When I arrived home that day, no one asked me why I was sweating when it was so cold. I didn’t even know why, so I just ignored the inquisitive looks sent by our maids and my butler. I flopped down on my bed, the wires slightly creaking. I made a mental note to ask the maintenance to check on that. I felt my arms connect with a paper-like substance, and remembered my folder.
I took it and opened it.
The first page said:
Investigative Assignment, Code Red.
That was odd. I was rarely given an investigative project, much less in a code red. I was always sent on missions to kill the worst enemies. I remembered that mission when I finally killed Jayce’s dad. He was my first assignment…and the first one that I had actually finished by leading my own team.
The cold, metal handle of the gun felt foreign in my hands. My colleagues were spread out in a circle, preventing any kind of escape. The man whom I despised the most was kneeling before me, coughing out the blood that I forced out of him with a kick. I landed a good kick to his head this time, forcing his entire body to follow his head. It lolled back, and he fell down on his back as well. Every gun was trained on him.
He sat back up; refusing to give up to those creatures he sought to kill for so long. He laughed.
His boisterous laugh had no place in his current situation. He was the only one crazy enough to laugh at a time like this. This was absurd. I didn’t know why I was stalling. Was it because that a few centuries ago, when I had first seen Jayce die, I was almost in the same position as he was? Practically, yes but literally, no. He had no loved one that died while trying to protect him from his own family.
This thought angered me. Why was he laughing? Was he not aware of his position?
“You are going to kill me with that?” he asked, chuckling. I inclined my head to the side, wondering what he meant. Of course I was going to kill him with my gun. The only way to kill an immortal Hunter completely is by aiming a good shot at the centre of the forehead. “You don’t understand, do you? My legacy lives on. No vermin like any of you could stop the onslaught of the upcoming war that will be inevitable. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
He laughed again. I lost my nerve. His son lives? His eldest son--- Joshua, who had stood by and watches his own brother be shot to death by his own father---was still alive…and had a family of his own? This was annoying. It angered me so much. My finger lingered on the trigger, trembling. Was it a life for a life? If I took his life, then that would make me like him in a variety of ways…right?
“Nevertheless,” he continued. His tone angered me even more, but I couldn’t let my anger blind me. I just couldn’t let myself lose control of my temper just because of the scum that sat in front of me. “You cannot kill me. You don’t have the nerve to---,”
That was it. My hand pulled on the trigger, and I shot his forehead dead-on. His eyes became glazed and blank, somehow looking as if it mirrored his desertion. He fell back down on the wet, dewy ground, lifeless, never to get up and insult me or threaten me again. Why, though, did I feel the need to kill more?
That memory refreshed itself and, for a split second, I was once again the dangerous killer that killed hundreds of thousands of humans, innocent or not. Then, I remembered who I was now, and it was enough to snap me back into reality. I could never, ever erase the feeling of satisfaction I got when I killed people, though. It was just so…fun. It was satisfying to know that there was one less vermin in the world…one less nuisance and one less threat to our kind’s lifestyle.
I sat straight up and walked over to my computer table. This was easier to study while sitting up.
I opened the contents, and read the second page. It said:
Mission Objectives:
a. To investigate the cause of a probable threat.
b. To research on the person (s) that pose said threat.
c. To eradicate the possibility of the threat if you find it necessary.
Mission De-briefing:
After a series of intense investigation, a special group of Reconnaissance agents from the Bureau of Defence has reported back the details concerning the possible threat to the lifestyle of the People. This assignment is highly classified to the agent it has been given to, and the agent has no right whatsoever to relate the details to any person (s) who have no relation to the mission or the targets themselves.
The following has been proved:
a. The threats are very capable of bringing on the Final Death to Drinkers. This endangers our species.
b. The threats are most likely Hunters, but they show no sign of it.
c. The threats are mostly mistaken as Drinkers, but they have proficient fighting skills that have been proved through extensive research. They, however, do not have the Mark, therefore showing that they are not part of the People that we protect.
d. The threats pose the potential to wipe out the People due to numerous killings of said species.
