Nightschool chapter 14
"Man, this $#% really works," the man with the scar said, a crossbow in his hand.
Teresa and Cassidy were lying on the floor, covered in thick, vein-like lines of red, writhing in pain. She was clawing at the ground, an arrow in the back of her right shoulder. He had a deep wound along the right side of his collarbone.
Ten was curled up a few feet away, covered in similar lines, clutching her chest, eyes open wide, mouth open in silent screams.
"Not so tough now, are ya?" the man with the scar said, grinning cruelly. "What, the indestructible Hunters can't handle a bit of poison?" He laughed.
"Do you not know what it's made from?" the Hunter from the sanctuary asked.
"Huh?" the shifter said, turning to him.
The two of them looked down at Ten, whose neck twisted grotesquely.
"Hunter's blood," the older Hunter said. "More specifically, the blood of Hunters who've killed humans. We're not supposed to, you see. It's humans we protect, and it's night things we kill. If we betray our natural function… this happens. Our blood runs like acid, hurts like seven hells…. There're graduations, of course, and gray areas. For example, harming a human without killing them has slightly milder consequences. Not as lethal. Builds up veres resistance, even. There are ways that–"
He blinked, snapping out of it. "No students left and I'm still in teacher mode. You things get all that?"
"Uh, yeah…" the man with the scar said, looking at him strangely. "Why you telling us this?"
The Hunter was silent for a moment.
"You've been pretty useless."
His arm whipped up, snapped the shifter's neck, and threw him against a wall.
The Hunter walked up the stairs and over to the slightly ajar door. He pulled it open, crossbow in hand, and looked around.
The only people in sight were Jay, Terrence, and Noh.
He glanced around again, walked over to Jay's bed, and aimed the crossbow at his head.
He paused, seeing the small clump of light hair next to the boy's head.
Actually, the three clumps of hair next to his head.
Swirls of light sprung from them. They formed three fair-haired, faceless figures in gray and black sweats, with claw-like hands.
They lashed out at him, clawing at his face and dodging any attack he tried.
The man's eyes turned determined and he quickly knelt down and moved his arms back, swirls of energy surrounding them and diminishing the doubles.
The man wiped the corner of his mouth and stood up, grabbing his crossbow. "Clever kid. Can you do more than three?"
Five more swirls started forming.
The man heard a small scrapeabove him.
"Gotcha," he said, aiming the crossbow upwards. He fired.
It imbedded deeply into something, but it never hit the ceiling.
Jaq turned visible and fell, an arrow now protruding from the younger Hunter's chest.
The doubles snapped out and simply turned back into pieces of hair.
"You kids are good," the older Hunter said. "Way he trains you, you're like night things yourselves. Fight the enemy with their own tricks, huh?"
Jaq hit the ground, now covered in red vein-like lines, butchered hair half-covering a face seemingly frozen mid-scream, one hand grasping for the arrow but not even having enough strength to reach it. The younger Hunter made a small choking sound.
"You should come out now, Miss seer," the older Hunter said, reloading his crossbow. He moved a white drape. Marina cowered against the far wall of the semi-hidden room. "We need to finish talking."
She looked and saw the Hunter on the floor, writhing in pain, wide, glazed-over eyes looking upwards.
"Jaq!" she cried, running toward the fair-haired teenager.
The older Hunter grabbed her arm. She cried out.
"Almost dead and going fast – don't you mind him," he said indifferently. "Now, what was it you were trying to say back at St. Luc's?"
"W-what?" the seer asked, looking at him with wide eyes. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"
"We've met, girl," he said after a moment. "Yesterday."
"I-I don't…" she started.
"AT ST. LUC'S!" he yelled, shaking the girl. "THINK! Your lot was there with…"
Teresa turned away and left, letting the tent gently close behind her. The man got up and stepped out, watching Cassidy find them another spot.
He stiffened and turned around, sensing someone behind him.
Daemon stood there. Marina clutched his cloak from behind.
The two of them took in the body, the darker-skinned man calmly, the girl fearfully, wide-eyed.
"This was my son," the scruffy-looking man said, seeming too worn for his voice to show any emotion.
Daemon turned away. "He'll be missed."
"I know where to find the scum that did it."
Daemon glanced back. "You didn't kill them when you saw them?"
"They were gone by the time I found him," the unfortunate man said. "But I know who they are."
"How?" the darker-skinned Hunter asked.
"I JUST DO!"
Daemon turned back toward him, Marina still hiding behind him. "As per the treaty, you need evidence before making a raid. Do you have it?"
"THE TREATY NEEDS TO ROT IN HELL!" the paler Hunter yelled. "Daemon, it ties our
hands. It gives night things rights they shouldn't have. We fight, we die in nameless graves, and they melt back into the shadows. And once the trail goes cold, we can't touch them. They can act innocent even when they're guilty."
"Some really are innocents," Daemon said after a moment.
The other Hunter flared up again. "THEY ARE ALL GUILTY OF BEING NIGHT THINGS, EVERY SECOND OF THEIR UNNATURAL LIVES! You look at my son. His soul was ripped to shreds and fed back into him. He couldn't tell which way was up or down when I found him–clawing at his own face, trying to get at the pieces, trying to make them fit."
