'Wow,' Lorna murmurs as I swing the door to our room open. 'Living the dream.'
My thoughts echo her sarcastic sentiments, though I don't admit it. Two single beds are pushed up against opposite walls, the sheets moth-eaten and unclean, a bashed up chest of drawers sits beneath the dirty window, which offers nothing but a view of a crumbling brick wall, and a little sink festers in the corner. 'It won't be for long,' I remind Lorna – and myself – dumping the backpack on one of the beds. 'A few nights at the most.'
'If we survive that long,' Lorna picks gingerly at the off-white duvet. 'I'm sleeping in my clothes,' She says resolutely, perching warily on the edge of the mattress. 'At least we can sight-see.'
'No, we can't,' I shake my head. 'We don't want to risk being seen any more than is necessary. We're still in New Zealand, remember? Possibly the closest land to the Institute. It's been three days already, half the Immortals on this side of the world are probably looking for us.'
'So, what are we supposed to do?' Lorna asks incredulously. 'Sit in this hotel room and hope for a miracle?'
'No,' I sigh, ignoring the state of the sheets and lying back on the bed, my head pressed against the rock hard pillow. 'As soon as it gets dark we'll head out, probably back to that high street; it seemed busy there and I saw a lot of night clubs.'
'And then what? Ask complete strangers if they'll forge passports for us?'
I ignore her, closing my eyes to listen to the sound of distant seagulls cawing by the harbour. It's soon drowned out by the thumping of Lorna's heart beat, which seems louder than usual. I try to block it out, focus on the seagulls instead, relax my mind and rest as much as my body is able to, but it grows steadily louder until it feels like it's pounding the inside of my skull.
'Jesus Christ, what are you doing?' I snap my eyes open, expecting to find Lorna in the middle of a cardio work out, but she's still perched on the bed, staring out of the window.
'What?' She frowns innocently. I open my mouth to speak, but I'm distracted by the throbbing blue veins beneath her paper white skin. They're always there, of course, but I've never seen them pulsate so violently, enough that I can see the thick blood oozing through them.
'Your skin!' I exclaim, jumping off my bed and moving in for a closer look. Lorna claws frantically at her neck.
'What?!' She repeats, panicked this time. 'Is it a cockroach?' She slaps herself violently, trying to crush the phantom insect.
'It's – ' I take a breath to tell her, but as I do, a wave of her scent hits me, knocking me sideways. It's stronger than ever before, stronger than any human. The sharp metallic twang and fresh meaty aroma, mixed with the sweet scent of her sweat dazes me until I can't think straight. The world around me disappears as I hone in on that delectable smell. I can almost taste it, it travels through my nose down to my throat, setting me on fire.
'What are you doing?!' Lorna's shriek of surprise brings me back to the dingy hotel room, except that somehow Lorna now lies on the bed beneath me, my hands pinning her wrists down. I leap back to the centre of the room as Lorna struggles upright.
'I – I don't – ' I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to ignore the smell as it overpowers me, making me dizzy.
'Eve,' Lorna's tone is serious and when I open my eyes, she's staring straight at me, her pupils dilated. 'When was the last time you fed?'
I try to remember, try to focus on her question, but the words wriggle around inside my head until I can't make sense of them. 'Eve,' Lorna's voice becomes more urgent. 'Did you last feed at the Institute? Three days ago?'
'I – ' I focus all my energy on answering her question. 'Yes.'
'Jesus,' she breathes, scooting away from me on the bed. 'You need to – '
'I need to go!' I announce loudly, forcing myself to turn away from her and dart through the door. It takes every ounce of my energy to walk away; Lorna's blood calls to me so strongly, it's almost irresistible. But as I make my way down the stairs, another scent hits me, this one less meaty and more metallic, unhealthier than Lorna's blood.
The man on the desk eyes me almost as hungrily as I eye him, and I force myself to keep walking through the lobby and out into the street. The fresh air helps a little, diluting the scent of so many humans around me, but each time I pass one I ball my hands into fists and bite down on my lower lip to stop myself pouncing.
