The Gray Institute (The Gray Institute Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

'Tia, looking as cute as ever.' He grins roguishly at Tia who rolls her eyes disapprovingly, but can't quite manage to keep the flattered smirk off her face.

'Eve, this is Richard Miller,' she clears her throat, introducing us. 'I'm sure he'll be pleased to meet you.' She adds sarcastically. Richard laughs loudly.

'Aye, of course, always pleased to meet the new girls.' He smiles, offering me a suggestive wink.

'In your dreams.' I reply smoothly. I try to dislike Richard's cocky, sexist attitude but find it decidedly difficult. The tense atmosphere has dissolved in his presence and everyone seems more relaxed with him here. Well, except Malachy.

'I'm sure you will be,' He grins at me before turning to Malachy. 'So, has my friend here been keeping you ladies satisfactorily entertained?' He asks, eyeing Meredith with a knowing smirk.

'I see he's made quite an impact on this one here.' He nods at her, speaking to Tia who shoots daggers at him.

'Malachy makes an impact on everyone, doesn't he Arlinda?' Ursula grins, laughing a little too loudly in an effort to save Meredith.

'Well, he's not much of a talker but he's certainly a looker, eh girls?' He nudges Malachy's arm, who remains silently composed, before Richard turns his attention to Tia. 'You never got back to me about that dinner we had planned, what's all that about?'

'The dinner
you
had planned, Richard. I never agreed to it.' Tia smirks.

'Aye, you did. In your head. You just didn'y wanna seem too keen.'

'Is that right?'

'I've been asking and asking you to go out with me, Tia. You've played hard to get for long enough sweetheart. Don't worry, we won't think you're easy.'

'Richard, you are impossible! As if anyone would ever consider going out with you after learning of your reputation.'

As Tia and Richard's easy banter fills the void of social awkwardness, I subtly turn my attentions to Malachy. He isn't listening to the conversation, isn't laughing at Richard's lame chat up lines; his eyes are glazed over, his thoughts far away.

He seems subdued – morose even – and despite my deep dislike for him, I have a fascination as well. Though Meredith stares fixedly at him, her face only a foot from his, he fails to notice her, too, as he sits alone in his own little world.

'Excuse me ladies and... Oh. I was going to say gentlemen but I realise there's only one present,' Ursula gestures to Malachy and Richard grins, clutching his heart in feign offence.

'We must visit the ladies. Meredith?' She eyes the transfixed girl pointedly, snapping her out of her trance. She glances around, confused.

'Are you coming?' Ursula raises her eyebrows, waiting for Meredith to catch onto her plan. The Bermudez sisters want to give her a little pep talk in the bathroom and, nodding slowly, she gets to her feet.

'I'm going to get a drink, want one?' Tia asks me and I nod vaguely, not taking my eyes from Malachy to ask where Tia will go or how long she'll be.

'I'll come with you,' Richard offers. 'To help, of course!' He protests when Tia raises a suspicious eyebrow. 'You might be persuaded to show me where your room is.' He mutters as they head off, both grinning like Cheshire cats.

By the time I realise I'm alone with Malachy, it's too late, and I cast my eyes frantically around the room, searching for an excuse to get up and leave. I wonder how long the Bermudez sisters will be but – judging by Meredith's behaviour – I would expect the pep talk to take quite a while.

From the corner of my eye I watch Malachy jerk into motion as he, too, realises we're alone; that he can no longer shrink into the background, safely hidden by Richard's banter.

'So,' he clears his throat as I glance up at him, willing him to make an excuse to leave. 'Are you enjoying your time here?' He asks, darting his eyes around the room, at every face but mine. I'm uncomfortable being confronted by this strange version of Malachy; he's shifty and awkward, one could go as far as to say shy or nervous.

I cast my mind back to the few times I've encountered him before and remember distinctly his obvious arrogance.

'Yes, I suppose so.' I shrug, clawing for conversation. He nods slowly, racking his brains, too.

'Where are you from?' He asks. I resist the urge to groan – making small talk with Malachy was last on my list of things to do at the Institute and, once again, he's offered me a one-word-reply question.

'England, like you.' I sigh, but he shakes his head.

'I'm from Germany, originally,' He corrects me, his eyes catching mine for only the second time since he approached us. He has a striking stare, piercing – the kind that holds your attention. 'Berlin.' He adds, dropping his gaze.

