Even with Mr. Yates’ threats, a low murmur passed through the crowd, and my heart sunk. Even after everything this morning, I thought he was going to talk about the threat posed by Sebastian Holter and the fact that they’d picked him up. It was a victory for the HG. I thought for sure that they’d revel in it.
“I’ve heard reports of antipathy toward certain highly skilled students of this school. This is unacceptable. Students with skill and talent are destined to hold your lives in their hands. You will respect them and treat them with deference. We have never established an officer class at Blackburn Academy, but now it will be official.”
“One guess who will get that authority,” someone said from my left, but when I glanced over, I couldn’t be sure who it was. I was guessing Patrick Alby, though, because he held an angry glint in his eye as he glared at the front.
Even though his grumbling complaint scared the shit out of me, he was voicing my fears. The Hawthorn Group was going to give the Elites authority over the rest of the students, furthering the divide at our school.
“This brings me to my point,” Mr. Yates continued. “Your Senior Huntress proposed starting a club that would target students and violate the Hawthorn Group’s reasonable restrictions on classified information. Blackburn Academy plans to make Mia Acosta among the highest-ranking officers at this school on the condition that this club does not move forward with its plans. If anyone participates in such flagrantly polarizing and rebellious behavior, they will immediately be stripped of their rank. The positions will start at first striped officers and go up to fifth, who will hold authority at this school just under the staff. If you see students among you doing activities that are disloyal to our society, you will report it or risk demotion yourself. The Hawthorn Group is working on an app where you can track your progress. We should have it ready within the next week or so. By Monday, all students will wear officer’s medals on their uniform, which will signify their rank. The more stripes you have, the more official authority you will hold over your peers.”
“Three guesses on the number of stripes Mark Yates will have,” Patrick said, and this time I caught him saying it. The militant looking asshole didn’t look quite so angry, and I wondered if maybe he was looking forward to a high rank himself. If the school was looking for students to snitch on their peers, I suspected that Patrick was a prime candidate. He already openly offered to when Justin was framed by Sebastian Holter.
As for Mark Yates, one glance back told me that Mark had scooted so low in his chair, I could no longer see him in the crowd. If he was reveling in his father’s speech, he was doing it hiding on the floor.
Mr. Yates gave one more glare around the crowd, which was again chatting, but the stern, disapproving man didn’t admonish the group again. The mood in the chapel had shifted from tense and angry to excited and nervous. All around us, Blackburn Academy students were whispering about the rank they expected to receive.
“He’s a fucking genius,” Mitch growled low as he glared up at the stage. “Instead of owning up to the fact that the head of the HG was abducting and experimenting on Hybrids, and fucking killing them to make Elites… the HG is making all of the students want to fall in line. Now the defectors are going to be outed.” His blue gaze slid over to mine. “Almost makes you think that maybe the HG still has a lot to hide.”
I leaned in closer to him. “Like they were secretly condoning the Holters’ experiments?”
It was something I’d suspected. The Hawthorn Group were the ones who created the cover story to explain why after generations of Elite power waning, suddenly, the Elites were more powerful than they’d ever been in history. If the HG had truly been condoning the experiments to create Elites, killing their own soldiers to create super-soldiers… that was pure evil. Which would mean that I couldn’t trust anything they ever told me.
“We don’t know that,” Mitch muttered after a long pause. “But I’d fucking believe it. That doesn’t say much, though, as I’d believe that every fucking member of the Elite Council was a demon at this point.”
As would I. But, looking at Mr. Yates’ dour expression as he walked off the stage, I knew that our investigations into the corruption within the Hawthorn Group just got infinitely more impossible. Whether they knew about Sebastian’s murders or not, they were closing ranks and protecting their organization, and Mia Acosta and I had clearly been marked as enemies of this new administration.
CHAPTER FIVE
An hour after Mr. Yates’ unfortunate speech, I sat at a table in the Hope Springs Recovery Center, licking a soft-serve vanilla-chocolate swirl cone, while I did my best to tune out a conversation between Mitch and my mother on everything that was wrong with our city, Brightside. The mayor was corrupt and union owned. The streets were riddled with potholes and crime. Institutions were naturally corrupt, yadda, yadda, yadda. As I savored the sweet vanilla and ignored my companions, I examined the bustling cafeteria, wondering who here truly worked for the HG. Was it the man behind the burger counter in an apron? Was it the patient who had her head on her tray with her hair in her salad? Or could they be among the troop of nurses chatting as they made their way through the tables? Or was it all a lie?
I had been assured that there was still a presence here on the ground, but how much of that was even true.
My phone buzzed on the table, flashing a local number with words that said, “Answer me, alone.”
The fuck?
Answer Me Alone.
Who had my number... when the answer came to me, I jumped in place, hit my dirty plate with my elbow, and scrabbled to save the contents of my dirty plate and napkin as they spilled over the side.
My mother and Mitch both turned to me with expressions of concern on their face.
“What’s the matter with you?” Mitch asked as his brow wrinkled. He leaned over the table, trying to get a look at my phone when I snatched it up.
