Humanity 01 - Child of The Dusk (2 page)

Mirage nodded, fighting to keep her face
impassive as he squeezed her wrist a final time and released her.
She turned around and left hurriedly.

The contents of her backpack were scattered
across the table while a policeman filed through it.

“
What are you doing with
my stuff?” she demanded.

“
Searching your
belongings,” one of the secretaries said. Her notebooks and folders
were scattered pell-mell across one of the desk and a secretary was
thumbing through one of her journals.

“
That is private,” Mirage
growled.

“
We are required to search
for weapons,” the secretary replied, sounding clearly bored. A
smile lit her face as she read something written across the
page.

“
No weapons can be hidden
between pages.” Mirage made her way to the desk and wrenched the
journal from the secretary. The look of outrage was almost comical
and Mirage would have laughed if she hadn’t been so
irate.

The policeman put her notebooks and folders
into her backpack and tossed it to her. She caught it easily and he
took the opportunity to grab her purse from her shoulder.

“
What do you think you’re
doing?” Mirage demanded.

He didn’t bother to answer her as he rifled
through it.

“
What’s this?” He held up
a small black book. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his
hand and was thin. The leather was worn. She’d read through it she
didn’t know how many times. She fought to keep her emotions under
control as the man opened it up, his eyes narrowing at the foreign
symbols that covered the pages in swirling designs.

“
It’s my Shadowstart
Incantation Book,” Mirage said. “Well, actually my father’s. All
Children of the Dusk carry one.”

“
I don’t know…” He arched
an eyebrow, smiling unpleasantly. “I could consider it a
weapon.”

“
The Book itself has no
power,” Mirage said quickly. “I’ve read through it often. See how
worn it is?” She cleared his voice. “You’re insulting my culture,
sir. Need I speak to the Altruistics?”

The policeman’s expression twisted into an
angry snarl as he stuffed the book back into the purse and shoved
it into her hands. “You may take your stuff and leave.”

Mirage hurried out of the
office, breathing more easily once she was around the corner. She
stopped and leaned against the wall, her head against the cold
brick.
Just let me get through the
day
, she thought absently as she looked at
the sheet of paper. American Culture History was her first class.
She followed the number upstairs, trying to find the room. Even
with the number, it took her a while to locate the class. She
paused at the door, hesitating before she gave herself a mental
push.

Don’t let these humans
defeat you, Mirage,
she told herself and
then felt ridiculous for the silent pep talk. She sighed inwardly.
What was she turning into, a Child of the Breeze?

She opened the door, and the teacher stopped
mid-sentence to look over at her. Mirage’s skin began to tingle
again underneath all the gazes, and she strived to ignore the
uncomfortable sensation.

“
Mrs. Wanderson, I’m sorry
to interrupt, but I’m new and I didn’t know I would have your
class.”

“
Ah yes…the new student,
Mirage Shadowstart,” Mrs. Wanderson said, wrinkling her nose. “We
were told you were going to be joining us. You’re just in time for
our new unit. We started it yesterday, and I daresay you’ll find it
interesting. Find an empty seat and follow along.”

Mirage nodded and glanced around. There
weren’t many empty seats, and the few that were vacant people were
quickly stuffing backpacks and books onto. Soon there was only one
left, in the back corner beside the window. She tried to ignore the
cutting remarks as she made her way to the desk, but it was
impossible. The whispers breezed past her like vengeful ghosts.

“
A Dark Child!”

“
How ugly—”

“
Did you see her eyes?
Soulless black.”

“
Are those
horns
?”

Mirage sat down at her desk, stuffing her
things into the rack beneath her. She took out a notebook and
pencil and immediately started to take notes. The teacher had lost
no time in plunging back into her lecture, which Mirage noticed
with a plummeting heart was over the Territory Wars.

“
The Territory Wars
started soon after the Revolution,” Mrs. Wanderson was saying. “The
native Paramortals and the human settlers had struggled for
co-existence since the founding of the colonies, but their
differences in cultures made it impossible. Can anyone tell me what
the final incident was that brought the humans to war?”