I sighed as I flipped the page. Just another boring Recon assignment, I guess. It’s the type of missions we, the People---the term used for Drinkers---call I-and-E: Investigate and Eradicate. The mission itself sounded easy enough, so I turned to the next page.
What I saw almost made me fall out of my seat in shock.
There, on the first page, was Jez. She looked almost exactly like the way she had just earlier: she was crouched on the treetop, leaning close to the camera, her eyes glowing luminous liquid silver. She was flashing a smile.
Almost all her details were unknown. The only ones filled in were the name and the bodily measurements like the height and the weight: things you can easily get from the internet. I put her file aside, Blu-Tacking it to the side of my computer table. It was made of wood, so it would be easy to take off, and there was a little bookshelf at the top, too. I had a big computer table, custom-made, so it was no biggie to Blu-Tack stuff at the inside parts. I had two monitors, too, and my PC was always on.
The next page was about Ryan. Same details. His photo was somewhat disturbing, as it showed a dead deer in his hands, his mouth dripping with the blood that oozed out lazily from the deer’s neck. He was staring straight into the camera with his own liquid silver eyes as well. He was shirtless and only had denims on. He was also barefoot. Dylan’s had the same details, too. His photo was a bit like Ryan’s, only this time, he actually had a shirt and a pair of decent shoes.
I stared at their almost-blank profiles for a long time. It would take a little longer than I had expected. Usually, the Bureau would give easy I-and-E missions. This, however, was not the usual. I stared ever longer. I knew that something would have to come up at this point.
And then, it clicked.
Their full names sounded odd. Almost too familiar, like I’ve heard them before. Their ages and birthdates were blank: did this mean something, like an age secret? The middle names were unusual as well: no one I knew had Greek gods or goddesses names for their middle names. At least Eris’ name was usual: lots of people were named after the Roman goddess of discord. I didn’t even know if Apollo, Artemis and Amor were normal names for people like them. Besides, wouldn’t it make sense if they introduced their whole names, not like “Jez Night” or “Ryan Night”? Would that mean that their middle names suggested something deeper than what was in plain sight?
I Googled their names. Apollo and Artemis were Greek, while Amor was Roman. No connection at all. I clicked on the Wikipedia site. I was thankful for Wikipedia and Google: it was like they were websites created by the internet gods for desperate and lazy people like me. I wasn’t really a fan of mythology, really.
Artemis, as it turned out, was one of the most widely venerated of the Ancient Greek deities. She was older than Apollo, her twin brother. When she was three, she asked her father, Zeus---who, as I had researched before, slept with more than 40 deities and nymphs----to grant her six wishes. Those wishes seemed very odd. The first one was to remain chaste for eternity. Then, she asked for lop-eared hounds, stags for her chariot, and nymphs as her hunting companions, 60 from the river and 20 from the ocean. She also asked for a silver bow. All her wishes had been granted, apparently, and her companions stayed as virgins.
Unbelievably, though, she was the goddess of the hunt, moon, virginity and childbirth. A story also stated that her lover had been Orion. Her twin brother guarded her chastity closely and sent a scorpion to kill Orion. I laughed at this. I moved on to Apollo.
Apollo was much more than I had expected. He was the god of the sun, music, poetry and oracles, although he also killed monsters to protect his mother and sister at a young age. He is depicted as a handsome, beardless young man with a kithara or a bow, or leaning against a tree. Apparently, he had so many lovers---even males, in fact---and he was not chaste, unlike his twin.
I saved all of this and, realising that it was probably late (I took more time outside than in); I lazily got up and changed into my pyjamas. I sighed, exhausted but feeling the buzz of intense energy built up inside me. I slept peacefully and dreamlessly into a world where I can relax.
*****************************************
Neither Jez nor Ryan showed up at school the next day, or the following weeks after that. They couldn’t be contacted, and Dylan refused to say anything about it. Life went on in school as if they hadn’t been there in the first place, and it was odd, since the whole school body had been all over the two since they went inside. Dylan was now continuously hoarded by girls, and he continued on flattering them as he had flattered me.
Nathan was seething with jealousy every time he saw me get a few inches close of Dylan. He was fuming, actually. He would pull me closer to him and kiss me, and shove it into Dylan’s face that I was his. This annoyed me. What was there to be jealous about? He was my boyfriend, and I wasn’t the kind of girl who cheated on her own boyfriend. Sometimes, he wouldn’t do anything at all. It was like we were drifting apart without us even knowing about it.
