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Patreon Launch!

Writing novels takes a while. Maturinus: School Days took me about a year and a half to finish and that was before an extensive amount of edits that added nearly 30,000 words to my original draft. While I like to think I've streamlined and improved the writing process over time, the fact of the matter is that it's still a lengthy task, and that's before the issue of shopping it around to find a publisher rears its ugly head. For someone who wants to sustain himself with his words, this is obviously a poor source of income over time.

As such, I'm asking for your help. As of today, I'm launching the Jamie Stone Patreon account, so that I might be able to earn a monthly wage for the work I love to do. Each month, those who chip in will receive a short story direct from my talent to your Kindle, smartphone, internet browser or tablet. Currently I'm supporting PDF, MOBI and EPUB, which should mean you can read anything I put out on any device of your choice.

This month's story is Darkest Before The Dawn, in which a particular type of night guard ventures forth into a realm of darkness to protect his charge.

Any donations of any kind will be appreciated more than I can say, so if you're looking for more words in your life or just want to support my dream, please visit: https://www.patreon.com/Redwriter

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The Imperial Dossier, and a return to Tumblr

Let’s get this thing up and running again, with some work outside my usual sphere but definitely in my wheelhouse, as I’ve started blogging for the Zombie Squadron X-Wing group. For my first article, I’m writing about the wonders of TIE/D Defenders.

https://zombiesquadron.net/2018/09/19/the-imperial-dossier-defenders-then-and-now/

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Writing Prompt: 24/07/17

5: Two immortals, one who accepted it as a blessing and the other one as a curse, are having a conversation.

“We’re going travelling.”

“No.”

“Oh come on, you’ve been holed up here for two hundred years. A little holiday isn’t going to kill you.”

“Nothing is. Hence why I’ve been looking into it for two hundred years.”

“Well, as your research is going nowhere, why not take a break? Maybe you’ll get a new idea.”

“It’d be a waste of time.”

“Of which we have plenty.”

“… You’re being awfully pushy today. We’ve already seen the entire world, so why are you so desperate to go on holiday with me? Normally you wander about where you please.”

“…”

“Who died?”

“Joe Simpson, from the 487.”

“Oh. I liked him.”

“Yeah.”

“Gave me half his rations after that sergeant took mine away for ‘reckless heroics’.”

“Trying to get yourself killed.”

“Guy was a magnet for laser shots. Figured maybe I could draw a few my way. Can’t remember the last time I saw him.”

“At the end of the war, right before you bunkered down here. Two hundred and forty’s pretty average for humans these days. You could have visited.”

“And explain that the pioneer of the technology that extended that average screwed up his own genetics and those of his best friend, and wants nothing more than to pass away? That I can’t look a day over forty, let alone the two hundred? How do we explain that away?”

“You’d be amazed at what make-up and prosthetics can do. It was a lovely ceremony.”

“You can do that?”

“Maybe if you spent more time engaging with the world instead of trying to leave it, you’d know by now. You haven’t left this house since the war ended, you haven’t seen the beauty we fought for. You, me, Joe, all the 487. Let’s go back to England, back to the killing fields. They’ve planted…”

“Poppies?”

“Yeah.”

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

“You should see what they’re doing with botany these days. They’re not just poppies, they’re…”

“Save the surprise please. I would have thought you’d have learned by now.”

“Well, here’s something you probably saw coming. I’ve packed your things already and called a taxi, we can be at the teleportation station in no time.”

“Fine, but only for the boys. Then it’s right back to quantum suicide.”

“For the boys. The ones we’ve left behind, and the ones we’ve yet to meet.”

“And the ones I’ll see again, God willing.”

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Writing Prompt 20/07/2017

4: You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice unassuming new kid at school measures a 10.    

“I can explain.” The transfer student mumbled through a mouth of blood and fur, the normally red number ten hanging over her head flashing white as she lowered the rabbit back into the den she’d scooped it from, the bob-tail vanishing into the dark as quickly as it could. Sam was acutely aware of his heartbeat pounding in his throat, and wished more than anything he could follow the rabbit in escape.

When he’d first seen the unusually high number, he’d been shocked. The highest that’d he’d been unfortunate enough to encounter in his day-to-day life had been a five from a drunk stumbling through a train carriage, so when the pale and gloomy girl had walked into the classroom sporting a ten, he’d prepared himself for the worst, keeping a watch on her from the corner of his eye for the day she pulled a knife out in class or started a bullying campaign on one of the more passive students. But all his paranoia had come to nothing, until he’d heard a rumour about her going home habits. Namely, walking home in the complete opposite direction to the common route the rest of the school used, directly into the copse he’d followed her into. Deeper and deeper in, until she’d come along the rabbit and, like a blur, snatched it up and taken a bite. Which brought him to where he was now, standing with locked-up legs trying not to piss himself as she dabbed blood away from her mouth with a handkerchief.

“Now then, to introduce myself more properly. My name is Margaret Rosewood, and I’m a vampire. You’ve rather caught me with me with me skirt down, but I assure that I mean no harm to you or the other humans in this town. I’m just passing through secondary school for the fiftieth time.”

  “What?”

“Oh come now, don’t look so shocked. I would have thought you’d be used to the paranormal by now, given that power of yours. I’ve been worried sick thinking about how you might uncover me in the middle of class. I enjoy hormonal adolescent drama from a distance, but being in the centre of a exposure explosion would put a rather unpleasant end to my quiet lifestyle.”

“What?”

The sharp jaw of the vampire twisted into a pout, and some treacherous thought at the back of his mind deemed it as cute, only to be dispelled as she got right up into his face.

“What, what, what, is that all you can splutter? I swear, what is it with humans? Either they find me out and they can’t start begging to be bitten, or they just shut down completely? Is it so much to ask that I get treated with a little normalcy? With so much literature, films and games you’d think some sort of benchmark would have been set by now. And you have no excuse either way, with those Analytic Eyes of yours.”

“Wait. Sorry, hang on a second. You know about my power?”

“Of course, I can tell by looking. Hexagonal pupils are somewhat of a giveaway. Analytic Eyes, the power to reveal anything about a subject by looking. Possible danger and strength levels, elemental breakdown, and the one I imagine is your favourite- “

She smiled ever so wide, revealing those long incisors she’d drunk from the rabbit with.

“X-ray vision. I bet you’re having the time of your life watching all the girls grow up, not so much fun with the boys.”

Sam wasn’t sure if blood should be rushing to his cheeks from embarrassment or draining away in mortification. The shock on his face must have shown, the smug smile faltering until she looked as lost as he felt from the bombarding of information.

“You… you are aware, right? Analytic Eyes, passed down through the generations from the old clans? Normally manifests in the first born?”

He shook his head slowly; the situation having become so much more confusing than he’d been expecting. Margaret brought both hands to her face and spoke a few words in a language he suspected was long since dead. When she popped up again, she was just as pale as he.

“Okay, revealed myself unnecessarily when I could have passed myself off as a weirdo. Would have been happy to take that hit to my social life seeing as I’ve never been bullied before, a new experience is a new experience after all.”

“How’d you think I feel? I was banking on you being a school shooter at the worst.”

