gray as the gloomy day surrounding me. My eyes are actually blue, but only when I’m happy. I don’t think anyone but Anna has ever seen my eyes blue; at least no one that I know. Maybe someone from my forgotten childhood knew my eyes were blue, but even if they knew or cared then, it doesn’t matter, because they don’t care now. I touch my finger to the surface of the water, erasing my reflection—just as I was erased four years ago.

I back away from the edge of the pond and pull my sketchbook out of my backpack, flipping through it until I find a fresh page. I may not remember my dreams, but sometimes I get flashes, pictures from my dreams that I’m sure are memories from my childhood. They are the only bits of proof I have that there was something before. I sketch the pictures whenever I can, hoping they might prick my memory into action, but usually they only leave me more confused. I close my eyes, my pencil pressed to the paper, waiting for something to spark.

The rush of wind fills my ears. Its sound tugs at the back of mind—reminding me of something. I open my eyes and begin to draw, hoping I can capture whatever that something is. I could spend all my time like this, doing something I love, lost in the search of my past, with no worries of the present. I lose myself in the sketch, unaware of anything but the sound of the pencil scraping across the page and the picture slowly shaping itself before me.

“They’re here!” a high-pitched squeal shouts, breaking me from my daze. I turn to look behind me. Several girls are clustered outside the main entrance of the school jumping up and down as a fleet of limousines parks in front of the school. Boys spill from the limousines in black tuxes with red eye masks in their hands.

Ugh, how could I forget? The Commencement Ball. The spoiled, rich girls who belong in this school have been blathering about it for weeks now. The Commencement Ball is the pride and joy of Praesidia Luxus Institute. The school throws a lavish ball, complete with theme and designated dance attire every September. I’ve never been allowed to go. Not that I care. I wouldn’t know how to talk to a boy, let alone dance with one.

I turn back to my sketchbook, trying to ignore the giggling girls behind me. After a few more minutes of sketching, I stare down at picture, confused. It looks like I drew the inside of a tornado or something. Water, rocks, and even trees fly through the air, and I’m in the middle of the storm, a few years younger than I am now, running. The picture sends shivers through me. Is this something that actually happened to me? Or is it just a dream? As usual, I’m left with more questions than answers. I slam the sketchbook shut and toss it onto my backpack.

“Alevia Knight?” a brusque voice says from above me. I jump in shock, and fold my arms, hiding my naked wrist. Ms. Connolly, the dean’s secretary, stands a few feet away. “Ms. McAllister needs to speak to you immediately. Follow me.”

Great. What does she want? Ms. Connolly snaps at me to hurry. I pick my bracelet up from the grass as soon as her back is turned and slip it back on, pressing it until it shrinks back to fit my wrist. I shove my sketchbook into my backpack and stand up, following her large, waddling rear into the school.

I feel claustrophobic as I walk through the hallways. Not because of crowding—but because I know every step I take is being tracked by the security team. The bracelet on my wrist feels heavy again, and I try not to dwell on the fact that the wooden arches in the ceiling have sensors that track my every move.

The elaborate security system surrounding me makes me wonder, yet again, how someone so glaringly out of place as myself, came to be at Praesidia Luxus Institute. This very exclusive, very expensive, and heavily-secured private school for girls houses the daughters of wealthy business men, politicians, celebrities, and any other high-profile rich parent who fears their daughter could be kidnapped and used for ransom.

The girls I pass in the hallways carry themselves in a way that leaves no doubt—they are entitled and extraordinarily wealthy. A sharp contrast to me. All I’ve ever known is solitude. I’m a husk of a girl, incomplete in every way.

My pulse accelerates as I walk into the office. There is no way this little exchange will be remotely pleasant. To say Ms. McAllister and I have a strained relationship would be putting it mildly. She’s the dragon lady, and I’m the trash in her otherwise pristine school. Ms. McAllister looks up as I enter, her eyes narrow in dislike. Her watchful eyes follow me as I cross the room and take my seat. She reaches her hand under her desk and a loud click reverberates off the walls. I stiffen at the sound. She just turned off the cameras in her office.

“Now then, to business. Tonight is a very busy night for me, so I will have your full cooperation. The Commencement Ball is a logistical nightmare each year and therefore requires my full attention. But today also happens to be September thirteenth, which is the happy anniversary of your arrival at Praesidia Luxus Institute. Therefore, we will have the opening tonight as well.”

Each year on the anniversary of my arrival to the school I am required to open a sealed box that contains my tuition—plus a generous bonus—for that school year. Ms. McAllister has nicknamed this tradition ‘the opening.’ I suppose she thinks it sounds impressive or dramatic or whatever. I despise the whole thing.

First, it means I have to spend time with Ms. McAllister, and second, it’s a reminder that my only connection to the outside world is a collection of boxes. Whoever dumped me in this school four years ago wanted to make sure that the administration couldn’t take my five years-worth of tuition in full then expel me. So each box has a timing mechanism and personal identification system that requires my fingerprint and retinal scan at precisely 11:59 p.m. every September thirteenth in order to open. This allows me to stay safely tucked away until I’m eighteen. Lucky me.

“In order for the opening to occur on the same night as the ball, the security team has had to make some adjustments to the student tracking program,” Ms. McAllister continues, not noticing my faltering attention. “They have unfortunately run into a problem that has now become my problem. When they made the adjustment for you to be allowed out of your room at midnight for the opening, the program automatically grouped you in with the rest of the students attending the Commencement Ball, who will also be out at midnight. I pressed them earnestly to find a way around this, but they have assured me the system will not budge. Therefore, I am forced to allow you to attend the ball.” She hisses the last few words as if being forced to allow me to go to the Commencement Ball is the low point in her career at Praesidia Luxus Institute.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” she asks impatiently.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I blurt out, just realizing that the ball has some sort of theme that requires specific dress styles and colors. I can tell by the look on Ms. McAllister’s face that that wasn’t the answer she was looking for. Tears of joy and gratitude seem to be more along the line of her expectation. Since I feel neither, I give a quick “Thank you” with as much sweetness as I can muster.

