'Excuse me.' I mutter into the silence, only realising then that Meredith and Peter are sitting awkwardly together, avoiding eye contact whilst Meredith stares longingly in Malachy's direction.
I slide my legs out from under the table and hurry down the staircase, aiming to catch a better look at the human. Though I know I'm watching her like a kid in a zoo, it's been so long – or so it feels – since I saw a human – since I heard a heartbeat.
I push my way through the crowd, keeping my sight trained on her. She seems bored and lost all at the same time, unsure of herself and out of her depth. It doesn't seem unusual given the fact that she's a solitary human in a room full of Immortals, but what does seem strange is that beneath it all – the tension and the anxiety, the fear and the panic – is a confidence buried so deeply it's almost invisible.
But I notice it.
As I hurry through the crowds I grip the shoulders and biceps of my fellow students, inching them gently out of my way. Most of them ignore me, a few of them tut with irritation, and one speaks my name in a familiar voice.
'Malachy, hey.' I smile briefly, forgetting myself for an instant.
'Malachy?' A snide tone to my right is followed by a harsh snigger. I don't need to look to guess who the voice belongs to. 'First name terms already?' Lucrezia raises an eyebrow as I attempt to slide past her. 'You need to be careful, Malachy. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort of people.'
I ignore her, pushing through the crowd, away from her and Malachy to head for the platform. My mind is as much focussed on escaping Lucrezia as it is getting closer to Lorna Gray.
I stop a few feet away, pressing my back against the wall, keeping out of Sir Alec's wandering eyesight.
His daughter remains a stone statue, speaking to and addressing no-one as she watches the crowds beneath her tiresomely. I study her subtly, careful not to appear too interested or stare at her for too long.
I've lost sight of Tia and Richard but Lucrezia stays nearby, casting me the odd sideways glance.
Lorna Gray makes her first movement since taking her seat, leaning over to mutter in Sir Alec's ear. His jaw hardens but he nods once, beckoning over the closest waiter and gesturing at his daughter. She stands and moves gracefully to the edge of the stage, teetering down the wooden steps and onto the floor, followed closely by her waiter/bodyguard.
She stays a few feet from the edge of the crowd at all times, maintaining a distance as though a partition of glass separates her from the rabble. First years stare, their eyes hungry as she glides purposefully by, teasing them – coming a little too close for comfort.
She heads across the room, towards where I stand, and stops before the wall, folding her arms and observing the dancers.
Besides the first years, no-one acknowledges her. In fact, some students go out of their way to ignore her, glazing their eyes over as if she isn't there. A handsome first year boy – who has been eyeing her closely throughout her short journey – suddenly strides in her direction, his jaw set in a determined line. He manages two steps before his third year Mentor grabs his arm and pulls him back with tremendous force.
I sneak a little closer to the elusive human, careful not to get too close, but I stop abruptly as her bodyguard's eyes graze mine. He has clocked me and is watching closely for any further movement. His eyes aren't the only ones vying for my attention though; behind him, a pair of mossy green irises catch my gaze, holding it until I anxiously look away.
Without knowing or properly comprehending what I intend to do; my feet start forward, stepping one in front of the other in a familiar pattern. I stare at them in their laced black boots, willing them silently to stop. But they keep stepping, taking me in the clear direction of Lorna Gray. My mind is screaming Stop! but my body won't listen.
Her guard finally acts, stepping in front of her to block my path. He eyes me coldly, his lips pursed, ready to attack. I brace myself for the force of his blows, knowing with just one more step I will breach an unspoken law – one of Sir Alec's own.
Lorna Gray pokes her head over the bodyguard's shoulder, eyeing me with interest as she chews thoughtfully on her lip.
She places a slender white hand on the guard's shoulder and he glances back quizzically. She nods slightly and he steps aside, keeping uncomfortably close and glancing nervously in Sir Alec's direction.