There was a small titter of laughter, one that caught in their throats and spread all around, weakening their defences until the ridiculousness of the situation caught them all up at once and uncontrolled howls echoed through the woods. By the time he was aware of himself again, they were sitting under a tree wiping tears from their eyes. Thankfully, Margaret didn’t offer him the same handkerchief she’d used to wipe her mouth.

“Well, this has certainly been a day for surprises, but I feel we should make a deal of some sorts. My only wish is to life a quiet, uninterrupted eternal life, and I imagine you won’t want your short years here to be tarred with the brush of a pervert. If you don’t give me up, I’ll keep mum about you. As an added bonus, I’ll throw in a book I was loaned from the man who would be your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather that’ll help you unlock the potential of your eyes.”

“So that I can actually be a pervert?”

“Or look deep into the soul, or count the atoms in the air. Whatever you fancy, so long as I remain a mystery to the student body.”

She rose up, brushing dead leaves and dirt from her long school skirt and offering him a hand to pull him up as easily as she would a shopping bag.

“So, do we have a deal?”

“Okay, but if anyone goes off from blood loss, I’m sending the cops, MI5 and the X-Files right after you.”

“Ha, as if they could catch me. Besides, I’ve endured a hundred years or so on animal blood, I can keep holding out, even if it is rather thin and sour.”

On cue, there was a soft growl and Margaret shot him a look that he shouldn’t comment on, not that it stopped another small chuckle at her expense. Above her head, the ten ticked down to an orange nine. Not low enough that he’d consider offering himself up a snack, but the start of a pretty good friendship nonetheless.    

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Writing Prompt: 11/07/2017

3. You are a human soldier fighting an interstellar war with an alien race. You only advantage? Your side is the only one with a concept of hand to hand combat.

“Just so we’re clear, give me a verbal report of the events written here soldier. From the top, leaving out nothing. Any little detail is paramount.”

“Yessir. I was trapped in a foxhole, taking heavy fire from the Slimes. I’d volunteered to stay behind, provide cover while the rest of the squad retreated.”

“Despite their resistance to photon-based weaponry?”

“Yessir. Figured I’d rather keep their attention with a light show and keep them away from the boys.”

“Brave but foolish. Continue.”

“Anyway, three of them got the flank on me. I was so focused on the front line that I plain missed them sneaking around, and wasn’t aware until I caught a glimpse of green at the corner of my eye.”

“What was your reaction to being outmaneuvered? Did you consider surrender?”

“No sir. We don’t even know if they take prisoners sir, and they certainly don’t speak English. And, ah…”

“I’m aware the report doesn’t paint your actions in the most heroic light, but there’s no need to be embarrassed. This information represented here is extremely valuable to humanity’s survival. I need to have it confirmed in your own words.”

“Yes… sir. Bluntly put sir, they got the jump on me and well, I jumped, and took a swing at the closest thing I could see in my surprise. Which was the Slime, sir.”

“Was it a good punch?”

“Wouldn’t have won me any bar fights, if that’s what you’re asking sir. Ah, not that it mattered though. I lashed out, hit it right in the… the chest I guess. And it popped, just like a soap bubble. Scared the living daylights right out of me and its friends, but I got them before they got me. Another two punches, another two popped. After that, I went back to blind firing against the other couple squads left over until evac came around. Felt I should report about this immediately.”

“We’re all glad you did soldier. Dismissed.”

“Actually sir, if you don’t mind my asking, how exactly are we supposed to put this into practice? Running straight at those freaks just to punch them, it feels… rather dangerous sir, not to mention uncivilised.”

“Soldier, have you ever taken a look at the numbers coming out of this war? We’ve got the bigger armies, they’ve got the more advanced technology. They’ve won more battles, but as of right now we’ve yet to suffer any major losses. Why do you think that is?”

“I couldn’t say sir.”

“Because our losses are from tactical retreat, giving up ground when we can afford it. When our backs are up against the wall, when we can’t fall back any further, we hold our ground, and when that ground is reduced to rubble, we charge. When it’s you and another man in a hell-blasted foxhole, all the technological advantage doesn’t mean a thing, and we turn to the purest combat of all, individual strength. As far as we can tell, the Slimes have never fought against each other, and that’s why they just pop. You might call it uncivilised, but I call it something else. Heart, determination, spirit, maybe it’s just the rush you get when you deck some sonofabitch right in the face, drawn up from our ancient past. We’re going to rush these freaks down and show them humanity at its finest. Now get back to the barracks, and start telling the men to work on their haymakers. Dismissed.”        

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Writing Prompt: 05/07/2017

2. Your wife is an evil and powerful Overlady. Today is your birthday.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have much fun tonight love.”

The lives of the rich, famous and powerful are defined by their social events. As consort to the woman who controlled half the world, his birthday had become one of these events. For the past few hours they’d been bounced from dignitary to royal to underling, each one as drearily sycophantic as the last. They hadn’t attended for his sake, only to score points with his wife so that she’d be generous come taxation season. Fools, the lot of them. The west wing of the castle needed redecorating and such renovations didn’t pay for themselves.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it by now.”

If nothing else, he enjoyed receiving bribes in the form of presents to earn her favour through him. None that any of the gold chains or greatswords compared to his wife’s present, but then again no-one else was willing to steal a dragon egg from the nest just to fulfil his childhood dream of owning one of the mythical beasts. Night clothes donned, he slipped under the sheets and fit into her side, idlily watching as she thumbed through a small forest’s worth of papers, some official but far more covered in hand-scribbled notes.

“What’s wrong in the kingdom now?”

She cast him a sideways glance, almost looking embarrassed that she’d caught his interest.

“It’s nothing really. Just planning an assassination.”

“Oh? Who’s caught your ire today?”

“Count Averland. One of the servant girls heard him complaining about the party. Said it was a waste of resources and time over ‘the queen’s plaything’.”

He sighed and wrapped an arm around the thickness of her muscular waist, toned from years of battle. Funnily enough, also her biggest weakness. If an opponent managed to tickle her abs she’d be out of commission in seconds.

“You know we can’t lose Averland, he’s providing a nice buffer between us and the undead lands. There’s no-one else in his court that can command his armies like he can, and waging an invasion would be a loss for all of us.”

“But he insulted you. I can’t stand by and let that happen. An attack on you is an attack on me as well.”

“So give it a year or two. We’re expanding towards his lands anyway, soon he’ll be sandwiched between us and the Vampire Lords, and of those two choices merging with us is far more favourable. Once we’ve absorbed his forces into ours he can suffer a little accident and we can turn his son into a figurehead for the area.”

The papers were stuffed away into a drawer and they shuffled under the covers together, his wife reciprocating his cuddling.

“Thank the gods one of us has the patience for politics. This kingdom would have broken up ages ago if you didn’t keep me in check.”

The lights dimmed of their own accord as she pressed her lips above his eye, moving slowly down.

“When he has his accident, can we make it bloody?” She breathed, her voice growing husky as he leaned up into her, peppering kisses along her throat.

“Turn him into a fountain.”

There was a manic giggle in the darkness, a hand slipping under his shirt. The party had been for the kingdom, but the birthday night was for them.