“Phone call—I…” My heart raced as I lifted it from the table. The only phone call I was expecting from someone whose number wasn’t programmed into my phone was Gabriel, the alpha leader at Alderwood Reformatory. “It’s Justin,” I said as I stood. “Can I take it in your room, Mom?”
My mother still looked a little shocked, but she said, “Sure, honey. But, leave your food here, and make sure to wash your hands before you get near any of the art.”
“Yeah, of course.” I nodded and rushed off from the table, only to have Mitch follow me close behind with his hands in his pockets. I ignored him, heading across the hall and down three doors to my mother’s room. The interior of my mother’s space was halfway between a cramped hospital room and an art gallery. It reeked of the cloying scent of a pine forest from the turpentine she used for paintbrush cleaner. When I tried to close the door in Mitch’s face, he put his foot in the way.
“You’re jumpy as fuck, and your face paled like someone was threatening to kill you,” Mitch said with a flare of his nostrils. “Just tell me that you’re okay, so I can go back to my ice cream, but you better believe that I’ll know if you’re lying to me about being safe.”
My phone rang again, and I knew any moment it would go to voicemail and who knew if Gabriel would call back, so I gritted my teeth at the pushy jerk and let him into the room.
“Hello?” I asked into the receiver.
“You alone?” an unknown, deep male voice said into the phone.
I glanced up at Mitch, who was not so subtly leaning in near my phone.
“No. That never happens,” I added. “Mitch Holter is here, and he’s trying to overhear our conversation.”
“Mitch Holter is one of your boyfriends?” the guy asked over the receiver.
“I’m January’s neighbor and unwilling bodyguard,” Mitch said, clearly overhearing. “You might as well speak up. January tells me everything, anyway.”
I gave Mitch a look that I hoped clearly communicated how much that wasn’t true.
“I’ve heard about your work outing your family
, Mitch. Not many inside Alderwood think you truly did it, but I, for one, know that family loyalty has its limits when you’re related to mass murderers without conscience.”
Mitch looked over at me, his brow furrowing. “Who the fuck is this?”
“If January tells you everything, as you say, wouldn’t you already know who this is?” Gabriel asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time to get to know one another. The spell I’m using will only last a few more seconds, and we all will get caught if it wears off before I hang up. January, you still there?”
“Yeah,” I said, leaning in.
“Before you leave the Hope Springs Recovery Center, use the restroom near the cafeteria, third stall in on the right side. There will be a note for you there, read it and then flush it. It’s an offering. The first one is free. If you want more, you need to reciprocate. There will be instructions. Say yes if you understand… please.”
“Yes. Sure. But I have questions,” I said.
“Yeah, there’s no time for that now, but chances are that we’ll meet in person sooner or later. Listen, the Hawthorn Group aren’t the only ones to have a presence in your mom’s rehab.”
I sucked in a breath. “Are you threatening—”
“No. Sorry. That wasn’t a threat,” Gabriel said before I could finish, his tone was rushed like he was running out of time. “We had a presence there before your mother arrived—and we’ve been tracking the vampire activity in the area. We’re as motivated to keep them out of the recovery center as you are. What I’m telling you is that the Hawthorn Group isn’t the only ones who can protect your mother.”
And with that the line went dead.
I turned back to Mitch, who was glowering down at the floor. “Don’t tell me what that was about, Dirtbag. Not now, not here. We need to do this fast, and we’re going to do it my way this time.”
“Mitch,” I started, but he pointed in my face.
“I’m serious, here,” he leaned closer, so close I could smell the soft-serve chocolate ice cream on his breath. “January, this is most likely a trap. This is what I’m going to do. I will go sit with your mom and count to sixty in my head. If you’re not out at that time, I’m going in after you. I’m not telling you what to do, but that is what I’m going to do.”
I nodded, actually relieved by his plan because for a second, I thought he was going to try to stop me, and if this was a trap, I definitely wanted backup to come charging in. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing, exactly, but I was pretty sure that it was treasonous. “Do you know what kind of trouble you’ll get in if you help me—”
His brows lifted. “Yeah. I live for trouble and all that shit. Now go get your butt over to the women’s restroom before the HG plants here get wind that we’re acting strange.”
I nodded and clenched my jaw so I wouldn’t start breathing weird or something out of my nervousness. The lights felt too bright as I exited into the hallway. People passed on all sides of us, chatting. Beside me, Mitch stepped closer so his arm pushed into mine before he stepped away. The echoing squeak of shoes on tile came closer at speed, and a pair of nurses turned the corner and slowed.
Mitch started talking as if we were in the middle of a conversation. “It’s going to be fine. Mr. Yates is just an asshole. He can’t get you sent to Alderwood for nothing.”