'You're not going to tell me to 'run along' today then?' I quip, unable to resist the sarcastic comment. A long and tension-filled pause plays out between us. He shifts in his seat, swallowing hard.

'I apologise about that,' He mutters, glancing warily about the room. I try to hide my surprise – an apology was the last thing I expected to receive from Malachy. 'I was... having a bad day.' He finishes lamely.

I nod warily, accepting his apology. During another tense silence, I stare at him, attempting to figure him out. Had I pegged him all wrong? Had we started out on the wrong foot? Perhaps I'd judged him too quickly; pinning him for an arrogant, self-centred pig.

There is certainly no trace of the Malachy I first met in this man; he seems polite, human – almost friendly. I open my mouth to crack a joke, say something nice, cement a friendship between us when suddenly; his body stiffens, his expression panicked. His eyes are fixed on the common room door and I follow his rigid gaze.

A platinum blonde woman stands confidently in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame. Her pale blue eyes sweep the room, searching, and I realise with a start that those eyes are familiar to me. They settle on Malachy and her full mouth curls into a sly, sneaky smile. I feel a cold shiver creep along my spine as the woman begins to stalk, slowly and purposefully in mine and Malachy's direction. The crowd parts for her, students stepping aside to allow her through – like Moses and the Red Sea.

I suddenly want to be anywhere but here. I twitch nervously, desperate to leave, jump into a strangers arms, do anything but be here when the infamous Lucrezia reaches us.

Her graceful but imposing figure stops a foot short of me and she raises a slender white hand to rest on Malachy's shoulder. The gesture is possessive. Malachy shrinks beneath her touch and I avoid her stare, fixing my eyes instead on the crackling fire.

'Dear, dear, Malachy, your standards have dropped... dramatically.' Lucrezia's voice is similar to Malachy's, nasal and drawling, as though speaking is an effort she's simply too good for. Her eyes lock on mine as she studies me closely. I squirm in my seat.

'Certainly not, Lucrezia,' Malachy replies in a false, robotic voice, so different to the tone he'd used to apologise not five seconds ago. 'I was socialising with the Bermudez sisters and they happened to reconvene to the ladies', leaving me here with her.' He eyes me coldly, his tone condescending. I blanch, feeling utterly confused.

'Mmm,' Lucrezia purses her lips in disapproval, wrinkling her nose like I'm a bad smell. 'The Bermudez sisters, so dull and uneducated in their skimpy little outfits. Still, they're wealthy and came from a high-class family – unlike some.' She glares pointedly at me. I feel a jolt in my stomach, torn between keeping quiet out of intimidation, and answering her right back.

She is extremely tall, with hair poker straight running uniformly along her spine. Her beauty is equal to Malachy's, her features almost identical, aside from one small detail I failed to notice before. Within her black pupils – ringed by ice blue irises – a green light blazes furiously, dancing and flickering in the dark abyss. Brighter than any I have seen before – brighter even, than Sir Alec's. I direct my gaze back at Malachy and realise for the first time, that his are entirely free of the green light. The only difference between the siblings' features.

'Come along, darling,' Lucrezia's voice drips with sarcasm as she gestures to Malachy. 'We have more important things to be doing than socialising with the likes of that.'

Malachy obediently slides off his seat, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and slinging it over his shoulder. Lucrezia's eyes remain fixed on mine as she crosses the room, Malachy scampering after her like a dog with its master. They exit the room and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I feel a sudden surge of anger, not just towards Lucrezia, but towards myself for allowing her to intimidate me. I am no longer Eve Ryder, the silly little girl who made a catastrophic mistake and ruined her life for good. I am Eve Ryder, talented Immortal with a useful gift and a flair for absorbing knowledge.

I don't want to sit around waiting for Tia and the Bermudez sisters, don't want to listen to their questions about Malachy's disappearance or see Meredith's disappointed face. I decide that Tia doesn't really need me there anyway, I'd been polite enough to the Bermudez sisters and Meredith will likely not notice I'm gone.

Slipping quietly out of the common room, I head back along the corridors to mine and Tia's room, sliding under my bedsheets and staring blankly up at the plaster ceiling. I try to relax, to clear my head of thoughts, but every time I close my eyes all I see is the pulsing green light in Lucrezia's pupils and a feeling of dread settles deep within my stomach.