“Now listen to me, and listen well,” Ms. McAllister hisses. “If I have so much as a whisper of a problem from you at the ball or the opening, I promise you, you will be sorry indeed. I will make it my mission to punish you so thoroughly you will wish, almost as much as I do, that you never stepped foot into this school.”

I don’t tell her I’ve wished that every day for the last four years.

Ms. McAllister unconsciously twists a diamond ring on her right hand as she speaks. A ring she stole from me four years ago as payment for all her ‘additional services.’ I’m suddenly livid at seeing it on her finger. Not just because it’s valuable, but because it’s mine. I have so little to know myself by, and I hate seeing a piece of my unknown past attached to this wretched woman’s finger.

“I’m not going to cause any problems,” I hiss, venom in my voice.

“Don’t you use that tone with me! How dare you speak to me disrespectfully after all the trouble you’ve caused. I should have thrown you out onto the street years ago! What is this school benefitting from keeping trash like you around?”

Heat rises in my face. I clench my jaw and grip my knees tightly, my fingernails digging in hard.

“What have you benefitted from me? That’s a nice ring you have on your finger.”

“Excuse me?”

I look directly into her eyes and stare with pure hatred. Ms. McAllister rises from her chair. I keep my eyes trained on her as she slowly walks toward me, a cruel smile on her lips. I feel a sudden burst of pain as she wrenches her hand into the roots of my hair and yanks my head back.

“Look at you sit here so proud and defiant,” she whispers, inches from my face. “You think yourself the victim, don’t you? Poor Alevia, the forgotten orphan…no one understands…. Pity. But I do understand. You see, I know there is something wrong with you. I know there is something so abnormal about you that even your parents didn’t want you. Why else would they have had that woman leave you here with no contact from anyone since? They were ashamed of you.”

I sit rigid and stare back hard. I don’t react to her, though what she says hits me in my core. I won’t let Ms. McAllister see that she has confirmed my biggest fear. I know I’m not normal. I’m sure my parents were well aware of that fact, and they obviously were ashamed. I am so unwanted they have paid a fortune to keep me here unnoticed and out of their lives.

“You have such freakish eyes,” Ms. McAllister continues, her foul breath in my face. “You look like a demon with your translucent eyes. Anna may have tried to cover your perverse abnormalities, but I am not so easily fooled. Don’t worry though, I don’t plan to keep you around for long. I am done letting your filth darken this school. After the opening tonight, I am bringing in experts to open the rest of your boxes. And once they are open and I have the money in my hands, you will be out of this school so fast your head will spin. Now get out!”

Ms. McAllister releases her hand from my hair with another harsh pull. Anger boils inside me, sending jolts of electricity through my veins. I knock her hand away. Another shock amplifies the action, sending her flying across the room. She crashes into the wall behind the desk, and slumps to the ground, dazed.

She shakes her head, and her eyes find mine. They are wide with fear and condemnation, and confirm what both of us know, but don’t understand.

There is definitely something not normal about me.

I just wish I knew what it was.

I’m rooted to the floor, still in shock at what I’ve done. Ms. McAllister slowly stands up, her eyes trained on me. She walks to her desk and picks up the phone.

“I need two security officers, now,” she hisses.

I bolt out the door. Ms. McAllister yells something, I don’t hear it. I pick up my pace. I know I’ll be tracked down by security any second, but I need to get away and calm down. I don’t know how my body will react to being manhandled by two men at the moment—I can’t have another accident.

I rush through the school, down the hallway that leads out to the courtyard. I push the heavy doors open, relieved they are unlocked, and step outside. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, trying to slow my pounding heart.

I open my eyes. A flicker of movement rustles the large tree in the center of the courtyard, catching my attention. The blur was so fast I’m not sure if I actually saw it or if it was my imagination. An electronic buzzing sounds through the courtyard. I look up, the four security cameras mounted along the walls begin to smoke. Seconds later they sag limply on their stands.

What on earth?

Another flash of movement rustles the tree. I turn toward it and freeze. A boy stands next to the tree, staring at me as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. I stare back at him, stunned. He doesn’t look like the other boys who just arrived. Who is he and what is he doing out here?

We continue to gape at one another and my cheeks flush in embarrassment. I know it’s rude to stare like I am, but I can’t help myself. Something is itching at the back of my mind and I can’t focus on anything else. The air around me charges, it feels like lightning is about to strike. My scalp prickles and the strangest sensation whirls in my stomach…like I’m falling down a flight of stairs.

Then it hits me—I feel like I recognize this boy from somewhere. But there’s no way. It’s impossible. I’ve never met a boy before. I’m suddenly struck by how unbelievably handsome he is and it only makes me flush more. He’s tall, muscular, and wears a navy-blue uniform similar to a police officer’s, except there’s no vest or writing or badges of any kind on it. He has a halo of golden blonde hair, short and ruffled as if he just removed a hat. But what holds me—and keeps me staring—are his eyes.

I know those eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

Two

Confused and Wanted

I swallow hard, caught in his spell. The boy’s bright green eyes continue to stare at me, shining like emeralds, piercing, unyielding, and I swear they can see right through me. He blinks rapidly, but seems to come to his senses. He cautiously steps toward me. The charge in the air strengthens, I can almost hear it crackle with electricity.

“How..?” he asks.

Finally I find my nerve and my voice.

“Who are you?” My voice is timid and quiet. Having never spoken to a boy before, I find it completely intimidating. His eyes light up in amusement. He flashes me a dazzling smile of perfectly straight, white teeth. A deep chuckle resonates in his throat.