So, one day, I totally got tired of him. I realised that day that I shouldn’t hurt over guys like him. There were others like him out there, and all of them were just like him: keeping everything in order, just to keep their own place in the high school social ladder. Almost every guy was like him, and I didn’t even know why I loved him in the first place.
I cornered him in our special place. I crossed my arms over my chest, and he cocked his head to the side as if he didn’t know what was coming. I knew he did: this was the same set-up the last time I broke up with him. He hugged me, and I didn’t hug back. I knew I was going to hurt him more when I hugged him.
“Nathan, do you ever get the feeling that…I don’t know, maybe we’re drifting apart?” I asked hesitantly, looking for the easiest way to break-up with him, when I knew the one and only truth when it came to break-ups: it always hurts, one way or another. It hurts to see the look they give you when you break up with them, and it hurts to feel when they break up with you. It’s a two-way kinda deal. He didn’t let go of me; I knew he didn’t want to see my eyes when I said the words that would make a mark in his heart. “I think that…we need to stop kidding ourselves and…move on, you know?”
“No, I don’t,” he answered, stubborn as always. I tasted his soul once again, lashing out at him for being so…hard to reach. “Leah, I don’t feel that we’re drifting apart. Is this because of that Dylan dude? If it is, he is so going to---,”
“No, it’s not about him,” I countered before he could say anything else…and actually do it. “This is about us, babe, and things just aren’t the way they were. I’m sorry, but we need to stop things before they get too out of hand.”
He sighed. No, he didn’t let go of me yet. I knew that he somehow wanted to stay this way forever, even if the words I said left scars in his heart. I ploughed on, wondering if I really should.
“Nathan, you’re a good guy. There are a lot of girls whom you might actually meet…and really get along with, not like me. There’s someone better than me out there. Please, just please; don’t get mad at me, alright?”
He no longer hugged me, but held my shoulders in his hands, as if he was going to shake me. Instead, he didn’t say a word. His eyes were lifeless, but there was hidden hope in there that someday, he might find the right girl for him.
“I won’t get mad at you, because I can never, ever stay mad at someone like you, Lee,” he said. I didn’t realise that my arms lay almost lifeless at my side by now. He released my shoulders, and walked away with the same pride that he had the day I met him, as if he wasn’t wounded on the inside. He looked back, winked at me, and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of students.
I wished I could believe him, but I knew that he was real hurt. Even though he hid it so well, he couldn’t hide that flash of pain that passed through his features before he turned away completely.
“You broke up with him?” a subtle voice said from behind me. I almost jumped out of my skin. Behind me stood Dylan in all his cuteness. Well, I couldn’t help but think as such. I was, after all, officially single and available. He was grinning. I had to keep in mind that I had to study him. If that was the case…
Then being single was just an asset, I realised. If I could get close enough to him and his family, then maybe I could get a sneak peek at how much of a threat they are. Although I must say that Ryan and Jez were enough threats themselves, I can’t say the same for Dylan. I didn’t really believe a guy like him could do a thing like what he did in his profile photo.
He chuckled lightly at this, although I wasn’t quite sure why. I knew that he was probably a playboy, so I walked away.
“What’s with the silent treatment, babe?” he asked, following me closely as I headed for my locker. “It’s cool if you don’t admit that you think I’m hot.”
I froze. Did he seethe with so much pride and arrogance? Yes, probably. I was so annoyed that I imagined myself strangling him to death. If he wasn’t such as important part of my research, I would’ve killed him. I kept myself occupied instead, careful not to get sidetracked and forget anything. It wasn’t such a wonderful experience when I forgot something like, say, my folder.
I closed my locker as fast as I could and quickened my pace. I didn’t even bother to look behind me, and I hoped against hell that he wasn’t following me.
Then, an unwanted thought seeped through my mind. I remembered that he was in my arts class. Shit.
