Emotionless: (Prototype: Zero book 1)

by Shaina Anastasi

  “What’re you smiling about?” he asked softly. Charcoal breath brushed against my skin. It is hard to concentrate, so I stared weirdly at him. I recalled thoughts when he touched the side of my face and let his thumb brush against cheekbone. “Your eyes curve the slightest and eyes gleam. That’s how I can tell you’re smiling.”

  “Hopper,” I answered.

  “The fucking hare,” he muttered almost to himself as he looked away. “Always smiling for the stupid hare.”

  “Six hundred and thirty-eight,” I murmured and felt my face grow heated. Lawliet raised his eyebrows and wanted me to elaborate on the meaning. Puffing cheeks, I wiggled awkwardly on the bed and hugged the pillow that was between us tighter. “That is how many times I have wished to smile since meeting you openly.”

  Lawliet’s eyes softened, and a tweak of a smile made my heart lurch in my chest. It began to ache, and I wanted to look away but was too captivated and drawn to his lips.

  “Seven,” I whispered, my breath was coming out struggled. This is the most that I have wanted actually to open up. He met my parents, endured their meaning of a conversation and still decided to stay by my side. If it were any other, they would have left long before the conversation. They would have left me alone with them down with the forbidden documents. “Seven is the number of times that I have wanted to kiss you since waking up.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” he asked, confused.

  “Because . . .” I trailed off. My face was burning, and I believed he had noticed because he removed his hand that was on my cheek and left me disappointed again. Why? Why do I want him more than ever now? Am I still drowsy from sleep, so whatever thought I have is immediately going to blurt through lips? “I want you . . . To be my . . . My boyfriend,” I said through a broken sentence. It was making me a hypocrite considering I dislike any mage who trails off mid-sentence. I don’t understand it. No, I didn’t understand it. Now that I know that the reason they mainly do it is that they’re afraid of what they say is going to be rejected or hurt them from saying it.

  I feel my heart eradicate in my chest. My throat is closing up, and if I think hard enough, I would assume I am breaking out in a cold sweat because I am afraid of what he is going to say next.

  Looking away from the fluffy pillows and back towards him, I averted my gaze midway through my broken, pathetic excuse of a sentence so I haven’t got the slightest of clues as to what he may look like until I finally stared directly at him. My stomach dropped at his sleeping face.

  “Oh, I see,” I murmured and started to sit up.

  Maybe he rendered the conversation dull and didn’t want to hear anymore. That is what I do to most conversations I find pointless.

  Shuffling down, I reached the end when warmth wrapped around my arm and tugged me back and into a strange embrace. I looked up almost immediately, Lawliet’s forehead pressed against mine. His face was blurry. I couldn’t get a proper read on his expression.

  “I thought we figured this out earlier today when I kissed you,” he murmured. With a slight shake of my head, he heaved a sigh. “Also, you hardly talk about these things. Whenever someone says something that would interest a lot, you tend to ignore it. I am baffled on how desperate you sound right now.”

  “I was afraid. I have always been afraid of the answer to unspoken questions. I fear of being lied to. Especially if it is with my family. I would rather be oblivious than to know that all this time they have been keeping secrets.”

  “Everyone has secrets.”

  “That’s fine if it has nothing to do with me, but . . .” I trailed off and took a breath. “I don’t like being lied to. It hurts.”

  “Eileen . . . I . . .”

  “That’s why I like you, Lawliet. You’re a breath of fresh air from the sea of lies I am surrounded by.”

  He tweaked a smile, looked away and said, “Eileen, will you be my girlfriend?”

  “Ok.”

  “Ok as in, ok, or as in, ok?” he twitched a smile, and I leant up, almost touching lips when he leant away. “I think we should get up and get ready for tonight.”

  “No,” I said briskly, and his eyes widened when I decided to take the initiative and press my lips firmly onto his.

  Leaning back after the small delicate kiss, he said in a serious tone of voice. “Even knowing this will contradict the whole girlfriend matter, you shouldn’t get too close to me.”

