The Gray Institute (The Gray Institute Trilogy Book 1)

by Leanne Pearson

  The ability to turn my nose up at Sir Alec's Immortal claims is becoming harder by the second; though I remain stubborn – unconvinced it isn't merely a trick of the light.

  'Have a seat, Miss Ryder, and I will explain our purpose in recruiting you,' Sir Alec gestures to the chair, waiting patiently as I hesitate.

  I've frequently used the phrase 'seeing is believing' and firmly stuck to that notion, but if that's what I truly believe; I'm hard pressed to find an alternate explanation for the changes of my body.

  I'm reluctant to sit and listen to Sir Alec's reasoning, but I know I have little choice and must simply accept – for the moment – the bizarre and unbelievable situation I find myself in. I must decide what is fact and what is fiction later.

  Sir Alec takes his seat opposite me – appearing much more chipper now that I'm co-operating – and smiles, linking his fingers together and resting his chin atop his hands.

  'As I stated before; some of the information I'm about to give you will be hard for you to accept. It will seem fantastical and most of it fictional, but I assure you – every word is fact and nothing but truth. Whether you choose to believe it right now is entirely down to you, but after just a few days here, I'm sure you'll be hard pressed to deny it.'

  'A few days?' I squeak, hardly believing my ears. Sir Alec sighs.

  'Miss Ryder, this process will be much quicker and substantially easier if I'm not interrupted. I will explain each detail to you – I assure you. I will answer your questions in due course,'

  I suppress a snappy comment and lean back in my chair, attempting to show willing.

  'You have been carefully chosen by a select few members of Our Kind to be changed and put into training here at the Institute. Their reasons for choosing you are first and foremost because of your circumstances, but aside from this, your personality and attributes have also been taken into consideration. For example; whether you will be strong enough to cope with the transformation, and whether you will thrive and be of value to us as an Immortal.

  You no longer live in the world as you know it; you are a part of our world now, which we like to keep hidden. We have our own rules and laws to abide by – like the human world – except, for breaking ours there are far tougher consequences.

  The Institutes were commissioned hundreds of years ago and a five year stay in order to complete training is mandatory for any and every Immortal. You must fulfil your five years, if you do not – you will not be released back into the world. This is in order to protect yourself, the rest of us and, of course, the human population.' Sir Alec pauses a moment, for me to catch up. It sounds like he's reading from a manuscript, like he's recited these words a thousand times, but to me, this all sounds like a sci-fi film that I've somehow ended up playing the lead role in.

  'During your stay here – which you will find exceedingly comfortable – ' he continues. ' – You will attend classes in order to better your understanding of our world, its laws and its history; as well as your understanding of yourself.

  There are five separate year groups and you will be assigned a Mentor from the third year for you to shadow. They will show you the ropes, help you learn the Institute, find your way around and introduce you to other students.

  There are a few rules we enforce here at the Institute – some more fiercely than others. In due course, all of the rules will be carefully explained to you; but for now, I will give you only the most imperative one:

  You are not permitted to leave the Institute until your five year training is up.

  The punishment for breaking this rule is severe and not one I would wish on such a young, incapable Immortal. Please, heed my advice: do not try to escape. Do not try to return to loved ones or to the human world. I can not stress the importance of this advice.' Sir Alec's strange grey eyes bore into my very soul as he utters his warning. A cold shiver creeps along my spine, coupled with a feeling of disbelief. I breathe out heavily through my mouth, blowing my fringe upwards in a sigh of defeat.

  'If this is real, you're asking a hell of a lot of me,' I shake my head. 'To stay here for five years against my will and train to be – ' It's so ridiculous, I can't even utter the word.

  'I'm not asking anything of you, Miss Ryder. You have been given a gift – ' I scoff at Sir Alec's words, not sure how to take the news that I'm now a supernatural being and must stay within the same walls, surrounded by people I don't know for five years, and believe it's a dream come true.