“You don’t know me?” He has a deep, velvety voice with a lilting British accent. I melt a little. A waft of his scent fans around me, sending delicious shivers down my spine. It’s a woodsy, clean scent that smells familiar. And I have no idea why.

“I…I don’t know. Should I know you?” I’m so confused.

“No, you shouldn’t know me. What’s your name?”

“Alevia.”

“That’s a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Do you go to school here, Alevia?” He draws out my name, knowingly, playfully.

“Yes.”

“How long have you been at this school?”

“Four years.”

“I see.” He smiles that knowing smile again. “And before that, where did you go to school?”

I flush at his question. It’s one that I, of course, don’t have the answer to.

“What’s your name?” I don’t intend for it to sound sharp, but it does.

“Kendrick Evers.” He closes the gap of the last few feet between us and offers his hand for me to shake. I stare at it tentatively, nervous to touch a boy for the first time. He sees my hesitation and bites down on his lip, trying harder to suppress his smile.

I exhale loudly and reach out to shake his hand, not wanting to be a coward. Our hands lock and a jolt of electricity sparks between us. I start in shock and the marking on the back of my neck tingles. Something flashes briefly through my mind, but is gone just as quickly. Kendrick’s eyes light with surprise, I’m sure he felt it too. I hastily pull my hand away and fold my arms protectively around myself.

“Are you not going to answer my question?” he asks.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s none of your business.” Why does he care anyway? Is that a normal question to pester a stranger about, ‘Where did you go to school before?’

“I can’t argue there.” I see a glint of humor in his eyes again. “I was wondering if you might help me with something.”

“Maybe…what do you need help with?”

“I was wondering if there was a staff member by the name of Anna who works here?”

What could he possibly want with Anna? “She’s the school nurse. Do you know her?”

“She’s an old family friend. I was wondering if she’s available for visitors? I’d love to catch up with her if possible.”

“I’m not sure. You’d have to check in with the security staff before you could see her.”

“And what if I don’t want to check in with the security staff? Would you be willing to fetch her for me?”

Fetch her?

 “I don’t think it would work. I’m already out of my designated area. I’m sure someone from security will be here any minute to escort me back.”

“Is there any way I can convince you, Darling? It’s very important.”

Did he just call me darling? With his British accent, it sounds like dahling—and so oddly familiar.

“Never mind, I can see it won’t work,” Kendrick says hastily. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Alevia. I do hope we see each other again soon.” He winks at me and gives me another heart-stopping smile.

The doors of the courtyard burst open behind me, making me jump. Several members of the security team file out. I expect them to charge after Kendrick, but when I turn back to look at him, he’s gone.

Two of the security officers roam the courtyard, pointing up at the broken cameras. Another walks toward me angrily.

Here we go.

“What are you doing out here alone? And what did you do to the cameras?” he barks at me.

“Nothing! All I did was come outside. They just started smoking.”

“Out of the blue?” he says sarcastically.

“Yes, out of the blue. If you think I did something to them, why don’t you look at the footage? All you’ll see is me walking outside.”

But you won’t see my conversation with Kendrick, I realize. The cameras were already destroyed. Was it a coincidence? Somehow I don’t think so.

The doors open again, and this time, I sigh in relief. Anna is here. If there is anyone in the school who will help me, it’s Anna. She was one of the nurses that cared for me after I woke up in the school hospital with no memory, and she has covered for me on more than one occasion, to help me keep the marking on the back of my neck, among other things, secret.

The security guards stop what they’re doing, stunned momentarily, as they always are when Anna is around. She’s absolutely gorgeous even in her red scrubs and ponytail. With her perfect mocha skin, bright green eyes, and shimmering long, straight black hair, she makes every model I’ve ever seen look plain.

The security guard closest to me coughs loudly. The other security guards break from their daze and get back to investigating the cameras. Anna brushes past him to stand in front of me, blocking his way. She looks agitated—which is odd, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her be anything but calm and kind.

“I’ve been looking for you, what are you doing out here?” she asks, ignoring the security officer’s protests.

“I’m not sure myself,” I mutter. “I need to talk to you.”

“Happy coincidence, then. Let’s head to my office.”

“Anna,” the security officer says sharply, “Alevia is to report immediately to Ms. McAllister’s office.”

Anna slowly turns to face him, smiling sweetly. “I will escort her.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

Her eyes flash angrily. The security guard swallows hard and takes a step backward. Anna wraps her hand around my upper arm holding me still. The other officers join the standoff, looking back and forth at each other, unsure how to handle the situation.

Anna reaches the hand not clasped around my arm up to her chin and taps it in contemplation.

“What are we going to do about this?” she asks lightly.

A loud hiss sounds from inside the school. Water bursts from the sprinklers in the ceiling. A second later the fire alarm goes off. Students pour out of classrooms, screaming, and the security officers dash back inside the school. We follow, and Anna and I are soon lost in a sea of panicked girls.

“Shouldn’t we go back outside? There’s a fire!” I shout at Anna through the chaos.

“No, there’s not. Follow me!”

“How do you know there’s not a fire?”

She doesn’t answer, she just motions for me to follow her again. We walk through the deluge of water to Anna’s office. She unlocks the door, and I’m expecting more water as we step inside, but her office is miraculously dry. Anna tosses me a hand towel, and I run it over my face, flopping down on the couch.

“Are you sure it’s safe to be inside right now?”

“I told you, there is no fire.”

“Yes, you mentioned that, but you didn’t tell me how you know there’s no fire.”

Anna rolls her eyes, and waves away my question. She grabs a towel for herself and dries her hair as she peers out the window, smiling at the commotion outside. She turns back to me.

“I want you to forget all of that outside. You said you needed to talk to me about something.”