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Writing Prompt: 04/07/2107

1. The hero is a psychopath that doesn't care for anyone, and the villain is a truly caring and compassionate person

He’d never stood a chance. A lesser man would have blamed his men, bad luck or fate, but to do any of this would be a great disservice to his honour, and the capabilities of the assassin. How could he claim that the security had been subpar, when it was beyond the scope of a normal man to capture an attacker that made no sound, left no footprints? What good were pressure plates and laser grids against a shadow? Up until the last moment he himself had been under the impression that tonight would be like any other, right up until the faint rattle from the ventilation crashed into his office. If he had to pick something to be galled about, it was that his demise was so young.

A stick-thin boy barely out of adolescence, silver trinkets and gadgets picking through the cloak of night he wrapped himself in, each one a tool to get closer to his target, the thin knife in his hand the tool to finish the job. It had already tasted blood, but losing his trigger finger along with his gun wasn’t what pinned his breath to the back of his throat. It was the boy’s eyes. Working for a legitimate business owned by illegitimate men meant that he’d met his fair share of unsavoury and unpleasant types. Hell, by his mother-in-law’s estimate he was one himself. But all of the mafia men that had passed through his doors had something in common, from the street level thugs kicking around for protection money to the kingpins that held the families together. They had light in their eyes, and this boy had nothing.

No spark of recognition. No glimmer of emotion. No reaction to having a gun pulled on him, and certainly no hesitation for violence. Not two days ago a family hitman had stood in this room, and they’d been able to make small talk over the football while his boss counted his dues. But this boy no point of familiarity to make contact with, nothing to even think about starting a civil conversation. So instead he begged for a few more seconds of life, hoping to find out anything that he could send to his bosses.

“Please… don’t kill me.”

“I won’t. Yet. Mother wants to talk to you.”

God, even his voice was empty, never raising out of flat monotone as he withdrew a smartphone from a pouch on his belt and set it on the desk, creating at once a spike of fear and pity, not just for his life, but for the boy. He’d referred to the woman on the screen as ‘Mother’. What kind of woman would create a child like this?

A blond one apparently, with ice in her eyes and a self-assured smile on her lips.

“Good evening Mr. Jones. I hope this evening finds you well?”

“Cut the crap. Who are you, and what do you want?”

The woman looked taken aback for a second, but shrugged off his sudden fire.

“Straight to the point. I appreciate that. Well then Mr. Jones, I need to know, do you recognise this man?”

She vanished from the screen, replaced by a policeman standing at guard. Dark hair, dark eyes, square jaw. The boy would resemble him in no time, and he knew now who he was dealing with.

“Erwin Smith.” The woman continued over the photo. “Murdered brutally for disrupting two drug rings led by the Florence family. Your employers.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Oh, and that would be why we found two tons of their product in the basement of your fine establishment? Don’t lie to me Mr. Jones, we’ve had you staked out for a while now. Every dealer for five blocks stocks up here while you pretend to be a reputable businessman.”

She flashed back onto the screen, all pretence of warmth gone.

“Here’s the deal I’m willing to make with you. Give me a path to Marx Florence and you get to live, albeit in prison. Refuse, and you get to die along with your men, and we go hunting for a man with less backbone.”

He drew a rattling breath through his teeth. Adrenaline had numbed the pain from his missing finger, but not killed it completely, a dull reminder of what he could expect to come if he gave her an answer she’d didn’t like. But that was the only answer he had for her. He made a silent apology to his wife and slew himself.

“You’re going to be hunting for a while. James Savloy and Michael Tunstall didn’t give you wanted, and I’m not breaking that chain. No one will. We’ve got a little thing called honour in this business, and I’m not going down as the only one to break to a sadist who turned her son into a weapon. I feel for you, losing your husband. But this-.” He waved a vague hand at the statue in the room. “This makes you worse than all of us combined.”

The woman sighed, rolled her eyes.

“I suppose we’ll have to see what holds out longer, criminal machismo or my patience. Kill them all sweetie, I’ll see you at home.”

“Wait, the men here aren’t in-. “

His attempt to bargain for the worker’s lives was cut short by a sharp spike of pain as the knife caught in his throat, thrown automatically at the command. Lifeless eyes reflected dying ones it came clean out, the boy turning on his heel and striding for the door without a care for the drying blood across his face.

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Maturinus: School Days Preview

Chapter One: Transfer

“You’re a very special girl Catherine. You’re going to change the world.”

“Hi there! You must be the new girl! I’m *******, that’s *******, and that’s *******! Let’s be friends!”

“Do it again!”

“I can’t!”

“You’re getting out of here. I won’t let them keep either of you, even if it kills me.”

“Catherine… they’re dead. I’m sorry.”

“Freak!”

“Weirdo!”

“Stop it!”

“Hello?”

The voices died as she snapped awake, and as the dreary remnants of sleep fled she realised that she was face-to-face and hand-to-throat with a stranger, digging in tight enough to mark the skin a whiter shade of pale beneath her fingers. She jerked away at the realisation of what she was doing; staring at her hands in disbelief before bringing one to her forehead to try and calm the gentle throbbing that was spreading out from there in waves of static. Surprisingly, the young man she’d assaulted was rather unfazed by her actions, rubbing the engravings gingerly as he rose from his crouch, shooting her a toothy smile.

“Sorry about that, my fault. I should have learned not to shake dreamers awake prematurely by now; bad luck and all that.”

His voice drew her back to the man she’d tried to kill. He was lean and slight like a beanpole, and if she stood up he’d be about a head taller than her, said head covered in messy black hair. He was dressed casually in a loose shirt and jeans, combined with some kind of metal choker around the base of his neck. She recalled something her Aunt had said about a similarly looking boy on the cover of a romance novel once; handsome, in a sad poet kind of way. He looked a little uneasy, but it couldn’t have been due to the accident, because he’d already brushed that off. It took a moment to click that she should speak back instead of just staring at him. Not that she had much experience with talking to boys, or anyone really. Thankfully, he took command of the conversation with an awkward smile as she rose from her seat. It carried over into his speech as well, shaking a little for reasons she couldn’t understand. It wasn’t like she was intimidating in any way, shape or form.

“Anyway, allow me to introduce myself. Alexander King.”

He held out for a handshake and was taken up in a limp fashion. Withdrawing after a single pump, he turned his attention to the tablet computer under his arm. She didn’t get a chance to respond before he’d started up again.

“They’ve already given me a bit on you though. Catherine Holmes, but you prefer Katie for simplicity’s sake. You recently turned sixteen; birthday is the 28th August 2034. Happy birthday, by the way. B negative for blood type with a mostly medical record for the most part, not counting that time you broke your arm falling down a flight of stairs at school. Speaking of which, you’re quite the bright one, huh? School records favour high marks across the board, with an unbeaten streak of A+ in the sciences, very impressive. You enjoy science-fiction and horror novels, electronic music from the turn of the millennium and sweet foods. Dislikes include-hurk!”

His sentence was cut off as a thick appendage wrapped around his throat, pining the hand that had been reaching up for a casual scratch. Before he could utter anything else he’d been dragged down to his knees, their positions reversed as she stormed to her feet.

“W-w-who a-are you? H-how d-d-do you know all that?”

The appendage tightened, Alexander catching an unhealthy shade of red from it.