As I think about Lucrezia's ball of green guilt, a sudden thought occurs to me; I've never looked deeply enough into my own eyes to see if I have one. I jump out of bed and switch the lamp on before hurrying over to the full length mirror next to the wardrobe. I press my nose up against the cool metal and peer into my own reflective eyes. My pupils are dilated due to the dim light and it's easy to see that I completely lack the green fire. I breathe a sigh of relief and switch the lamp back off, sliding into bed. But as I lay there, Miss Morelli's words seep into my mind; '
Once you are trained, you will see light in your friends' eyes where there was none before
.'

Perhaps I do have the green fire, I'm just too untrained to see it. After the life I've led, I find it difficult to believe that I'd be deemed innocent by anyone – even myself.

Chapter Ten

My first visit to the cafeteria is intriguing yet strangely uneventful – though the sheer terror on some of my fellow first years' faces makes the journey worth it.

We march single file into the well lit room, taking our seats at the long steel tables. Two young women file along the rows, handing out steel cups from large aluminium trays.

I – like many of my fellow students – first glance up to gauge the reaction of others upon receiving the small beaker filled with thick, red liquid. It gleams eerily beneath the fluorescents, clinging to the sides of the cup as fresh air bubbles pop on the surface. I take the beaker in my hands – noting with surprise that it's warm – and sniff it, preparing myself for a strong, metallic twinge. Instead; a luscious, syrup-like scent wafts up my nose, filling my head with euphoria.

A sudden and intense hunger takes hold of my body, racking my torso with sharp stabbing pains and setting my throat on fire. I lift the heavy cup to my lips, feeling the cool metal against my front teeth, and tip my head back, allowing the velvety liquid to flow into my mouth and stick to my throat.

It fills my stomach quickly and the hunger, with the pain, begins to ebb away as the sweetness evaporates on my tongue. The taste is like nothing I've ever known and comparisons are difficult as none convey the sheer ecstasy consuming the drink brings me. It explodes in my brain, sending a torrent of energy through my veins and for that moment; I feel invincible – stronger than I've ever felt and capable of anything. 

As I drain the dregs sitting at the bottom of the beaker, I feel completely content; satisfied and full, like a fat, happy baby. Glancing around, I notice that most of my fellow students have not yet touched their cups. The dark haired boy with the green light in his eyes, Tomos O'Brien and myself are the only exceptions. I suddenly feel a vague sense of guilt and hang my head, ashamed. I can't completely clarify why but the thought does occur to me that I drained my cup with barely a thought for the source of the blood, while others are clearly battling with themselves, knowing they must feed but feeling a sense of duty to humans not to. We're still young, still feel a connection with mortals, but perhaps I – having been distant from human contact for so long – don't feel it as strongly.

As I enter Theory class, more than a few heads turn to glare in my direction, eyes of anger and betrayal shooting daggers across the classroom. Will must sense that I'm not the most popular student in the room as he picks on me for answers less than usual and mostly leaves me alone.

For the most part, it's not thoughts of my fellow students – or of what happened in the cafeteria this morning – that occupy my mind; but thoughts of Malachy and Lucrezia Beighley and their seemingly abnormal relationship.

The images of Lucrezia's possessive hand on Malachy's shoulder – of his millisecond change from pleasant and accommodating to vulgar and narcissistic – flood my mind and only at the mention of a 'very important family' do I finally snap my head up to focus on Will's lesson.

'...They are – in layman’s terms – our equivalent to a government,' Will continues. I curse myself for not paying attention. 'They issue our laws, they control transformations, they decide who is fit to be an Immortal and who is not. Of course, it's no easy job and the Auctoritas are chosen based on their age and their ancestry.'

'Auctoritas?' I frown, ignoring a roll of the eyes from Tomos O'Brien.

'Weren't you listening, Miss Ryder? What's the point in having such acute hearing, I wonder, if you're not prepared to use it?' Will raises an irritated eyebrow, lapsing in his sympathy at my unpopularity.

'Actually, I was just curious as to what the word means.' I lie, hoping I can pick up the information I missed. Will raises his eyebrows both in irritation and impress, and nods reluctantly.

'Fair enough, Eve,' He folds his arms across his chest. 'Auctorita is Latin for 'authority.' The title was bestowed upon the first Auctoritas by the Immortal people, who looked to them for guidance.

Please take out your notepads; this lesson will be a lecture. If you must ask a question please raise your hand.' Will's tone is stern as he prepares for his lecture, taking his signature stance perched on his desk.

