Blood in the Water (3 page)

Next up is a picture of the city centre,
featuring people screaming and running from a four-armed, blue
creature I think is called a Fest—one of humanity’s biggest
enemies. They consistently try to break through the dimensional
walls, but fortunately aren’t very good at accessing the Warp
magic. Probably ‘cause they’re evil.

Making a mental note to point out that no
human should ever use the word ‘propensity’ in a room full of
teenagers, I slump in my chair, keeping half an ear open for
anything of interest. The professor has now moved on to signs that
could indicate an imminent breach: sudden bouts of sneezing, a
high-pitched, inexplicable noise filling your ears, or itching,
especially behind the ears and at the wrists. Thrilling stuff. As
far as I can tell, the allergies that have plagued me for my whole
life are actually magic’s fault.

I spend the rest of the lesson trying to walk
a coin over and under my knuckles. I’m not very good at it, and
definitely wouldn’t be trying it in class if I didn’t have a secret
defense system: Cam snatches the coin out of the air with
mystically enhanced reflexes every time I drop it, and before it
clatters to the floor, to make sure I don’t get busted.

It pays to have the right friends.

WHEN THE BELL FINALLY RINGS
, I slide
out of my desk—with a quiet whoop I can’t contain—before the
professor has finished speaking. Shoving my books into my bag, I
make a beeline for the door, not even bothering to wait for Cam,
who finds me in the imposing wooden corridor, glugging water out of
a handy fountain. I emerge, dripping, and swipe my hand across my
freckled face, scattering water droplets and grinning at my
muscular friend.

“
Gods yes, let’s skip Dimensional Physics! They shouldn’t
schedule anything after Tufts’—” I gesture at my head to indicate
the wild hair of the professor. “Class. It’s hardly fair. Two hours
of her droning on—” Cam’s deer-in-the-headlights stare at a point
over my shoulder clues me in, and I change my tune without missing
a beat. “I mean, enlightening wisdom needs time for digestion. I
don’t think I could concentrate on anything else with so much new
information to consider!”

I don’t
even look over my shoulder to see if the professor bought it; just
head off down the corridor, knowing Cam’s burly form will be
traipsing after me.

We hide
in an unused classroom when the bell rings again, and I spread
myself out on a scarred wooden desk, legs dangling, fingers woven
behind my head as I stare at the dust motes dancing in the air. Cam
heaves herself up and sits cross-legged on another
table.

“
You are the worst, Hallie. We coulda got busted!” But there’s
laughter in her voice as she digs in her jeans pocket.

“
Hey, you’re the one who suggested skipping, and you’re
technically my senior. In age and time served, if not brains or
beauty!” I smirk at her, waggling my eyebrows, and she rolls her
hazel eyes, scoffing.

“
Well I’m sure you
would
be smarter than me
if you paid more than forty seconds of attention to anything, ever.
You’re the poster child for the ADD generation. How did you do on
your final exams, again?”

I let out
a merry snicker and hold
my hand out for the gum she’s located. When it’s passed over, I
unwrap a stick and shoving it into my mouth, so that my words are
muffled. “Point taken, I failed. However, in my defence, exams are
stupid and do nothing to prepare you for being a real
person,
and
I had
just fallen in love for the first time. I was
distracted.”

“
You’re always distracted, and the way you tell it you dated
that girl for about six hours, so I don’t think it counts as love.”
I launch a retaliatory gum wrapper at her, but Cam catches it
before it gets anywhere near her face. “You’ll have to wake up
earlier than that to catch me out. Or ... you know, any warrior
ever. You basically move in slow-mo. It’s a good job you talk so
fast, or I’d be hard pressed to keep myself from going and making a
cuppa between words.”

Challenge accepted.
Her voice is
teasing, and I squirm around, sliding off the table and crouching,
then walking sideways, foot over foot, like I’m going to leap to
the attack. Cam sits, unconcerned, as I stalk toward
her.

When
I growl and pounce, her hands
flick up and grab me, holding both of my wrists in one large paw
while she uses the other to tickle me. In moments I’m a writhing,
teary-eyed, hysterical mess, and she releases me, satisfied grin
lighting up her broad face.

“
See? Faster than you, every time.”

I collapse, leaning my reddened face on her wide, denim-clad
shoulder, and heave huge, sobbing breaths. “I hate you.”
It’s not really fair. Warriors are always going
to be faster than me. How am I ever supposed to keep up when we’re
out?

What if I slow everyone down, tripping over my own
feet?

Cam
puts an arm around me to hold me
up while I recover, and tucks my hair behind my ear. Her large hand
is warm against my cheek and I look up, our faces inches apart.
She’s so close, she can probably see the freckle on my lower lip,
smell the minty freshness of the gum I’ve been chewing. I swallow
it deliberately. Her eyes flick to my throat, then back up, and we
move at the same time, closing the gap between us, crushing our
lips together with practised ease.

WE SINK AGAINST THE DESK
in a flurry
of kisses and awkward limb rearrangement and then I pull away,
confused. It takes a moment, but suddenly the world comes rushing
back and I realize the ringing sound isn’t just blood rushing hot
in my head, but an actual, ear-piercing noise.