“A-are you an s-stalker? D-d-did you k-k-kidnap me?”

The new limb stretched unnaturally in her fitful fury, and he was slammed into the ceiling hard enough to crack the tiles, the shattered chips raining down around them in a haze of dislodged dust.

“Where am I, w-why can’t I r-r-remember a-anything, and w-why do I have a s-s-snake for a-an arm?”

She couldn’t explain it, but it felt like something was missing from her. No, not something; lots of things. Things that she felt she should know. Important things. Birthdays, family, the broken arm; entire years were gone, no matter how she reached back for them. She couldn’t even remember which school her uniform was from. Was that why everything was so fuzzy? Glowing eyes fought to stay open, running down the length of what had used to be her arm to meet hers.

“Technically, I believe that would be called a tentacle. Also, it would be much easier to explain if you weren’t constricting my windpipe. Please, calm down.”

His response wasn’t spoken but came from inside her head, the sentence fading as soon as it had been imprinted. Swallowing heavily, she lowered her ‘arm’, the tentacle loosening its death grip on the man’s throat to allow gravity to apply its own touch instead, and he fell awkwardly to his knees. With Alexander back on the ground she dared to look at it, the thick, fleshy rope that now extended from her forearm, drooping onto the ground to turn over itself in a coil. With a deathly shudder up her spine, Katie collapsed to the linoleum floor, covering her mouth to hold in the lurch of nausea, demanding release from the sight. The feeling was eased by Alexander folding around her, rubbing her back as he embraced her. The comforting motion broke what little composure she had left, and she was left heaving with sobs as she subconsciously burrowed into his shoulder.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be fine Katie. You’re among friends.”

The platitudes did nothing to assure her, her crying growing heavier, only to catch in her throat and became rougher, a rasping, spluttering cough adding to the sounds of her confused misery. She could feel herself being brought up as Alexander settled her back into a chair, still petting her as he pulled away.

“Okay, I’m going to get you a glass of water, so sit tight, enjoy the view and don’t freak out. You know, any more.”

And with that he exited the room post-haste, leaving her to stare out blankly and collect herself. Katie forced herself to breathe deep, trying to ignore the taste of bile in her mouth and sickly feeling in her stomach as she tried to process that she had been A: brought halfway across the country against her will at best, B: kidnapped by people who knew everything about her and had most likely been monitoring her for her whole life. Not to mention C… Wait, what was C again? Something about… no, it was gone. Never mind, it would come back to her. She also realised that the young man had left without answering any of her questions, and that her hand was still nowhere to be seen. Biting on her lip to hold back the tears in her eyes, she turned her attentions to the aforementioned view. The hallway she’d woken up in was unremarkable, long and cream with only her seating position and the window opposite to break the monotony. It was outside that was more interesting, even in her state of dulled shock. She appeared to be at some kind of port, full to the brim with both military and commercial vessels. Warehouses, stock houses and repair bays of all shapes and sizes littered the bay along with giant, quad barrelled flak cannons at the end of long, solid stone piers. Shops of all sorts lined what little she could see out the right-hand side of the window, leading towards the centre of a residential district. Every inch of the place was lined with redcoat soldiers, bayonetted rifles glinting in the weak September sunlight. It might have been any other idyllic seaside town if not for the military presence. The squeak of the hallway door signalled the return of Alexander, entering the room with two plastic cups of water and a handkerchief hanging over his wrist.

“We’re in Guernsey, for your information. St Peter’s Port, commercial and tourist capital of the whole island, mostly because it’s the only town on the whole island. Here.”

He held out one of the cups and the handkerchief, Katie taking both as he settled into the chair next to her, taking a sip from his drink. He waited for her to follow suit with an uneasy gulp before he took a second shot, mussing up his hair with a sigh as he began to speak.

“Sorry for that little info-dump, I thought you’d be reassured that you were supposed to be here, but I guess it came off kind of creepy. I’m not normally involved with these introductions, but orders are orders after all.”

She took another gulp of water, trying to ignore that most of it spilled onto her shirt, and hoping that he would as well.

“G-Guernsey… why does t-that sound f-familiar?”

“You’ve probably seen it on TV. The Adept Games?”

The look that appeared on his face when she shook her head was somehow relieved and surprised at the same time.

“I’m amazed you’ve never heard of it, seeing as it gets shown year-round. The Empire’s Most Popular Show since 1991, if you can believe it.”

She couldn’t help feeling a little uneducated, and went to look at her shoes hoping that her sudden onset of blushing wasn’t too visible.

“W-we d-don’t have a-a television. I read m-mostly.”

Alexander rose out of his seat and drained his cup, throwing casually it down the hall, and even Katie could tell that the attempt was nowhere close to the bin at the other end. But as the cup reached the halfway point and hit the ground, it popped up and launched itself the rest of the way, arcing nicely into the bin. He didn’t even react to the impossible shot, stretching his arms into the air with laced fingers, a series of pops and cracks sounding from his back and shoulders.

“Good for you, it’s an awful program. Anyway, as you no doubt have some questions, let’s take a walk. It’ll be easier for you to understand if I show you the place than if I were to just rattle off info at you without pause. You know, like I just did… and failed at.”

With an awkward cough, he held out his hand. Katie managed to look up from the floor to meet his eyes for the first time. Despite the dark patches under them, they were very nice eyes, a bright cerulean blue that seemed to glow in the morning light. She was staring again, but if he noticed her checking him out the notion flew over his head as he continued with his non-stop sentences, flowing one into another without pause.

“I understand that you’re hesitant. Everyone is at first, and I realise that I’ve kinda ruined everything straight off the bat for you.”

He knelt down to meet her sitting height, still smiling despite all that they’d inflicted on one another.

“But I promise you, I am absolutely the last person who would hurt you, on this island or anywhere else.”

Maybe it was that sentence and the look of certainty as he said it. Maybe it was the fact that he was the only one with answers. Maybe it was the fact that he was the first person not related to her, and a good looking boy at that, to hold a conversation with her in years. Or maybe it was simply that she wanted out of the room. Whatever the reason, she finished her own cup and took the offered hand as they both rose, Alexander giving her a brilliant grin.

“All right then, allons-y!”

“Um… what?”

“It means let’s go. In French. I forget no-one speaks it anymore. Well, no-one other than me and a couple of towns in France that refuse to see sense and switch to English completely. Good on them I say, sense is overrated.”

He was already whisking her out the door before she had time to decipher any of that, through a small reception area and out into the brisk air of mid-afternoon. He didn’t even pause to let her adjust to the light before he’d turned on his heel and began briskly leading her up towards the coastal town, her hand still held tightly in his.

“W-wait!”

Her guide turned back to her, gently tilting his head to one side.

“W-what about m-my hand?”

“Oh, that? You sorted that out yourself a few minutes ago. You used it for the handkerchief, remember?”

She looked down in surprise to find that he wasn’t lying. Her hand had returned to normal, back to soft pale skin and well-chewed nails. Alexander continued as she turned it over to check every detail, pinching to check – right, definitely wasn’t dreaming.