“Oh, yeah.” I almost forgot about Kendrick in all the bedlam. “Something weird happened right before you came out into the courtyard. I saw a boy.”

Anna clucks her tongue dismissively as if she’s disappointed. “There are a lot of boys here today. The Commencement Ball, remember?”

“That’s what I thought at first, but I don’t think that’s the reason he was here. He knew you. He was asking for you.”

The blood drains from Anna’s face, she looks pale beneath her rich skin. “A boy asked for me, specifically? What did he say?”

“He said you were an old family friend. His name was Kendrick.”

“Oh my,” Anna whispers.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes, though I haven’t seen him in years. He was a boy the last time I saw him.”

“Who is he?”

“I was right….”

“Right about what? Anna, who is he?”

“This is the best news I’ve had in four years. I have to go, Alevia. I have to find Kendrick. I want you to stay here in my office, do you understand? No leaving for any reason.”

Anna rushes out of her office, slamming the door behind her. I sit bewildered at what just happened, my mouth hanging open in shock. I gape out the window, hoping to see Anna pass by on her way to the courtyard.

What is going on? And just who is Kendrick Evers?

I pace back and forth in the small office, my mind reeling. A half hour passes and I turn on the TV, trying to distract myself. A headline flashes at the bottom of a news report while a female anchor feeds the latest update.

 

‘Officials have not yet confirmed how many tourists have gone missing, but they estimate it to be somewhere around a hundred. It will be several days to a week before they will release the final number. What we do know at this time is that two tour buses seemingly vanished while en route to Mount Rushmore. Some mechanical debris from the buses was found on the highway, along with swerving lines of skid marks, but the busses and all their passengers are nowhere to be found. This is the second large-scale disappearance on U.S. soil in the last six months.’

 

The news is depressing. I switch it off and pace the office. After another half hour, finally, the door bursts open and Anna rushes inside, alone.

“What’s going on?” I blurt out.

“I wish I knew exactly. Damn, where is he?” she growls.

“I take it you didn’t find him.” I stare at Anna, waiting for a response.

“Back to plan A I guess,” she mutters to herself.

“Anna, who is Kendrick and what’s going on? You’re worrying me.”

“What’s going on, is there is someone close by who’s not supposed to be here.” She bites her lip, pausing as if she doesn’t want to continue. “Which means…you’re in danger.”

I stare at her in disbelief.

“What? That doesn’t make any sense. How on earth could I be in danger? I live in the most heavily-secured school money can buy, and if you haven’t noticed, I barely exist. So how could I be in danger?”

“Oh, Alevia, you very much exist, and though you don’t realize it, there are many outside this school who do. And they want you. Badly.”

 

 

Three

Admissions and Necklaces

“You know who I am,” I whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you told me before?”

“I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I had to keep you safe.”

“Safe? Wait…” I hesitate as Anna’s words sink in. “What do you mean people outside this school want me?”

“I mean there’s a reason you’ve been hidden here for the last four years. And there’s a very good reason your memory was repressed. But now it looks as though someone has learned our secret, and found you.”

“My memory was repressed? Do you mean someone did this to me?!”

Anna sighs. “Yes. Someone locked your memories deep inside your mind, but that was to protect you. Listen to me!” she cuts in as I try to interrupt with more questions. “I will tell you what I can about your past, but until you are away from here and safe, I will only share what is necessary.”

She studies me to make sure I won’t keep interrupting before she continues.

“It all begins long ago, but I will focus on what applies only to you. You are something of an impossibility. Not because what you are isn’t actually possible, but because of the forbidden circumstances surrounding it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that all the not-so-normal things we’ve been keeping secret for four years are actually very normal, for someone like you.”

Okay… “So…what am I?”

“I won’t tell you just now, but you are not exactly human, and neither am I.” Anna holds up her hand, warning me, as I try to speak. “You are only the third of your kind to ever exist, which put you in grave danger the moment you were born. Your parents raised you in secret with the help of their most trusted friends, but there were those who knew of your birth despite your parents’ efforts, and among those were people who sought to control you, and those who sought to kill you.”

“Why would they want to do that?”

“Because you are very powerful.”

“Me? Powerful? I think you’ve got that backwards.”

“Trust me, Alevia, I don’t. Anyway, the Chancellors, they are the governors of our society, knew of your birth, and initially, were content to watch you grow from a distance. But as you grew older, they wanted to ensure you wouldn’t become a threat, so they took an invested interest in you. Starting at the age of eight, you were presented before them on an annual basis for evaluation. Then, when you were twelve years old, the Chancellors determined you were growing too powerful and felt compelled to oversee your development on a more personal basis. They ordered your parents to relocate to the capital city of our society, to keep you under their watchful eye.

“Your parents tried to fight the order initially, but they weren’t successful. Your parents didn’t trust the Chancellors, and knew their intentions were far from sympathetic toward you, but they couldn’t flee the society and hope to keep you safe, so they secretly made alternate plans.

“Whispers of your existence were spreading rapidly through our society, and your parents feared the news of your transfer would invariably leak. You would be in danger of an attack during the transfer, so they had to take matters into their own hands. In the months they had to prepare, your parents enlisted help from those close to you to help them find a way to protect you in the event things went awry.

“Those of us involved made a plan to keep you safe and to hide you if necessary. We disclosed only a portion of our plan to the Chancellors, and, as I’m sure you’ve surmised, the transfer was disastrous. You were attacked just minutes after you left.”

Images from my dream and my sketch roll through my mind.

“You were rescued after…after the, attack, then brought here, into the human world. The person who delivered you here, repressed your memory, and then removed the memory of where she hid you from her own mind. No one from our society has known your location these last four years, besides me. It was my charge to stay with you and protect you at this school in complete secrecy until I received orders to return you; or to return you on my own if you were in danger.”

“Where are my parents?” I interrupt.