In my haze of hunger, I don't look where I'm going; merely stumble along the roadside, trying to refrain from attacking pedestrians. It's only when I spot the crystal sparkle of blue ahead that I realise I'm at the harbour.
I curse myself. The harbour's no good; there are too many people, no dark corners where I could attempt to attack someone. I have very little training but my body seems to know what to do as I involuntarily launch myself at a young woman crossing my path. She jumps back, screeching, and her boyfriend grips her protectively, eyeing me with disdain. 'Druggies.' He mutters, holding her close as they hurry away. I almost laugh – if only he knew.
I stagger over to the railing above the water, gazing unfocussed at a boat floating nearby. Though my senses appear to be failing me, at times they actually seem heightened. I can sense every human's presence for a mile around, hear conversations taking place streets away. Their scents mingle and merge into one throbbing, pulsating, meaty stench. Then, suddenly, another scent catches my attention, travelling on a breeze coming inland. It's slight and brief, but I follow its trail, realising with a start that I recognise it. It's another Immortal, and they're coming closer.
I try to focus my vision, try to spot them amongst the thronging crowd congregated under shady restaurant umbrellas, but my sight is cloudy and blurred.
I back away from the railing, towards the general direction of an alcove behind me. If the Immortal is an associate of Sir Alec's or the Auctoritas', I don't want to be anywhere near here when they arrive.
I feel my spine collide with the brick wall behind me, sending stars to my eyes. The Immortal is mere feet away, a black, blurry shape moving quickly towards me. I try to run but end up stumbling blindly over a low wall, losing my footing and almost toppling over before strong hands grab my wrists, pulling me upright. They keep their tight hold on me even after I'm back on my feet, and even though I try to pull away.
'Take this.' A smooth voice close to my ear says, thrusting something metal under my nose. I turn my head away but the man pulls me back. 'Take it!' He urges, holding my palm flat out and forcing the object into it. I hear a popping sound before the rich aroma of human blood fills my nose. 'Drink it.' The man tells me, moving my hand up towards my mouth.
I don't want to take anything from this strange Immortal, but my body once again acts of its own accord as I lift the smooth metal towards my mouth, clamp my lips over it and suck greedily.
It tastes better than any meal I've ever had as a human or Immortal. It hits my taste buds, exploding flavour over my tongue and travelling smoothly down my throat, filling me with every gulp.
My senses gradually come back to me; my vision clears, my co-ordination returns and I begin to distinguish the distant sounds from the close ones.
I suck until there's not a drop left before licking my lips hungrily. I'm desperate for more, even though the passers by don't smell as strongly as they did only moments ago.
'You shouldn't let yourself get so thirsty.' The Immortal I'd almost forgotten about speaks and I turn my attention to him, no longer just a black blob. He's shorter than me, with jet black hair and dark brown eyes, and he wears a crisp black suit with a vibrant purple tie.
'I just – ' I shrug, handing the hip flask back to him.
'You forgot,' the man nods knowingly. 'It happens to the best of us. We're so busy, we forget our basic needs,' Now that I can hear properly again, I notice his Italian accent. 'Angelo.' He extends a hand and I shake it briefly.
'Christine.' I use the first name that springs to mind.
'Do you live here in NZ?' He asks.
'No,' I shake my head.
'Just passing through,' I step as far back as the wall will allow, signalling that the conversation is over. 'Thanks a lot for the help,' I indicate the hip flask he's still clutching. 'I really appreciate – '
'I moved here about a year ago,' he continues, as if I hadn't spoken. 'Eight year rule,' He rolls his eyes. I nod as if I know what he's talking about. 'I'm 105 next month and all I want is to be able to settle in one place with one job. All this moving around every eight years is exhausting for someone as old as I am.'
'Right, yeah, I know.' I nod enthusiastically, inching further away.
