Chapter Two
“S torm Arkyn,” I say out loud. “Do you know her?” I ask.
“I, er, yes I do. I don’t really understand how you’ve matched with their team though. They’re the best we’ve had.” He muses, taking the spear away from me and placing it back into the case. “They’re also a male team.”
“What!?” I exclaim, “I thought there were no mixed enforcer teams?”
“There has never been one before.” He says, studying me in a more suspicious light. “I’ll get my assistant to bring him and his team here for you to meet, and then they can show you to your room. Like with all teams, your room will be in the same suite as theirs.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” I gripe.
The Headmaster ignores me entirely as he picks up his phone and dials a number asking his assistant to get Storm and his team.
I know I said I didn’t want to be in a team of women, but I have certain issues when it comes to men. Although I find them easier to get along with, I am easily triggered by them if they do certain things thanks to the incident and other things in my past, my father being one of the main reasons. How the fuck could this happen?
I am going to have to stay so much on my guard that it's going to make me pissy as fuck, even more than I usually am. As I sit there stewing in my own thoughts and making no less than five escape plans before turning them down and deciding just to try if for no other reason than to prove the fuckers who think I can’t, that I can fucking kick all of their sorry asses. The door behind me opens, and I immediately stand, moving to the side of the room where I can see all the people entering and the exits.
The first guy who enters the room and sees me move, raises his eyebrows, a level of understanding on his handsome features that I do not like. He’s very obviously fae, with his pointed ears and bright orange eyes. His hair is bright white with varying strands of orange mixed through. His build is larger than is typical for the fae, and he’s tall as fuck and equally as gorgeous.
I scowl. I don't particularly appreciate that this is the second guy I’ve met here, and I’ve had a powerful reaction to both.
“This is Rival, second in command.” The Headmaster starts. “Then there’s Mayhem, his twin.”
The only difference between the two of them is that where Rival has orange features, Mayhem has bright electric blue. The guy that follows behind him is as frustratingly attractive as the twins. He’s taller than both of them but has more of an athletic build, tightly corded muscle and looks ready to strike at any time. He has bronze coloured hair and yellow eyes that have a vertical slit instead of the usual pupil. He’s a shifter of some kind, but I couldn’t tell you what since he has his magical signature completely locked down. Whatever he is, I’d be very surprised if he didn’t turn out to be an alpha of his species, and they’re as rare as fucking rocking horse shit these days. The next one through the door is all vampire, and his grin is wide, showing off his sharp fangs. He has an air of pure mischief and joy surrounding him that almost makes me smile. It's that infectious. I can sense it’s a front though, and that behind that facade lies a dark past and things that he still struggles with to this day.
Don’t get me wrong, I highly doubt anyone else would be able to see through the happy, joyful act he puts on but like recognises like, and something in him calls to the broken part of me. His purple eyes are haunted, and the longer I look into them, the deeper I can see the hold his pain has on him. His smile wobbles, and he looks away from me, blood-red hair falling across his forehead as he turns.
I push those thoughts away. There’s no need to be dwelling on things like that. All of these men need to be kept at a distance. I push my emotions down further and bury them deep inside me. The guy with the yellow eyes crosses his arms as he watches me curiously. Keep watching gorgeous; you won’t get anything from me.
“The following two are Loki,” the Headmaster nods towards the vamp, “And Reaper. Finally, we have their leader, Storm.”
“You!” He exclaims as soon as he walks through the door.
“Me.” I grin a saccharine sweet smile, his wings are gone now which means I’m far more at ease to be my snarky self.
All the guy’s eyes flick between us rapidly.
“You two know each other?” Reaper asks.
“We’ve had a run in,” I say vaguely.
“I see. Well, this is Farren. You probably recognise her. She’s Magistrate Godfrey’s daughter.”
“Like fuck is she going to be on my team!” Storm explodes. “She’s weak.”
“He’s right. There’s got to be some mistake. She’s got no training and got in here purely on the fact that the magistrate is her father, and her uncle works here. Don’t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for Magnus, but this is taking the fucking piss.” Mayhem adds in.
My anger simmers quietly. It’s not like I want to be on their fucking team, as much as I hate to admit it, Storm was fucking right. I will get them killed, just not for the reason that they think.
“Unfortunately, boys, there’s nothing I can do. I will do some research and reach out to some contacts. I can see if the connection can be severed, but until then, you will have to make do. There won’t be any missions for a while since it’s the beginning of term. Hopefully, I will have some good news for you by the time you get your first assignment.” The Headteacher says, completely disregarding me.
Deep breath Farren, keep your fucking cool.
“Speaking of which, please pass this letter on to your father.” He adds, finally turning to me.
I take it reluctantly, like hell will I give it to him. That would mean actually having some sort of contact with him. I’ll have to ask Magnus what to do with it.