“Can you please stop following me?” I asked, my tone showing my irritation at the restrain was clearly heard in my voice. I went inside: everyone else was there. Thank God the teacher wasn’t---
“Where were you two?” she snapped at us from behind. “Go on, get a move on. We can’t afford to start our class late. We’ll be starting painting today.”
Unfortunately, the last two seats were side-by-side and at the back. Sometimes I just think that life is such a bitch. I hurried there, hoping to get away from him as fast as I could even if I knew that he was going to end up next to me anyway. Our materials were there, and the teacher instructed us to paint one of the works of our favourite artists. Then, she left us to ponder and fend for ourselves. Chatter started to rise.
Beside me, Dylan was working furiously on his painting. In front, I was faced with the horrifying truth that I, in fact, could not paint. Still, though, due to the extensive research we’ve had a few years ago, I have a few mental pictures of the abstract works of Van Gogh.
All the time, though, I couldn’t help but notice how Dylan could look so adorable even if he was so serious about what he was doing. It was as if the lines on his face were so beautifully drawn, like a prefect sculpture. His hair would continuously get in front of his eyes, and he used his arm to brush it off of his eyes so he could concentrate even more. My painting, however, was disastrous by the end of the class.
My teacher passed it off as “satisfactory, but I don’t know who did that work of art.” It was either a compliment or an insult. I took the negative side into account.
As she strode over to Dylan’s work, however, looked like an exact replica of the Mona Lisa. It was a smaller version, but still. He captured it quite well, actually. The teacher actually gasped by the mere sight of it. I would have, too, but I was far too annoyed at him for doing so well and looking good while doing it. She actually let him keep the damned painting.
He took it with so much pride that I wanted to knock that pompous head from his neck. I wanted to castrate him and chop his testicles up into little pieces, then mash it up, then grind it ‘til only little powder is left of it and---
“Do you want it?” he asked, handing me the picture. He didn’t sound like a guy who wanted to give a painting to a crush. He sounded like it was no big deal…like he had lots of this at home. It was flattering, really, but accepting it meant that I had to let go of all the annoyance. No. Way.
I flipped my hair, scoffed, and went to P.E class. Damn, I forgot that we were going to have the class in the same gym. I sighed heavily as he winked at me before going inside the boys’ shower rooms. Girls of my year chatted happily with their friends while I felt so alone. Usually, Megan and Eris would be here, but they decided to take the “day off”. At least I knew a few girls here, but we weren’t as close.
“Are you and Dylan together?” Rayne asked, changing into her P.E uniform in front of me, stripping down to her underwear, revealing a well-toned body. A few heads turned, but they went back to what they were doing: obviously keeping an ear out for any news.
I sighed, hesitating a bit, before taking off my uniform as well. “No.”
“Too bad,” Rayne said, putting on her shirt. I took my uniform out of the bag and put it on as well. I proceeded to tie my runners. “He is cute, you know.”
“He’s annoying,” I answered bluntly as I stuffed my bag in the locker. She followed me out.
Soon, we were drilled into running as long as we could around the whole freakin’ gym. Of course, the one who ran the most laps would win the highest grade. Well, damn. By the time I ran my 5th lap, I wasn’t even half exhausted. The energy of Jez’s soul buzzed through me like electricity. White, hot electricity that fuelled my every breath. It was a big mistake that I didn’t even bother to look around for the two people that I dreaded to see.
I didn’t even notice one of them until she caught up to me.
“What did you do to me?” I heard her ask. I didn’t want to believe that she was here: it felt so much like an illusion. You know, like your conscience talking to you.
“God, Leah, are you deaf?” she asked. I turned my head and there she was, looking ahead, but clearly talking to me. She was keeping in pace with me, and her face showed cold, hard annoyance. I blinked once, then twice, and kept at my pace. Yep, she was real.
“No,” I answered; trying to sound offended, while panicking as hell. “What are you talking about?”
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” she accused, keeping her tone low. We were ahead of the others now, already on our 10th lap. “You… saw it, didn’t you? You saw how my mother…died,”
She didn’t even look in pain. How harsh. It was as if she wasn’t even affected by her mother’s death. Why was that? Why, when I saw the memory, did she look so hurt…and so broken? She was so cold-hearted.
