by Bailey, G.
“Silas,” I begin, “I’m sure they’re just trying to keep an eye on us--”
“Maybe,” he says, “or maybe they’re not as clueless about what happened to Brody as they claim to be. Think about it, Boots--if he really just wandered off and got lost, why all these new security measures? There’s something they’re not telling us, I can feel it.”
My mind is in pieces. Part of me wants to tell him to relax, that they’re protecting us, but another can’t help but wonder why the school would have kept quiet about earlier disappearances like this. If anything, one would think they would want to bring something like that up, if only just to reassure the students that this isn’t nearly that severe. Briefly I think back to Silas’ story, his claims that his parents were growing suspicious of the humans. Is it possible that they weren’t just paranoid rabble-rousers? “So what are you thinking?” I ask.
Silas glances over his shoulder for a moment, lowering his voice. “I want more information,” he replies. “This thing has me too wound up to focus on anything else. My grades have dropped, I’m having trouble sleeping… I can’t stop wondering about my parents, about what it was they claimed to be protecting me from. And maybe it is nothing. But if it is, then I want to at least be able to put my mind at ease.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to sneak into the registrar’s office,” Silas replies. “That’s where they keep the files on all the students who have been students here, as well as all of their confidential information.”
My eyes widen. “Silas, are you serious? What if you get caught?”
“I won’t,” Silas replies. “At least, I don’t think so. I volunteered to help Mrs. Fairbanks out after class tonight. If I get the opportunity to get a look at the student records, I’m going to take it.”
I swallow hard, staring at him. “Okay,” I breathe finally. “But be careful, okay?”
“I will,” Silas replies. “And Boots...” His voice trails off, and my heart flutters in my chest as I become aware of how close he is to me. His shining eyes meet mine, and he takes a step closer, the distance between us narrowing…
Until we’re interrupted by a familiar voice. “What do we have here?”
I whirl around, heart hammering, to see President Hawthorne standing at the end of the hall. How long has he been there? Has he heard us talking?
He smiles, striding down the hall to where we are. “Ms. Brix,” he says, nodding to me before turning to Silas. “Mr. Aconite. What are you two doing in the West Wing? Shouldn’t you be at lunch with the others?”
Silas and I stare at each other for a minute, and then I blurt out the only thing I can think of: “I’m sorry, President Hawthorne. I, ah… I asked Silas to give me a few pointers on dragon shifting. It’s the form I’ve been having the most trouble with.” For an extra pinch of sympathy, I add, “It’s embarrassing seeing all the other kids able to do it when all I can do is breathe fire.”
“I see,” says Hawthorne, crossing his arms. “You do realize that unsupervised shifting is against the rules?”
“Yes,” Silas says, stepping forward. For a moment, his eyes flash as he stares at Hawthorne. “We weren’t actually shifting, though. I just wanted to give her some theoretical tips, you know?”
I nod eagerly, realizing how hollow the excuse sounds but unable to think of anything else that will get us out of this jam. God only knows what the Academy staff would do if they overheard a student conspiring to break into the registrar’s office…
Mr. Hawthorne looks between the two of us for a moment, his eyes eventually settling on me. “Ms. Brix,” he says slowly, “I’d like to have a word with you in my office.”
“But--”
“Now, if you please.” Hawthorne glances at Silas for another moment, expression darkening, but all he says is, “Mr. Aconite, I suggest you go to the cafeteria. Lunch will be over soon and we can’t have anyone going hungry.” He beckons to me and I reluctantly begin to follow.
Over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Silas staring after us. Our eyes meet for a moment before he turns and retreats away down the hall.
Chapter 22
The sound of our footsteps echoing down the hall is deafening. I cast a nervous glance toward Hawthorne, whose expression is stoic. He doesn’t say anything as he leads me back towards the main faculty wing, where a large wooden door with frosted glass paneling leads into an enormous office. If he was going for intimidation when he decorated the place, he succeeded. Against the far wall is a tall oak desk that could easily be a hundred years old. The window shows a view of the area beyond the immediate campus where the dark, quiet forest lurks on the horizon.