Sir Alec himself is watching me like a hawk; I don't need to turn to see him, I feel his gaze on me – like searing heat on the back of my head.
Lorna Gray smiles a little, the corners of her mouth twitching. I have no answer as to why I approached her – I don't know myself – but I smile back hesitantly all the same.
'Hello.' I address her simply, feeling stupid. She eyes me carefully, her expression confused. She's even more beautiful close up, her eyes are very pale; like lily pads in the midday sun. She glances at Sir Alec, her soft lips parting slightly before she takes a small step backwards.
I hesitate, turning to leave, assuming she has caught her father's eye and heeded his silent warning, but the sound of her deep voice halts me.
'Hello.' She replies, raising a dark eyebrow.
'Eve Ryder.' I introduce myself, formally offering my hand. She glances at it warily as her eyes dart once more in Sir Alec's direction. The bodyguard shifts uncomfortably on his feet, leaning towards me – ready.
Lorna Gray ever so slowly raises her arm, placing her delicate hand in mine. Her touch is electric, one thousand volts crippling me. Her blood flows smoothly beneath her skin, her pulse slow and steady, like a drum vibrating through to the very core of my soul. Her scent is delectable, rich and meaty; the scent of her blood.
'Lorna.' She replies softly, not offering her surname. Her hand lingers in mine for a moment as I run my thumb across her thin skin. She feels as delicate as a butterfly's wings and so very alive, throbbing and pulsing as her blood travels through her veins. She's warm, as hot as a flame and I drop her hand quickly, steadying myself. My throat burns with desire and I cough to clear it, avoiding eye contact as I take a calculated step backwards.
The room has fallen silent and I'm keenly aware of hundreds of eyes resting on me, on Lorna – on Sir Alec. They watch with baited breath, the atmosphere charged. The music thumps on as the crowd stands still and I panic, blurting out the first thing I think of.
'Would you like to dance?' I kick myself as I say it. Not only shouldn't I be talking to this girl at all, I definitely shouldn't be inviting her to dance. Mostly due to the fact that I don't dance. Not at all. I've already drawn too much attention to myself, why make things worse?
The young girl frowns, cocking her head to the side – a slight smirk on her lips – as though asking me a silent question.
Are you crazy?
I wait for her inevitable reply – a laugh, a scoff – and I cringe as the room takes an audible gasp. Lorna Gray's mouth twitches, the beginnings of a smile, and I take yet another step backwards, poised to retreat. But to my surprise, she shrugs casually, her dark hair falling over her shoulders.
'Okay,' She replies, offering me her hand. 'Thank you.' I clasp her warm skin once again and on shaky legs, lead her through the parting crowd to the dance floor. My breathing quickens and I keep my eyes firmly on the ground, avoiding the gawking stares of students and turning my face away from Sir Alec. The few couples remaining frozen on the floor sidle away, awarding Lorna and I a tremendous amount of space.
As we take our position in the centre, I place my hand delicately on her waist, hearing her sharp intake of breath as she, too, avoids her father's gaze. She steps forward, clasping my hand and closing the space between us as she awaits my lead.
I don't have the faintest idea how to dance properly. I've never attended an occasion where the need has arisen and – judging by Lorna's posture and stance – she's more than educated in fine dancing. She sniggers – realising my dilemma – and begins to lead, placing her left foot forward and urging mine back. After a stumbling start, I fall
into her rhythm and quickly learn the steps as we glide gracefully across the floor.
The music isn't quite right – a modern pop song – but it's slow enough to keep a steady beat and after a few minutes, I can lapse my concentration, stare straight into her eyes and enjoy the dance. She's smiling, revealing perfect white teeth and as she speeds up, her long dress billows around my ankles.
Other couples begin to dance again, maintaining a long distance from Lorna and I, and they continue to stare, muttering in one another's ears. Lorna closes what little distance remains between us, bringing her lips dangerously close to my neck, her hot breath prickling my skin as she speaks.
