Breed of Innocence (The Breed Chronicles, #01)

by Jordan, Lanie

  But I couldn’t run.

  I knew the truth. And right or wrong, good or bad, I’d get the opportunity to find the thing that took my family from me, like I’d been trying to do for almost two years.

  But was I actually ready to do this thing? No, not yet. Not entirely, anyway. Soon though, with Greene’s help, I would be.

  I looked out the window, watched as the last miserable, Fishface-filled year of my life flew by in a blur of trees and fences and houses. Nodding slowly, I whispered, “I will be.”

  *~*~*

  A few hours later, the car pulled up to a small guard shack. I pushed up in my seat as a man leaned out of a small window. He looked at David and Peter, and then flicked his gaze over me before nodding to Greene. “Welcome back, Director,” he said. A second later, the mechanical arm blocking our path raised and we drove through.

  “Welcome to the CGE, Miss Hall.”

  I rolled my window down and peered out. Straight ahead were two five-story, coffee-cream colored buildings. There was a catwalk connecting them near the top floor.

  On the right side of the driveway, there were hedges that spelled out ‘CGE’, and on the left, a huge pool and track, both surrounded by rows of bleachers.

  I frowned. “What is this place?”

  “Didn’t you read the sign outside?” Greene asked.

  I shrugged. “No.” Did he really expect me to? He brought to me a facility that trained demon hunters. Was I really supposed to pay attention to signage? I’d been too busy ogling.

  “No one ever does.” He sighed. “This is the Consortium of Genetic Engineering, or the CGE.”

  That didn’t answer my question, not the real one. “I mean, what is it exactly?”

  A soft chuckle filled the air. “You’ll find out soon enough.” When the car rolled to a stop, he got out and walked around to meet me. “Our recruits are what we call Prospects. They’re not agents yet, and—”

  Anger, hot and fast, burned in my stomach. My hands balled into fists at my side. “You said you’d help me find—”

  “The demon that killed your family, yes, and I will. But this isn’t a one-day training center, Miss Hall. This isn’t a quick course in demon hunting. There are things you have to know, to learn, to train for, before you’re ready to see another demon, let alone look for one. Demon hunting takes a lot of time and even more dedication.”

  “I have dedication.” I didn’t have much but I had that.

  “And are you willing to put in the time necessary?”

  “How much time are we talking?”

  “Anywhere from three to four years, depending on your progression.”

  I gaped. “Three to—why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  “Would you still have agreed to come?”

  Would I have? “I…don’t know.”

  “Did you have something better to do? You had almost two years, Miss Hall. How close had you come to finding demons on your own?”

  I glared my answer.

  “What kind of person do you want to be? Do you want to be reckless and get yourself killed doing something you know nothing about? Or do you want to learn everything you can and reach your goal? If you’re the former, then I wasted your time and mine. If you’re the latter, and you truly have the dedication to see this through, then the wait shouldn’t be an issue. This is your decision.”

  “I have the dedication,” I muttered again.

  “Good.” He glanced down at his watch, making it apparent he had other things to do. “You still have a few minutes until Orientation begins, so we need to get you an ID and give you a few minutes to clean up.”

  I was still seething mad, but I nodded anyway. I probably looked like a train wreck with all the blood and dirt over my face and clothes. “Wait. Why do I need an ID?”

  “No one is permitted on the CGE property without an ID. All visitors and personnel are required to carry one, so the guards know who belongs here and who doesn’t.”

  “Why do I feel like I’ve walked into Area 51 or something?”

  Greene smirked. “Nothing quite that secretive, but we don’t offer school tours here. This way,” he said, gesturing me to follow.

  As I trailed behind him, I glanced to my left. They were a handful of teens and some adults gathered around the track. Some were running, some were in the middle sparring. I turned back in time to see Greene open a large glass door of the far left building. I came within inches of walking into it—and him. He shook his head.