'Of course, you might be older!' He laughs, eyeing me up and down. 'Is it rude of me to ask?'
'What? Oh! I'm not nearly as old as you,' I smile a little too maniacally. 'I only left the Institute a year ago.'
'Oh, fresh meat!' Angelo laughs, touching my arm. 'Don't tell me, let me guess,' he regards me thoughtfully. 'Lewis Institute?'
'Er... Gray.' I curse myself the moment the word leaves my mouth. Word has most likely already spread that a student has escaped The Gray Institute. Why the sudden inability to lie? I hold my breath for his response.
'Oh, I was Cohen myself,' Angelo nods casually. I let my breath out. Perhaps word hasn’t spread that fast. 'Though I've met a few Grays in my time. That's where the Beighley boy is, isn't it? Did you ever meet him?' He asks eagerly.
I'm deeply aware that I'm speaking to an Immortal who is far more experienced within our world and its laws and politics than I am. The pretence that I know what he's talking about is proving hard to keep up. 'Malachy Beighley?' My voice is a strange squeak, but if Angelo notices, he doesn't show it.
'Yes, I'm sure that's where he attends?'
'Oh, yes,' I nod. 'He attends The Gray Institute. I've never spoken to him, only seen him a few times. He was... a few years below me.' I lie as smoothly as I can.
'That's a shame, I'd love to know what side of the fence he sits on. Though, with Sirus for a father it isn't difficult to surmise.'
'Right,' I nod enthusiastically. 'Yeah, he certainly seemed pretty obnoxious. Anyway, I really need to be getting on – '
'Oh, of course!' Angelo looks embarrassed. 'I'm sorry, I just so rarely have the opportunity to meet new Immortals. I'm so busy with work and... anyway, I won't keep you. It was lovely to meet you – what did you say your name was again?'
Good question. What did I say my name was? I try desperately not to give away my panic as I stand there, frantically racking my brains for the name I gave him. 'Um - ' I frown, noting the odd stare he's giving me. 'Christine, wasn't it?' He asks after a few seconds more.
'Yes! Christine!' I breathe a sigh of relief. He's still looking at me strangely but I'm not going to attempt an explanation. I just need to get away from him. 'Lovely to meet you! I must go, so sorry. Bye!' I hurry back to the dingy B&B, darting past the receptionist at a barely human pace before slamming the door to our room behind me. Lorna's sitting on the window ledge, but she jumps down when I come in, her expression one of alarm.
'You alright?' She asks warily, staring at me like I'm a poisonous snake.
'Yes and no.' I breathe, not daring to move for fear of attacking her again.
'But you've fed?' She presses, looking relieved when I nod. 'Phew. I thought you were going to kill me just then!' She gestures towards the bed where moments ago I had her pinned. 'Did you... you know,' she widens her eyes. 'Use the skills you were taught in Practical?' She asks the question innocently enough, but I don't miss the look of disgust in her eyes.
'I didn't have to,' I shake my head. 'There was an Immortal... Angelo. He helped me.'
'How?'
'He gave me a drink from his flask.'
‘His flask?’ Lorna frowns. ‘Did he store up a kill?’ She wrinkles her nose. ‘What’s the use of the skills you’re all taught in Practical if you’re just going to drink from flasks?’
'I don’t know, Lorna, just focus on the issue at hand,’ I snap. ‘He started asking me all these questions.' I wring my hands together, trying to calm myself down.
'What kind of questions?'
'Just stuff, you know? What Institute did I go to? Did I know Malachy Beighley? He kept talking about things as if I should know them, something about an eight year rule – '
'Human job.' Lorna butts in. I glare at her.
'What?'
'It means he has a human job,' She explains slowly. 'When you graduate – as in leave your Institute – '
'I got that.' I snap, annoyed that once again Lorna knows more about my own world than I do.