A boy in the front seat, who she recognized
as Derrick, raised his hand. “The murder of the war hero, Officer
Bradston, by the Shadowstart Chief, Darkcaster.”

Mirage gripped her pencil tightly and fought
to stay quiet. She should have expected this. The humans always had
their story told one sided. They never mentioned that their
precious Bradston had been killed in a raid against the
Darkcaster’s tribe – the ancestors of her own people.

“
That’s right, Derrick.
His murder was the match that lit the fuse between the two species
sharing America. The war lasted the better part of twenty years,
and even after the humans’ defeat over the Paramortals, struggles
continued. The Paramortals had the advantages of their natural
abilities, plus the Native Americans who sided with them, and for a
long time the war seemed to have a bleak outlook. Can anyone tell
me what turned the tide for the humans?” The teacher looked around
a moment before her gaze fell on Mirage. A smile lit her face as
she said, “Mirage, do you know the answer?”

Mirage gripped her pencil so tight it
snapped with a resounding crack. Mirage reddened and placed her
hand underneath her desk before anyone could comment about it. She
let out a long deep breath as she fought to keep her voice level.
“The humans’ turning point was when the Shadowstart Chief ,
Darkcaster was killed in battle. Nathanial Parlinn, one of the few
human allies the Shadowstarts had, turned traitor and shot her in
the back.” Mirage had to stop and shake her head, slowing her
breathing and containing her words back to clipped indifference.
“She was the leader of the Allied Tribes of War and her death
disheartened the Children of Power. The Tribes broke apart and the
humans went in and defeated them each separately.”

Mrs. Wanderson’s smile was vicious; a barb
of poison in Mirage’s already bleeding heart. “Correct, Mirage.”
She turned her attention back to the class. “And what has been the
result of the Territory Wars?”

The boy who sat beside Mirage raised his
hand. “The humans have controlled this country since then,” he
said, his voice tight with anger, “while the Children of Power and
other natives of this land were pushed into second rate citizenship
by invaders.”

Mrs. Wanderson’s smile slipped from her face
like melting snow. The hushed silence that fell on the classroom
was deafening. Mirage felt as though she was choking on the humans’
bated breath as Mrs. Wanderson and the boy stared each other down.
Mirage watched on with curiosity. The boy seemed familiar to her
somehow, but it was only a faint, hidden memory. His features were
softer than what she thought she could remember though. He appeared
kinder. His dark straw-yellow hair brushed his shoulders, and his
bangs shadowed his face, but his chillingly bright blue eyes peeked
past his drape of hair, glinting like sapphires. He’d used the term
that her species used to refer to themselves, not the human-given,
politically correct Paramortals, but what she’d always considered
herself. A Child of Power.

Finally, the teacher wrinkled her nose and
looked away, breaking the building tension like shattered glass.
“I’ve had enough of your mouth, Michael. One more word from you and
I’ll send you to the principal.”

Michael shrugged. “So? It’s about time I
visited the office.” He glanced over at the calendar on the
bulletin board. “It’s been over two weeks since anyone’s sent me to
see the big man. I believe I’m overdue.”

The room erupted into snickers, and Mirage
hid her smile behind her hand. Michael caught her eye and winked as
he grinned.

“
Go on,” Mrs. Wanderson
growled, marching over to the door and throwing it open. “I’ll be
calling him after class to make sure he knows exactly what you’ve
been doing.”

“
Alright,” Michael said
nonchalantly. He stood, taking his time to gather his belongings.
The eyes of the class followed him in unison. He walked past
Mirage’s desk and brushed up against her shoulders softly. He left,
slamming the door behind him.

Mrs. Wanderson shook with anger. “Turn to
page six twenty three, read about the Territory Wars and create
your own notes. Expect a quiz soon.”