“That’s why I had you calm down. Adepts with transformation abilities sort of – “snap back” to normal form if they settle themselves. The change was caused by stress, so some gentle breathing and focusing on the scenery subconsciously changed it back. Best part is, you were so focused on more important things that it probably happened right after I left the room. Neat, isn’t it?”

Neat was not the word she would have chosen, but the young man’s continuous cheer was rubbing off on her, so she nodded weakly and let him begin leading her again as they swanned through the town, wondering what on Earth an “Adept” was as they joined a large crowd of people being escorted by yet another group of soldiers. Children babbled and screeched excitedly as their parents inspected even the slightest of dark alleys with paranoid eyes, while groups of teenagers and young adults held conversations about some kind of sporting event and the players, bags stuffed to overflow with merchandise layered over them. She had no idea who Fenrir was or how he’d earned his place on a t-shirt, but by the way the twenty-something girl gushed about him, he was a “dead cert” to win the day’s event. Alexander simply ignored it, having them keep pace as the head of the pack. As they continued, the lighting started to dim despite the sun being high up, and the cause became immediately apparent.

The dark, monolithic structure curled gently around the edge of the town and off into the distance, built directly into the island’s circumference to reinforce the borders against the sea. It towered over the rest of the island, stretching straight up so far it hurt her neck to stare at the top, where yet more anti-aircraft guns and soldiers were placed, intersecting with spotlights and watchtowers all along the parapets of the great wall. Only one entrance could be seen before them, a stone archway holding a set of black oak doors, the arch decorated with curving letters carved into the stone that she couldn’t quite make out until she squinted them into readability. Confidis teipsum ad meridiem morabantur. Trust no-one but yourself. It clicked in her mind just as Alexander translated.

“Trust no-one but yourself.”

Katie gave a double-blink as Alexander chimed up again in a slightly subdued tone.

“It’s Latin. The headmaster’s fond of old things and being generally depressing, and Latin lends nicely to that.”

“Yeah, I k-know, I c-can r-read it. Why c-can I understand it? I don’t k-k-know Latin.”

Alexander cocked his head to one side as the doors began to slowly creak forward in harmony with the sound of churning gears, soldiers calling for the crowd to step back. His voice sounded in her mind again.

“How odd. A side effect of your powers maybe? In theory, the mind of a shape-shifter could subconsciously adapt to situations before the user registered them, but uploading an entire language without thinking about it seems a touch odd, even for us.  I might as well explain now. I’m the same as you. A lot of people on this island are. This is my power, Telepathy, the ability to talk via thoughts or read those around me. I should also mention whilst we’re around normal people, don’t mention your powers around normal people. Best case scenario, they tend to freak out. I shan’t mention the worst case. More to the point, if you ever want to talk to me using my power, just think out loud.  Go on, give it a go.”

“Um, l-l-like t-this?”

Her wince at realisation that her stutter continued in her mind as well was cut off by a sudden uncertainty that Alexander jumped on before it should surface.

“No, I’m not reading your thoughts all the time. I can turn it on and off when I want, but I’ll know when people need to contact me.”

“W-wait, then how?”

“Lucky guess. As you can imagine, people get rather unnerved when you tell them you can get inside their minds. I’ve kinda got this explanation thing down to a science. Anyway, let’s get a move on, there’s a car waiting for us.”

Said car turned out to be a self-driving Triumph with blacked out windows, a hunched over beetle of a machine that elusive celebrities tended to use. Alexander opened the back door for her, exposing a leather interior made for six. Once she was buckled in he made his way around, settling himself into the seat parallel to her. The rest of the crowd were herded onto a coach, the vehicle pulling away with surprising haste the moment the last woman was aboard. Next to her, Alexander adjusted his seatbelt, fumbled with the tablet he’d ambushed her with earlier and knocked twice on the opaque pane behind him, setting their car in motion as well.

“Right, let’s try this again. As you’ve guessed, you’ve been taken from your home and relocated off-shore to the island of Guernsey. This entire island is a training ground and facility for people like us. Before you ask “like us?” the technical term for humans with superpowers, supernatural abilities or physical phenomenon associated with them is Adept. Which never made sense to me personally; seeing as it comes from Adeptus, meaning ‘one who has attained’, but that was in reference to transmuting metals, not breathing fire or growing wings. Ah well, c’est la vie.”

“S-so, w-what’s my p-power then? T-turning into a s-s-slimy b-blob monster?” Alexander’s smile flickered, before setting into an upturned line as he fingered his throat.

“Not at all. For one, there was nothing slimy about that tentacle, trust me. Secondly, it appears it’s more like general physical transformation, primarily revolving around animals and animalistic characteristics. Here, take a look at these.”

A quick flick across the tablet’s interface produced a series of pictures from a CCTV camera of surprising quality. The first of them showed Katie crossing the road outside a school, a car rushing towards her. The rest showed her turning to challenge it as her body grew in mass and size, changing shape as she transformed into…

“A gorilla?”

“An eastern mountain gorilla to be precise, albeit one about twice the size of a regular specimen. Not quite sure what was going through your head at the time, but I’m guessing that you wanted to ride out the impact with something stocky and solid. Adept powers tend to be revealed in times of crisis, and you certainly picked quite the crisis.”

The pictures continued with the collision, gorilla taking the blow shoulder-first, the impact driving it backwards down the road as both it and the car came to a skidding halt. The last pictures showed her falling towards the kerb, gorilla body stripping off in a haze of fur to blow away in the wind.

“To answer one of your earlier questions, the reason why your memory is so patchy seems to be a result of the accident. You were brought here after you were cleared from the hospital. It’s pretty fortunate no-one saw you; these kinds of incidents are rather hard to cover up, especially one as dynamic as this. Your Aunt has been informed of the situation, but I’m afraid you’ll be here with us for at least the next year or so whilst we teach you how to control and utilise your powers. Don’t worry; the classes are quite large, so you won’t be alone for the endeavour.”

Aunt? The word had come to her earlier, but there had been no connotations with it. Now it brought a faded image to mind: glasses, a ponytail and jumpers. Other than that, there was no definition to the term. Still, it was a small comfort to know that at least she wouldn’t be on her own. She hadn’t had many friends back at her old school, but maybe she could find a few among students like herself. If it wasn’t for the gaping hole in her memories, she’d probably have been thrilled for a new start.

“But, what a-about my m-m-memory? I-I mean, it’ll c-come back r-right?”

Alexander gave her a sympathetic smile that was only slightly belied by the supernatural glow of his eyes.

“Memory tends to be a tricky thing, especially considering the nature of your loss. It’s an unfortunate reality that many of the students here come in similar circumstances, as well as those that are suffering with other mental conditions as well. These things are a lot easier to deal with considering the number of psychologists on staff, as well as a couple of psychics like me to help when these things are really deep-seated. I can’t promise anything, but in most cases, the bulk of important memories tend to be recovered within about a year.”  

Did everyone with powers come here after life threatening accidents? That seemed rather odd. At least there seemed to be a good chance of recovery though, which put her slightly at ease despite the strangeness of the day’s events. Alexander continued on and on with an endless stream of information as they drove on, living arrangements and schooling timetables piling up in her lap as he levied papers on her from a folder he’d extracted out from under his seat. It was only by chance that she noticed the road splitting in two, catching the coach they’d seen earlier carrying on towards one of the largest buildings she’d ever seen, another indifferent wall of gunmetal grey steel casting a blot on the green plains stretching out from around it.