'You're either placed into a human job or an Immortal one, depending on your academic skills. If you're placed into a regular human job, you have to move and change identities every eight years to avoid detection. Looks suspicious if someone who's lived in the area for fifty years still looks eighteen.'
'Right,' I nod, baffled once again by this new insight into my new world. 'Anyway, he asked me tons of questions. I think he might be one of Sir Alec's guys. Or an informant for the Auctoritas or something – '
'Eve, calm down,' Lorna laughs. 'You're paranoid. It's not unusual for you to run into other Immortals, they're all over the place.' She wrinkles her nose in distaste.
'But what was with all the questions?' I press.
'He was probably just a friendly guy who was curious. I don't know how Immortals usually talk when they get together outside the Institutes, and neither do you. Maybe it's perfectly normal to ask what Institute you attended.' She shrugs.
'Maybe,' I frown. 'But maybe not. We need to be more vigilant from now on; check if we're being followed, look out for other Immortals, especially ones congregated together or who look overly casual. It's easy to forget that we're running for our lives.'
Chapter Five
Lucrezia.
By the time Malachy and I have finished packing, the helicopter is waiting for us at the Institute's border. Sir Alec has already retreated to his office to question the students close to Ryder, so it's Ms Fall who greets us at the gates. 'You have everything you need?' She asks, her arms neatly folded, as calm as ever.
'Yes, ma'am.' I indicate the small shoulder bags both Malachy and I carry.
Ms Fall speaks to Malachy rather than me, something I've gotten used to over the years. 'Sir Alec has asked me to once again stress the importance of this issue, and beg you to relay this to your father. It is vital that Miss Gray is located and brought back to the Institute as soon as possible, not just for Sir Alec's sake – '
'But for humans and Immortals alike,' Malachy drones. 'Yes, I got that.'
I glare at him openly; father has stressed to Malachy on many occasions that, as our future Auctorita, he must act in a dignified and authoritative manner at all times.
'Very well,' Ms Fall nods curtly, gesturing for the Official to open the gates. As an added measure, to safeguard us from any unsuspecting humans, the gates don't open by swinging from hinges, instead they lift up from the ground, a feat only an Immortal could accomplish.
Malachy and I traipse across the border into the next field, weaving through the long grass, following the sound of the helicopter nearby. Its blades are whirring, impatient to depart, and Malachy jumps aboard first, dropping his overnight bag at his feet and slumping lazily into one of the seats. I follow suit, settling down next to him. We're the only passengers, and the pilot – an Immortal hired by father specifically to ferry us around – cranes over his shoulder to speak to my brother.
'Ready for take off, sir?' He yells over the sound of the engine and, at Malachy's nod, the chopper begins to lift, swaying precariously and drifting a few feet before levelling out.
I've always hated travelling by helicopter, preferring the smoother luxury of a plane ride; but planes can't land on Antipodes island – yet another precaution against unwanted visitors.
As we head over the southern ocean towards New Zealand, the world nothing but a blur of blue below, I turn to Malachy, intent on receiving answers.
'
Do you think Sir Alec will call you in for questioning?' I don't need to shout for him to hear me, though the noise of the helicopter is deafening, but he pretends he hasn't. 'Malachy?' I prod him sharply, ignoring his scowl as he turns to me. 'Do you think Sir Alec will question you about Ryder's disappearance?'
'Why would he?' He growls irritably, turning away from me to stare out of the window.
'Well, he knows you were spending time with her,' I shrug, trying desperately to sound casual. 'You yourself said he'd asked you to use any means necessary to get close to her. Even I can work out what that entailed.'
'Just what do you mean by that?' He yells, knowing full well he doesn't need to.
'Malachy,' I raise an eyebrow. 'I'm not as stupid as you'd like to believe. I know you were playing along with Ryder's fixation on you in order to remain close to her. Sir Alec knows that, too. So I'm asking if you think he'll call you in for questioning to see if you know anything about the escape?'
The Gray Institute_Rebels' Hell Page 5