Mirage had hardly heard her; her attention
was on the human who had stood up for her and gotten in trouble. No
one had ever done that for her. Mirage opened her book reluctantly
and scanned the text, jotting down the occasional tainted fact that
she thought would be important to know for the test that was bound
to be tomorrow. She tried to keep her mind on track, but Michael’s
face kept intruding in her thoughts, his cold blue fire eyes
engulfing her. She was surprised his gaze didn’t frighten her.

Her next classes trailed by at a snail’s
pace. She endured three other periods of unfriendly stares and
snide remarks before lunch. She took her tray of what seemed like
inedible glop and sat down at the back table by herself, trying to
ignore the barbed stares that beat against her as she pulled her
father’s book from her purse and started reading where she’d left
off.

The noise of a chair being moved beside her
brought her from her reading and her heart quickened as Michael
smiled at her. “You don’t mind me sitting by you, do you?”

Mirage shook her head, unconsciously tucking
a strand of her loose hair behind her ear. She closed her book and
set it facedown on the table beside her. “No, go right ahead.”

“
Thanks.” Michael took a
bag of chips and an apple from his backpack. He opened the bag of
chips and began eating from them.

Mirage watched him for a moment before she
asked, “How bad did you get in trouble for this morning?”

“
I’ve just had detention
since then,” Michael replied, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it. I’m
used to it.”

“
Thanks,” Mirage said
awkwardly. “You didn’t have to say anything.”

“
I know. I’m sure you’re
used to that kind of idiotic behavior by now.” Michael rolled his
eyes. “I never could stand bigots.”

“
I’m not too fond of them
either,” Mirage mumbled.

Michael laughed. “I would suppose not.” He
reached over and took the top sheet of paper from her pile of newly
assigned books. “So, this your schedule?” Mirage nodded as he
glanced at it. “Sweet, you’ve got four classes with me, including
the next two.”

Mirage smiled widely. “Good, maybe this time
I won’t get lost. I’ve been using the door numbers, and they’re…”
she hesitated before shrugging. “Oddly numbered.”

“
I’ll try,” Michael said,
sighing dramatically. He glanced over at Mirage’s untouched tray.
“So, you won’t eat this either?”

Mirage poked her fork
through what seemed to be macaroni and cheese. The fork stuck
upright with a sickly
plop
. “I’m almost afraid of
what
this
is.”

He threw his apple at her and she caught it
on instinct. “Here, sink your teeth into that, if you’ll pardon the
expression.”

Mirage ran her tongue across the surface of
her long, sharp front teeth subconsciously.

“
Don’t worry so much,” he
laughed. “I think they’re wicked cool.”

Mirage didn’t know what to say as she
shrugged her hair across her face to hide her blush. She took a
bite from the apple as an excuse not to say anything. Michael
watched her for a second before he took a piece of paper from the
binder beside him. He hesitated before passing the sheet of paper
over to her. She glanced down and choked on the second bite of
apple she’d taken.

At first she didn’t say anything, her heart
quickening its pace. “Did you draw this?” she asked softly, looking
up.

Michael shrugged uneasily, pushing his hair
away from his face. He looked her in the eye as he gave her an
unsure smile. “I had three hours of detention. I had to do
something.”

Mirage looked back down at
the mirror image drawing of herself. He’d captured…
everything
. He had drawn
her against an opposing background of undulating shadows, with her
hands spread wide. She wore velvet arm slips that covered her arms
to past her elbow. Her long hair fell across one side of her face.
The other side was tucked behind her sharp, curved horn. Her eyes
were completely filled in with black, and he had even captured the
rune below her left eye that arched across her cheek.

“
Wow,” she breathed. “That
is a really good drawing.”

Michael shrugged. “I thought you should have
it.”

“
Thank you, Michael.” The
bell to signal the end of lunch rang and Michael stood
up.

“
I’ll show you the way to
our next class,” he said as he shrugged his backpack on. Mirage
stood, carefully tucking the drawing away in a folder.