“He’s made it clear that he’s going to try,” I said as genuinely as I could. I sounded tense, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I was committing treason or because Mr. Yates really was plotting to expel me from Blackburn and lock me up. Both were true. I stole a glance at the pair of women as we passed. Both were of medium height and were Caucasian. Both were blonde and looked overworked. They were perhaps in their thirties, with laugh lines around their eyes. For all their similarities, their features were very different from one another. One had a long, straight nose while the other had a turned-up one. They had scrubs on with different cheerful patterns… and that was all I could see before we passed, and then we were out in the loud, chaotic cafeteria.
“Heading to the bathroom, I’ll meet you out there,” I called over to Mitch, and my voice sounded too loud, but maybe I was just too nervous to tell.
“Yeah,” he said before he walked away.
I turned to the bathroom marked Women’s and pushed open the door. The bathroom consisted of two long lines of stalls and a double sink. A woman stood before a rushing tap, her hands in the steaming water, as she stared at her reflection. The space reeked of piss and ammonia-based cleaner. Toilet paper had been tracked into the open area.
An abandoned trashcan with cleaning supplies around it stood out in the center like the janitor got an urgent call in the middle of taking out their supplies. Three of the stalls had closed doors, and I walked straight to the third stall on the right.
Behind me, the water shut off, and I tensed, but a moment later, the woman’s footsteps faded away. Just inside the stall, I slid the latch closed, and a shiver of nervousness crept up my back.
There would be no coming back from committing treason.
Then again, I was starting to think that Bridget was right. There would be a third attempt on my life, and the Hawthorn Group’s official stance was that they were ready to cut me loose for surviving this long.
Swallowing hard, I crossed over to the toilet and looked around. As soon as I came within ten feet, the trashcan mounted on the side of the stall opened of its own accord. I blinked into the compartment, which lay open with a fresh trash bag and a single, stiff envelope inside.
I pulled the contents out and pulled a letter from the envelope. In it was an official document. There was a packet of papers with a list of names, and I recognized several of them as students from our school. Mitch Holter’s little brother Tyler was on there. Braiden Conway was a few rows above Corey Mitchel, the guy I’d nicknamed Spineless Corey. One name had my breath catching. Charlotte Russell, my childhood best friend who’d only transferred to Blackburn Academy a little over a year ago. Beside their names were the words, “Handler” and “Clare Sharp.”
The next paper had another list, and at the very top was my name, right below it was Mitch and Justin. Below that was the name Parker Cleary, which sounded familiar, and when I looked back, I realized this Parker Cleary was on both lists. The second list was much longer, and there was a long register of names I didn’t know. I only recognized a few out of the crowd. Amber Davenport was on this list, along with Cynthia, the freshman Elite who wore black lipstick, and Charles, the kid who knew all the answers in Professor Sharp’s class. There were another few names on the list I only vaguely recognized, then at the bottom came a group of names I knew. It contained every member of the BBC, aside from Braiden. Susie and Mia were there along with both Baldwin brothers, Patrick, and Michael.
My heart sunk, and I was pretty sure that I knew exactly what this was, but I didn’t want it to be true.
“The hell?” I whispered under my breath before I could help myself.
I tried to memorize as many names as I could on both lists, but time was slipping away.
Quickly, I crumpled the papers in my hand and threw it into the toilet. As soon as the ball hit the water, it dissolved into toilet-paper pulp. I flushed it down, and there was a rattling in the trash bin beside me. When I looked in there, a new envelope sat inside.
I pulled it out quickly, ripping the envelope in my hurry, and found a letter.
The first form was an updated list that Mr. Yates compiled of informants in Blackburn Academy as of yesterday, but there is a belief that their informant network will grow exponentially with the new program they’re rolling out at Blackburn. The second list was a watchlist for students who the informants are reporting on. I don’t have to tell you that you’re their number one target for surveillance. If anyone on the informant list is trying to get close to you, I recommend that you let them and be sure they only find what you want them to find.
This was the only f
reebie that I’m allowed to give you, and it was obtained at great risk to my friends and family. If you want more information, I need to know everything you know about the Alphastrain project, including why they turned your father into a vampire.
There was a clattering sound, and then a pen appeared in the trashcan. I scooped it up and put the paper to the metal stall wall and started writing. Within a few seconds, I heard the bathroom door push open.
“January, you okay?” Mitch growled from the other end of the bathroom.
“Fine! Go away,” I called.
“One more minute, okay?” Mitch called. “Then you really should get out of there. Your mom’s visiting hours are almost up, and I don’t want them to kick me out while you’re taking a shit.”
There was a tension in his voice I didn’t like. I wrote as fast as I could, writing every detail I could remember about the Alphastrain project. I explained about the vampires that they had strapped to a table while they drained their blood. I explained exactly what Sebastian had been doing to me in order to steal my dhampir powers.
Feet came toward my stall, and I finished my letter quickly, folded it up, and shoved it in the bin along with the pen. I closed the lid, just as a soft knock came on my stall door.
“Is someone in there?” a high-pitched voice asked from just outside.
“Yeah, just a second,” I said. I flushed the toilet and rubbed my hands against my jeans to make a sound like I was dressing.
Broken Elites (The Vampire Legacy Book 3) Page 5