“That’s the Coliseum.”

Alexander must have caught her staring as he was suddenly very close to her, looking out in the same direction with only scant centimetres between them. She yelped, bolting back in her seat as he sniggered gently at her expense.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

“P-please t-t-try to in-in f-future.” She managed to choke out as Alexander folded back into his seat, still playing that self-satisfied smile.

“Sure, sure. To answer your inevitable question, that ugly building is the one that houses the Adept Games I mentioned earlier. The Elizabeth II Memorial Coliseum, better known to most as the Grand Coliseum. Standing at a size comparable to four Wembley Stadiums stuck together, it is the largest” – He snorted, the next word marked with finger-quotes – ‘sporting arena’ in the British Empire. That coach you saw is the only one heading up today as part of a VIP party and event. It’s normally closed off between the end of the summer term and the beginning of the autumn. The damn things are non-stop for the rest of the year. On that note, I should explain about the games now, as you’ll be participating in them at least once during your schooling here.”

He pulled out yet more paper from the packs he’d unearthed, showing the skittish girl a map of the building. The three sections coloured red, blue and yellow respectively, the yellow section equal to the size of the other two combined.  

“The Coliseum is split into three sections, depending on which event students are taking part in. Yellow is the Assault Course, blue is Performance Arts and Sporting Events, and red… red is The Arena. That’s the one that attracts the most attention, both televised and in attendance numbers. You’ll become more familiar with the yellow and blue areas more than the others, as we hold a couple of football, hockey, and rugby leagues in the blue, with both used for P.E. exams. The Assault Course is a mandatory event held twice a year, once at the beginning of the school year two weeks from now, and once two weeks before the end. It counts as a separate grade of its own. Students are free to use it at set times whenever they feel like they need training though, and there are a few other televised runs a year for additional credits and such.”

“W-wait, how h-hard is all t-this?”

It was getting a little much. She’d only begun to learn about her ability, and they wanted to make her display it, and in front of people no less? She’d never been in the fittest student either, so just the words Assault Course made her stomach lurch as they implied all sorts of exhaustion in her future. Alexander’s explanation didn’t help matters as he carried on, oblivious to the sudden cold sweat that had broken out on her brow.

“Well, the exams themselves are rather simple; all you’ll need to do is display control over your powers, and a decent amount of stamina. The Assault Course can be a mixed bag, as you’ll never run the same course twice, and the obstacles range from ‘walk in the park’ to ‘oh dear god, why?’ Ah, don’t worry! It’s all achievable with the training and schooling you’ll get here!”

She knew she was suffering a panic attack, but the knowledge didn’t ease its passing as she buried her head in her arms and tried to erode away the crushing despair that squeezed around her heart. The car slowed to a stop, and she could feel Alexander doing his best to help, rubbing her back and folding a handkerchief into her palm. It took a few minutes for her to unfold and longer to stop shaking, but she refused to relinquish her grip on the cloth, cupping it over her mouth in a vain attempt to settle her breathing as she weathered the fright. Alexander looked somewhat sheepish as he set the car into movement once more.

“Sorry for doing that to you… again. Still, better you learn about it now then it being sprung on you at random.”

He waited for his travelling companion to calm down again before explaining further even if the feat took another hastily swallowed bottle of water before Katie was ready to listen again.

“The red zone – The Arena – is the problem area. The good news is that you’ll only need to compete in it once per month to demonstrate your progress, but there are also seasonal tournaments where you can… okay; you aren’t looking well at all. Do you get car sick?”

She was silent and shaky for a good time, and when Katie’s voice found the strength to immerge from the hole it had scurried away to, it crawled out scratchy and feeble.

“No, b-b-b-but… I-isn’t t-t-there away t-to avoid f-f-fighting? O-or doing a-a-any of t-t-these w-weird events?”

Alexander shook his head sadly, and when he spoke his voice sounded oddly resigned, as though he disliked his own answer. Glowing eyes stared deep into hers, and Katie fought down the desire to avoid his gaze. For all his bluntness, he was trying his best, so she would too.

“I’m afraid not. Most Adept powers tend to be ones that can seriously harm in the wrong hands, so it’s a requirement of any completed tutorage that students learn to access and master their abilities in a safe environment, and then are tested to see if they can maintain the same control in pressure situations. Otherwise we could have Adepts blowing up all across the country at the slightest bit of stress. Events that tend to channel a lot of adrenaline, such as faux combat or high-demand physical activities, are usually best for this.”

He gave a small sigh, his voice returning to its normal sympathetic tone as he folded his tablet under the seats.

“If it’s any consolation, no-one ever gets seriously hurt in any of this. It wouldn’t do to throw our students into life or death situations now, would it?”

With a weak chuckle as justification, he lowered the window to let fresh air in as they left another cut-off wall much like the one they’d walked through back at the port.

“Here, take a look. We’ll be coming up on the Maturinus Academy now. Named for the saint of comic actors, likely by someone with no humour themselves.”

Taking a peek out, Katie beheld the other monstrous structure on the island. Unlike the sheer wall of the Coliseum, this was a cluster of uniformly rectangular buildings, most about three stories high but with the centre pair reaching up far higher than that. She couldn’t make out any details of them from the car, but a suspicion grew that even if she had been right up next to one it would have made no odds to picking out individuality in the tightly knit complex of sharp angles and unmarked grey and glass. As with the Coliseum, all greenery and nature had been cut off and smothered under a harsh plane of concrete to serve the blank-faced buildings of the academy, with exception of a small port on the east side to connect the academy to the sea, a ferry - The Marianne, the proud flank read - floating there.

“Um, I-I’ve been m-m-meaning to ask s-something.”

“Hmm?”

“W-why are t-there s-s-soldiers all over the p-place? And all t-t-those b-big g-guns? Why d-does the island n-need a wall at all?”

She could see them now, all along the wall that had followed them from St Peter’s Port. If anything, the armaments had been getting heavier as they got nearer to the school. For reasons she couldn’t understand, looking at the pitch black metal sent a small part in her stomach turning over backwards with nervous tingles. Alexander looked a little surprised at the inquiry, shifting in his seat to follow her line of vision.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve been asked that.”

“Oh… I’m s-sorry.”

Of course, it was probably obvious to everyone else right away. She wondered if her power would let her turn into a chameleon and vanish into the seats. She needn’t have bothered, as Alexander rejected her apology with a wave.

“Don’t be, I’m actually impressed. It’s a nice surprise having someone question it. Most students just accept their presence. Comes with our military culture I suppose. In any case, why do you think that they’re here?”

The car was filled with a few seconds of shifting and stuttering as Katie pulled her reasoning together.

“W-well, the wall g-g-goes around t-the whole island, right? S-so it’s either to keep people out… or…”

“Or?” The word was drawn out, extending with his smile.

“Or to keep us in?”

Alexander’s eyes lit up to a lighter shade of blue as he lent forward, the light-hearted voice in her mind overriding the flat tone that filled the car.

