The shrouded silence stayed with them as Jackson pounded it out on the tread mill. He couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling that was rooting itself deep in his bones. The feeling was just getting worse with the passing of every minute.
Even as the sweat was dripping off of his temples, he still didn’t let up the pace. It was almost as if he thought that if he kept working and pushing his limits to the extreme then he’d eventually get back to feeling normal. It sure wasn’t working so far.
His body screamed for mercy as he pumped his legs and closed his eyes, blocking out the pain. Sweat laced his skin in a fine sheen, the ink designs on his chest and back glistened under the stark lighting. Jackson felt like he was fighting a losing battle.
Finally, giving in, he jumped off of the tread mill and his jelly legs struggled to hold him up. Looking around, he realised that he was the last one left in the gym. The other had clearly given up long ago. It was a good thing, though. He was glad to have some alone time right now. He felt a little faint and weak and didn’t need the audience of a few of the guys that he had just starting making friends with here to witness it.
More or less falling to the floor, Jackson held his pounding head in his hands. The quiet in the room was almost deafening to him, crushing in on him, making him feel like he was suffering from claustrophobia.
Pushing his hands down on his knees, he shakily made his way back to standing and got up and headed over to the showers. He didn’t know what else to do with himself. He felt like he was falling apart at the seams. So for now, he would just stick to the practical. And a shower was definitely needed.
This was not exactly how he had expected his first day at the school to pan out, not in the least.
Poking his head into the next class that he was due to attend, Jackson found the place eerily empty. Which was a good thing really, seeing as he was really late. It wasn’t the best move for him to make on his first day, good impressions and all that, but he had gotten distracted in the gym and the time had seemed to run away with him. That would be the least of their problems today though.
One of the other new guys came rushing around the corner and thrust a piece of paper into Jackson’s hand before speeding off again.
Scanning quickly over the sheet of paper, he saw that it informed him that the rest of the days schedule had also been cancelled. Something big was definitely going down. There didn’t seem to be much else to do but head back up to his room. The rest of the guys would be probably hanging out, speculating on what was going on, but he didn’t fancy chilling with the other guys right now. The pain in his gut and head were getting beyond unbearable. All he wanted to do was to go to bed, curl up under the covers and shut out the world.
Moving back in his room, he was surprised by quite how comforting it was to be back amongst his belongings. He’d only been here one night, but it was already starting to feel familiar. It was only a small space, with minimal furniture, but he’d already made his mark on the place. Clothes were dotted around, CD’s littered the desk.
Lying on his bed, Jackson had his eyes closed for a minute in an attempt to relax his brain and stop the room from swimming. He grabbed hold of the ear phones of his iPod in an attempt to use Fall Out Boy to drown out his pain, when all of a sudden, a loud alarm rang out in the corridor.
Jumping off of the bed, Jackson ripped out the ear plugs of his iPod and lunged for the door in a panic and found the corridor teaming with other students. They were all looking around, seeming to wonder what the hell was going on, and no one had any idea. They hadn’t been warned about any fire drills being planned or anything else like that.
“What’s going on?” Jackson shouted to Dylan, who was making his way through the crowd to join him.
“No idea.” Dylan replied, standing next to Jackson and looking around with wide eyes.
A larger male, obviously a student who had been here for at least a couple of years was heading down the corridor, herding up all the new students.
“All students and staff must convene in the main hall. All students and staff must convene in the main hall.” he repeated over and over again, ignoring all of the questions that were being thrown his way as he battled a path through the crowded corridor.
Denver, being his usual pain in the ass self, tried to block his path but one intimidating glare from the older student sent him stumbling backwards into the wall. “All students and staff must convene in the main hall.” and so it went on.
Seeing that there was no point in trying to fight against the tide of students, Jackson let himself be carried away on the wave of bodies down to the main hall. He knew, anyway, that this was the only place that they were going to be getting any clues as to what the heck was happening around here. And Jackson had a terrible sinking feeling that the questions that personally tensing his bones and muscles were about to be answered.
The main hall was old school. This was one of the only traditionally decorated places in the academy. There really were old brass sconces holding candles on the walls, not that they were lit now. The bulbs on the large chandeliers hanging from the ceilings were standard electric but lit the place with a soft, almost romantic glow that wasn’t too harsh for their eyes. Everywhere, there were oil paintings of graduated warriors, pictures honouring warriors who had died in the field, and in the centre hung a huge portrait of Bartholomew.
It wasn’t set out like an ordinary school, with benches or chairs for the students to sit on. They were simply expected to be mature adults stand in an orderly manner. Which they did now, although there was a lot of fidgeting while they waited. No one knew what was going on, not even the faculty. It was a mystery, without a good vibe, which didn’t bode very well.
It seemed like everyone in the entire place was crowded into the hall. Everyone, including staff, trainees, workers. There was a buzz of nervous chatter running through the crowd as they waited to find out what the emergency call was all about. Clearly, it wasn’t a fire, seeing as they were still all inside the building. That much they had worked out for themselves.