'You're brave,' She mutters quietly, staring straight over my shoulder. I give no response, shrugging slightly as I attempt to avoid her meaty, sweet smell. The hunger is brewing in the pit of my stomach, becoming hard to bear and even harder to control.
'Alec will have your guts for garters.' She reminds me and the hunger is instantly replaced by a desperate, sinking feeling.
I have made a mistake.
I should never have approached Lorna Gray. I should have heeded every Mentor's warning and stayed away from her. There's a reason no-one speaks to her, a reason no-one acknowledges her and the worst part is – I already knew the reason.
I keep asking myself why?
Why did I approach her knowing the consequences were dire? Why did my feet decide to grow their own brains and disobey mine?
It's too late now to redeem myself, too late to struggle for an explanation I don't have – what's done is done.
And I was doing so well – up until now.
'As long as you enjoy yourself.' I mutter, the sound of defeat clear in my voice. She laughs coldly but her eyes soften a little as she cocks her head inquisitively to the side. She is so small, so delicate beneath my hands that I'm terrified I'll crush her accidentally.
'Surely the look on his face is worth it?' She asks, nodding in Sir Alec's direction. I reluctantly turn to face him, dreading the sight. My breath catches in my throat, forming a lump like a golf ball.
Sir Alec leans forward in his ornate chair, his arms draped casually across his parted thighs. He glares steadily in our direction, his grey eyes glittering as his mouth curls into a menacing grimace.
He has no intention of halting our little dance, he seems content that the consequences afterwards will redeem his dignity.
'Excellent.' I mutter sarcastically, averting my gaze as Lorna laughs loudly. 'You seem to enjoy angering your father.' I muse, gritting my teeth as the true weight of my actions bears down on me.
I spot Tia amongst the shell-shocked crowd, her face a picture of terror as she clings to Richard's arm for support. He pats it reassuringly but his expression doesn't fool me; he's equally worried and – like Tia – his eyes scream a silent question.
What the hell are you doing?
'He's not my father,' Lorna spits suddenly, her face reddened with anger. 'And of course I want to irritate him. Why else would I dance, or even converse, with one of you?' She eyes me with disgust, her demeanour suddenly changing. Her green eyes gleam with hate, her top lip curls and her chest, neck and cheeks turn scarlet, sizzling beneath her pale white skin.
I falter, stumbling over my steps a little. 'I'm sorry..?' I shake my head, releasing her hand, removing mine from her waist. She sniggers once again, raising an arched eyebrow to stare at me in pity.
'You didn't actually think I wanted to dance with you? To talk to you?' She asks. I blanch, lost for words.
'Oh, bless you.' She laughs, tilting her head back, letting her hair fall in waves along her spine. She drops her arms to her sides and throws me a condescending glance.
'Thank you for the dance.' She smirks, taking a step backwards. She doesn't give me time to reply before she spins on her heel, beckoning her bodyguard and returning to the platform. She takes her seat by Sir Alec's side, who simply throws her a disapproving glance before returning his focus to me.
I stare after her, open-mouthed, unsure of what just happened. She didn't want to dance with me, or talk to me, she just did it to anger Sir Alec.
Deliberately.
She dislikes Immortals; 'Why else would I dance, or even converse, with one of you?'
'One of you' meaning my kind. Our kind.
A tight grip on my arm is dragging me through the crowd, pulling me hastily, throwing me through the double doors. Tia slams me against the wall with more force than I realised she was capable of and reels on me, her eyes wide and wild.
'What the hell do you think you're doing?!' She screeches, her voice deafening and shrill; a pitch only a dog could hear. Her face is inches from mine as she grips my shoulders, digging her sharp fingers into my collarbone. I open my mouth to speak but she cuts me off, slamming me against the wall again. 'Have you gone completely insane?!'
Richard hurls himself through the ballroom doors, his eyes wide but focussed as he grips Tia's arm.