“Now, show her to her room and then it's straight to combat.” He finishes dismissing us all.
Storm immediately strides off down the hall, all but Loki following him. He sighs as he watches them.
“Come on; I guess it’s up to me to show you,” he says, glancing down at me. “Don’t worry. We’ll get this all sorted out and go easy on you. Well, I will. I can’t guarantee that the others will. Being a part of a team is serious, and we put our lives in each other’s hands. Having someone untrained and spoi . . . I mean, someone who is used to a different lifestyle is dangerous for you, as well as us.”
Wow, even the sunshine of the group is a judgemental prick, fantastic. I am going to need to let off some steam in combat.
He silently leads me up several flights of stairs and down an ornate corridor. Finally, stopping at a large door. He opens it to a circular room. The central part of the room is open plan and houses a kitchen and living area as well as a mezzanine area in the rafters. Around the edge are several doors leading to what I assume to be bedrooms.
“Each bedroom has its own bathroom, and this one is yours.” He says, gesturing to the third one on the left.
“This is mine?” I ask, unable to hide the unbelieving note in my tone.
I have never, ever, had a room this nice before. I mean, it actually has a fucking bed with blankets and everything! I almost grin.
He frowns at my reaction, watching me closely for a second before obviously deciding I’m taking the piss. I mean, why would the daughter of a magistrate be in awe of what anyone else would consider a simple room? It puts his back up, and whereas before he was cold, now, he’s decided to take a similar route to the others and become damn right degrading.
“I hope you packed some sensible clothes in there.” He gestures to all my bags, “I need to get down to the gym, dump your stuff and get changed into something suitable for combat class. I imagine you’ll be sitting out for a while until Magnus can convince someone to teach you the basics. No weapons are allowed in the rooms. There are lockers down in the gym where we keep them. That won’t concern you though, as I highly doubt you’ve bought anything other than clothes and shoes.” He sighs, pinching his nose as if he’s exasperated with me.
Stay calm, Farren.
“The gym is two flights down. Take a left, and then it’s the door on the end. The class starts in five minutes. Don’t be late.”
With that parting statement, he storms out of the room. Well, this is off to a great start.
I glance around the room, and it's heaven. It would be simple in most people’s eyes, just a basic room. I guess it is, but it’s a thousand times better than anything I have ever had. Not only does it have a bed, but it has a soft-looking carpet on the floor and a freaking window. Fresh air! I immediately stride over to it and open it wide. The air may still have a distinctive chill to it, but the fact that I actually get fresh air in my room is such a novelty that I'll happily take a bit of cold. Next, I take a quick glance in the bathroom, turning on the tap and revelling in the warm water that immediately comes out.
No fucking way I get hot water too? And privacy?
Right, okay, pull yourself together, Farren. You can explore more later. But, for now, you need to get going.
I'm not too fond of the idea of putting all of my weapons in a locker so far away from me. Anyone could mess with them. I have some fun prevention I can set up on the locker to stop that from happening, but I would still rather that they were kept close to me. Of course, the other problem is that some of my weapons are unique. It would take just one person to recognise them, and that would be it. People would realise who I am and what I've done. I can't risk that, but I also can’t give them the satisfaction of thinking that I don’t own any weapons. I quickly sort through my weapons bags, placing all of my more unique ones in one bag and reluctantly storing it under my bed. Not the safest place for weapons that could reveal my identity, but it's the best I've got in the short time frame I have. I will have to find a more suitable hiding place for them later. I look down at my outfit: black jeans, a black tank and a leather jacket. I ditch the jacket. It means that the scars and tattoos are visible on my arms, but I stopped caring about what other people thought about them years ago. I’ve had them for so long that they have very definitely become a part of who I am, and I'm proud of them. They're proof that I survived.
I am aware that they are likely to bring me even more attention. Supernaturals don’t scar.
My father and some other assholes found a way around that though.
I shut my bedroom door and throw up a quick force field to keep people out before I jog down the hallway with my last remaining bag of weapons and that damned letter the Headteacher gave me. I’m cutting it pretty damn close, so when I arrive, I skip the lockers and go straight to the gym, placing my bag off to one side before jogging to the middle of the room where everyone else is gathered. I’m immediately met with disdainful looks and snickers. I deliberately stand away from my so-called ‘Team’.
Storm catches sight of my bag and rolls his eyes.
“This isn’t a multiple outfit kind of thing.” He sneers, making everyone laugh. “You didn’t even change. Can’t expect to be able to fight in that.”
I clench my teeth and force the Darkness rising within me to settle. I can not let out my Void gift.
“I’d rather fight in something that I’m more than likely to be wearing if I actually need to fight than in loose-fitting clothes that the chances of me being in, in a combat situation is pretty damn slim. I'd rather learn the restrictions of normal clothing now than be caught off guard when it matters.” I reply, my voice becoming gravelly by the end. I'm unused to speaking so much.
