by Kasi Blake
“I thought you said no one knows about this place,” Bay-Lee complained. “How can they miss it? It’s so huge they must be able to see it all the way from town.”
She stared up at Van’s school, awestruck by the towering building. Because it was painted black and darkness had fallen over New Zealand, she couldn’t see where it ended. It blended in with the velvety sky as the structure seemed to stretch up into the heavens, growing considerably wider after the fourth floor. Box-like compartments jutted out, twelve on every level—although she could only see three on the front of the building and assumed the other sides were the same—with three tall rectangular windows on each compartment. The place looked like it had been built by a child, black blocks stacked high, some sticking out further than others. As she watched, a few of the levels rotated. They slowly revolved in different directions, reminding her of her uncle’s vintage Rubik’s Cube.
“Bertram used a spell to conceal it from the outside world.”
“You mean it’s like Hogwarts?”
Van frowned in confusion. “What does a hog’s wart have to do with anything?”
A short, carefree laugh burst past her lips. For a moment she’d forgotten Van didn’t read contemporary novels, especially not ones aimed at children, and he didn’t watch television or rent movies. Pop culture references sailed over his head. Smiling, she said, “Not important.” Her gaze went up again to the moving parts. “I’ve never seen anything so incredible. Why did Bertram want the floors to spin? Doesn’t it give the students motion sickness?”
Van gave her an odd look as if the idea had never occurred to him. “When you’re inside, you can’t feel a thing.” There were other questions waiting on her tongue, but she didn’t get a chance to ask them. Van glanced at his watch. Walking backwards he said, “Your room is on the fourth floor, number twenty-seven.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“I apologize. There are tasks I must attend to before morning light. Don’t fear, little one. All will be explained during Orientation.”
If Bay-Lee had known Van was going to dump her on the doorstep and run, she would have insisted he set his work aside on the plane and talk to her. Instead of disturbing him, she’d kept her numerous questions to herself. Plus, there was the matter of a certain reaper to discuss. The longer she held onto that secret, the worse it was going to be when she finally came clean.
Her eyes traveled up the building again, and a sliver of panic sent her pulse racing. Since he’d told her next to nothing about the school, she wasn’t sure what to expect. This was the second time she’d been abandoned this week to find her own way. Yes, she was independent and could take care of herself in dire circumstances, but it would be nice to have someone who cared enough to offer assistance.
Van ducked his head and disappeared into the limo. He was probably going home to bed. His stone castle was set far enough away from the school to give him privacy, yet close enough to enable him to get there fast if there was trouble. From her current vantage point the castle looked small enough to fit into her pocket.
Van owned a few hundred acres, a small lake, and his own private rain forest. It was rumored the director of Lord of the Rings had wanted to shoot a scene on Van’s land, but he wouldn’t allow it. If Peter Jackson had seen the formidable black building, he would have insisted. The place was both awesome and terrifying.
Although she’d spent every summer with Van for the past seven years, she hadn’t been allowed to do more than gaze at the school from a distance. Instead, she stayed with the infamous hunter at his castle. Deep down she’d expected him to take her home with him now and roll out the red carpet. She most certainly hadn’t thought he would dump her in front of the school without at least giving her a tour.
She yawned into her hand, exhausted after the long trip. Neither of them had slept on the plane. While Van worked on miscellaneous papers, Bay-Lee had tried to imagine her new life. What was it going to be like? Would she have friends, real friends this time? Most of all she wondered how she should behave. This was new to her, starting school without a script. Connor would tell her to be herself, but she didn’t know what that meant. Who was the real Bay-Lee Bishop? Somehow she’d lost herself in other identities over the years.
Frowning, she slung her duffel over one shoulder and walked to the front door. The abrupt sound of howling stopped her from reaching for the old-fashioned brass knob. The noise sent a chill up her spine. She turned, looked at the distant rain forest, and wondered if there were werewolves hiding out there in the untamed wilderness.
The nagging feeling she was no longer alone nibbled at the back of her mind as she stepped inside. To her surprise, the bottom level boasted a fully-stocked library. It was enormous. Her footsteps echoed on polished hardwood as she carefully picked her way to the center. There were at least fifty shelves on each side, lined up like soldiers. In the middle of the football field sized room, a glass elevator waited.
At least Van had told her about the elevator. It was a circular tube, glass without buttons, looking like something from Gavin’s favorite science fiction shows. Thinking about him made her sad, and she realized she missed him, missed having a friend she could confide in.
There was a large opening instead of a door. Reluctantly she stepped inside. A computerized voice asked, “Floor?”
She cleared her throat before speaking in a loud, well-defined voice. “Fourth.”