  “Ok?”

  “I have anger problems, and I am afraid that I may hurt you.”

  “I don’t care,” pressing lips firmly against his, I leant back once more and murmured, “You won’t.”

  With a small chuckle, he pulled me in towards him, and for a time I was deliriously captivated by him that I forget where I was and what time it was. That was until the door opened and the loud, obnoxious voices of my brothers came in and ruined what little intimacy there was.

  Going through the kitchen because even armoured knights, gargoyles and other beasty shape-shifters refuse to get in while it is dark. We walked directly down the mismatched maze path of tables to get to the other side. Lawliet drummed his fingers along the wood of the tables close by, and ghosts retracted movements vaguely, annoyed by the noise and moved through the walls, beside that particular one. The stalker watched from a distance, angry about the noise, but not frightened enough to hide from it. He watched us exit the other end, and that was when he disappeared into streams of grey smoke.

  Up the stairs and into the common hallway, Lawliet pushed the door open, and we went through. Standing near the seats we sit at, Lawliet grabbed the curtains, forced them to shut and cancelled out the slithering light that cast down from the moon and into the room through windows. One by one, the curtains snapped shut, and the darkness closed over like a black blanket. It was suffocating the skin, as chills ran up my spine. When finished, it took every inch of effort to calm the thoughts, as I grabbed my grandfather’s letter and looked around the black. I was hoping to find something that will lead us to more answers.

  That is when I noticed it. I narrowed eyes at the dim glow from under the table close to where Lawliet was and near the bookshelf. Walking towards it, I hit into obstacles in the way. Hobbling towards the small light, I bumped into a mage and puffed cheeks as he grabbed my arm and pushed me slightly away from him. Crouching, excited by this newfound discovery, there was a rune that reminded me of my grandfather’s book runes he used to draw when he was around. Crawling underneath, I tucked my legs up to my chest, wrapped arms around them and looked up with admiration.

  It has been so long since I have seen the raw feel of his runes as well as look. As the many symbols, texture, curls and joins of the design meshed and wiggled around the rune. I reached up and wanted to touch it. That was when I noticed I wasn’t alone and that Lawliet was beside me. He was also staring intently at the rune. Blinking slowly, I took his hand, and lifted it up. I wanted him to touch it at the same time as I. When fingertips brushed gently, the rune expanded into a vortex and sucked us in one cell at a time. We broke apart into a thousand pieces and into my grandfather’s book to relive the precious memories he has left for us.

  Cells that resemble flakes of skin were breaking away from me torturously, individually and floating inwards, towards the giant gaping vortex of a rune that is under the table. Being thinned down to an adequate size, paper thin, stretched out and violated in a possible mage way, and then out the other end.

  On hands and knees, they buckled when I stood shakily and looked around. It was dark, but the curtains were flapping in the gentle warm breeze. There wasn’t any tables or chairs, but stacks of boxes clustered in the corner where Lawliet and I always sat. Dust from the panels in the ceiling shifted in the air, and small particles of it lingered in its wake. A large deep chocolate brown rug was under my feet, so I stepped back to bump into Lawliet who was staring at himself and was making sure he was all there.

  I went across to the boxes and was nearly close to touching one
when a large bang came from the door that slammed against the wall. Standing up straight, I tilted head and puffed cheeks at two teenage mages who came ushering in. Hairs were a mess and button up tops were undone in strange places. Their mouths connected with one another, hands that were struggling to tear away from each other and moans. They are violating my classroom with their sexual expertise, and it was making me nauseated.

  “How can you watch?” Lawliet hissed, disgusted.

  “This may give us information,” I replied.

  “What the fuck?” he breathed. “We don’t need to learn this!?”

  I puffed cheeks and shook my head. I knew he wouldn’t understand. He is too modest of a mage to see past the fact of them making out and knowing that the teenage boy is my grandfather. It may seem creepy that I am watching him kiss a girl, but I know he isn’t that disturbed to bring me back in time to see him have sex with a girl. Something is about to happen, and I have to be on high alert while Lawliet stares out the window. He’s probably struggling to tune out the noise of them kissing.