  'It is a gift.' Sir Alec states, his tone harsh, final. 'Immortality is a gift some people can only dream of. You have been taken from a wasted life and given a chance to start over with a clean slate, better advantages and in an entirely different world.'

  'Immortal?' I frown. Up until this moment, I believed that the phrase was simply an inaccurate vernacular of 'Our Kind.' Was Sir Alec suggesting that I, he and many others are truly immortal? That we'll remain untouched by disease, refrain from ageing – never die?

  'Indeed,' Sir Alec smiles knowingly. 'As I said before; your body is frozen. From this moment on you will only ever appear as you are now. You will never age, you will never fall ill – you will never die.' He confirms.

  'Unless I'm particularly careless with a wooden implement.' The snide comment falls from my mouth without my permission and I freeze, holding Sir Alec's gaze, waiting for his anger to explode. Instead; the corners of his mouth turn up in a smirk, his eyes crinkle and he stares at me in amusement.

  'Actually, Miss Ryder, that is false, as are many of the myths surrounding our existence. I imagine this will fall into the category of 'hard to process', but you will never impale yourself – even if you wanted to. Your skin, my skin – ' He holds his hands up to the light in demonstration. ' – Is the strongest material in existence. There are no objects sharp enough, no metal strong enough to pierce even the first layer.

  You will never die, Miss Ryder, no matter what you do.'

  As an instant reaction of my scientifically-wired brain, I eye the sharp letter opener, just inches from my hands on his disorganised desk. My mind is programmed to test theories I don't believe, as proof is the only way to know for sure. A fair test, under experimental conditions in a scientific manner will determine information to be true or false. That is the way of the world.

  Sir Alec catches my gaze and follows it, leaning back confidently in his leather arm chair as he spies the object of my interest.

  'Indulge yourself.' He smiles and, with his permission, I snatch the letter opener from amidst the piles of paper and hold its wooden hilt tightly in my fist. Laying my free hand flat on the table, I raise the sharp blade high above my head, bending my shoulder and elbow to obtain proper force.

  It's difficult to bring the knife down; every fibre of my being goes against it, despite my willingness – no; desperation – to end my life just a few hours ago. I fight a mental battle with myself, forcing my brain to tell my arm what to do.

  After a few more seconds' hesitation, the blade swoops down, past my head, leaving a sound trail in its wake like the soaring of a plane. The tip of the steel blade crashes into my skin.

  I feel the blow – it's painful – my nerve endings and pain receptors run wild, screaming in agony. The pain travels from the back of my hand up to my wrist, spreading like a disease.

  It feels exactly like what it is; a blade stabbing my skin with excessive force. There is only one noticeable difference to the blow; instead of piercing my soft, delicate skin; the blade crumples, like a piece of paper in my hand. It curls in on itself, splintering into shards until the hilt of the blade rests on my hand and the sharp metal tip is nothing but a pile of metallic ash.

  My skin is unblemished; no scratch or even a red mark. It remains pale white and perfect –untouched.

  My breath catches in my throat. This couldn't be a trick of the light or the product of hallucinogenic drugs. I felt that blade in my hand, the smoothness of the wood, the sharp metal colliding with my skin, the piercing pain, the trapped
nerves.

  I have no explanation for it within the boundaries of modern science.

  'So, you see, Miss Ryder, you must accept that you are an Immortal. You have no choice.' Sir Alec drawls from behind his desk.

  'It's impossible,' I breathe, unable to tear my eyes from the crumpled blade. 'It's scientifically impossible!'

  'On the contrary – we are very scientific beings. Our biologists work around the clock to study our unique biology and find a blood substitute.' Sir Alec informs me smugly.

  'Blood?' I raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. 'So that part is true?'

  'Indeed, Miss Ryder. Tales of burning in sunlight, garlic and holy water are beyond ridiculous. But it is true that we must feed on blood.' He nods swiftly, standing to address me.

