Spearwood Academy Volume Two (The Spearwood Academy Book 2) (6 page)

R
oseman and the other two have me follow them to a
section Spearwood that I’ve never seen. We went through several long halls and
down an elevator to get where we are now. Metal walls surround us; the floor
made from metal grates. We
clang
as we move down the hallway. I want to
move my head and look around, but it stays facing straight ahead and there is
little I can see with just moving my eyes. I feel like I have just walked into
a government testing facility, like the ones they show on TV.

After what could have only
been an hour’s walk, we come to a dead end. A large metal door stands in front
of us. On the wall, off to the side of it, a small panel blinks with a green
light. “Open door,” says Roseman.

“Request denied. Retinal scan
required,” says a woman’s voice.

Roseman sighs and looks back
at Perlow. “I thought I told you to have someone come and fix the voice recognition
system.”

“I did have someone come fix
the voice recognition system. I guess you are not saying it correctly. It’s not
an A.I.” Bitterness comes off of Perlow like a tidal wave. It is odd to see the
dynamics of their roles in reverse. I guess Roseman isn’t the lapdog. Why did
they want to make me think Perlow was the one running the show?

“Useless, utterly useless.
Why do I keep you around?”

Perlow lets out a scoff.
“Because our Shared father tells you to.”

All color drains from
Roseman’s face. He turns back around and leans over, his eye level with the
panel. A laser comes out and scans his eye. “Welcome, Oliver Roseman.” The
metal door slides open. Cool air rushes over me. Ahead of me stands a stark
white room, a long backed and padded white chair sits at the center. Roseman
has me follow him into the room and points to the chair. “Sit there.”

The hairs on my arms and the
back of my neck stand on end. Every fiber of my being tells me to fight and not
get in the chair. Something bad is about to happen. I try to override whatever
is controlling me and listening to his commands, but my sheer willpower alone
does nothing to stop my body from sitting down in the chair.

“Perlow, bring down the
helmets.”

Perlow stands by the wall in
front of me. He sighs and touches the wall with his hand. A screen appears on
the wall, like one that appeared when Enid called Dr. Quinn from my room. How
is he able to do that?

On the screen is a picture of
me and below it is one of Roseman. I don’t remember it being taken. Next to the
pictures are heart monitors. Mine is beating slower than Roseman’s, much
slower.

Two helmets with full visors
float down from the ceiling. They hover above mine and Roseman’s head. “That
will be all, Perlow.”

Perlow glances in my
direction, frowns and nods. He flies into the air and shifts into one of the
black cards, landing in Roseman’s hand. Did that really just happen?

“Quinn, put the helmet on her
head and monitor our vitals. It’s up to you to make sure neither one of us dies
in this process.”

“Of course,” says Dr. Quinn.
He comes to stand in front of me. His ring fingers painted a metallic orange
this time. He frowns, as he grasps the helmet and lowers it onto my head. The
world around me turns a solid black. Instantly, a claustrophobic feeling
overtakes me. If I had control of my body right now, I would be
hyperventilating.

A white dot appears in front
of me. It moves back and forth, all the while picking up speed, it looks like
nothing more than a white line. It grows vertically until only white is in
front of me. My eyes are on fire. I shut them and reach up with my hand to rub
them. Wait, I can move again?

I open my eyes. I’m standing
in a room with television monitors surrounding me. Right in front of me, at the
center of it all, is the largest monitor. What is going on?

“Fascinating, isn’t
it?”  I look to my left. Roseman has appeared, hands folded behind his
back.

“What have you done to me?”

“We’re inside your head. I
can control your memories from here. Erase some, create others. You are mine to
mold.”

“Go to hell. You aren’t doing
any of that to me.”

He gives a laugh and moves to
stand in front of me. He looks down into my eyes.  “I’ve been in hell for
years. You have no control. You can’t stop this.” His finger tilts my chin up.
I try to bat his hand away, but once again, my body won’t listen to me. The pad
of his thumb runs over my lower lip. “It’s a shame you’re still a child. You’d
make a nice mate. Guess I will just have to wait three more years.”

My skin crawls. “You’re
sick.” Disgust would be an understatement when it comes to this man.