Finally, she looked at me. Her eyes glowed luminous silver for a few seconds before reverting back to their normal silver-flecked green colour.
Okay, now I knew that they weren’t human. Not at all.
“If I even hear a single word about what happened to both of us, I’m going to kill you,” she said, saying the words like she meant it. In the literal sense, she can kill me.
I contemplated my situation for a second, and then asked: “Where have you been the past couple of weeks?”
“You’re not going to let go of this, are you?” she said, sighing for a while, falling back a few steps. She, however, caught up to me. “Well, I have nothing to hide anyway.”
“So tell,” I urged, my curiosity spiking up.
“I was assigned to show my fiancé around the place, and Ryan’s spending time with his wife,” she explained. Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it…? After all showing off your---
Wait.
Fiancé. Wife.
Fiancé.
Wife.
Okay, first of all, the words Jez and fiancé do not---under all circumstances---go together. Second of all, the words Ryan and wife, along with the thought of him being just a high school senior student, was so very wrong.
“Oh, and that new girl, too,” she added.
I still can’t over the fact that she said fiancé as if she said it a million times before. She looked over at my shocked expression. I mean, how many seniors in the world get to have a fiancé?
“What?” she asked innocently. “Don’t tell me you actually thought that I was single, right?”
I almost choked on my own saliva. Of course not, but if that red-eyed dude was her “fiancé” and not her boyfriend…well, that would look so weird.
“You just can’t be that naïve,” she said with a slight laugh in her tone.
“So…the dude you were drinking with…he was your fiancé?” I asked, trying to get over that simple fact. Along with the truth that Ryan was married----MARRIED, of all things----of course.
Jez merely chuckled. “Hell no. That’s my ex. Oh yeah, and before you get the wrong idea, I’m still a virgin,”
She said the last sentence as if she regretted it. I mean, who in the right mind would regret a thing like that? Being a pure woman is, like, the greatest thing in the world. You don’t have to worry about A.I.D.S or stuff like that. Or worse…getting pregnant.
“God, I can’t believe I’m talking to a loser like you,” she said after a long (and awkward) silence. I was getting exhausted already: we were at our 20th lap. Everyone else was on the floor. The only people on the track, I noticed, were the two of us, Dylan, Ryan, and two other women. One of them was a pretty blonde who was talking animatedly with him. Soon, they sat down as well.
The pretty blonde still sat beside Ryan, and he lazily slung an arm around her shoulders.
“I guess one of us should stop now,” she said, not even looking as exhausted as I was. Even with so much energy, I can only use up so much with this human body.
I soon found myself dragging my feet. My lungs felt as if they would explode. Every eye was trained on the two of us, watching for the last one standing…and the person who would give up to give her that place and that grade that would boost one of us into valedictorian-ism. My knees felt as if they were on fire. As much as I wanted to sit down and keep my lungs from exploding, I didn’t want to give Jez that kind of happiness.
My breathing was hitched by the end of the 25th. I soon tried to convince myself to give up and swallow my pride. I sat down, defeated, next to Dylan. Jez, wanting to rub it in my face, bowed down in front of the amazed crowd. They were actually clapping at the once-invisible emo who, apparently, liked annoying me to an extent that made me want to kill her.
She even walked next to me when we walked out of the gym. It was last period, and I couldn’t get more relieved to have the day end and go back to my research on them. At least the information I got from Jez would be the least she could do to lighten up my mood.
She was back to her emo and bitchy self when we got out of P.E class, though, so she had her back slightly curved and her head almost in between her shoulders. Then, she grabbed at my sweater and pulled me to an almost-deserted corner. Again, it was one of the “safe zones”, where there were no cameras.
She straightened her back and looked around before slapping me. The initial shock sank in, and it never left. My cheek almost went numb with the force of her hand slamming on my right cheek. There was this stinging pain that settled in. I was out of words: I had no idea why she did it.
“You…you little piece of…argh!” she said, her voice oozing with venom, irritated. “If this place wasn’t so public, I should be killing you! Do you even know what I’m going through?! Paul had to come all this way from London just to be with me! What the hell are you?! What did you do to me to make me remember that?!”