'I think we should move.' He suggests, eyeing the open double doors. There is silence in the ballroom.
'I think it's a little late for that.' Tia scoffs, her amber eyes glittering in the torch light.
'Still, let's not draw any more attention to ourselves.' Richard mutters, steering Tia towards the lifts and beckoning for me to follow.
We ride the lift in silence up to mine and Tia's floor, Richard's eyes fixed forward, Tia's glaring at me. I understand her worry, her anxiety, but not her seething fury.
She didn't force me to approach Lorna Gray, I did that on my own. Though perhaps she could have warned me, or at least enforced the silent warning.
I have ruined her night, Richard's night and my night – though I've probably made everybody else's nights. But after all is said and done – it is only I who will bear the consequences for breaking an unspoken rule.
And they said I was intelligent.
Chapter Thirteen
The following day, throughout Theory and Languages class, I anxiously await the call to Sir Alec's office. I know it will come – it's only a matter of time. By fourth period I'm almost praying for it to happen as the anticipation takes its toll.
Despite Tia's rage directly after the incident, she'd calmed down considerably during the night. Eventually, she'd become nervous and scared – even more so than I. She clung to my arm wherever I went and stiffened at any mention of Sir Alec's name.
She remains withdrawn and quiet all through morning break. Even Richard's flirting fails to draw her from her introverted mood. I have a niggling suspicion that Tia blames herself for what happened, that she's perhaps thinking she should have warned me, that perhaps she'll be in trouble as my Mentor for seemingly allowing me to approach Lorna Gray.
Fourth period is Practical and, as usual, we line up outside the hall. Most of my fellow students are still staring at me, though some have grown bored with the attention I'm getting. Whispers and hushed voices follow me through the corridors, rooms fall silent when I enter – even the tutors are having a hard time around me.
The hall doors swing open and we file uniformly inside, gathering along the far wall opposite Alexandrov and the near-mute Katarzyna.
'Today we will be focussing on the necessary skills and techniques for attack,' Alexandrov address us and excitement ripples through the crowd. 'You must learn how to advance on your prey undetected, and make a swift, clean kill.' He continues, bouncing with energy. I try to focus on Alexandrov's instructions instead of the various violent scenarios playing in my mind, all involving Sir Alec.
'Using your Mentors as dummies,' Alexandrov continues. 'You will individually demonstrate an attack which you feel is suitable. Do not be afraid to use force and remember your main objectives; swift and clean.
O'Brien, Miller, you're up first.'
Tomos and Richard step forward to the centre of the hall. Richard rolls his eyes in exasperation as Tomos throws him a desperate, pleading look. Richard turns pointedly so that his back is to Tomos, indicating that he sho
uld attack from behind.
The two men stand separated by ten feet as Tomos hesitates, deliberating his best angle of attack. He studies the back of Richard's head as Alexandrov waits patiently, absent-mindedly tapping his foot.
After what feels like a lifetime, Tomos finally drags in a deep, unnecessary breath before launching himself forward, moving with surprising speed. He leaps like a ballerina onto Richard's back.
Richard remains standing, his posture barely disturbed. Tomos hangs pointlessly, his arms draped around Richard's neck, his knees wrapped around Richard's waist in an embarrassing and bizarre imitation of a piggy-back.
The class sniggers as – with an embarrassed grin – Tomos slides off Richard's back. Richard turns to him, smirking, and gives him a cheeky wink. Even Alexandrov struggles to keep a straight face as he folds his arms, addressing Tomos with amusement.
'An outstanding attempt, O'Brien,' He smirks. 'However, I don't believe I need to point out the mistakes you made. Had Miller been human, he would have merely toppled to the ground and splattered his pretty curls all over the floor.' He raises an eyebrow, gesturing for them to re-join the crowd.
The Gray Institute (The Gray Institute Trilogy Book 1) Page 14