  'This information will be explained to you in far greater detail when your lessons begin; you'll be studying our biology, history, taking part in physical practice – even forensics. But for now Miss Ryder, I'm afraid we're out of time.

  As part of our mandatory procedure I will need you to take a test. It will be quick and painless, if you'd just like to follow me...'

  Sir Alec crosses to the double doors, pausing impatiently for me to follow. I know that I must decide now whether to go along with this strange nightmare I appear to be trapped in – or resist it.

  Sir Alec has been patient, even helpful with me, but his patience has limits that have obviously been reached. He will not indulge in my rantings and ravings about what is fact and what is fiction any longer, and I have no grounds upon which to base them.

  I can not deny what my own eyes have witnessed and – as I stand to follow in Sir Alec's footsteps – I conclude that my whole world is about to be turned on its head.

  Chapter Four

  Sir Alec's footsteps echo with mine along the velvet-clad corridor. Keeping a few paces behind him, I search the halls for Diana's sweep of dark hair. Though I've woken up to a nightmare, it seems that Diana has the ability to make me feel safe simply by being present. But no matter how hard I search; I'm alone with Sir Alec, rounding a corner to halt at a beaten-up wooden door.

  The door frame is low and Sir Alec stoops to cross the threshold into a dark room. There are no windows and the space is small. Burning torches hang precariously from the stone walls and a single table stands eerily in the centre of the room. One of the wooden chairs at the table is occupied by a young, Oriental-looking boy. He is certainly no older than me, his dark hair hangs statically over his brown eyes, his stance is nervous; both hands firmly grip the seat.

  'Miss Ryder, this is Clayton Nickson, he will be conducting your test. Please have a seat.' Sir Alec gestures to the empty chair before retreating into the shadows in the corner of the room. The young boy eyes me warily as I take the seat opposite him. He glances at Sir Alec – silently asking to begin – before leaning forward so I can better hear his timid voice.

  'During your transformation,' he begins. 'Some of your most prominent personality traits and attributes are strengthened. For example; if you were particularly stubborn in your previous life, that trait will be intensified in this one. Usually three or four traits are strengthened... and some of us receive gifts.'

  'Gifts?' I frown, glancing back at Sir Alec.

  'Yes, gifts,' Clayton continues. 'Not all of us receive them – in fact, very few do. If you possess one, your gift is unique to you. Some Immortals have excessive strength, others are able to communicate without using words, for examples. But a gift is rare and random.

  My gift is the ability to tell you what your gift is – and what your strengthened personality traits are. If you would give me your hand, Miss Ryder.'

  He stretches his palm across the table and – after a moment's hesitation – I take it, watching carefully as his eyes glaze over. His stare pierces through me as his body stiffens. The entire ordeal lasts less than thirty seconds and he pulls his hand away – a sheepish, grateful expression on his face.

  'She has three strengthened personality traits,' He speaks loudly and clearly and addresses Sir Alec rather than me. 'She has an amazing ability to absorb knowledge, more quickly than anyone I've ever seen,' He widens his eyes in wonder. 'Whether she gains information verbally or by reading, she simply retains it – like a photographic memory. She's also determined; if she wants something or someone, she will stop at nothing to obtain it. She isn't fazed by rules and regulations; if they stand in her way – she will break them,'

  Though I know this statement is true – I jumped out of a two storey building to make that trip to Liverpool – it's not something I'm all too happy about Sir Alec knowing. Did he not, just a few minutes ago, stress the importance of the rules of the Institute?

  'Finally; her protective instincts. This is by far the strongest of the three traits, it almost overwhelms her. When she cares about someone or something, she will go to great lengths to protect them.'

  This statement I'm not so sure about. In my entire eighteen years of life, I've never protected anybody but myself. Not my family, my friends – and certainly not Sofia.

  'And the gift?' Sir Alec barks, oblivious to the nervous disposition of Clayton Nickson.