He sighs. “I suppose I am.”
Turning away from me, he moves to my right side and looks at the screens. It’s
only now that I realize they are playing memories from my childhood.

My fifth birthday, when
Edgar gave me the sketch pad and color pencil set I had been asking for him to
get me for a month.

The day I punched Maverick
in the face and finally stood up to him.

The first time I ever
tried an apple from the Orchard and the look of happiness on Edgar’s face when
he saw how much I loved it.

Edgar, is he really gone? The
pain in my chest has come back. Several hot tears escape and fall down my
cheeks.

He grins at me. “Savor the
moment.”

 “What are you talking about?”

“He’s dead now. You won’t see
him again, ever. Savor this moment. It’s the last time you will ever see his
face as well. I will be your father now.”

“You’re insane if you think
that will ever happen. I will never call you my father.”

“We will see about that.”

R
oseman waves his hand in front of the monitors, I turn
to look at them. An old man stands on the screen. He’s scratching his balding
head, a text book in his hands. An odd sensation, like I should know him over
takes me. My cheeks are wet, reaching up I touch them. Have I been crying? Why
was I crying?

“Who’s that on the screen?” I
ask.

Roseman smirks. “No one
important.” The old man disappears from the screen. A sadness at seeing him go
away seeps into my heart. How strange. “Who is your father?”

My father? I frown. Who is my
father? I should know this, it’s a simple question. I try to bring the answer
up in my mind, but I’m drawing a blank. How do I not know who my father is? “I
don’t know.”

He waves his hand again. A
warmness washes over me. I blink. “Who is your father?”

I laugh. “What kind of
question is that? You.” I frown. Is that right? It doesn’t feel right, but I
know it’s true. So weird.

“Right. I want you to watch some
things.” Dad motions to a place behind me. I turn my head. A chair sits there
now.

I take a seat. “Why are we
here?”

He takes a seat next to me,
in his own chair. “Going down memory lane. Indulge your dad.”

I lift an eyebrow and laugh.
“You can be so weird sometimes.” I turn back the screens. On the one in center
plays out a memory I barely remember. It almost looks foreign to me, but it
can’t be, we’re in my head, after all.

In the memory I’m about eight
years old.

I’m playing in my room,
combing the hair of one of the many porcelain dolls I own. I’m pretending that
she’s getting ready for her wedding to Prince Charming.

“Avalon! Come down stairs.
There’s people here I want you to meet,” calls the voice of my mother.

My mother? “I didn’t have a
mother growing up,” I say, looking over to dad.

“
Shhh
,
keep watching.”

I shake my head and look at
the screen.

 
I’ve just started to
go down the stairs.

I enter the parlor room. A
bunch of grownups are standing around, with some kids, boy kids. My mother’s
features match mine. Goldilocks hair, brown eyes and tan skin. She turns to me
and smiles. A warmth of happiness fills me. Her hand reaches out toward me. Dad
comes to stand next to her, he puts a hand on her lower back.

“Avalon, come here.” I go
to her and she tugs on me to stand in front of her. Her hands hold onto my
shoulders. I look at the boys, most of them look to be about my age. They stare
back at me, we are each trying to figure out the other. “Avalon, these men are
your father’s old school friends, their wives, and their children. Why don’t
you go make friends with them and show them the back yard?”

I knew she wasn’t asking
me to. She was telling me, it was my job to play host to the people my own age.
“Okay, come on.” I beckon them to follow me. 

I start to walk away, in
the direction of our back yard, when I’m stopped. “Avalon,” calls my dad. 
“You are forgetting someone.” He points to one of his old friends wives. Hiding
behind her is one of the boys. I walk over to him.

“Are you coming? The
grownups have grown up things to do. I promise I’ll be fun. I just got a
trampoline for my birthday. We can pretend to fly like our daddies do.” I hold
out my hand. His curly gold hair falls into his brown eyes. I feel like I’m
looking into a mirror.

He edges out from behind
his mom and starts to take my hand; he looks up at his mom, as if asking if
it’s okay. She smiles at him and nudges him toward me. “Go on, Amr. Go have fun
with your new friends.”

Taking my hand, he and I
lead the group again. Just before we turn the corner, I hear one of the other
men say, “Does she know she’s been born with the gift to shift. The first girl
in a thousand years.” My mother shushes him.