“This is a major military hub as well as being the pinnacle of Adept education. It makes sense for this place to be heavily defended. It also functions as a minor recuperation centre for soldiers who have been posted aboard and are in need of some R&R, so the men here are only semi-enlisted. But I assure you that they are here first and foremost for your protection, and only carry tranquiliser rounds for the most part.”

“It’s a bit of both really.”

He winked conspiratorially, and was talking over her before she could ask why he’d hidden his real answer.

“But I wouldn’t worry about it too much. It’s not like we keep students imprisoned here or anything. You will get to go home eventually.”

The amusement at his own joke lasted up until the car pulled up outside a low-key building, the sign under the security camera identifying it as the reception area. Alexander slipped out first and came around to her side, opening the door as she gathered up the papers he’d given her and made to get out the car. Her brain caught up to her a moment later as she jerked to a stop, the seatbelt still tightly secure. Fumbling with the latch she hastily exited, pointedly not looking at Alexander in her embarrassment. If he was concerned he didn’t voice it, the slam behind her preceding him taking the lead to hold the reception door open, letting her scurry through with the hurried squeak of “Thanks.” Inside was another waiting room type area, which she saw for all of one second before the floor suddenly demanded her attention. She heard the hiss of a wince behind her, and some sort of muffled, choking laughter from the room. So much for a new start. Perhaps instead she could stay where she was, wait for whoever was in the room to walk over her before retreating to an isolated cave, never to be seen by humans again.

“You okay down there?”

It wasn’t Alexander, strangely enough. For all his rambling and personal space intrusion, even he seemed to have enough common sense to know not to step over someone just to inquire of their wellbeing. Katie took stock of her options as the question was repeated. She could either lie down forever, or try and salvage the situation by engaging whoever it was she was inconveniencing. The former was still more tempting, but the choice was made for her when a hand shook her shoulder, forcing a glowing face to meet a far prettier one. Hopefully the older girl looking down on her would assume the redness to be damage instead of embarrassment. The stammering started up slowly and low, winding up like a gramophone to machine-gun stuttering as she somehow managed to achieve a secondary layer of embarrassed red over the abused blood vessels that were already working overtime. By the time the strangled half-word finally crawled out of her throat to die, she had been picked up and dusted down, the other girl admiring her handiwork of patching up the broken doll as Alexander squeezed himself into the room to examine the rest of the new students waiting in cheap chairs, with the exception of the raggedy looking boy in the upright stretcher, dressed to the nines in bindings and restraints.

“Oi, you listening?”

Katie bolted in shock as she realised that she’d accidently ignored someone for the second time that day. The panicked snapping of her attention to the girl happened so quickly that her neck cracked on the trip, which turned out to be a rather counterintuitive movement to being social, as the pain created a spike of neck-holding agony, leaving her leaning forward and hoping that her barely-muted cry hadn’t been too noticeable. The cursory glance upwards killed that hope in its crib as she found the room staring right at her, and Hannibal Lecter over in the corner was practically dying of laughter behind his mask, until his stretcher was suddenly tipped forward by some unseen hand, mimicking her entrance to a tee. Alexander took a step forward, and overturned it upwards so he could stare down disapprovingly. It was weakened somewhat by his ever-present smile.

“Now, now, let’s be nice to each other. So…”

The stretcher was lifted back from the floor, bringing the two eye to eye. Alexander reached forward and loosened the mouth gag, before twisting the boy to face Katie, ignoring how she flinched away at the new proximity to the maniac.

“Apologise, and we’ll get along with the tour.”

Dull, dark ringed eyes tracked down her from behind a stringy black fringe, the boy wearing a cruel smile so tight and wicked she could see a canine tearing into his lip as he began to spit poisonous words.

“I’m sorry you’re such a retard, you flat bitch.”

The girl from before began to step forward with a warning but needn’t have bothered, as Alexander spun the stretcher back the way it had come, his smile waning.

“That’s not…”

His reprimand was stopped dead in its tracks as a blinding red flash lit the room. Even if Katie had been able to see, she was in no condition to act as something heavy crashed into her, letting her resume her ongoing affair with the floor once more. The red light vanished as quickly as it had come, but her vision still rang in time with the piercing sound in her ears, and looking around became impossible without receiving a wave of nausea. She focused instead on the figure crouched over her, shielding her from whatever chaos had broken out. Considering that Katie hadn’t said a word to her, it seemed a good idea to at least thank her when she wasn’t getting thrown around and blinded. In the centre of the room, Alexander was looming over the stretcher boy again, foot planted to keep him down and one hand poised over his chest, fingers splayed. A blood red sphere was hovering in the open space between the two, pulsating and surging as it flickered, indecisive about its target. It never found one as Alexander snapped his fingers to burst the orb, the rupture creating a ring of droplets around them. The bound teenager was already working another globule of bloody spit at him, only for it to be popped by a swift kick to the jaw. A follow-up boot to the temple rendered the unruly Adept unconscious, allowing Alexander to force the mouth piece on him once more.  

“Well, that explains a lot. You got the biography on this guy Angela?”

The angel behind him was stirred into action at the sound of her name, and there was no other word to describe her, as she couldn’t have fitted the image more perfectly unless she stepped out from a stained glass window. A pale girl a couple years younger than herself, her blonde bob cut and blue eyes the only colours on her that weren’t white, the sensible skirt and short sleeve shirt matching the body-length wings that framed her in feathers. Despite how pretty they were it seemed like they were troubling her greatly, her movements slight and stiff as she fumbled through various menus on the sizable tablet computer she held, finding the appropriate information and showing it to Alexander as her stern expression broke with the faint smile of someone taking satisfaction in one’s job. The blush was a bit much though.

“Bradley Liefeld. Age sixteen, blood type A positive, which is his power… but you probably guessed that already.”

“A Haemokinetic? Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

“There’s more in his file you should see as well.”

She held the tablet out to Alexander, pressing herself into his side as he ran a finger up the screen she was showing him, soft noises of muttered reading filling the room as the assembled Adepts began to pull themselves up, including Katie’s current millstone, who leant back and fell onto her backside, freeing Katie as her senses cleared up, the ringing from the flash already fading away.

“So, you finally feel like talking to me?”

“Y-y-yes! I-I’m s-s-sorry!”

Wide dirty-green eyes swelled as hands flew up, both girls cutting each other off and mangling sentences together, rough Australian and timid English accents fighting the squabbling and complaining voices of dissent that were beginning to flood the room behind them.

“Whoa, didn’t mean to…”

“T-t-t-thanks for g-g-getting me up…”

“Just figured that…”

“A-a-and f-for p-protecting …”

“Sorry if I squashed anything…”

There was a pause as the pair simultaneously realised that they were getting nowhere fast talking at the same time, staring at each other awkwardly before the sun-kissed girl held out for a handshake.

“I’m Sabrina, Sabrina Martin. Pleased to meet’cha.”

“Catherine Holmes. P-please, c-c-call me Katie. I go b-by t-that a-apparently.”

A brief spot of arm-jangling followed, a broad smile lighting up the foreign girl’s tanned face. She quickly let go and popped up on the spot only to hold the same hand out to help Katie up. Despite the chill outside, she was daringly dressed in a t-shirt and tight shorts, filling out both easily. Katie took the hand once more, actually finding her feet for what was probably the first time that day. Up once again, Sabrina shot her a dazzling smile framed by two locks of raven hair, the rest tied back in a plaited ponytail that ended only when it reached the small of her back.

