Chapter 9
UNDISCOVERED TALENTS
“If I don’t sit down right now,” June says, “I’m going to disintegrate.”
“I hate him,” Ivy declares, grabbing a sketchbook from the row of shelves that line the wall. She pulls three chairs into a line before laying across them like her own little makeshift couch.
“Four hours, no breaks,” I mutter, dragging my feet across the threshold and slinking into the nearest chair. “Is that even allowed?”
The art room offers little in the way of relief, just dim lights, four white walls, and the smell of old paint that must’ve seeped into the floorboards.
No water, no snacks, no restroom. That last one is catching up to me, and based on the look on Ivy’s face—though she’d never admit it out loud—she’s likely having the same problem.
I could ask one of the pod enforcers for an escort.
And I would, if one were here. It strikes me as strange.
To my knowledge, we haven’t been left without at least one enforcer at any given time since intake.
Two in the day, one at night—though Ryder sleeps through his shifts, so I’m not sure that counts.
Regardless, they are notably missing in action for the time being, so I’ll just have to wait.
June grabs our sketchpads from the shelf, tossing mine haphazardly across the small table.
To my dismay, the motion bends the cover and about a dozen pages.
She mouths an apology before hiding behind her book.
I roll my eyes, but flip to a fresh page.
“Do you think Mister M would get us new paintbrushes if we requested them?” Brielle asks, sifting through the cup of broken supplies as if it might yield a miracle.
“No,” June and I say in sync. I slap my hand over my mouth as she giggles.
Enrichment is the least of Mister M’s concerns, as he reminds us daily.
Enrichment is indulgence. The only thing you should be “indulging” in is extra drills.
The back of my neck tingles as his words echo through my head. Most days, I hear his voice in my thoughts more often than my own. It’s a little frightening, but Doctor Kade assured me it just means I’m “eager to please.”
“What’s the assignment?” I ask, glancing at Brielle. Typically, I’m the one who keeps track. Or rather, I make one of the pod enforcers check the schedule for me.
“Survive,” Ivy mutters, wearing her sketchbook like an eye mask.
“I don’t know,” Brielle runs her fingers along the strands of her blonde braid, worrying her lip between her teeth.
“I’m creating a masterpiece.” June waves a half-crushed oil pastel wildly above her head. “I shall call it ’ode to drills.’” She brings it down hard, creating a long black smudge across the page—and her sleeve. She laughs and keeps drawing.
“Poetic,” I tell her, trying to peek at the self-proclaimed magnum opus. “I’m sure Mister M will appreciate your continued dedication.” Her smile only widens as she grabs for a green marker. I take a set of colored pencils and stare at the blank page.
Art is not my thing. It’s not really any of our “things” for that matter. But it’s really not my thing. I doubt my half-finished still lifes would capture the attention of…well, anyone. And yet, we’re dropped here every day like clockwork while Mister M drags Avery off to private lessons.
She’s the most promising musician in the whole advancement program, or so we’ve been told. June jokes that our ears are “too unworthy” to be graced with her skills. We should be focusing on the things we’re good at; learning a performance aptitude that might actually impress the investors.
My cuff flashes, evidence of my mental overstep. I suck in a deep breath to center my thoughts.
Poise. Obedience. Purpose.
Mister M has our best interests at heart. He wants us to succeed. More than that, he wants us to be perfect. It’s not my place to question him.
I take a yellow-colored pencil and sketch a crooked daisy at the corner of my bent page. I’m halfway through the last petal when June kicks my foot. I jerk up, and she raises her eyebrows, keeping her head low as she whispers.
“Do we know that guy?”
“What guy?” I ask, furrowing my brows.
“The one lurking over there.” My head snaps up, eyes colliding with a sharp gaze of icy blue.
It’s the man from advancement day; the one who was sprinting down the hall like his life depended on it.
He looks the same, albeit calmer. Same dark suit, still clutching a tablet as he stares at me.
I didn’t even hear him come in. His posture is so rigid. Honestly, it looks painful.
“Hi?” My voice is polite, but the hint of a question pokes through.
“Good evening,” he responds stiffly, tugging on his sleeve with his free hand. Bri gives him a small wave, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
“Do we know you?” June’s voice is so blunt. Rude, actually. I step on her foot under the table. She scowls at me. “What? We were all thinking it.”
“No.” He inclines his head my way. “But I know you.” My heart skitters, but I don’t show it. He takes a gander around the room, gaze catching on Ivy. “Is she—”
“Dead?” June interrupts. “No. At least I don’t think so. We haven’t looked in a while. Bri, can you check her pulse?”
Brielle grimaces. “Not funny.”
“It’s kind of funny,” I say, hiding my smirk behind my fist.
“Kinda,” Ivy echoes from under the sketchbook, proving her vitality. The man just stares at us for a moment. Then, he takes a step toward me, cocking his head to peer at my work from the angle I have it sitting at. He’s exceedingly tall, so it doesn’t take much.
“The flower’s crooked,” he observes.
“I like it that way,” I tell him, smiling like the picture of innocence. He purses his lips, nodding as though the thought has never occurred to him.
“Interesting.”
“Thank you,” I manage. He may have meant it as a compliment, but I have no idea. He’s so calm, so still. So very different from the man I saw that day. After an uncomfortable amount of prolonged eye contact, he takes a measured step back.