I want to stay back and
spy on them now, but I won’t get anywhere with it, not with all these boys
around.

We head outside.  I
turn to them. “So, what’s your names?”

A boy with long black hair
and the strangest eyes I have ever seen—yellow, like a cat’s eyes—takes a step
forward. “I’m Dante. Nice to meet cha!” He holds his hand out to me. I take it
and he shakes mine with enthusiasm.

Next, a boy with short
brown hair, green eyes and glasses steps forward. He gives a half bow to me
before saying, “Nice to meet you, Miss Roseman. I’m Horace, Horace King.”

Is he for real? This isn’t
one of dad’s banquets. “Call me Avalon, or Avvi.”

My eyes drift over to the
older boy standing next to Horace. He has to be at least a year or two older
than me. His sandy blond hair reaches just the middle of his ears and is swept back.
His eyes are a deep blue. He seems to be waiting for me to ask him who he is. I
swear he’s annoyed that I didn’t ask him who he was before the others started
to introduce themselves. “And you are?” I ask.

He smiles and puts a hand
to his chest. “I’m glad you asked.”

The boy directly behind
him—he has dark, long black hair with an odd white streak within his bangs. His
eyes remind me of ice—He rolls his eyes and makes a ‘blah’ ‘blah’ motion with
his hand. This causes me to snicker. The boy’s eyes narrow and he looks behind
him, the other boy has gone back to normal. “Excuse my brother, he can be
immature at times. As I was saying,” The other boy goes back to making fun of
his apparent brother. I try to hold in the laugh, the other boy is smiling at
me now. I look at the ground, trying to regain my composure. My mother would
have a fit if she saw me acting this way while being introduced to people. “I’m
Paden Hansen and the moron behind me is Maverick. Except for those three,” He
points to Horace, Amr and one brooding boy—who is standing with another blond
boy—“We’re all Royals.”

My eyes go wide. I
instantly go into a curtsy. “I’m so sorry for any disrespect I may have shown
you.” My mother’s going to kill me when she found out I laughed at a Royal.
‘Dear, Sun god, please show kindness on this day.’

The kid named Dante comes
forward and throws a lazy arm around my shoulder. “Relax, except for him, the
rest of us don’t care about the title. He leads me over to the other two I have
yet to meet. “These losers, but my best buds, are Triton,” he motions to the
blond haired boy. His hair reaches just above his shoulders and his eyes remind
me of the time I saw the sea for the first time. A small mole sits on his right
cheek.  I give him a smile.

“And that brooder is Lusk.
Ignore his bad mood. He’d rather be at home playing with the alchemy set he
just got.” His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans. His short, dark
brown hair is swept back with gel. He has sharp features and his eyes are as
grey as rain clouds.

“What model do you have?”
I ask.

“2009.”

My eyes go wide and I
practically run up to him. “That one has the set of extra-large beakers and it
comes with that rare sample of Sangiunaria Canadensis. Have you gotten to use
it with anything?”

“Not yet. I was dragged
here,” he mumbles.

“Sangiunaria what?” asks
Dante.

“Sangiunaria Canadensis,
bloodroot. It has some awesome properties,” I say.

“Right. Great, we have
another bookworm in the group. As if three weren’t enough already.”

Triton turns to me. “Want
to show us that trampoline? So we don’t have to listen to Dante’s whining all
day.”

I take his hand and smile.
“Sure, come on!”

“That was the day I met the
boys. Well, all except for Bullock. I only met him because I needed tutoring in
Air magic. You’d think because it’s my element, it would come more naturally to
me.”

Dad nods. “You’ll get there.
One day you will be a powerful air shifter.”

“Are we done here then?” I
move to stand, but he places a hand on mine.

“Not yet. There are still
some things I want you to watch with me and remember.”

I sigh and sit back further
in the chair. “Fine, but you have to ship in some
Dr. Pepper
for me.”

He looks at me with a raised
eyebrow. “Really? You want me to get you
Dr. Pepper
?”

“Well, duh. It’s like my
favorite soda ever. You know that. You’re the one that turned me onto it.”

He blinks and nods. “Oh, yes,
of course. I’m just joking with you.

We turn back to the screen.