A small crowd had gathered. He paid them no mind. "Ten years of the treaty and they are starting to forget. They forget who we are, what we can do to them. They get cocky, they no longer run on sight. They are starting to talk back! Why do we put up with it?"
"Because we're supposed to be the good guys." Daemon wasn't looking at the other Hunter. "The treaty saves lives. I am sorry one of them wasn't your son's." The darker Hunter turned away. "He died like a Hunter." He started walking away. "As will we all."
The other man looked down, seeming almost defeated.
"Theo."
He looked up and saw Marina, now surrounded by a billowing, translucent white cloak.
"Do you want justice?"
"What did you mean by that?" Theo demanded the girl now. "Who are you?"
"I… I don't remember that…" Marina said, tears welling up in her eyes.
"DON'T LIE TO ME."
She squeezed her eyes shut, the tears brimming over, and her free hand made a small fist, raised to her face in defense. "I was…! I was off my medicine, I don't, I can't keep memories so good when I'm off my medicine, I'm sorry!"
He glared a moment, then seemed to realize she was telling the truth. "So you won't help me either. Apple from a tree, right."
He threw her down so she landed next to Jaq, the older Hunter's face expressionless.
Marina looked down at the shaking boy, worry deepening the bags under her eyes.
"Wh-why did you do all this?" she asked Theo, desperation taking over. "Just, just to ask me–?"
"No…" he interrupted. "No. He needs to know that even his students are not safe." He aimed his crossbow at the seer. "He needs to know what it's like to lose."
"What makes you think I don't?"
Daemon plunged his hand through the other man's back. It came out on the other side of his chest.
Theo turned toward him, his eyes finally not glazed over. Instead they showed an almost tangible rage.
"You," he growled, looking at the man behind him, the word itself seeming laced with blood.
"It's over, Theo," the woman standing in the doorway said. Her almost-white hair was in a messy, thick braid that hung over her left shoulder. Her normally light eyes looked dark with anger. She was flanked by a short-haired African American woman and a man whose shaggy hair was different shades of brown. He was carrying a deeply wounded Teresa.
The pale-haired woman walked over and kicked through Theo's stomach.
"Court-martial or hand him to the council?" she asked, handing him to the other woman.
"Council," Daemon said. "Put them here."
The man set Teresa down where he'd indicated. A moment later, she was joined by Cassidy and Ten.
"Can we help?" the pale-haired woman asked, kneeling next to Daemon.
"No, I will do it," he said, pulling out a small dagger.
"But it's four of them," she protested. "Let us help."
"These are my students," he insisted.
He made a small cut in Ten's arm and a similar one in his palm and touched the two.
Red lines crept up his hand and faded from her face.
Her eyes opened and she blinked weakly, confused. The red was gone save for streaks of blood around her eyes and mouth.
Daemon helped her sit up as she started hacking.
A moment later, Teresa and Cassidy weakly sat up, wobbling and coughing. Their shirts were both stained with blood.
Daemon pulled the arrow from Jaq's chest and touched his cut to the wound. The streaks drained from the boy's face, only to add to those on the older Hunter's body, making him look almost as bad as the other four had.
"Damn," the African American woman muttered.
The pale-haired woman looked away for a moment. "The boy's gonna need some Band Aids for that hole in his chest. At least let me do that!"
Daemon just pulled his hand away.
Jaq gasped and turned on his side, coughing up blood and clutching the blood-stained fabric of his jacket.
"Yeah, um, I'm just gonna take that as a yes," she said. She headed for a cabinet at the back of the room.
"This house is no longer safe," the African American woman said. "Our Clave has an empty half, if you want it."
"No need," Daemon said, helping Jaq to his feet. The younger Hunter wobbled, clutching his chest, his now butchered and two inches shorter hair covering his face.
Daemon turned to his other four students. "Pack what you want to keep."
They left, leaving the four older Hunters, Jaq, and the three unconscious teens together.
"Where will you go?" the other man asked.
"Just a place I know," Daemon said.
The man and the African American woman looked at each other and shrugged.
The man turned toward the three unconscious students. "So… what happened to these ones?"
Alex looked up the seemingly never-ending staircase, looked down the seemingly never-ending distance she'd already walked, and slid down the wall, giving up.
"Girl found dead in endless staircase=lamest death ever," she muttered.
She looked and saw her Astral near the handrail across from her.
"What are you doing?" the Weirn asked.
The Astral moved to show that the rail was twisted at intervals.
"Ah, art," the white-haired girl said, "formerly known as school property. Well, at least one of us is having fun."
She wordlessly looked back up at the symbol above her head.
She screamed in frustration and jumped to her feet.
"Is this!" she yelled, pounding her backpack against the wall. "Some kind! Of stupid joke?"
Her hands sunk through the symbol.
She stared a moment, then frowned. "You are kiddingme."
She tweaked inside the wall, causing a portal to open up in front of her.
"Whoever you are," she muttered, "your instructions sucked."
She stepped through.