“We can talk about that when we arrive back in our society,” she says sadly.

That can’t be good news. Anna spoke of my parents as if they did love me and want me, but I’m not sure if I’m completely convinced. After years of being told that I’m unwanted, even by my parents, it’s hard for me to so easily change that perception of myself.

“Will you tell me something about them? Please? I just want to know why they’d send me outside their own world without coming with me.”

“They wanted to come with you, Alevia, but if they had, you would have been a lot easier to find. I’m sorry.”

I close my eyes and rub my temples, trying to wrap my mind around Anna’s words. After four years of knowing nothing about myself, it’s hard to believe any of this could be true. I try to keep my composure, but everything inside me shuts down. It’s too overwhelming. Lost in my thoughts, I stare straight ahead, but don’t register anything I see. The truth of my past has not infused feelings of joy and excitement as I always thought it would. Instead, crushing fear echoes distantly through me, as my mind and body relive the sheer terror I felt waking from a dreamless slumber with no sense of identity or memory.

I shiver, and try to push the memory away, but I can’t stop it.

I relive the expectant faces hovered over me, the blinding white light behind them. They speak a name I don’t know, anxious for a response. They ask so many questions, many of which I don’t understand. They tell me I’m healthy and strong; they press me to try to remember. They sigh in frustration when I can’t tell them my name. They give a bleak prognosis when I don’t recognize my reflection.

I shudder. My life as I remember it has been an abyss, devoid of identity, love, and a lifetime of memories. So many questions are answered, and yet thousands more surface. An ache resonates deep within me. The very ache I have ignored for four years. But it will not stay forgotten any longer. It rages and swells demanding my recognition. Tears stream down my face for the first time I can remember.

 “Alevia,” Anna says softly, “I know this is so much to take in at once and it must be difficult for you, but time is not on our side at the moment. I need to get you out of here, and the only way I can do that is during the ball, so I need you to follow me so we can get you ready.”

“How?” I ask, wiping away my tears. “Is this the plan ‘A’ you were talking about earlier? Because if it is, it’s not going to work, the security is at its highest at the ball.”

“That is true. However, it is also the time the security team is most distracted, and I have means of escape that none of the security guards have ever considered,” Anna says with a sly smile.

Something occurs to me and I’m curious.

“What does all this have to do with Kendrick?” I don’t know how, but I know it’s connected.

“Kendrick showing up out of the blue confirms that my senses are on track. An enemy is close by and Kendrick is probably tracking them. He’s always been a gifted tracker, even as a boy. Somehow this enemy has found us and Kendrick is on his heels…so he ended up inadvertently finding us as well.”

“Have I met Kendrick before? When I talked to him, I knew that I had never met him—that I could remember—but there’s something inside me that makes me feel like I know him.”

Anna smiles broadly. “Oh yes, you’ve met him before.” I sense a double meaning behind her words but I’m at a loss as to what it might be.

“I knew it! But he didn’t say anything to me, he pretended like he didn’t know me.”

“Of course he did. He knows your memory was repressed, and he didn’t want to scare you off by talking to you like you weren’t a stranger.”

“Why did you rush out to find him?”

“Because I need to get you out of here as soon as possible, and with Kendrick’s help I might not have had to wait for the ball. There’s so much extra security around today that, alone, I can’t get you out without attracting their attention. I’m not sure if the enemy is working alone or not, so our escape has to be perfect. I can’t have the security team here accidentally alerting the enemy that we are on the move. But since I couldn’t find Kendrick, and I have no way of contacting him, I’ll have to wait until the security team is all focused in one area during the ball tonight. Which brings us back to getting you ready.”

Anna reaches under her desk and pulls out a large red box with a black bow on it. She holds it out toward me. It takes me a moment to register the fact that it’s a gift. I’ve never received one before.

“What’s this for?”

“Just open it.”

I carefully unwrap the gift. Inside is a black and red feathered eye mask. I suddenly remember from the shining posters on the school walls that the ball’s theme is ‘Modern Masquerade.’ I pull the mask out and find a beautiful red ball gown folded neatly underneath.

“I need you to blend in perfectly tonight. Now go try that on and make sure it fits.”

 

I stare at myself in the full-length mirror in Anna’s bedroom, just outside her office. I’m stunned to see myself in such an elaborate dress. I’ve never worn anything besides a hand-me-down school uniform, and the few random street clothes Anna managed to scrape together for me. This dress is such a leap from those I feel a little ridiculous. The rich crimson silk hugs perfectly to every contour of my body, with a sheer black bustle train flowing in spirals down behind me. Anna hands me black lace opera gloves and the feathered mask to complete the costume.

“You look beautiful,” Anna says contentedly.

“I feel really overdressed.”

“Of course you feel overdressed. You’ve never worn a dress before let alone a ball gown. But regardless, you look amazing, so stop fidgeting and stand up straight.”

I laugh at Anna and do as she says. I stroke my hand over my necklace, admiring it in the mirror. The large teardrop-shaped crystal necklace around my neck is the only possession, apart from the ring Ms. McAllister stole, that I have from my childhood. I don’t know who gave me such lavish pieces of jewelry, but I treasure them. They are my only tangible connection to my past. Since my ring was stolen, I have guarded my necklace fiercely. It feels strange to wear it out in the open instead of hidden under my clothes.

“The person who gave you this necklace cared for you very much,” Anna says, watching me from behind.

“You know who gave it to me? Who was it?”

“I’m not going to tell you. When we get you back into our world, you’ll learn how to unlock your memories, and you’ll remember it for yourself one day.”

“Anna! That’s not fair! Please tell me who gave it to me!” I don’t know why, but I know this necklace is important. I have to know more about it.

“No, I won’t do that. Trust me, it will be worth the wait when you remember it on your own. Now, go take the dress off and meet me in my bathroom. The fun has just begun, my dear, because hair and makeup are next.”

