Page 12 of Savage Hope (The Savage Six #1)

12

POLARIS

M y nerves threaten to get the best of me on what is officially my first day at Trinity Falls Academy. A day I didn't think was coming. A day I didn't know existed until yesterday. Yet here I am, exhausted to the bone but willing to try and see where this may lead.

I barely slept at all last night. The unfamiliar surroundings and the chaos from the past twenty-four hours kept me awake. Even when the building was nearly silent, my own breathing distracted me too much to let my eyelids fall closed. It was almost impossible to succumb to sleep. At one point, I considered using the newly issued cell phone to figure out how to contact Florentine’s and have Professor Stephens use her magic on me to make me sleep again. But even I'm not that crazy. I don’t think.

Instead, I tried to keep myself busy rather than lying in bed. The last thing I want to do is train my brain to think that the bed is just for lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling. I want to be able to slip beneath my new sheets and have my brain switch off from the outside world. It’s just going to take a bit more training than I had hoped.

I did it at Florentine’s; I can do it here too. I don’t think I slept very well during the first month I was there. They may have tampered with my memories, but I remember the sleepless nights all too well.

I’ve managed to organize my clothes into the drawers and armoire, where I found a long mirror on the inside. Now, I stand here looking at my reflection.

I don't know who I am.

After rifling through all the clothes, I find myself faced with a choice I’ve never had before. Instead of the usual Florentine-issued uniform, I have options and I don’t know what to wear. After a moment of careful consideration, I opt for a pair of slim black sweats, a short-sleeved, plain black t-shirt, and a gray jacket. I’ve got a choice of boots, flats, or sneakers available, all in my size, just like the clothes. I am still unsure how they knew this information about me, but I opt for the sneakers, choosing comfort over anything else as I prepare to walk these new halls. My silver hair falls around my face in loose curls since I managed to run a brush through the ends, but that's about all I've done. There's a hair tie on my wrist, just in case I need it, but the few cosmetic items lining the top drawer of my nightstand remain untouched.

Makeup? What am I supposed to do with that? I’d rather not make a fool of myself on my first day. Maybe ever.

Before I can delve deeper into examining my reflection and decide on another outfit change, a knock sounds from the other side of my bedroom door. Nerves threaten to steal my breath as I run my hands over my jacket. Attempting to take a deep breath, I cautiously approach the looming barrier that stands between me and whoever is knocking. I pry it open just a little, and I’m surprised to see Bryony.

For the first time, I take in her features. Her blonde hair is braided back off her face, and I'm relieved to see that she is also wearing a more casual outfit—a mauve pair of matching sweats and jacket, a white tee, and sneakers.

Her eyes track me, just as I assess her, like two predators trying to decipher each other’s intentions, until she clears her throat. “Are you joining us this time?” she asks, pointing toward the stairs as her gaze becomes expectant.

“Yeah,” I manage with a nod, my heart pounding in my chest. I might not be the best at being friendly or positive, but I need to make some kind of connection with the others if I’m supposed to join a coven. I don’t actually understand what that entails, but the one thing that kept me up more than anything else last night was the knowledge that I won’t survive this place with my usual standoffish vibe. Well not that alone at least. I need to learn, and I need to learn fast, especially when everyone here is cursed too, only they have powers and abilities my sigil refuses to relinquish.

Aware I’m not actually moving, I take a step back, pointing behind me. “Let me just grab the manual,” I rattle, my panic reaching new heights as she scoffs and grabs my arm before I can take a single step.

“You won't need that,” she insists, and my eyebrows gather in confusion.

“But my schedule,” I mutter as uncertainty gets the better of me.

She sighs, pulling me out of the doorway and leaving me no choice but to follow her. “You're with me all day, so I've got you. I know where we’re supposed to be and when.”

She slips her hand from my door as it clicks shut behind me, heading toward the stairs as I stare after her. Without a backward glance, she descends the stairs, and I finally remember how to move. As always, worries plague my thoughts, but I refuse to give in to them, tamping them down as I fall into step behind her.

The silence is deafening as I scramble to think of something to say. “Aren’t you older than me?” I blurt, instantly cursing myself internally. The scathing look she gives me over her shoulder is answer enough.