A hush came over the crowd as Kelton stepped through the main doors at the back of the cavernous room. Everyone parted like the red sea to let him pass. Even those who had known and fought alongside Kelton for decades had never seen such a fierce expression on his face or such obvious aggression in his walk.
Standing on the edge of the stage at the front of the hall, every single pair of eyes bore deeply into him. And shuffling from one foot to the other as he waited impatiently, Jackson felt like he was going to throw up any minute now. The bad feeling had enveloped him totally as he watched Kelton stand in sombre silence
“I have some very grave news for you all.” Kelton’s voice boomed ominously, “Earlier today, I was informed of the tragic death of our beloved leader, Bartholomew.”
Silence.
Deathly, stunned silence.
Chapter Seven.
“Great changes are coming. For our entire race. We must all be ready.”
It was like Kelton had run out of steam all of a sudden as he fell silent again. With a little shake of his head, he jumped down off the stage and strode back out of the hall. He was like a man on a mission, leaving them all reeling in his wake. Each and every one of them wondered what was going to happen next. This was huge.
Kelton just couldn’t bear to talk about it anymore. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t seem to get things straight in his own head. How was he supposed to talk coherently to all of those people? He’d done his basic duty and informed them. That was all he could do right now. He wasn’t a big talker at the best of times. He was a goddamn fighter. Right now, that was all he could focus on. The fight ahead.
Kayleigh stepped up to the stage when she saw that none of the other staff members were going to make a move and cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. After all, she was the only other person that had prior warning of this announcement and clearly, the rest of the staff were still reeling.
So much had happened in so little time and everything was still so up in the air with no real direction. She wasn’t really sure what she should do, but she couldn’t just stand there. She didn’t know how much she could help but she couldn’t let Kelton shoulder all of that responsibility himself. She had to step up to the plate. This wasn’t her job, but really, everything that concerned him was her job. He meant everything to her and she would do whatever she could for him to lighten his burden.
This was going to be a really long night for all of them. Even with dawn approaching, she knew that they all had a long way to go.
“Everybody? New class schedules will be with you at some point this evening. All classes for the remainder of the night are cancelled as of this moment, something I am sure you are all aware of by now. And for all those of you who have just started here at the academy, we know that this is a very difficult way for you to start your time here with us. But, I am sure that the older students will guide you to the best of their ability.
“You must all understand what this means to us all as a race and your cooperation will be gratefully received. There will be counsellors on standby should any of you need to speak to them in this time of great sorrow. Also, all the phone lines will be opened shortly for you to speak to your loved ones, should you so wish. If you have any questions, for now please direct them to myself or Professor Fieldman,” Kayleigh gestured over towards the mousey brown Professor of Lamia Matris history, who she knew that she could call on to help her out and was immensely relieved when she saw her friend give her a little nod, “As I am sure you can appreciate, all of the warriors on staff will be otherwise engaged.
“Thank you once again in advance for you cooperation and consideration during this most difficult time.” with that she gracefully descended from the stage and headed out, wanting to find Kelton and make sure that he was as okay as he could be at a time like this. She knew that she wouldn’t have much time before the trainee warriors came flocking to her office to find solace.
In a way, it was lucky that dawn was approaching in a mere couple of hours. The daylight hours would give them all a short respite.
At least Jackson now knew why he had been feeling like he had. He was a direct descendant of Bartholomew and he should have realised earlier that this feeling came from the death of a family member. It wasn’t something that he had ever experienced before. He’d only heard of the effects that it had on the bloodline. Not that he would have ever thought in a million years that it would have been Bartholomew that had died - that he had been assassinated. It was just too absurd to comprehend.
It was really hard to get his head around it and all Jackson wanted now was to be left alone. You could easily tell which of the males in the crowd were the ones who were descendants of their great leader, because their expressions mirrored his own. Lonely. Bereft. Desolate. And as he watched, each of them also headed off to be by themselves.
It was a time for private mourning.
It was a strange feeling for them all. Jackson had never even met their leader, but the blood bond between the blood family was stronger than anything anyone could ever know and he personally felt the loss of his death like a hole in his gut.
It was obvious to all of them, even without saying it out loud, that Bartholomew had been murdered. And they all knew who by as well - the Lamia Mortuorum. They were the dregs of the earth. The lowest of the low. How did they ever think that they would be able to get away with this?
Goddamn murderous scum.
And the consequences? There could be so many.
A new leader would have to be appointed, with the council reigning in the absence of a leader for the time being. The Matris weren’t an unruly bunch, but they relied on leadership to show them the way.
The warriors training would probably be upped as well. They would need all the fighters they could get out there to avenge the death of such a great and beloved man. But, who would train them? They would need all their warrior’s out on the street.