The glass elevator slowly ascended. Bay-Lee watched the ceiling lower until she passed it. She gasped at the unexpected sight. There was at least three feet of space between floors. She vaguely remembered Van telling her the rooms didn’t have conventional lighting. Instead, each room had glass ceilings with bulbs above it, automatically turning off at midnight. If you were a student still working on homework, you had to use a lamp.
The elevator rose to the second floor, not much to see except long and narrow hallways. Then there was another space with lights and electrical cables. The third level looked exactly the same as the second. Finally, the elevator stopped on the fourth floor and inquired, “Destination?”
What had Van Helsing told her? “Uh... twenty-seven, I think.”
The glass tube’s curved opening turned from the hallway it was facing. It was then she noticed a multitude of options. There were several narrow hallways jutting out from the elevator. The piece of circular carpet she was standing on rotated. It stopped turning and the voice said, “Have a nice day.”
Bay-Lee got off the elevator to find room twenty-seven just a few short steps away. Van hadn’t mentioned a roommate so she didn’t know if she was going to disturb another person by bursting inside. Maybe she should knock. She hesitated at the door a moment too long.
A cloth sack came down over her head, and strong hands grabbed her from every conceivable direction, at least six of them. They yanked her duffel bag down her arm and tossed it aside. There went the only weapon she had with her. Her dagger was in that bag. She fought the unknown attackers in vain. They picked her up and carried her as if they were moving men and she was a rolled up carpet needing to be delivered fast. Kicking and writhing, she tried to make them drop her. It didn’t work. The arms around her legs tightened and hands pinched the flesh of her arms and waist, bruising her.
“She’s a fighter,” someone grunted.
“Good,” said another. “Fighters are what we need.”
They didn’t sound like werewolves. Bay-Lee shouted at them, demanding they release her. A few low-key chuckles could be heard in the background as they carried her to the elevator. It descended and her stomach right along with it. Then she was outside again.
“If you do not put me down this second, I will rip you to shreds!”
Minutes passed before she got her wish. They dropped her on the damp grass without giving her warning. Ready for a fight, she ripped the cloth bag from her head and leap
ed to her feet. Dozens of flashlights aimed at her face, blinding her. She held up a hand to keep the light out of her eyes as she squinted, trying to see the faces of her kidnappers. “What do you want?”
A few giggles, chuckles, and snorts followed her question.
She heard someone mutter a low curse word beside her, and she realized she wasn’t alone in this. Four kids were lined up next to her, hair disheveled and eyes haunted. The two boys were in their underwear—boxers—while the two girls wore pajamas. The closest girl to Bay-Lee was a startling beauty with a flawless caramel complexion and lovely golden eyes, the slanted eyes of a cat. She captured Bay-Lee’s attention, but it was more than her pretty face. It was the fact she was shaking and crying uncontrollably.
The other girl, a Barbie clone, stood tall with a look of pure arrogance on her face.
Apparently these kids had been ‘kidnapped’ from their beds. Cloth bags lay on the ground close to their feet. She started to ask one of them—a thin wiry boy who looked like he could be blown over by a strong gust of wind—if he knew what was going on. He jabbed the air with a finger, pointing over her shoulder.
A sea of faces stared at them. Boys and girls dressed in black watched from the sidelines as if they were spectators at a sports game. Van Helsing stood by himself, clipboard in hand. Her gaze met his for a moment. He did not nod or smile or give any indication that he knew her. Worry flooded her system as she realized she was on her own. She couldn’t depend on anyone now that Connor was out of the picture.
An ounce of fear nibbled at the edges of her mind. Then she caught sight of another familiar face, Nick. Totally separate from the others, more so than Van, he stood near a tree in the background, his body partially hidden by the thick trunk. She got the strange feeling he wasn’t supposed to be here, but that didn’t make sense. He was one of them. Why would he be excluded?
A dark figure stepped forward, unshaven face and bloodshot eyes. He wore tan pants, a black tee, and a gun holster tied off at the thigh. Using a cane with a wicked looking silver wolf head on top—glittering ruby eyes and a snarling mouth complete with tiny yet sharp teeth—he limped closer. A voice that sounded too husky to be real, like he was playing the part of tough guy in a bad movie and never spoke louder than a throaty whisper. He began to deliver a speech, one he’d obviously given a hundred times or more.
The truth relaxed Bay-Lee’s taut muscles. This was Orientation. This was why Van had dropped her at the dorm without giving her the tour. She made a mental note to blast him later for not warning her. For now she listened intently to the hunter’s rehearsed speech.
“Welcome to your worst nightmare, Van Helsing’s secret school for hunters,” he said. “Or as we like to call it... Camp Hell.”