“Please have a seat,” Hawthorne says, indicating the chair facing the desk. He takes a seat on the other side and folds his hands on the table, a placid smile on his face.
Slowly I do as I’m told, my heart in my throat and my body suddenly feeling stiff. How much did he hear of my conversation with Silas? I’ve already had detention once, and I haven’t even been here a full term; could this kind of thing be grounds for expulsion? Then what will I do?
As a whirlwind of dreadful possibilities swirls through my mind, I manage to clear my throat and ask in a small voice, “So, what did you want to talk to me about, President Hawthorne?”
He laughs. “Relax. You look like you’re going to faint. You’re not in trouble.” I feel the knot in my stomach relax, if only a little. “To be honest, Millie--can I call you that?” Swallowing, I nod, and he continues. “To be honest, Millie, I’ve wanted to sit down with you for a while, just to get a sense of how you’re settling in.”
“Oh.” I blink, the tension leaving my shoulders. He really didn’t overhear us… did he? I want to believe he didn’t, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that gives me pause.
“Yes,” Hawthorne says. “I think it’s fair to say that you’re a special case, wouldn’t you?”
Clearing my throat again, I nod. “I guess so, yeah.”
“I mentioned when we first met that hybrid shifters are exceedingly rare--so much so that nowadays, people tend to believe they don’t exist… or fear them.” His dark eyes meet mine, and I shrink under his gaze. “I heard about the fight you had with Ms. Ash.”
Damn. Busted. Shifting a little in my seat, I reply, “I, ah… I’m really sorry about that, President Hawthorne. I hadn’t figured out how to control my powers yet. I still don’t--not really. I didn’t want to hurt her, I just… I panicked, and…” I’m babbling, feeling more on edge by the second in spite of Hawthorne’s reassurances. “I’m sorry,” I say again.
“It’s all right, Millie,” Hawthorne says gently. “You’re not the first shifter who’s lost control of their powers. That’s why this school exists, isn’t it?”
Is it? “I guess so.”
“So how are you doing, really?” he asks, leaning forward and giving me a scrutinizing stare. I feel like his eyes are going to bore a hole in my head. “I mean truly--how are you liking it here? Do your classes feel like they’re going well? Has the transition become easier?”
“Yes,” I reply. “I mean, I still wouldn’t say it’s easy, but… I do feel comfortable here. More comfortable than I’ve felt at other schools, actually.”
Hawthorne nods approvingly. “Glad to hear it.” He leans back and crosses his arms. “And you’re making friends?”
I nod. “A few, actually. They’ve… they’ve made it easier. I mean, they’ve helped me learn to transform, they’ve stood up for me…” They make me feel less alone, I want to say, but I don’t think Hawthorne would understand. “They’re a good group,” I finish instead.
“And Mr. Aconite?” Hawthorne asks, his eyes narrowing slightly, almost imperceptibly. “He seems to have taken quite a liking to you.”
My eyes widen, and I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks. “Really?”
Hawthorne chuckles. “Come on, Millie. I was your age once, too. A long time a
go. I’ve spent enough time around boys to know how they think. I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” he adds, his expression going stony again.
“What do you mean?”
“Mr. Aconite is…” He steeples his fingers, pursing his lips. “You could say that Mr. Aconite is… troubled. I’m not sure how much he told you about his childhood, but--”
“A bit,” I reply. “He said his parents were paranoid. About humans, I mean.”
“Paranoid is putting it lightly,” Hawthorne replies. “They were conspiracy theorists who thought humans were out to… I don’t know, enslave shifters, or something. Hogwash, obviously.” He gestures around the room, grinning. “I mean, does this look like enslavement to you?”