  I gave a small, sheepish smile and let my gaze drift back to the people at the track. “Are they all demon hunters?”

  “The majority of them, yes. Or rather, they will be.”

  “Are there more? Teenagers, I mean.” I couldn’t exactly gauge anyone’s age from here, but they didn’t all look like adults.

  He nodded. “Yes. Typically, we have anywhere from fifty to seventy-five Prospects. Right now, I believe there are fifty-nine. That’s not including today’s arrivals, of which you make thirteen.” He must’ve seen my eyes go wide, because he chuckled and motioned me forward again. “It’s a lot to process, I know.”

  A lot to process? I almost snorted. Talk about the understatement of the century. Didn’t he realize how low-key his words were? It was like calling Air Force One a puddle jumper, or saying the White House was like any other house on the block.

  Greene had mentioned others before, so I’d been expecting some. But not…I did a quick count in my head…seventy-two. That meant there were seventy-one others who, like me, were here to be trained or already training to hunt demons.

  Greene put his arm on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. I think you’ll like it here. More, I think you’ll fit in.” He guided me into the building. “This is the North Tower. Should you stay, this is where you’ll spend the majority of your time.”

  Once we were inside, I stopped and turned in a slow circle. The flooring was white linoleum and the walls were a light, almond brown. To my left, there was an elevator and doors to who knew what kind of rooms. I looked to the right, which had the same setup as the left. Directly in front of me was a long desk with two men behind it. Behind them, more rooms and two more elevators with a door labeled ‘maintenance’ between them. How many elevators did one place need?

  The place was loud, I discovered quickly. And busy. Teens and adults alike shouted at one another; footsteps hammered the ground as people ran this way or that. A football whizzed by and narrowly missed hitting Greene’s head. He stopped, turned. I followed his gaze to the offender, a tall boy with dark hair. One glimpse of Greene and the kid’s eyes went saucer-wide, and then he ran, heading in the opposite direction of us.

  I shook my head. “What’s the other building?”

  “The South Tower.” Putting his hand on my elbow, he guided me along. “You’ll learn more about that later.”

  As we approached the desk, the men behind it rose and nodded to Greene. “Afternoon, Director Greene,” the shorter and wider of the two said. He wasn’t necessarily fat—just built like a tank. His arms and neck had to be thicker than my thighs.

  “This is Miss Hall. She needs a temporary Prospect ID.” He turned to face me. “I need to go prepare for Orientation. There are restrooms on the other side of the elevators, down the hallways.” He pointed. “You saw the track on the way in?” I nodded. “When you’re done freshening up, take a seat in the bleachers. I’ll find you afterward and we can continue our conversation.”

  “Okay.”

  He said something to the guards then walked away.

  I puffed my cheeks out and released a loud breath.

  There was a slight repetitive hum of a printer and after a minute, one of the guards reached forward and put a lanyard around my neck. He gave me a stern look. “Do not lose this or give it to anyone else for any reason. Understand?”

  “So selling it online would be bad, then?” I asked, completely deadpan. A vein in Tank guy’s neck jumped. I took a step back and threw
my hands up. “Kidding.” Maybe demon hunting didn’t come with a sense of humor. “Thanks.”

  Before they could say anything else or rethink giving me the ID, I went to the left in search of a restroom. I lifted the ID and glanced at it. It was plain, but not paper—laminated. The left side had the CGE logo in large print and the corresponding words in smaller letters. The right side had my name and basic information: height, weight, hair and eye color.

  I frowned. My hair wasn’t brown. It was…multi-tonal, with reds and chocolately browns. And, damnit, my eyes were blue-green. Not blue. Not green. Blue-green.

  For a research facility, their research left something to be desired. At least they had my height and weight mostly accurate. They put me down as one-oh-five (though I had no idea how they knew how much I weighed) and five-foot-four (which was a few centimeters taller than my actual height). Close enough.