“I---,”
“I was having fun until you came along in all your bitchy glory and ruined my whole freakin’ life! Do you know how many years it took me just to get over that…that…argh!”
She turned away and, unexpectedly, started sobbing softly.
I couldn’t help but feel guilty and, at the same time, feel sorry for her.
“Stop crying,” I said, hoping that I didn’t sound so cruel. I knew that it was so wrong, and it was really eating on my conscience, but I couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry for whatever it was that I did, alright? Stop crying and look me straight in the eye, and tell me that you’re okay.”
After a while, she wiped the tears off of her face. She did as she was told, her eyes still red and puffy-looking, and her nose so pink. She was frowning, and mumbled something about following someone like me.
“I…I’m okay,” she said, her tone cold and hard. She wiped off the remaining tears on her face and put a note on top of my books. “Here. Let’s just stay as…acquaintances, yeah? Forget this ever happened…and let’s hang out sometime,”
“Why are you…?”
“Okay, I know it was kinda too much when I slapped you like that and I’m sorry. Look, I’ve got to meet up with my guy ‘coz we agreed that I’d ride with him to school every day. Gotta go, Leah.”
“Wait,” I said, following her. I slowly realised that our lockers were just a hallway apart. Now that was creepy. And very, very awkward, too. I put my stuff in my locker, stared at the inside of it for the merest second and, remembering that we didn’t have any homework, projects or stuff like that, I ran after Jez. “Yo.”
“It’s hard to believe that you can still follow me like that after your great, big defeat in the gym,” she said. She was back to her emo self, her face half-hidden in the shadows. “Why are you following me?”
“You’re alone,” I reasoned, even if I, myself, wasn’t quite sure why I did follow her at the school gates. She stopped, and I thought that she was going to slap me again. She didn’t, though, and faced me instead.
“Alone?” she scoffed. “My dude’s going to be here in three…two…one…”
“Hiya,” someone said from behind me. I didn’t even bother to look around since the tall dude made his way past me and towards Jez’s side. He put his arm around her waist and proceeded to kiss her forehead. She, however, lifted her head higher so that his lips landed on hers. He pulled away and actually looked at me.
Damn.
He looked so much like that dude---her ex, according to her---during my birthday in their house. Well, everything looked the same except for the eyes. It made me doubt what I saw. His eyes were a brilliant blue, a shade darker than mine, and almost black. His hair was different as well, being the colour of ebony. He had a mild look, not unlike Jez’s ex, who looked quite like the rebel.
“Oh,” he said, flashing me a dazzling smile. “Is this a friend of yours, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know her, babe,” she replied. It was so annoying! How they even bear to call each other such cheesy nicknames? Do they have an affiliation with the god of cheesy-ness or something? And did she just say that she didn’t know me? Gawd, did I just get dissed?! “Can we go now? I need to talk with you. Alone,”
“It was nice seeing you here,” the guy said, flashing me another grin. I couldn’t help but smile back sheepishly. “I hope we’ll be great friends in the future, luv.”
Jez whispered something to him and they walked off, hand-in-hand. I stared. And stared.
I have never ever felt so alone. Loneliness was like a plague: everyone had it. Everyone was lonely, one way or another. It’s sad to think about the actions that bring about this loneliness that becomes a burden, and soon too much of a burden that it is hard to ignore, and we just have to face the fact that we are alone.
I know it is not my right to say that lonely people are just so sad, because I know that I am one of them, too, and it would be hypocritical to say that lonely people are, in fact, stupid as to have done the actions that have brought about their loneliness. Only now, when I have no friends to keep me company, have I realised how completely lost I would be without them and all the other people that talked to me and socialised to an extent that we know almost everything about each other.
It was a comforting thought, though, that I do have friends. Some might be true and some might be fake, and some might just even be so dedicated to the friendship that we shared while others just plain hung out with me because of what I am to this school and the reputation that I have gained through the years. I am one of the dedicated ones, I realised. I relied solely on the friendship that has kept me together for so long. Through the ups and downs, my friends have been there for me, and I don’t care how cliché it sounds. I care for my friends so much that I have considered them as my brothers and sisters. There have been the people who, at some point, have changed my life so much to make me into the person that I am now. I was thankful for that.
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