  'She possesses one,' He stammers, his lower lip trembling. 'She has the ability to assess whether an individual is innocent or guilty.'

  'She's a lie detector, like Amber Mayfair.' Sir Alec nods, but Clayton shakes his head.

  'She can't determine lies or truth, what she can do is assess whether an individual has lived a pious life or not. For example; if a man had murdered in cold blood, she would know.'

  'So it's a question of morals?' Sir Alec raises a thick eyebrow. 'But morals aren't set in stone, every culture has a different morale than the other.' He frowns.

  'I would imagine it's based on what Miss Ryder's own, personal morals are. For example; if she believes that rape and murder are wrong, she will view someone who has committed those acts as guilty.' Clayton explains.

  'How can I assess them? By touching them, like you?' I ask, dimly aware that I'm slipping dangerously into the idea that this world may be real – this information true.

  'No, the tell is within their eyes, but it's down to you to discover exactly what it is.'

  'Thank you, Mr Nickson.' Sir Alec's tone is final, signalling that the test is over. I realise – without surprise – that this test wasn't for my benefit, it was for his. So that he may be first witness to every gift and assess whether they're of personal use – or a threat.

  Clayton rises from his seat with me and takes my hand once more, gently squeezing it.

  'Good luck, Miss Ryder.' He smiles, his dark eyes projecting sadness and longing, for what, I will never know.

  Sir Alec paces along the corridor, his muscled arms swinging by his sides, his head held proudly atop his shoulders. I scurry in his slip stream, attempting to keep up.

  'You will meet your Mentor now.' He booms over his shoulder as we near the grand oak doors of his study. The guard is stationed dutifully outside, accompanied by a young girl; possibly my age, slightly shorter than me and with a slender frame. She's willowy, her arms and legs too long for her body, but stunning – like the rest of them – with short, chestnut brown hair feathered around her thin face. Her amber eyes are large and smiling – she reminds me of a wood elf with her pointed nose and small lips.

  'Miss Ryder, this is Tia Carey.' Sir Alec announces proudly. I'm startled by the unexpected affection and warmth in his tone as he gazes at her lovingly; his cold, grey eyes melting.

  'It's really great to meet you!' Tia Carey thrusts her slender hand into mine, her grip tight.

  'Miss Carey is an excellent student, highly recommended for a Mentor. You're extremely lucky, Miss Ryder.' Sir Alec grins sickeningly at Tia as she waves her hand dismissively, fanning her face in a faux blush.

  'Sir Alec, please, I'm honoured!' The American girl giggles and tugs on my hand, taking jittery pigeon steps forward. 'Come on, Eve, I'll show you our room!' She squeals with anticipation befor
e dragging me along the corridor, prancing beside me like a baby deer.

  'Don't worry, Sir Alec, she's in safe hands with me!' Tia calls back over her shoulder as Sir Alec beams gaily outside his study doors.

  Tia keeps her fingers linked with mine even after we've rounded the corner into another hallway. She beams at me brightly, swinging her free hand carelessly by her side.

  'How are you coping?' She asks, her almost-orange eyes full of concern. Her voice is high-pitched and feminine; coupled with her soft, childish face, she appears younger than her figure suggests she is.

  'I don't know,' I admit, shaking my head. 'It's all happened so fast. I'm not even sure I'm convinced yet.'

  'I was the same,' Tia nods, smiling fondly at the memory. 'Even when I knew I couldn't deny it any more, it still took me days to adjust. But I did – and it was the happiest moment of my life.' She grins.

  I frown, struggling to understand how the realisation that you're clinically dead and will never see your family and friends again could ever suffice as the best moment of your life.

  'We're all from difficult backgrounds,' she explains, reading my expression. 'We're all chosen because we have no family or friends. None of us have anything to go back to, most of us were dying when we were changed. The fact that we've been given a brand new start in life is cause to be celebrated, don't you think?' She smiles, halting in front of a spiralling stairwell.