I give an uneasy laugh. “No, I guess not.” For the first time in a while, I’m reminded of the fact that President Hawthorne is, in fact, human.
“Shifters and the humans who know about their existence have cooperated for hundreds of years,” Hawthorne continues. “We support each other, coexisting as we help strengthen each other. Learn from each other. Is that enslavement?” He shakes his head, looking thoughtful. “Shifters are more powerful than humans can ever hope to be,” he muses. “It’s an honor to be able to help your kind assimilate, to study your abilities in a mutually beneficial relationship. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, sure,” I reply.
“It’s views like the ones Mr. Aconite’s parents held that jeopardize the relationship humans and shifters have cultivated for so long,” says President Hawthorne. “Paranoia breeds irrationality, which breeds violence. Mr. Aconite’s parents were violent.”
My eyes widen. “Really? He didn’t mention…”
“No, I doubt he did,” says Hawthorne. “He probably isn’t even aware. His parents were revolutionaries, radicals who wanted to overturn the system, at the expense of both humans and shifters. They and their co-conspirators were in the midst of planning an attack when we managed to intercept them.”
I swallow, unable to respond.
“You see why that kind of ideology is dangerous,” Hawthorne continues. “And I fear that…” His eyes flicker away from me.
“What is it?” I ask, leaning forward.
“I fear that Mr. Aconite’s parents may have poisoned him with their beliefs,” Hawthorne says, sounding almost reluctant to tell me, like it pains him to deliver the message. “He was, thankfully, taken out of that situation as a child, but he spent a great deal of his life learning to be suspicious of humans and our motives.”
“Are you saying Silas is going to turn out like his parents?”
Hawthorne shrugs. “It’s impossible to predict what will happen to the boy. But I want to warn you now, Millie: spending time with shifters like him is a dangerous game. He could be indoctrinating you, and you wouldn’t even know it. I want you to be careful.”
I take a breath to steady myself. “Is that why you called me in here?” I asked quietly. “To warn me about Silas?”
Slowly, Hawthorne nods, that thoughtful look still on his face. “I would hate to see you get caught up in whatever delusions his parents might have instilled in him. It wouldn’t end well. And you… well, you’re special.” He shrugs. “Those are just my two cents, of course. You’re free to do what you want, but I would warn you to think carefully about who you associate with around here. Do you understand?”
I nod, my heart hammering in my chest. “I think so.”
“Good,” Hawthorne says, and nods towards the exit. “Then you’re free to go.”
It’s after curfew, and the students are all in bed. There are a few lights on in the individual dorm rooms, but the hallways are empty and dark. I lie on top of my sheets, staring at the ceiling.
Did Hawthorne threaten me today?
That’s debatable, I suppose, but the message behind his words was crystal clear: stay away from Silas. But why? He’s just another student at the Academy, right?
That business about his parents planning a coup bothers me, though. If Silas’ parents were dangerous, Hawthorne would know, right? Unless he was lying. There are too many questions, and my nervousness about the disappearance isn’t helping matters. I’m too new to this world, I think, and I don’t have enough information to think about any of this objectively. I haven’t heard from Silas since our last conversation, and that makes me nervous, too; did he break into the registrar’s office? What did he find? Was he discovered?
Maybe he is just paranoid, I think. Maybe Hawthorne was right, and Brody going missing is just the excuse he needed to lash out against the Academy.
As if on cue, there’s an insistent rapping at the door, enough to make me jump. The knocking pauses for a moment and then resumes with renewed urgency. Sitting bolt upright in bed, I go to the door and hiss, “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Silas’ voice comes from the other side, making my heart beat a little faster. “Boots, I need to talk to you right now.”
I pull open the door, once again surprised by how much he towers over me. He nearly has to duck to enter the room, and I can tell just from his posture that he’s on edge--frightened, even. But Hawthorne’s warning is still fresh in my mind, and I cross my arms warily. “What’s this about?” I ask.