  That was when it happened. As a light tapping came from the wooden door to the entrance. They abruptly stopped, and the girl flew downwards near the darkness to fix herself up while my grandfather merely flattened his hair and huffed a laugh.

  “This is secret club meeting, not have sex clubhouse,” the boy who came in joked while Gospel straightened up and slowly buttoned up his top. The mage who was in the shadows fixed up her hair and blouse jumped up extravagantly and tied her hair back. “Hey, Chantelle.”

  Whirling around, I narrowed eyes, focused in on her and scanned every single detail of her. This is the Chantelle girl that is with my grandfather and has had the privilege of a heart crystal and her name beside his. This girl who has never been spoken about but clearly is very intimate with him. Her hair is silky and was shining a darkened brown in the moonlit room. With the dimly lit light that was cast in the room, her features were a caramel colour, smooth and velvety. Her face held a lot of innocence and purity as if she shouldn’t have been kissing Gospel moments ago. She turned red that they have been caught. Chantelle stepped to the side bashfully and smoothed down her buttoned-up short-sleeved top.

  “Kyle, you are here early,” Gospel said. They both clasped hands into a firm handshake.

  “Eh, was I?” he said mysteriously. “Thought I was late.”

  “Liar,” Chantelle muttered, “You love tormenting mages.”

  “What’s a Highborn got to do, stuck around more than half as many fucking dimwits Lowborn then last year? They spread like a god damn disease.”

  “Who cares, some are cool.”

  “You didn’t get god damn punched in a nose by one,” looking at the door, a large group of possibly seven came through. One had a red blotchy mark on the side of his nose. Sniffing, he detested as he said, “All because I can decipher curses faster than him.”

  “Hey Frosty,” two girls came in. The one that was brimming with a mysterious smile spoke first.

  “Hello,” my grandfather and Chantelle said together. Gospel flushed the slightest while Chantelle was un-phased.

  “Jealous, I hear them talking,” the other girl with darker blond hair came in and embraced Chantelle fondly before she turned to the others that formed a large circle. “They speak in whispers. There is a lot of them now, overruling us.”

  “I was thinking of writing to the new-found Organisation,” Gospel admitted. He made heads turn to him with surprise. “I am sure that they will listen.”

  “What do you have in mind?” the girl beside Chantelle asked curiously. “Having a government called organisation is strange. Writing a letter is even stranger. They haven’t done anything or communicated with us beyond revealing themselves.”

  “I thought that to get rid of this racial and discriminative slur of Highborn and Lowborn was perhaps to group us together would be better.”

  “Oh, like a class. Lumping us all together with magic, practical and theory wise, right?”

  “I was more on the lines thinking of types. Type 1 will have mages that are the best. Having Lowborn’s and Highborn who is worthy of that type. You know. Working progress. Something I only thought about for a few weeks now. No judgement!”

  “So, we can be equals,” Kyle grinned, “Nice.”

  “Why don’t we lump Mongrels in there as well, you know,” one of the males spat. “Then we all can be a fucking nation united.”

  “That’s a joke,” another boy said with a breathy laugh that made Gospel and Chantelle grimace as they suppressed the awkwardness of the conversation. “Mongrel’s will never be on a mages level of power. They will never become equals to us. They’re only animals that can shift into human form. There is nothing special about them. They will always be a servant to what is superior. Mages.”

  “There were rumours that centuries before, shape-shifters would go to the Academy and learn with us. They were also called creatures because they were not bound by mage law.” Gospel had spoken with a cheerful smile.

  “Myth,” the boy who talked about a nation united said through clenched teeth. “There will be no fucking way Mongrels would be able to catch up to how great we’re at magic. I swear, if there were any Mongrels now in our school who weren’t a servant to a mage, I would probably kill them to show the others where they’re placed. Always below us. They’re weak!”

  Gospel flickered a look to the side and then back towards the one who spoke in a livid tone of voice.