The spectators laughed in agreement.
Bay-Lee and her fellow captives glanced at each other.
The hunter continued. “Think I’m kidding? Out of you four fresh-faced newbies, one will quit and run home to mommy. Another will do something stupid that will get somebody killed, hopefully themselves and not someone important, and they will be asked to leave. One of you will fail to complete your training. The remaining student might live long enough to die in a real battle... or you might all die tomorrow. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
The man stopped directly in front of her, but his gaze swept over her neighbors, leaving her out. “I am Alec Gallos.”
Gallos? Bay-Lee wondered if he was related to Nick. Maybe he knew why Nick wasn’t supposed to be around her. Not that she cared, she assured herself. It was merely curiosity that kept her thinking about the rock star.
Alec continued. “I am a rare individual, a full-time instructor for life thanks to an old injury. Most of our instructors work part-time. They teach for a while and then return to hunting or cross over to guard the border. If you graduate from this school, you will be expected to return at least once every four years to teach a course or two. What you teach will depend upon your expertise.
“This isn’t your average school. You will be doing what we like to call ISP or Independent Study Program. We will supply you with books, weapons, and whatever other items you may need. A mentor will guide you through your learning.
“If you stay, you will fall into line and do as you are told. We get up early around here to enjoy an intense workout. I’m talking every single day, people. Monsters do not take holidays and neither do we. You will master classes including combat, weapon training, and biology. This isn’t a civilian school. You won’t have semesters or mid-terms. Your instructors will decide when you have passed and can move on to the next course. Some finish rapidly while others get stuck on a single subject for several months.
“We have ranks here, although they aren’t the usual military ranks you’re used to hearing about. As of this moment, you have the rank of Bait. Why? Because the only thing you are good for is to be used by us to draw out monsters. If you work hard and persevere, pass all your classes and impress your instructors, you will move up to Hunter. Hunter is where most of us remain for life. There’s no shame in it.”
During her years training with Van, he’d never mentioned this stuff. Why hadn’t he told her about ranks or Independent Study or being kidnapped for Orientation? What else was he keeping from her?
Alec went on. “However, if you are not satisfied with Hunter, you may be able to move up to Warrior. If you manage it, you’ll be in the minority. What does it take to become a Warrior? Pass all your classes with flying colors, impress your instructors, live long enough to show off your brilliant battling skills and create a few signature moves. If the instructors and members of the board are impressed, you will be upgraded.
“You can also move up in rank by doing something amazing like capturing a creature we’ve never encountered, solving a great mystery before anyone else does, or stopping a murder plot put together by the Order. They are constantly looking for a way to get to Van Helsing. Of course they fail each and every time because we are better and smarter.”
Solve a mystery? Bay-Lee’s mind whirled with the possibilities. She needed to move up in rank as soon as possible. This could be her chance. Van had no idea what was killing hunters on their birthdays. If she could figure it out, she’d move up in rank, as long as she didn’t get herself killed in the process. It was going to be dangerous, yes, but it would be worth it. The quicker she reached Hunter and was allowed to fight real monsters, the sooner she’d be able to exact her revenge.
Now she was glad she hadn’t told Van about the reaper’s visit.
Alec continued. “At some point you will hear a hunter referred to as Legend. If you want that rank, forget about it. Won’t happen. Since the beginning of the war between humans and creatures there have only been five individuals who have made it to Legend status. Van Helsing being one, of course, and before you ask, no, he does not teach classes.”
Alec gestured to the watching crowd. “Now we want to see you in action. Show us what you’ve got. Prepare yourselves for a fight. Any second you will be attacked by wild animals so get ready.”
The pretty girl to Bay-Lee’s right sobbed softly. Hands covering her face, it was hard to see anything more than a cloud of springy golden brown hair. Judging by her cartoon kitty pajama top and emotional state, Bay-Lee figured this was the girl’s first trip away from home. She wondered how new students were picked. Bay-Lee had made a deal with Van when she was nine, but she was sure she was the exception. Whatever their recruitment policy, they needed to change it. The girl beside her wasn’t going to last a single day.
The thin dark-haired boy, on the other hand, stood at attention the entire time, back ramrod stiff and face void of emotion. He was going to do well in this program. Bay-Lee hoped if they had to choose partners for anything she would be paired with him instead of with the sobbing girl.
Before fighting, Bay-Lee used a relaxation technique
Van had taught her. Focusing her eyes on the black night over the spectator’s shoulders, she drifted away to her ‘happy’ place. In seconds she was on a boat in her imagination, the warm sun on her face and cool breeze blowing her hair back. It was a beautiful day, and she was alone with sails billowing in the wind. There are no monsters at sea.