“I did it,” he replies, his tone intense. “Mrs. Fairbanks had to step out. I don’t know where she went, but it doesn’t matter. I got a look at the student files.”
My eyes widen. “And? What did you find?”
“Millie, it’s…” He shakes his head, looking like he doesn’t know how to proceed. “It’s bad,” he says after a moment.
I clear my throat. “Silas, look,” I begin, “I know you wanted to find out the truth, but are you sure this is--”
“It involves you.”
My mouth drops open. Those three little words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment I don’t know what to do with the information. Me? What the hell does Brody’s disappearance have to do with me? “What are you talking about?”
Silas opens his mouth to reply and then closes it again, tunneling a hand through his hair.
“I… Boots, there’s no easy way to say this,” he says, slowly taking a seat on my bed.
I sit down next to him, eyes wide.
“They had a lot of documents back there,” Silas says, turning to me. “And there was a whole file on you.”
“A whole…” I shake my head. “But everyone has a file, don’t they?”
“Sure,” Silas replies, “but yours was enormous. I’m talking hundreds of pages.”
“But why?” I ask. “Why would they have that much information on me? I just got here!”
Silas takes a long breath. “Because they made you,” he replies. I stare at him, not understanding. “I don’t mean the Academy itself made you,” he continues, “but the humans. The ones who founded the Academy.”
“What do you mean, they made me?” I ask. “How do you know? What did my file say?” The questions are coming almost faster than I can keep up with them, but the need for the truth has overtaken any caution Hawthorne might have put in me today.
Silas swallows. “Nineteen years ago, the group in charge of policing human-shifter interactions began a project.”
“What kind of project?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“They were trying to create a hybrid shifter,” Silas replies. “It had been done before, a few times, but it had always been magic-based, and the lore was lost. It had always been frowned upon, seen as unnatural, but that…” He shakes his head. “That didn’t stop them. They spent years trying to recreate the ritual using modern science, taking newborn shifters and experimenting on them, trying to combine their abilities.”
“But why?” I ask. “Why would they want to do that?”
Silas shrugs. “I don’t know. Power? Control? It could be anything. But what I do know is this,” he continues, putting his hands on my shoulders, “They finally succeeded. Eighteen years ago, with four shifters, one from each clan, and a human c
hild. That child’s name was--”
“Millie Brix,” I breathe.
He nods. “You were their first success,” he says. “The only one who didn’t die from the experiments.”
“What about the others?” I ask. “The shifters from the other clans--what happened to them?”
A grim smile appears on Silas’ face. “I’ll give you a hint: you were in detention with all four of them.”
The news is enough to rock me to the core. How was it possible? It’s almost too perfect, the kind of thing that happens in movies. Then again, when I think about my connection to these guys--how sudden and seemingly out of nowhere it felt wonderful and strange and almost predetermined. I feel a chill go through me. “Are you saying…?”
“Yes. Me, Landon, Hunter, and Shade. We were all taken from our homes, used to give you your powers, and then…” He shakes his head. “I think my parents knew,” he says, more to himself than to me. “I think they figured out what the humans had used me for, and they wanted to take me away. That’s why…” His voice breaks. “That’s why they tried to run away with me.”
“Silas,” I say quietly, looking into his eyes, “are you sure?”
He nods. “It was all there, in your file. Paperwork, notes, lab tests, medical records… Millie, they did this to you, to us. The Academy.”
“I…” I feel like I’m at a loss for words, both numb and overcome with emotion at the same time. All my life I’ve wondered about my past, all my time at the Academy I’ve wondered about my powers, and now… It feels like my world--whatever tenuous version of it I’ve created for myself since arriving at the Academy--has been turned upside-down. They used the guys to create a hybrid shifter. Me. I’m the result of experiments performed by humans. Is that why Hawthorne said I was special? And what about my parents? Did they give me up willingly? Did they know what was going to happen to me? Or what if…