  I sighed and took another left at the hallway. It was short, only about fifteen feet deep, and at the end, there was a set of glass-windowed doors that lead to a staircase. To my right, a door marked ‘Security’, and on the left, another maintenance room and the restrooms. I pushed the door to the women’s room open and went inside.

  After taking care of the immediate issues, I stood in front of the mirror and winced at my reflection. I looked…a lot worse than I thought. Blood smeared my cheeks and there were streaks of it down my ears and neck. There was grass—grass!—in my hair, from being shoved to the ground, I thought, scowling. My tank top and pants were stained.

  Basically, I looked like I’d escaped from a swamp. I sniffed the air. And smelled like it. Or maybe worse.

  I reached down for my bag. My hand met air. I closed my eyes. My bag wasn’t there. It was in the car where I’d left it. “Stupid, stupid, idiot,” I muttered.

  Doing the best I could, I washed my face, finger-brushed my hair, and flipped my shirt inside out. There was no use trying to clean it. I gave myself one last look in the mirror and shook my head. My reflection still showed a swamp-escapee, but at least now I didn’t look like I’d slept in it first.

  As I left the restroom, I caught the scent of pepperoni. It made my mouth water and my stomach growl. I’d been with Greene for the last four hours or so, and it was hours before that when I’d had breakfast. Hopefully this Orientation thing came with some food.

  Slowly, I made my way to the track, following herds of teens. When I found some who looked as out of place as I felt, I decided I was definitely going in the right direction.

  I took a seat at the back of the bleachers, away from anyone else, with the sun beating down on my back. Greene was already there talking to a tall boy with a mostly-shaved head. A few minutes later, a woman approached and the boy took his seat.

  The woman had ‘business’ written all over her, from her dark brown hair to her high-heeled shoes. Her dress suit was dark blue and wrinkle free. Her brown hair was in a tight bun at the back of her head, and I bet if I’d had a closer view that I wouldn’t have found one stray piece flying around.

  I shook my head. Wearing a skirt I got. It was May, so it was already hot. But the long-sleeved jacket? I wasn’t a fashion expert, or what anyone could’ve called professional, but I couldn’t imagine wearing a suit in this heat unless someone held a gun to my head and forced me. Even then, I wasn’t sure I could do it.

  Dying by a shot to the head seemed a lot better than melting in your own clothes. Quicker, if nothing else.

  When the last of the kids finally took their seats, Greene walked up to the podium and faced the crowd. Everyone quieted down. “Welcome,” he began. “As some of you may already know, I’m Director Greene. I’ve been in charge of this facility for over twenty years. This is Assistant Director Barnes.” He gestured to the baking-in-her-suit woman. He paused long enough to give her the chance to nod and offer what may or may not have been something resembling a smile.

  A few kids in the crowd waved or said ‘hey’ or ‘hi’. Others, like me, said nothing.

  “The students in the front row are our some of our current Prospects,” he continued. “I know you’ve heard this speech already, so please bear with me.” He offered them a small smile. “Before I explain why you’re all here and what exactly your roles may be, let me tell you more about the Consortium of Genetic Engineering—better known as the CGE. We are an organization that, like the name suggests, specializes in genetic research.”

  “Like what?” a girl asked.

  “Stem-cell research, rejuvenation possibilities, DNA manipulation—the list goes on. We cover a lot of ground at our facilities, Miss…” His gaze lowered to the podium, as if he had a list of some sort. “Young.”

  “Facilities? As in—”

  “More than one? Yes. The New Orlando branch is one of many CGE facilities across the globe, from Alaska to Australia.” He gave that a moment to sink in then continued on. “A lot of the recent medical breakthroughs have been, in part, because of our research facilities’ scientific breakthroughs. New and improved medications, new methods for quicker healing times. Do any of you watch the news?”

  A few unsure hands raised into the air.

  “And do any of you remember the story of Dana Summers? She was the victim of a horrendous fire who was unfortunate enough to suffer third degree burns to over eighty percent of her body.”