I sigh and follow her orders.

I sit in front of the mirror in Anna’s bathroom. My spine stiffens when she starts to brush my hair. I don’t like being touched. I don’t have memories of hugs or physical contact from my childhood, the only touch I know is clinical. Doctors and nurses poking and prodding, over and over again.

I try to ignore my reservations by studying my reflection as I did earlier today. I always thought learning the truth of my past would make the girl in the mirror more familiar, less of a sad mystery. But it’s not the case. I feel as though I used to look at myself from behind a veiled curtain, and now that the curtain has been pulled aside, a new, unfamiliar girl looks back at me.

My reflection becomes even more obscure as Anna paints my lips and pulls the front of my hair back into an elegant twist at the crown of my head, leaving the bulk of my hair down to cover my marking.

I look older somehow, and not just because of the makeup.

Anna hands me my dress and sends me back to my room to pack what belongings I want to take with me—but only those I can hide under my dress. Luckily I don’t have any possessions I care about other than my necklace and ring. I ball my fists in anger, there’s no way I can take my ring back from Ms. McAllister before the ball. I sigh heavily as I think of my ring one last time, then let it go.

I try not to rush through the hallways, even though I’m running late. I don’t want to attract attention to myself. The janitors and a few lower security officers are still mopping up the sprinkler mess from earlier. A few of them give me odd glances as I pass. I ignore them, and rush inside my room carrying my ball gown over my shoulder. I strip off my uniform and pull on the ball gown, stopping when the dress is only half on. I stare in shock at my bed.

A small box, wrapped in glossy black paper and coiled with a black velvet bow, rests on my pillow. Another present. I wonder why Anna didn’t give it to me before? I pick up the gift and slowly unwrap it.

A necklace, similar to mine, lies on a gray silk pillow. This new necklace is black and the center stone is shaped like a diamond rather than a teardrop, but the design and details are otherwise identical. I lift the necklace from the box and see a note beneath it.

The note is unsigned, and only one sentence long.

Your beauty will be unmistakable.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise—though I don’t understand why.

 

 

 

Four

Masks and Deception

I rush down the hall toward the ballroom and stop at the line of red and black dresses. Girls are lined up alphabetically, masks in hand, to be checked off a list before they enter the ballroom. I find my designated place in line and run my hand over the black necklace around my neck, caught up in the unfamiliarity of it. My silver necklace is in a small bag, tied to my thigh under my dress.

My heart pounds in expectation. I can’t believe I’m leaving Praesidia Luxus Institute to go back to my home. Wherever that is. I’m so distracted by my thoughts the security officer has to ask me to give my name twice before I finally answer him. He looks at me annoyed, then scans my bracelet at the door before I enter the ballroom.

The large, dark room is clustered with elaborate red and black masquerade decorations. Beams of white light cut diagonally through the darkness, their circular spotlights dance across the floor. The boys enter the ballroom from a door to the left wearing tuxes with red ties and small red masks. The girls around me fret as they fix their masks in place and adjust their dresses, preparing to meet the boys. I put on my own mask, and wander to the back of the crowd of students facing the stage at the front of the ballroom.

Ms. McAllister stands under a spotlight on a stage, tapping the microphone. The microphone shrieks, several students cover their ears in protest. She smiles a toothy smile, which throws me—I’ve never seen a genuine smile on her face. It looks odd against her severe features. She welcomes the boys and administration from Praesidium Luxos Institute, gushing about the honor that has long abounded between the two schools, and the wonderful tradition of the Commencement Ball. She reminds the students, with a wink, that many alumni of the schools met their future spouse at this prestigious ball. I almost gag.

I ignore the rest of her ridiculous speech and wander through the ballroom. The DJ takes over and welcomes us all in a jaunty, commercial, sort of voice, and blasts the newest pop song from the radio. A few brave students take to the floor immediately, bouncing up and down, singing the lyrics of the song, while the others wait, filing in slowly after some unknown source has deemed it cool enough to start dancing.

I climb the grand staircase at the far end of the ballroom and walk along the second story landing, admiring the rows of windows mirrored on either side of ballroom. The night sky winks down at me, glittered with stars. I smile despite my nervousness. I will soon be outside and away from here, under that blanket of stars.

Ahead of me I see the recessed corner of the landing Anna told me to find. It hides in shadow, and behind a tapestry on its wall, is the hidden security door that leads to the roof. It’s not time to leave yet, but I want to find the door beforehand. I step closer and see a couple taking full advantage of the shadowy corner. I come as close as I dare, cringing at the awkwardness, and look for the hanging tapestry. I spot it but don’t investigate any closer, wanting to avoid the tangled bodies. I will just have to take Anna’s word, and hope the couple doesn’t head back to their corner after the Institute Waltz.

The Institute Waltz is a choreographed dance all students will participate in halfway through the ball. It’s one of the great traditions of the Commencement Ball, and it’s the reason for the delay in our departure. Anna chaperoned the ball last year and learned that just before the Institute Waltz, the ball is paused for a quick roll call to ensure the presence of all students. Anna wants to make sure we are far away before the security team realizes I’m missing and raises the alarm.

I turn and head back to the staircase, slowly descending the stairs, taking extra care in my high heels.

“May I have the next dance?” a boy with a raspy voice and dark hair asks me when I reach the first floor. He politely offers me his arm.

I flinch in surprise. I wasn’t planning on dancing with anyone until I was forced to during the Institute Waltz. I stare at him, unable to answer.

“I won’t bite, I promise,” he chuckles at me.

I blink a few times and notice a group of boys staring at me, probably questioning my sanity. I don’t want to draw attention to myself, and staring blank faced like an idiot isn’t helping me keep a low profile.