“Well fuck, she got you there, Storm.” Rival chuckles smacking him on the arm.
Magnus chooses that moment to enter the room, and everyone immediately stands to attention, quieting down and wiping the smiles off their faces. My uncle pays me no mind, but I don’t miss the quick glance in my direction to check me over. He frowns as he somehow sees through my mask, and to the simmering rage churning beneath, he’s not unaware of what will happen if it bubbles over.
“Today, we will be sparring, set up teams against teams and do one on one and then add in multiples. Farren with me.” He says, grimacing as he rolls his shoulders, preparing himself.
The surrounding students obviously think he’s grimacing because of having to go back to basics and teach me. But, in reality, he’s remembering the last time he had to help me let off steam.
I stride over to him as the others disperse, realising for the first time that there are no girl teams in here.
I get to Magnus just as Storm and the others do.
“Don’t you think she should spar with us?” Storm grins smugly. “Team morale and all that.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” He replies.
“No, I mean she shouldn’t get any preferential treatment, should she?” Mayhem comments, challenge in his eyes as he looks my way.
My uncle can sense the undercurrent going on between us and raises his eyebrow. I shrug in response. I’m happy to go up against them. However, I’m not in control enough to hold back fully.
“On your heads fucking be it, idiots,” Magnus says to the guys, causing their heads to snap in his direction, all of them looking confused apart from Storm, who just looks as stoic as ever.
“Come on then, consider this your welcome to the team.” Storm grins viciously.
“One second, Farren, come here, boys you carry on setting up.”
The guys reluctantly go over to the other team and seem to concoct a plan with them, no doubt to make it harder and knock me off my princess high horse.
Yeah, fucking right.
“How in control are you?”
“I haven’t got full control, but father got in a punishment before I left, so I’m weakened enough,” I reply bluntly.
“Fucking hell. That also means that you won’t heal Farren.” He replies, rage lighting his eyes.
“What else is fucking new?” I reply, striding over to the team.
“Alright, you're up first.” Storm grins, while Loki, Reaper and Rival all look uneasy.
Since I’m standing closest to Rival, he easily sees the scars running up my arms and across my shoulders. His eyes widen, and genuine unease and understanding start to fill them.
Nope, I am not having that. I step forward onto the mat.
The largest guy from the other team steps forward, and they all chuckle. I keep my mask in place, rivalling Storm with his stoic appearance. The guy charges at me, and with barely any effort on my part, I strike out, knocking him to the floor, following him down and snapping his arm in the process, making him bellow in pain. There’s a beat of silence before two more of the other team come charging at me. Their fighting technique is okay, but nothing special and ridiculously predictable.
I let one of their hits through to see how much power they’re really putting into it out of pure curiosity. My head snaps to the side, my cheek bursting with pain as my lip splits. Adrenaline fills me, and for the first time today, I let a savage grin break free.
Rival’s eyes widen as he nudges the others.
“Fuck.” I hear him curse, his eyes worriedly scanning the broken side of my face.
I salute him because I can, and fighting makes me happy before I turn just in time to snap the knee of the guy charging me, and in the process, I get a glancing hit from one of the other team members on my thigh.
That’s going to leave one hell of a bruise.
This is fun.
It doesn’t take long before I get bored. They’re all too predictable and not at all challenging enough. So I stop playing and decide to end it quickly, leaving the remaining three members with a broken jaw, dislocated shoulder, and several broken ribs.
I spit out a mouth full of blood before starting to jump up and down, adrenaline still coursing through me and the Darkness demanding a better fight.
“What the fuck!?” Loki exclaims. “How the fuck did you do that?”
I keep my emotionless expression in place as I watch my uncle approach the pile of groaning men on the floor. I turn to face them.
All of them, even Storm, pales as they catch sight of my battered face. By now, I imagine that it’s turning a lovely shade of purple and judging from the tightness in my cheek, it's swelling pretty nicely too.
“What?” I ask as they keep staring. I reach up to poke the cut on my lip. Eh, it's not that bad.
The pain is kind of addicting, actually.
“Why did you let that punch through?” Rival suddenly asks, his bright orange eyes sharp.
The other's eyes snap to him.
“I didn’t.” I shrug.
“Yes, you did,” He replies, not letting it go.
I cross my arms and stare him down defiantly. I don’t have to explain anything to these fuckers.
“Seriously, Farren. No broken bones!” Magnus says, coming up behind me.
“She broke bones!” Mayhem interrupts, sounding impressed despite himself.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know? No-one told me!” I retort, still shaking out my arms and bouncing.
He watches me, knowing that it still isn’t enough.
“Go sort your face out.” He orders and I nod, jogging over to my bag and not missing the wide berth that everyone is giving me.
Sweet.