“No, I’m twenty too. I’ve just been here longer than you. Everyone usually comes here when they’re fourteen. It’s just the Florentine students that arrive later,” she states, and all I can do is nod.

We reach the bottom of the stairs to see a few other witches hovering around in the lounge area. I don't see D or H, but that doesn't matter. We weren't friendly before we got here. That's not going to change now.

Bryony doesn't wait around for me to follow her outside, but she does slow down to fall in step with me once I do. Following the pathway toward the main academy building, I tilt my head back, letting the early morning sun beam down on me. It’s strange to see and feel it so early in the day, but I think it might be my new favorite sensation.

I remain quiet as we make our way to the dining hall. I am too busy gleaming under the sun and people-watching the other students filling the pathway with us to worry over the silence this time. There’s so much chatter around us and so much electricity in the air that it’s intoxicating.

As we near the main academy building, the smell of food reaches my nose and my stomach grumbles, tightening with need.

It is another reminder that I won't be eating crap like I would at Florentine’s. When we step into the dining hall, I gaze in awe. Yesterday, I was here with my fellow Florentines, but now, almost at capacity, it’s a completely different level of energy.

Taking Bryony’s lead, I look at the same four long tables I noted yesterday. This time, they’re filled with groups gathered together. The humans sit at the table on the far left of the room; a calmness surrounds them, suggesting they are humans, even though I can’t figure out how or why I know that. I try to spy B among the mix, but there are too many people for me to single him out.

Bryony leads me to the next table, leaving the other two on the right side of the room either vampires or wolves. From my vantage point, I can’t determine which is which as I take the open seat beside my new guide.

The spread of food lining the table distracts me from my observations, leaving me unsure where to begin. There is an array of hot and cold breakfast foods, including bacon, sausage, eggs, croissants, pancakes, fruit, cereals, and even donuts. I’ve seen a donut before; I’ve just never had the luxury of trying one. As I reach for the glazed treat, I notice Bryony staring at me from the corner of her eye.

Sitting back in my seat, I blindly reach for a water bottle as I turn to her.

“What?”

Blunt much? Maybe, but as much as I’m trying to be…nice, it doesn’t change overnight, like I’m willingly going to idly walk around with her staring at me all day.

She tilts her head at me, a slight softness to the curl of her lips. “What is Florentine’s like?” she asks, ultimately knocking the confidence from me with one simple question.

I instantly feel myself shut down, offering a meager shrug as I turn away from her, opting to bite into my donut. Trying to focus on the sickly-sweet dough in my mouth, I will her question to disappear from existence, but the burning sensation on the side of my face comes from her expectant look, one that seems already too familiar with her, and I sigh.

“That bad, huh?” she asks, reaching for a stack of pancakes and a small jug of what looks like maple syrup beside it.

I shrug again. “I’m sure you've had someone tell you the answers to that before,” I say, looking down at my plate.

“No, actually. Last year, there was only one witch, and he was an ass.”

I nod in acknowledgment as I look around the room before offering her the simplest answer I can. “It's nothing like this.”

That's all I can offer. That's all I can say to even try to summarize the differences between Florentine’s and here. Not without the pain in my chest intensifying and stealing what little strength I’ve mustered for the day.

It’s tempting to slip my hand into my pocket and feel the coin I know is there, but I refrain, too scared of losing it. Besides, I promised myself last night that come morning, I wouldn’t think about anything that happened before today. I'm certain that trauma will be lurking in the corner of my mind for the rest of my life, but it won't start today. Not when I have such little time left on Earth. Letting it consume me is not on my to do list.

“Don't worry, you may feel out of your comfort zone right now, but you'll get there,” she insists, tucking into a stack of pancakes as if she didn't just send me on an emotional roller coaster.

I hum in agreement. “I hope so.”

Thankfully, a comfortable silence washes over us as we eat. I move from the donut to a plate of pancakes until my stomach is on the verge of exploding. Nausea threatens to claim me from all the sweetness, but I take a few small swigs of water to help it pass.

“We’re about to drop you in the deep end. Are you ready?” Bryony asks. I gulp, watching her stand up, and follow suit before I can think better of it.

I can't decipher which emotion is most prominent within me; I’m a mixture of nerves and excitement, caution and hope, worry and exhilaration. Somehow, every single emotion morphs into one, leaving me jittery as we head toward the exit. As I near the end of our table, a familiar face at the end to the right catches my attention, and before I can think better of it, I close the distance, waving excitedly when I see S. I mean Sian.