“There we go. All right, let’s see if they dealt with that bastard already.”

A shaky smile was the only response Katie managed to give as they turned back to the room, only to be met by open mouths and shocked stances as the other teenagers in the room pressed themselves against the back wall. A sharp clap sounded, Alexander beaming at the pair.

“Now that’s what I like to see. Jolly cooperation.”

The rest of the group turned their stunned looks to him, the tallest girl in the group finding her voice first. Said voice was a scratchy northern accent that scarred the ears the second she began caterwauling.

“Are you kiddin’ me? First there’s this murderin’ bastard, and now you’re tellin’ me you’re puttin’ us together with a fuckin’ Aussie! Are you tryin’ to get us all killed?”

Sabrina crossed the room in two strides, forcing her way into the girl’s personal space with a scowl that would surely incinerate her on the spot if looks could it kill. It occurred to Katie that such a thing might just be within her power.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s wrong with being Australian?”

“What, you mean other than being a criminal scumbag from shit of nowhere? I bet you’ll have your hands round me neck just ’a fill a quota!”

“Frankly, the fact she survived Australia to be with us today is rather impressive to me. Also, watch the language.”

Alexander’s comment was lost as he was shoved out the way, the telepath resigning to lead Angela over to a large desk and hopping up onto it, taking the tablet to help her sit next to him. The northern girl stood face-to-face with Sabrina, the pair glaring at each other like opposite reflections in an asymmetrical mirror, white and peroxide blonde versus tan and raven black. Puberty was clearly being kinder to them then to her, both tall and full bodied as opposed to her slightness. Whatever confrontation was about to occur between them was stopped before it could even begin as an invisible force grabbed Sabrina and pulled her back, slamming her into the west wall with her limbs outstretched like the wings of a preserved butterfly under glass. On the opposite wall, the northern girl was struggling with the same pinning, cursing up a storm at all and sundry, so much so that her voice began to crack under the litany of swear words, some of which Katie had never heard and a couple she was sure the girl had made up on the spot. Alexander had pushed off the desk and walked to the centre of the room, glancing between the two with folded arms.  

“All right, all right, enough with the oestrogen and casual racism. If you two want to fight, there’ll be plenty of that coming up in future. Now…”

He took a step back and Sabrina was whisked back towards her nemesis of all of two minutes, the girls posed inches away from each other, so close they could probably smell what the other had for breakfast.

“Kiss and make up, and we’ll get a move on.”

“Go to hell!”

The three-word slur would likely be the first and last time the pair agreed on anything. Alexander seemed more bemused than insulted, and Katie wondered how long he would have held them there had Angela not tapped his shoulder.

“Alex, I think this counts as sexual harassment.”

Alexander thought about that for a moment, his response a shrug of indifference. Angela held his gaze over his shoulder, a soft frown marring her otherwise neutral expression. The staring contest was over in a heartbeat, Alexander losing with a reluctant sigh. The two would-be combatants dropped to the floor, ire focused on the psychic. If he cared for the death stares leveled at him, Alexander refused to acknowledge them, instead running a hand through his hair with another heavy sigh of irritation.

“This has run on for far too long, and I don’t want any more trouble. We’ll have to split the group. Angela, you take Sabrina, Katie aaaaand… she’s been quiet, so I can’t see there being much problem there. I’ll grab the rest, take another route and we’ll meet up at the student accommodation tower.”

Angela popped off the desk, setting herself to work with a sharp nod. Crossing the room over to the back corner, she tapped the shoulder of a girl smothered in a concealing jumper, blonde tresses buried in a magazine she’d found. A dull green gaze met the stern angel, who was doing her best to look authoritative.

“Come with me.”

The blonde nodded without expression, rising to follow Angela over to Katie. Angela cast a look over to Sabrina, who had yet to break her glare from Alexander, and made a gesture to the door. She made no attempt to move, and Alexander went on the charm offensive, his smile plastered back in place.

“If you could please follow my assistant, she’ll show you around the academy.”

“Why the hell should I? I’ve been getting looked down on since I got here, and not just by this stringy bitch! And I sure as hell don’t trust you, you goddamned weirdo!”

The room went dead as wills clashed together, glowing eyes running over the bare-teethed snarl and tightened fists. Katie didn’t know what each was looking for in the other, but whatever it was they were fighting for, Alexander relented first and shooed out the silence before it could become accustomed.

“You might not trust me, but you still need to be here nonetheless. Especially with a power like yours, Miss Martin. Besides, why judge a whole school just because two people are slightly obnoxious? Tell you what though, if you take part in the tour and introduction events and find legitimate reasons to leave, we’ll ship you back to the mainland. Promise.”

Sabrina never broke eye contact, looking for some deceit in his expression. Either she couldn’t find it or she had changed her mind about holding her ground, as she marched towards the door with muttered curses, knocking his shoulder as she went. Alexander’s voice cut the room just as she found the handle.

“Oh, and Sabrina? Try to make at least one friend. It might improve your idea of the place.”

A snort, a slammed door and the girl was gone. Alexander shrugged again.

“That takes care of that I suppose. We’ll see you later.”

With another sharp nod, Angela took Katie and their third party member by the wrists, leading them out as well. Sabrina was leaning against the wall, glaring at the pseudo-cityscape. She straightened up upon seeing the trio. Angela released the surprisingly tight grip she held on the other two Adepts as she and Sabrina made towards each other, but the angel carried on is if she wasn’t there, already heading into the mass of buildings, much to the mutual confusion of the paired Adepts. Sabrina’s surprise ended first.

“Hey, I thought you were supposed to be guiding us?”

Angela paused, wings folding up tighter as she tilted her head to look back at them at a rather diagonal angle that added to the list of impossible things Katie had experienced already.

“I thought you’d have enough sense to follow the guide you’re given.”

She had already begun walking again as Sabrina boiled over, stomping off after her with silent rage. Katie exchanged a nervous glance with her other companion, who simply took off at a pace that looked closer to floating then walking. Already left at the back of the pack, Katie hastily stumbled forward to catch up. It occurred to her that she should ask the unknown girl’s name.

“Cherri Wavewind.”

So she was another telepath then. Uneasiness rose in Katie’s chest, the idea of an island full of people who could all read her mind at any time disagreeing with her system for some reason. She knew that it was completely unwarranted, as the girl and Alexander were nice people, just… odd.

“I feel we should all know each other’s names, no?”

Or maybe she was simply far more comfortable opening up to complete strangers, as opposed to accusing them of being mind readers. Katie tried not to squirm with embarrassment at her presumptions. Thankfully, Sabrina saved her from any more internal cross-examination.

“Wow, your parents must have been a real pair of hippies.”

“I don’t think you have a right to judge others based on only initial perception, Miss Australian.”

The tall girl ground her teeth, redoubling her ire at the buildings as the group made their way forwards. Katie just kept her head down and prayed that everything would go smoothly.

Catherine Holmes wakes up with no memories and untapped power at her fingertips, only to be forced to fight in a world of broken history and heroes. Find the full novel at https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01IBPIVLK