“Uh, yes, you can,” I say shakily, taking the boy’s arm. I try my best not to flinch again. I will have to bite back my touching issues for a few minutes. I think of Kendrick and the handshake we shared earlier today. I wish it was Kendrick I was dancing with, the thought pops unbidden into my head, surprising me.

The dark-haired boy leads me to the dance floor. My stomach tightens as he wraps his arm around my waist. He takes my hand in his, and even through my lace gloves, the contact between us makes me uneasy. I place my other hand on his shoulder and swallow hard, trying to press my nerves down.

Our eyes meet and a chill runs down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, I feel the sudden urge to run. His eyes are a strange shade of violet, rimmed behind his black mask. That can’t be right. It must be a trick of the flashing, colored lights in the darkness. I close my eyes and force myself to calm down.

“Are you new to school? I don’t remember seeing you at any of the dances before,” the boy asks. His raspy voice makes me shiver.

“No, I’ve been here four years.” I cough to clear the nervousness from my throat. “I just haven’t gone to any of the dances before.”

“That’s too bad; I could have danced with you years ago.”

I smile in response, unsure what to say.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Alevia, what’s yours?”

“Braxon. It’s nice to meet you, Alevia.”

“You too.”

A shiver shimmies through me again and I hate myself for being so awkward. Here this handsome, charming boy asks me to dance and tries to make conversation and I can barely string a coherent sentence together. I’m uneasy the entire dance, desperate to get away. I’m flooded with relief when the song ends and Braxon releases me.

“Thank you for the dance,” he winks.

“Thank you for asking me.” I turn and hurry away. Braxon calls out my name. I stop and reluctantly look back.

“May I have the Institute Waltz?”

“Yes.” I try to smile convincingly. Little does this boy know, my escape will happen just after our last dance. The thought gives me strength.

The back of my neck is sticky with nervous perspiration, I can’t get over the creepy feeling worming through my body. I walk to the refreshment table to get a drink of water. A tap on my shoulder sends a shock through me and I spill water down my front. I turn around and two boys, much shorter than me, introduce themselves. I wish I could just disappear. I can’t really hear their names over the music, and I don’t try very hard to pay attention. I lumber through annoying small talk with them until I can’t stand it anymore. I excuse myself, pretending I need to use the bathroom, and hurry away before either of them could ask me to dance. There’s no way I could stomach being touched by someone so sweaty.

I sneak over to a dark corner of the ballroom behind the staircase, and sink to the floor. I’m not the only person taking advantage of the secluded space, another couple is feverishly kissing just a few feet away from me, but I decide listening to their sickening slurping noises is better than dancing with strange boys.

I see the same pair of shoes pass by the shadowed corner multiple times. I don’t know how I know, but I’m sure it’s Braxon. What is it about him that makes me so nervous? I wonder. I pick at a feather that fell off my mask, trying to ignore the stalking feet on my right and the hormonal passion on my left.

At last, by the grace of the universe, Ms. McAllister directs us to take our positions for the Institute Waltz. I crawl out from my hiding place, and step into the line of girls. Braxon is smiling across from me. Just a few more minutes. You can do this.

The lights in the ballroom turn on, blinding me, and the security team calls for all students to remove their masks. I pull mine off and scratch my itchy face. I fidget, anxious to leave, as four security guards, plus the dean of each school, work their way down the lines of students, verifying that all are still accounted for. I look across at Braxon and I’m disappointed to see his mask is still on. I want to look at his eyes with the lights on to see if they really are violet.

A security guard steps in front of him and scans his bracelet, then orders him to remove his mask. He raises his arms obediently. I lean to the side to get a peek, but another security guard steps in front of me, blocking my view. He scans my bracelet and verifies my identity, along with a scowling Ms. McAllister, then moves on to the girl next to me. When he moves aside, I look back at Braxon and his mask is back on.

Once all the students’ bracelets have been scanned, the lights dim once more. Classical music rises through the ballroom and the Institute Waltz begins. I fight against my instincts and curtsy at Braxon, who bows at me. We step toward one another, grasping hands, I shudder again at the contact. The creepy feeling races through me again and it takes all the nerve I have to keep moving.

The choreographed steps weave us in and out, and around our neighbors. The girls beside me try desperately to gain Braxon’s attention as they pass him—but his attention doesn’t waver for a second. His eyes stay fixed on me. A dark intensity sparks between us, blurring everything else into background.

We break from the line of students beside us, along with all the other couples, and embrace in a waltz for the remainder of the dance. Braxon’s eyes bore into mine and a wicked smile stretches across his lips. He bends down and whispers in my ear. I shudder as his breath glides across my neck.

“I know who you are.”

Fear incapacitates me. I should run, scream, anything. But I can’t move. Braxon pulls his hand from mine and snaps his fingers, the wicked smile still on his lips.

Pain erupts in my chest. The black necklace slithers upward, coiling itself around my neck. It constricts tighter and tighter, choking me. Fire courses through my throat and spreads downward through my body. What is going on?!

I finally try to pull my hands out of Braxon’s grasp, but they don’t budge. The necklace relaxes its grip and the fire recedes, replaced by dull pressure. Everything surrounding me melts into a chaotic blur. I instantly lose all ability to feel or control my body, though it still waltzes with Braxon, a puppet at his mercy.

The music speeds and slows in my mind, the melody forming a haunting cacophony. My vision distorts. The waltzing couples surrounding me stretch and contract. Their black and red figures spin around me faster and faster. White spotlights cut through the darkness, highlighting masked faces that stare at me with red eyes and bared, sharp teeth. I’m lost in a waking nightmare, helplessly subject to Braxon’s will.

I try to scream but can’t remember how. I panic at my uselessness. Braxon pulls me tighter into him and slides his hand up my back, tangling his fingers in my hair. He pulls my face to his, pressing our cheeks together. He breathes heavily against me, warming my cheek. I want to fight, but I can’t.