“I should be going. Thank you for this…educational experience.” He runs a hand through his midnight hair. Magically, it doesn’t muss the careful styling. “I’ll be sure to inform your mentor that your art supplies appear to be older than I am.” He pivots on his heel.
“Wait,” I call out before I can stop myself.
“Hm?” He flicks his gaze over his shoulder, ice spears piercing my soul again.
“You never told us what we should call you.”
He looks at me, expression unclear and stormy. For a moment I think he’s going to ignore me.
“Mister V,” he offers with the faintest nod. Then he’s gone. Vanishing into the void of the training wing.
Once she’s sure he’s gone, June leans in. “That was strange, right? I’m not going crazy—”
“You’re always going crazy,” Bri giggles.
“You know what I mean.” She shoots a glare at Bri then turns to me. “That was weird, right?”
“Oh, totally,” I say, searching for the still-missing orange pencil. “How did we not notice him come in?”
“I was too concentrated on my life’s work,” she proclaims, turning the sketchpad to face me. It’s an amalgamation of squiggles and regret, but I offer her a polite clap. She tips an invisible hat my way.
“He was like a statue,” Bri whispers.
June laughs. “Yeah. A statue with unresolved trauma and a metal rod in his back.” She sits up straighter, trying to fake his strained posture.
I frown. “A statue who claimed to know who we are.”
“Pretty sure he only claimed to know you,” June corrects.
“Oh my god, you’re right.” I clap a hand over my eyes, shaking my head to erase the memory. “I don’t like the way he looked at me.”
“He liked you,” Brielle says, making swirls of blue paint to imitate the sky.
I scoff. “Liked me?”
“He talked about your daisy.”
“He insulted my daisy.”
“Same thing. He noticed. That’s rare.”
She’s not wrong. Why did he notice me? Not just notice—he said he knew me. The strange man I’ve only ever seen darting around corners and silently judging…knows me? Unsettling.
“Something tells me we’ll be seeing him again.” June folds her arms with a grin. “I vote we call him tall, dark, and grim.”
“Perfect!” Bri gushes.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not calling him that.”
“Suit yourself.” June moves to pat me on the back, knocking at least half my supplies onto the ground.
I huff a half-curse, and of course, she giggles.
My legs are like lead, too stiff right now to do anything but sit, so I reach down and prod around.
I flinch as my fingers brush something cold and dust-caked, wedged between the floorboards and a supply cart.
I pull it up to find a book, bound in black with real paper crinkling out at the edges, a far cry from the laminated training textbooks we’re used to.
“Ooh! What is that?” June leans in, already reaching for it.
“It’s a book, I think.” I flip it over, brushing a thick layer of dust off the textured cover.
A silver-etched creature with wide-webbed wings and pointed teeth stares back at me with midnight eyes.
The title threads through its lines in a looping script of faded silver.
Creatures of the Night: Tales of the Lost and the Unnatural.
My heart kicks as I study the strange thing. The pages are worn thin—half-ripped, half dog-eared. There’s a name scribbled out inside the cover, gouged flat into the paper in black whirls. It starts with an E, but the rest is a mess. Elli maybe?
Over it, a newer stamp of red ink: VH-6, still crisp against the seemingly ancient artifact.
Brielle scoots closer, curiosity flickering beneath her politeness. “What’s it say?”
I skim the first paragraph aloud, careful to keep my voice low:
Creatures of the night are defined by what they’ve lost. Memory and warmth. Restraint and control. They are said to wander until the dawn reminds them what they once were.
“Creepy,” June whispers.
“Poetic,” I correct, forcing a small laugh so they don’t notice how freaked out I am. “Probably meant to teach us not to lose control. See? Moral lesson. Everything here has one, so it must be fine, right?”
“But how did it get here?” Bri whispers.
I flip the page to reveal strange sketches. Girls with black eyes and hands dripping ink. Men with sharp teeth and flowing cloaks. Creatures with wings that stretch from corner to corner in long bony arcs. I trace the figures, trying to make sense of it all. “Maybe it belonged to a past pod.”
“Then where are they now?” June asks.
“Graduated,” I say, too quickly. “Obviously.”
“We shouldn’t be touching it,” Brielle whispers, jabbing a finger into my shoulder.
“Then they shouldn’t have left it out,” I say, flipping to the next page and sliding it between us. It’s not defiance. Not exactly, I hope. I’m still a good girl. I’m still going to graduate. This changes nothing. It’s just…curiosity.
And curiosity isn’t rebellion unless you get caught.
June hums. “A few pages couldn’t hurt, right?”
Bri fiddles with her fingers, finally letting herself peek at the pages. “I still don’t get it. It’s a book about nighttime?”
“I think it’s about animals,” I correct. “Or—monsters?”
“Let me see!” June says, pulling it toward her. “Look. They’re alphabetized. Banshees, bats, demons, ghosts, owls, vampires—”
“It’s official!" I cut her off before she can list us to death. “Anything with a table of contents can’t be that bad.” It sounds a little less teasing than I wanted it to, but Bri looks reassured.
“Fine. But just a few pages, then we put it back. Okay?”
I cross my fingers high enough for her to see. “Promise,” I whisper, knowing I’ll find a way to read every last word.