Is that an alarm?
I open my mouth to
ask, but she beats me to it.

“
I’m pretty sure that’s the emergency siren.” Her voice sounds
a little hoarse.

Worried,
I move toward the door, pulling it open a crack to look out. The
noise is louder in the corridor, and people are legging it in both
directions, looking purposeful.

I twist
my head, whisper-shouting, “Well everyone is running like it’s an
emergency. What should we do?”

I ignore
the part of me that’s suggesting we stay here and make out some
more. There’s no way this is a fire drill, or anything so mundane,
and I bite my lip, suddenly really worried.

If it’s big enough, we might have to go and fight.

The
thought is cold water down my spine, and I dither in the
doorway.

Cam
straightens her shirt and drops off the table, feet thudding on the
boarded floor as she lumbers over to me. How she managed to get
woken as a warrior—gifted with the ability to fight like liquid
silk—and yet look this awkward just walking across a room is beyond
me.

She
grabs the door’s edge and stares
at me with huge eyes. “Well, I gotta report to my team assembly
point, I guess. That’s what the orientation booklet
said.”

I sigh,
running my hand through my hair; a few strands are sticking to the
back of my neck, which is hot and probably flushed pink. “I don’t
have a team yet. Also, I didn’t read the orientation
booklet.”

And I am regretting that immensely now.

Cam
frowns, squeezing past me and sounding disappointed. “Of course you
didn’t. Why don’t you go and find Professor Zavier—he’ll know where
you should be. I’ll see you later, okay?”

I follow
her into the corridor and nearly collide with a boy who is
sprinting by with his head down, pulling on leather arm guards.
Seconds before impact he swerves, bouncing up and off the wall in a
display of perfect warrior grace, not even missing a stride or
reacting to my presence. Poking my tongue out at him, I press
myself against the wall, out of the way of any other running human
weapons, and call after Cam before she rounds the
corner.

“
Be careful, okay?”

She
looks back and breaks into a
grin that closes the distance between us, just for a moment. Then
she’s gone. Seconds drag out as I watch the place where she
disappeared, half hoping she’ll come back for me. If I could be on
her team, I know we’d both be okay. How am I supposed to do this
without her?

With a sigh, I set off for the classroom, trying not to think
about it. I’m worried that running will end in an unavoidable
collision, so I settle for jogging and getting out of the way every
time a sprinting warrior thunders down the corridor. It’s the first
time I’ve appreciated the suits of armour that line the halls, as
they provide handy places to shelter. Before I thought they were
pretentious, but now I can see that they’re very practical for
hiding behind
.
I’m heading for Zavier’s room, hoping the weaver professor
will still be there, but doubting it, when my pocket
vibrates.

Oh yeah, I guess I could have called.
Feeling like an idiot, I fish my phone out of my tight black
jeans—a feat which involves some serious hip-wiggling—and unlock
it. A text: ‘HALLIE WHERE ARE YOU? REPORT TO VAN 6
ASAP.’

Urgh, why do people type in all caps? It makes it sound like
they’re yelling.

A beat passes, and I read the message again, then turn on my
heel and head for the underground garage as rapidly as I can in my
steel-toed boots.
He probably
is
yelling. I was
definitely supposed to be in class. Oops. I’ve messed up already.
If Zavier’s actually looking for me, that means I’m going out. My
breath hitches as I wonder what could possibly have happened, where
the breach or breaches are, and why the teams ready to go couldn’t
handle it.

I careen
down the corridors of the vast Edwardian house that serves as the
main school building for the Protectorate, society for human
defence. When I emerge, breathless, in the huge garage, two vans
are squealing out the massive open doors and four more are queuing,
the last of which has Zavier standing next to it, gesticulating
wildly at the driver through the window. I manage another burst of
speed to cross the tarmac and skid to a halt, unable to avoid
saluting. Damn my lack of impulse control!

“
Sorry, boss!” It’s hard to keep the note of excitement out of
my voice, and judging by the look on Zavier’s hawkish face, I fail
miserably. “Should I get in?” Two warriors poke their heads out of
the back of the van and grin at me. One of them beckons
urgently.

“
We gotta weave! All right, let’s go!”

I’m gonna take that as a yes.

I PILE INTO THE BACK
and Zavier
slams one door shut, pointing at me with a bony finger and a stern
look. “You. Just ... do
exactly
what Louise says. In fact, do what anyone in here
says. They’re all in charge of you. Please, for once in your life,
do what you’re told?” He sounds beleaguered and I nod vigorously,
squeezing into the corner.

“
Honest, I will!”

He
squints at me for a moment, rubbing a large hand over his shaven
head, and I endeavour to look sombre. I do know how serious this
is, after all. I’ve been in two minor skirmishes since I began
training at the Protectorate—four breaches, but two were for
training, the other two doorways that we actually had to close to
keep demons from invading the human world. Never before has the
alarm gone off like this, though, and my fingers twitch in
anticipation.