  Most of the crowd nodded, including me. I’d heard about it. An arsonist had set an apartment building full of people on fire. Firefighters had managed to get most people out, but Dana had been trapped inside on the top floor.

  “She lived because of one of those breakthroughs, and many of the other burn victims were helped because of it, because of what we do here. The CGE’s employ some of the best and brightest scientists. To the general population, we’re seen as a top-notch research facility.”

  “But this place is really a demon hunting facility,” a guy said. He looked around warily after a second. “Right?”

  Greene consulted his list again. “Mr. Davis?” The guy nodded. “We’re both. One facet of our business is research—human and demon; the other is demon hunting. Most who know about the CGE believe our recruits are young adults with rare genetic anomalies that are here to have them studied.”

  “Is it true?” This was from the Davis kid again. “Do we have these…anomalies?”

  “Yes. It’s one thing you all share.”

  “What’s wrong with us?” Young again.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s a genetic flaw that poses no risks to your health. In fact, it’s that anomaly that makes you all a commodity to us.”

  Great. Leaning back, I looked up to the sky and shook my head. Not only did I sell my soul to the devil, I agreed to DNA harvesting.

  “We’re guinea pigs,” a guy in the middle row said, his tone full of disgust. “So are you going to study us or train us? Was the demon hunting thing just a ploy to get us here?”

  “Both…Mr. Harris.” Greene walked around to the front of the podium. “Let me explain something. Businesses open for specific reasons—to offer a service and make money. The CGE is no different. We are a business. It just happens that our business is research and demon hunting. Your DNA will help us in that.” He started to pace but kept his gaze on the bleachers. “To house, feed, and train you, we need money. To make money, we need to research. To research, we—”

  “Need our DNA.”

  “Exactly, Miss Hall,” Greene said.

  I blinked at him. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken the thought out loud.

  “You all have a choice. You don’t have to agree to be guinea pigs—as it was so aptly put—if you don’t want to. That’s fine. You can stay or you can go. It’s as simple as that and there are no catches. A bus will be waiting at the front gate for those who wish to leave.”

  Everyone groaned and there were short choruses of “I don’t want to go back!” from more than one person.

  Me either, buddy, I thought. Anomaly or not.

  “Is that
the only reason you picked us? Because we have this…thing?” a girl asked. I couldn’t tell where she sat.

  Greene made his way back to the podium, looked down. “No, Miss Pollock, it’s not.”

  “He wants us to hunt demons!” a guy from the second or third row shouted, jumping up and throwing his fist in the air.

  Greene nodded. “Some of you, yes. Some of you were selected for other…opportunities.”

  I rested my elbows on my knees and listened, even as I studied the crowd. Most seemed happy to be here and seemed to enjoy the idea of hunting demons. A few, I noticed, glancing around, didn’t seem so sure. I caught more than one set of horror-filled eyes at the mention of hunting or demons.

  Greene must of have seen the looks too, because he said, “Not all of you want to hunt demons, do you?” A few people shook their heads. Some were at a loss for words entirely, including a boy sitting one level down from me whose face drained of all color, and a girl a few seats over to my right, whose eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets. The look of terror on their faces was answer enough. They didn’t want to hunt demons. Greene gave a low chuckle. “No, I don’t imagine that’s something you all want to do.”

  There was a long pause, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. “Some of you are here to hunt demons, yes, and some are here to work in other capacities. However, those who stay will all be involved, directly or indirectly, with demon hunting, be it on the action side of things or the research side.” He paused a moment. “To elaborate more on Miss Pollock’s question, the DNA anomaly is one reason we selected many of our agents. The other reason is that we believe you all have a specific skill that could be of service to us. Both reasons are equally important.”

  The guy in front of me, the one who really didn’t seem like he wanted to hunt demons, raised his hand in the air. “Are we all orphans?”