“I knew I would find you,” he whispers in triumph. “And now you are mine.”

The perverse dance ends and Braxon holds tight to my waist, half dragging me toward the grand staircase. Applause erupt from the students, pounding through my head like fireworks. Everything around me still swims in distortion, yet my mind is all too aware of what’s happening, with my body hopelessly unable to stop it.

Braxon pulls me up the staircase and drags me toward the tapestry I found earlier. We duck into the shadows. He sweeps me into an intimate embrace, trapping me against the wall. My head falls back limply. Braxon runs his fingers through my hair and cups my chin in his hand. He leans his head in toward mine and runs his nose along my jawline, sniffing me like I’m a fine wine.

He slides his hand slowly down the front of my neck, then down my arm, slipping my bracelet effortlessly off my wrist. My skin shivers along the trail of his touch, like ice settling into my bones. My bracelet falls to the carpeted ground with a thud and Braxon kicks it into the corner.

We disappear behind the tapestry, then through the security door behind it. Braxon switches on a dull orange light and lays me on the cold, cement floor. Three spiral staircases sway, circling around one another above me.

How could I be so stupid?! I scream at myself. Anna knew someone dangerous was here for me. I should have made the connection the moment I touched Braxon!

“The infamous Alevia Knight,” Braxon chuckles, stepping over me. His voice echoes through the empty room. “Many thought you were dead, or lost to us forever. But I didn’t. I knew you were alive. I knew I could find you, and now I have. I do apologize for the ruse, but I need to take you with me and I didn’t think you would go voluntarily.”

Braxon slowly kneels down and swings his leg over me, straddling me. His heavy weight presses down against my hips.

NO. NO. NO! What is he going to do to me?! I try struggle against him, but I still can’t move. He reaches a shaking hand toward my face and pulls my mask off.

“You are exquisite, aren’t you?” He traces my lips roughly with his fingers. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, bending until his lips are close to mine. His weight crushes down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. “I didn’t come here to kill you. I would never do that. Of course, there are those out there who would love to see you dead, but not me. I came to save you. One such as you should not spend her time rotting in a school of filth. With me, you will find deliverance.”

Braxon sits back up, removes his jacket, and tosses it on top of my mask. He leaves his own mask on and rolls up his sleeves, revealing thick forearms. He pulls off his tie and lowers it toward my face.

“No, please!” I choke out, finally finding my voice.

“Shh.”

Braxon slides the tie into my mouth, tying it behind my head. He takes off his belt and binds my hands together. The belt is tied so tightly, my fingers tingle. He reaches down toward me and grips my throat in his iron hands. He squeezes, hard.

Fear rages inside me. I choke and sputter, my lungs desperate for air. I scream at myself again to move, to get up, to run away. My body only twitches at my efforts.

Braxon moves one hand from my throat. I cough hoarsely. He pulls a glass vial out of his pocket and lowers it to my mouth, saying strange words from a different language. Every vein in my body bursts into fiery pain. My insides feel like they’re being ripped apart.

A blood-curdling scream finally escapes my throat, muffled by Braxon’s tie. White-hot heat flows from my mouth, rippling the air above me. Then as quickly as the pain came, it disappears. Braxon lets go of my neck and puts a stopper in the top of the vial.

I choke and cough again, finally inhaling blessed oxygen. My throat aches from his crushing grip. Whatever strength I might have had before vanishes and I lay sprawled and limp on the hard floor.

Braxon places the vial back in his pocket and runs his strange eyes over my throat. He reaches for it again, his fingertips grazing the indentations from his hands on my skin. His hand begins to shake and he bends closer to me until his weight crushes me into the floor again. He presses his lips to my neck. I try to cringe away, utter repulsed, from his ragged, heavy breathing against my throat.

“I only hurt you because I have to,” he whispers heavily.

My chest heaves out sobs, every instinct inside me screaming in terror.

Braxon pulls himself off me, his eyes roam over my body. He breathes heavily in excitement as he pulls my dress up past my knee and caresses his hands down my calf. He slips my shoes off and tosses them on top of his jacket in the corner. He stands up and waves his hand. A fire erupts out of nowhere, next to me, blazing the pile of excess clothing. Seconds later the fire disappears as if it never existed. The corner is empty.

“Shall we be off then?” Braxon asks me politely. He picks me up and carries my limp body up the winding, spiral staircase. The constant turning makes my stomach roll.

The door to the roof bangs open loudly. Fresh air washes over my face, clearing my senses slightly. Braxon steps out onto the flat roof and walks toward the edge. My stomach falls to my feet when I see how high we are.

A scream of surprise pierces the air.

Anna’s scream.

The world tilts around me and I fall to the rooftop. My head smacks hard against the concrete, stars burst behind my eyelids. I blink quickly and open my eyes in search of Anna.

She stands facing Braxon under the starlight, locked in a standoff. She throws her arms out in front of her. Braxon sails backward through the air, crashing into one of the school’s turrets. He lands hard but jumps to his feet immediately, twisting his arms in front of him. A column of fire bursts from his hands headed toward Anna.

What I see feels like a dream. Anna blocks the fire with her hands and sends it back toward Braxon. Visibly angry, he yells and thrusts his arms forward, sending Anna hurtling backwards through the air. She somehow stops herself midair and lands in a crouch, lithe as a cat.

“KENDRICK!!” she shouts at the top of her lungs.

The battle between Anna and Braxon continues so quickly I can barely keep track of what’s happening. Finally, Braxon, raising his arms, lifts a metal beam twenty feet away and launches it at Anna. It connects with her chest, pinning her down. Braxon rushes back to me and scoops me up over his shoulder.

I scream in terror, gagging on the tie in my mouth as Braxon runs for the edge of the roof and jumps.