And who knew what else would happen? The death of a Matris leader was something that hadn’t happened for at least a couple of centuries. The last time that it had happened, there had been a sudden increase in warriors. This was another example of the vampire magic that no one had ever been able to explain. The warrior mark had started appearing on fully grown vampire males who were of direct descendant of the leader, no matter how distant that connection was. Males who had been born civilian were exposed to a whole new destiny. According to Jackson’s parents, it had been a time of great adjustment.
Talking of adjustments - everything in the school schedule was sure to change also. There was no way that they would be able to carry on and pretend as if nothing had happened.
Jackson knew that Kelton had a very special relationship with Bartholomew, and was sure to take an extremely personal interest in avenging his death. Both of them were legends in their own rights and everyone knew more or less everything about them. Well, at least, the public knew what they wanted them to know. Obviously, a lot of the private stuff, like what was going on between Kelton and Kayleigh, wasn’t for public consumption. But, it was common knowledge that Bartholomew had taught Kelton everything he knew and that he had regarded him as the best warrior that this race had ever seen. And, right up until the end, they still had daily contact and that the leader had often conferred a lot with Kelton over the race’s issues and problems.
What were they going to do without him?
Sitting in his bedroom, Jackson felt like he was going crazy. Not wanting to venture out of his room, he knew that staying here and staring at his own crowded four walls was just going to drive him to distraction. He was torn as to what to do. Rather than staying there alone and quietly going nuttier than a fruit bat all by himself, he decided to head out to see if he could walk off this feeling of despondency. He wasn’t one for talking but he couldn’t just sit here in his room and stew.
There was no way that he wanted to phone home. It would just make everything feel so much worse. His family were staunch supporters of their leader and hearing his mother wail and sob down the phone wouldn’t help him much at all right now. He knew now that the whole family would have been feeling the same way that he had since the death of Bartholomew and the last thing he needed was his mother banging on about another tragic loss for their family. It was more than he could bear.
His Uncle Cyrus had been living a happy, quiet normal life until the death of their previous leader, nearly two hundred years ago, before Bartholomew came to the throne. One night, a few days after the leader’s sudden death, the warrior mark had appeared and Uncle Cyrus had to leave his wife and kids to go out and play warrior. Unfortunately, Cyrus never made it home. He had died in the line of duty, protecting the race. And this was another one of the reasons that Jackson’s family was so proud of him, that he was going to be going out there and avenging his uncles’ death.
So, no. The last thing he needed to do right now was to call home. He’d let the dust settle a bit and call in a couple of days to see how everyone was, once his mother’s hysteria had calmed down a notch or two.
Without looking from side to side, avoiding all eye contact with anyone he passed, Jackson hurried his way down the stairs and onwards to the administration wing, which was already humming with activity.
Jackson slipped through the crowded administration area and headed out towards the back of the main reception area. On their orientation, they’d shown them many things, including the back garden areas which was where Jackson was planning on heading.
Trying to see out of the door, he couldn’t tell if there was anybody out there already, but decided to go for it anyway. Being cooped up indoors was starting to drive him batty. Hopefully, the cold air of night wouldn’t encourage many out there tonight.
Luckily, the air was cool, immediately filling his lungs with crystal clear air. This was just what he’d needed. The night was turning to dawn, turning the sky a magnifi
cent shade of indigo. Jackson closed his eyes. He needed this. Time alone. Time to think. To clear his head.
Hearing footsteps, his eyes flew wide open and his fists flexed instinctively. Without a single word, Kelton clapped the boy on the shoulder, nodded slightly and moved through the glass doors away from Jackson.
Jackson stared after him for a moment. They’d had the same idea, escaping from the madness, and Jackson felt a little guilty that he’d interrupted Kelton. Sure, the dude was a badass warrior and all that, but he wasn’t unfeeling. He had to be going through hell at the moment.
Kelton headed back in, trying to clear his head as he went. Seeing Jackson out there in the gardens, it made him think briefly about the kid and the possibilities that he may hold as a warrior. After all, he sure had the build for it. The boy was almost as big as he was. And those dark, determined eyes stayed focused on the task at hand. But, that would have to wait. He had too much on his plate at the moment.
Walking back towards his office, Kelton’s mind was swamped with what was needed to be done next to avenge Bartholomew’s death.
Revenge. Vengeance. Blood spilling. That was all he could think about. Everything else would have to wait.
Jackson knew that hiding out under the night sky wasn’t actually helping him, so he headed back in to try and attempt to get some sleep.
A thick, cream envelope slid under his door shortly after five am. He hadn’t paid much attention to what Kayleigh had said about the revised schedule, thinking about it now though, there was no surprise that it had taken a bit of time to arrange. He was a little surprised that they had managed to sort it out as quickly as they had. After all, there were four different years of trainee warrior’s schedules to juggle around, and the situation with the warriors who could train them would probably be needed elsewhere at the moment. God knows who would teach them combat now. But, that was the least of the races concern.
The Sons of Satrina: A Sons of Satrina Novel Page 5