  Moving my eyes into the direction he was looking, I noticed the girl who embraced Chantelle when she walked through the door. She clutched her hand tightly. Her eyes were cast down towards the ground, and her face went a pale white colour. A single bead of sweat ran down her forehead as she shook.

  “Shut up, Orjan” Kyle hissed. He caught my attention away from the girl. “We have one standing outside, fucktard.”

  “It is ok,” Gospel smiled strangely. “Elijah is very loyal and doesn’t subject himself to anger unless told to do so. Back on track, I have already written the letter and sent it. I just wanted your opinions before stating what I have done. All we have to do is wait for a response.”

  “Until then, the only safe place is here, and the bell tower,” the boy who was angered about the shapeshifters said. His sudden anger was under control.

  “Yeah, however, that place is a pain in the ass,” Kyle muttered his complaints.

  “It is easy. All you have to do is bare no sound, walk along the rotting wood and duck underneath the chipped side of the large bell.”

  “Fucking weirdo. How many times have you snuck in there to make out with Chantelle?”

  “Four for fun, nine for peaceful quiet,” my Grandfather replied honestly. “I like drawing runes in there because there is no sound to distract me.”

  “Yeah, until morning and afternoon bell that calls the class in order.”

  “Night. The runes are better at night. The magic is at its purest in contrast to the moon. They shine an everlasting energy.”

  “There he goes again, off in his little world. Seriously, how do you put up with him?”

  Shrugging, she smiled at my grandfather. Her light brown eyes shimmered, but before she could speak, it was as if ink blotches washed in water and was spreading. It was smudging everything out of focus. Stepping forward, I wanted to touch him and to ask him questions this younger version of my grandfather wouldn’t understand. However, when I tried to grab his arm, it too turned blotchy, as the whole scene that was played out started to erase. Fragments of cells broke, and I sagged shoulders, disappointed that it has ended quickly as it stripped me of knowing more of this side of Gospel. Falling inside the warped dimension, I collapsed next to Lawliet. The construction and tightening in my throat, pain behind the eyes, desperate to cry but all I could do was stare at the now fading rune and clutch my knees with aggravation.

  “Only safe place,” Lawliet breathed a laugh. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

 
“What?” I asked.

  “Mika tells me in passing how much he loves the bell. ‘It is a place where one can go and think without being bothered because they all think a bell tower is nothing but loud noise, but it isn’t.’ I couldn’t care less as to why he loved that bell tower. Now I think he hints things for a reason, not only to annoy me but to teach me.”

  Nodding, I looked away and out towards the window. Leaning against the hard brick, I smelt the crisp cold air of winter and shivered, long and hard, as I stared out into the corner of my eye, where the bell tower stands. Tall and proud, the largest of towers had the bell that was dominant and covered in ice crystals that swayed rhythmically with the tickling breeze.

  I saw my grandfather tonight. The first time since I was a little girl. Different, younger, however, still grandfather. I now recall how often when he draws for me that he looks off into the distance. I was fascinated, as his silver eyes would glaze over as if he was on a different planet. A memory long forgotten coming back, or maybe thinking of nothing in particular before turning to me and smiling fondly. I would always get excited, standing at the door minutes after the letter arrived and would wait impatiently for my grandfather to open the door and greet us with random presents from places we have never heard of before. I tend to always hide in my room after I snatched rare books, ornaments or anything because what my brothers get is something that needs testing and they prefer to test on mage like subjects. Isilies or me for instance. They could never get Hopper. It was merely impossible to find him when they want to do something diabolical.

  Even knowing he is still alive out there, giving us clues from the past, I could only assume what he was showing us would be a warning of what may happen shortly to come. Him and his friends, only safe in this small tower as well as the bell tower. He used to come here as well, look out these windows, and hide from the outside world. The slight feeling of contentment swirled inside, as I stared up at the bell tower. I was wondering and hoping that the next set of clues is somewhere written in the bell. A beaker of illuminated blue light.