So as usually thanks for the reviews. Hope everyone enjoys the chapter. Oh and happy belated birthday to candyredlove.
Chapter 8
I was on my way to swords class when I passed Graves in the hall.
"Hey," I called shyly.
"Hi." Graves said back, his body language screaming discomfort.
"Are you still going to help me look up information on Ash tonight?" I asked.
"I can't the wurwulfes want me to help them run drills."
"Right." I said trying to hide my disappointment.
"Well, bye." He called walking away. I sighed; lately it seemed Graves was spending time everywhere I wasn't. I wished he would just get over it. What else could I say? How many more times could I apologize?
I continued my way to swords class, smiling when I saw the two malaikas Mr. Willow was holding. Over the past week the only thing he had me doing was pushups till my arms wanted to crawl off and leave me. I studied the swords. Their long curved blades built of wood were perfect for killing creatures of the night, my hand itched to hold one.
"A friend of yours dropped these beauties off," He said with a wink. "I thought we should put them to good use." I smiled wondering the history behind Willow and Christophe or at least why Willow hadn't turned Christophe in.
Willow handed me one of the swords, he was right it was a beauty. It felt right in my hand. Glancing down I saw my mother and grandmother's initials craved into the hilt. Tears formed in my eyes, which Willow politely ignored. I owed Christophe big time.
"So let's see what you got." Willow said lifting the sword and hitting down.
Instinct took over. I blocked his blow and thrust left. But Willow was ready he blocked the hit and tripped me at the same time.
"You have two hands and two feet Dru. Use them!"
"Ok," I said jumping back up.
Two hours I could barely breathe let alone speak. Willow had drilled me till I was swaying where I stood. I was starting to regret complaining that no one was training me. I was just fine skipping classes and doing nothing. As long as I didn't have to feel like I was dying a very slow painful death. Yet despite all of it, I was improving. By blocks became stronger my hits more sure. We practiced till the malaika felt like an extension of my arm.
After a quick bath I was on my way to the library to look up info on Ash. So far my nightly research session wasn't paying off. Shanks had said that their used to been groups who could change the Brokens back. But I hadn't found any information on how to do it. But I wasn't giving up. There had to be some way to save him, there had to be.
The library looked like no one had used it since I had been alive. Dust covered ever corner and a permanent moldy smell stained the air. I paused as I walked in. Shanks were sitting on one of the tables a pile of books spread out before him.
"Hey," I said. "What are you doing here?"
"Graves said that you were going to be searching some more and I thought I could lend a hand."
So Graves had sent someone in his place. I tried to crush the hope that had been building, that he would be the one sitting here. Still being with Shanks was better than spending the night alone or being annoyed by the other djamphir who were following me like flies. All of them seemed to think that dating Graves was "beneath my station". And they were all offering to take his place. Things being rocky between Graves and I defiantly wasn't helping. But they had yet to find where I disappeared every night. The last place they would look would be the library. I settled down next to Shanks and began reading.
"So did Christophe ever have anything to say about Anna?" Shanks asked sometime later. I carefully closed the book I had been working on; I swore it had seen the ice age.
"He didn't know but said he would tell me if he found anything. So I guess he hasn't." I said.
"I wouldn't worry about it. That's how the svetocha tend to act, present company not included." He said.
"Yeah I kind of got that when I first met her. It was like she expects everyone to jump when she snaps her fingers."
"It's just she thinks svetocha are so special." Shanks said babbling over me. "If it wasn't for the wulfen the djamphir would all be killed left and right. But do we get any thanks? No. The svetocha get all the credit and some wurwolfves are still treated like slaves."
I listened to him talk, surprised. Back at the old Schola he had seemed pretty ok with the whole situation between the wurfen and djamphir. Well maybe not ok but he had at least he accepted it.
"Are you ok?" I asked when he stopped talking. He looked at me surprised, like he had forgotten I was there.
"Yeah I'll be ok I've just been keeping in some bad news."
"What news?" I asked. He sighed as if deciding whether or not he should tell me.
"You remember that family that helped us when we had to run."
I nodded it was a memory that still stung. Everyone there had seemed so happy, a part of something, a family. I missed that.
"What happened?" I asked suddenly worried had the vamps gotten to them?
"They were attacked." He said. Oh god, I thought, those kids. They had just wanted to help!
"They're ok." Shanks said quickly seeing my expression. "But they called the local Schola asking for help and the djamphir refused."
"Damn." I said pissed.
"I just wish they could see how much the wulfen can do. They should realize that without us they are just the vampires' play things!" He cried slamming his hands down on the table, making little dents in the table.
"Wow calm down, deep breath." I said remembering my mediation.
He nodded and took a breath. While he was calming down I began to hear a murmur of voices. Motioning to Shanks I followed the voices to an air duct in the corner.
"What is it?" Shanks asked.
"Somebody talking like they don't want others to hear. I think it's Raven." I whispered recognizing the voice. We both leaned in close as the people kept speaking.
"What do you mean kidnapped?" hissed Mr. Raven
"I'm sorry sir, that's what the agent thinks. The agent saw him being forced into the lair off Elm Street." whispered a man.
"Impossible!" Raven cried. "Let me speak to this agent."
"He's dead sir."
"Oh." He replied. I could hear Raven pacing. "One of my oldest friends, August is not stupid. How could this happen?"
I gasped. Augie kidnapped? No! It couldn't happen. He was just missing, just missing! People go missing all the time. I put my hand to my mouth to stop the scream that was building. I had to listen. I had to tell them they were wrong.
"Did the agent know how August had gotten caught?" Raven asked.
"No sir." The man replied unconfident.
"What is it?" Raven asked.
"Well I do know that some of the Order was unhappy with his involvement with Christophe."
"Blasphemy!" cried Raven. "I pay you for facts, agent, not your uneducated thoughts."
"Sorry sir, it wasn't my place."
I couldn't listen anymore. I couldn't hear about anymore of the people I loved getting hurt. My mother, Gran, Dad, Augie, and Graves how many more till it was over? How many would be killed just because I was alive? How could I bear losing another friend? Augie was all I had left of my old life. He knew me before every vamp was trying to kill, before Dad died. He was all I had left.
I couldn't think. I ran out the library then raced through the halls, faces blurring past. I exploded into my room like a hurricane. I searched in my bag for Dad's address book. Quickly I found August's number and punched it into the phone. It went to voice mail. I didn't it again and again. He wasn't kidnapped! He wasn't! I jabbed at the numbers causing the phone to break in half. I threw the broken pieces at the wall.
All at once I was screaming and crying, angry and sad. I was howling in pain and begging for a different life. I had to move. I had to run. I had to escape reality's grip. I burst out of my window onto the grass below. Then I was racing. I dodged trees and fallen logs, I was running faster than I ever had. I had to run. When I was running I wasn't thinking. Running didn't hurt. I just had to run.
I could feel myself slipping into the Other side of my mind. Slowly I lowered the barrier I had built to keep it out. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to be human. I wanted to be the hunter who thrives in the night. I didn't even notice my fangs slipping out, didn't even notice when strange smells mixed with the night, the smell of prey.
The hunt was on.
