Chapter 11 #2
With no last-minute natural disasters to stop me from attending training, I make my way there.
I don’t stop to sit-down and have breakfast; instead, I grab a smoothie, as well as some fresh fruit and a sandwich.
The path down to the fields feels like it takes forever, and despite thinking I was early, when I arrive, there’s a handful of other students already waiting.
Thankfully, a few of them are wearing blue shirts, meaning I’m not the only Nom here.
Admittedly, the other Noms don’t make eye contact or acknowledge me, but before it gets more awkward than it is, another group of students joins us.
They’re mostly purples, and they bring with them quiet chatter and camaraderie.
The number of students increases, and before long, I’d say it’s almost start time.
Then the reason for this session strides onto the field as if they own the universe. As other students flow closer to the newcomers, I shrink back, finding a shadow to hide in and watch. It’s not hard to assume these are the guys Orion was talking about.
They ooze power and carry a strange energy. Even over the distance that separates us, I feel their presence.
They mingle and engage with the other students, but it’s only at a surface-level, and while they do, I dissect their appearance.
They’re not wearing gym gear like the rest of us.
I’m not sure if it’s because they are obnoxiously conceited and think they don’t need to train, or if it’s because wearing jeans and hoodies with combat boots is how they prefer to work out.
I’m leaning more toward that, because it makes so much more sense to me.
Athletic wear isn’t exactly great for protection or survival.
Two wear their House colors, and the third does also, but his uniform is different. Even if they weren’t, I’d be able to tell their supernatural type without trying too hard. Height-wise, they have it in the bag with the other students, physically too.
The one with platinum-blond hair seems the most approachable, but he’s also making it obvious he’s not there to chat, despite students continually trying to speak with him. He wears a hoodie similar to mine, and the deep purple marking him as a magik user makes his hair stand out even more.
Next to him, in a Thales sweatshirt, is the vampire of the group.
His hair is the color of light caramel, and he wears it short on the back and sides, a little longer on the top.
He looks like he could change into a suit, broker deals with the world’s most influential people, while being right at home.
The third is older by a good few years. His hair is dark brown, and he’s got it pulled back and tied up. His facial hair makes him stand out, as does the Thales-issued staff polo and matching shorts he wears.
Even if he was wearing the standard black staff shirt, as opposed to the green polo he is wearing, I’d think I’d know he was a supernatural being. He’s got something very wild and savage about him.
While he talks, his eyes continually assess everyone gathered.
I freeze like a deer in headlights when they move over me.
Even when he’s looking at the next person, my heart thuds like I’ve run a marathon.
I stare down at the ground, willing myself to control my heart rate and my breathing.
The last thing I need to do is fall on the radar of these predators.
“Warm up.” When he speaks, there’s authority in his tone that has me moving, along with everyone else.
I fall into the group of Noms, and together, we trail behind the others.
Unlike with Coach, who is usually in charge of gym class, the new guy doesn’t run us into the ground.
We do a single lap, and then he directs the various groups around the field, allowing plenty of room between them.
Once he leaves the others with another set of instructions that has them stretching, he comes to speak with us.
The closer he comes, the harder I have to work on my reaction. It’s not like I haven’t been around good-looking people before, but I feel like a duck out of water as my response continues to hurtle up and out of my control.
He stops at a distance and looks over us in one of his quick sweeps before his gaze settles on us as a group, as opposed to individuals.
His awareness is off, and I don’t want to say there’s prejudice marring his handsome features, but it’s also pretty obvious he’d prefer to be speaking with the others.
“Obviously we’ll mix up today’s training because Nom numbers are down. If you’re with a unit you’ll be rotated out so everyone gets the chance to practice. I don’t want to hear any complaints.” He doesn’t give us time to voice anything. As soon as he finishes speaking, he turns and walks away.