“Hey,” I breathe, taking note that this must be the vampires’ table, leaving the table on the other side of them to be the wolves. “Are you doing okay?” I ask, tilting my head at her as I come to a stop beside her chair, but the instant feeling in my gut twists with uncertainty. Her lips press together, her eyes darting anywhere but at me, and a sickly feeling settles in my stomach.

I'm waiting for some kind of interaction, but it seems she's reluctant to give me anything. I'm about to take a step away when her eyes finally meet mine again; her lips are pursed and her hands ball into fists in her lap.

“We're not friends, P. Don't come over here again,” she grinds out through clenched teeth. Her tone is empty, her words are cold, and all I can do is gape at her.

A daunting realization washes over me as I consider that this is probably how I’ve made her feel the entire time we’ve known each other. Have I been this dismissive and cold? I thought that in a sea of all these people, we might see each other first, but it seems the pillar of joy I relied on so much no longer exists, and it's been less than twenty-four hours since we got here.

Worry gets the better of me as I consider whether something is wrong with her, refusing to accept the sudden distance between us. As my eyes glance across the table, I also find Terence. He’s deep in conversation with the guy beside him, peering at me from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t turn, not like he usually does.

Whatever vibe I'm getting from Sian, I'm getting from Terence too.

The guy beside him, though, the one holding all of T’s attention, is looking straight at me. My chest constricts as I will myself to turn away, but it’s impossible.

He has jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and broad shoulders that create an all-encompassing aura that pulls you in deeply, but not in a good way. Definitely not in a good way. Even though he is sitting, I can already guess he would tower over me. Not that that’s difficult to do, I’m only five foot five, but I know he would make me feel three feet tall at best. There’s a curl to his lips, a fictitious smirk that makes me feel like I don’t want to be the target of it.

He drinks me in just as much as I absorb him, and then I have the unfortunate opportunity of experiencing him open his mouth.

“Are you a vampire?” he asks, tilting his head as his eyes sparkle with a sense of dark mischief. I can't find my tongue, but I manage to shake my head, making his teeth appear in a fake smile. “You lost your friend when you had the misfortune of being announced as whatever the fuck you are. The moment you’re not a vampire is the moment our ties are cut. Do yourself a favor and fuck off.” His chair scrapes along the floor as he stands, the smile turning to a sneer on his face as his gaze goes from me to Sian. “Come now, Sian, we don't fraternize with the enemy,” he adds for good measure, but there is no need. I already got the message. But it seems I’m not done experiencing the wrath of his tongue. “Especially not ones with dirty silver hair. It seems it’s a good thing you don't remember your past because wherever the fuck that came from can't be anywhere good,” he snarls before turning away and storming towards the exit.

His words cut deep, a jab at me unlike any I’ve heard before, and I feel like I might pass out. My breathing is ragged, my skin tingling with panic as my gaze snaps to T for a split second, but gone is the guy who has irritated me for as long as I can remember, and in his place stands the man now known as Terence. He tries to mimic the rude guy’s walk as he saunters after him, and S quickly rushes to her feet, trailing after them.

Gaping in horror, I feel a hand on my arm and turn to find Bryony staring at me with a hint of sympathy in her eyes.

“Ignore Blaze. He's a cunt, and I don't use that word lightly, but with him, it definitely freaking counts.”

I nod, despite the ache in my chest and the lump in my throat. Since when have I become the enemy? Since when have I become a target?

Bryony waves a hand toward the exit and I move with her instantly, desperate to get out of here since I can feel a few people still staring my way after that little performance. With every step, I sink deeper and deeper into my head as I overanalyze whatever the hell that was. It’s impossible not to replay the moment repeatedly, feeling my cheeks heat more and more with every flash of it in my mind.

It doesn’t matter how many times I recount everything from start to finish, one reality remains: the people I thought I knew, the people I took for granted, are gone, just like everybody else I've known, and once again, there is nothing I can do about it.

This time, my hand slips into my pocket, the imprint embedding itself in my palm as I bite back the emotions threatening to consume me.

How am I supposed to survive the blood curse if I can barely survive breakfast?