The room falls silent, every student poised with pens above paper; their eyes fixed on Will, waiting with baited breath for their next slice of insight into our bizarre new world.

'As with the human world, within our world there are laws; carefully created and even more carefully monitored. The laws are simple and few, but the consequences of breaking them are great.

Firstly; No Immortal is permitted to reveal his or her identity to any human. Putting our kind at risk of exposure is a very serious crime and carries with it the greatest punishment.

Similarly, no Immortal is permitted to re-visit friends or family once transformed; the risk of recognition or of discovering a difference in you is too great.

Secondly; a law which applies only to the Creators – for it is the Creators alone who are permitted to transform – no human may be transformed before the age of eighteen. Any younger is considered too unstable for transformation – no-one wants to remain a five year old forever.

All transformations must be approved by the Auctoritas; they decide who, they decide when and they decide how many. Not just anybody is chosen for Immortality, there are certain requirements. For example; the absence of close family or friends, and certain personality traits such as an ability to adjust easily and intelligence.

Each Creator is permitted to change only one human every five years.

And finally; each and every new Immortal must attend an Institute for at least five years before being allowed to wander the Earth freely. This is for the safety of mortals and Immortals alike.' Will surveys his audience with content as we hang on his every word, jotting them down as quickly as they leave his mouth.

'The Auctoritas are the most important and most respected of our kind, they form our government. At present there are six Auctoritas, but that number will rise with every succession.

The principal of their existence is to maintain law and order within the Immortal world. We – like most species – have our trouble-makers and law-breakers and must be governed by a wise and intelligent ruler.

Their system works much like a royal family; we have firstly a male ruler who quickly chooses his female partner. The previous Auctoritas move aside and henceforth act as their guidance counsel, and heirs are waiting to take the throne.

The Auctoritas did not always exist; their formation began a little after 8000BC. When the first Immortal, Menes Sekhem, became bloodthirsty and out of control, one of his disciples – a woman named Aed – imprisoned Menes Sekhem and took control of the Immortals herself, thereby marking the beginning of the Auctoritas...'

'Imprisoned him? Where?' Tomos cuts in, much to the annoyance of Will.

'No interruptions, O'Brien!' He barks. 'Aed and Radha – the first Auctoritas – ruled for three thousand years before Radha tired of leadership and passed his title to his favourite Immortal, Caruso Bejarano.

Nowadays, any Auctorita may only rule for a period of five hundred years; once their reign is up, they must pass their title to somebody else.

However, the Auctoritas won't pass their title to just anyone; they will ensure that the position is filled by an experienced Immortal, one who is ready for the responsibility their title will bring and one who will continue their predecessor's legacy.

For this purpose, the Auctoritas adopt one or two human children from a very young age. They do not transform them, they simply raise them to learn the ways of our world – the ways of the Auctoritas – until they are eighteen and are legally transformed.

These 'Auctorita children' – as they are known – must still attend Institutes for their mandatory five years, but also partake in special training approved by the Auctoritas.

Our current Auctoritas are Sirus and Maya Bathory. It was Sirus' adoptive father, Caruso, who provided us with many of the laws and orders that have helped our kind to develop. One of his most valued ideas was put into practice over one thousand years ago when Caruso commissioned the building of the Confine; a prison for Immortal law-breakers.

Only the Auctoritas and the guards of the Confine know exactly where it is and the Auctoritas alone have the power to decide who is banished there. Any law-breaker will be captured and transported to the Confine.

There are no sentences, like human law, and to this day no Immortal sent to be Confined has ever been released. Imprisoning Immortals is far more difficult than imprisoning humans; with our strength and agility, one prisoner must be guarded twenty four hours a day by an army of guards. Over time, this proves to be a waste of valuable resources.

So Caruso came up with a solution; any Immortal imprisoned in the Confine is starved until they reach a vegetative state. Once this state is reached, they no longer need to be guarded and are simply left to live out eternity trapped in their own minds.

It's a fate worse than death and breaking any one of the laws will earn you a one way ticket to the Confine.

I won't divulge our kind's history to you for the time being; I don't want to heap more information on you than you can handle. So for now I will only take questions regarding the Auctoritas and the Confine.

Please raise your hands.'

'Where do the Auctoritas live?' Tomos asks, without raising his hand to which he quickly apologises.

'I don't know. Very few Immortals do.' Will replies simply.

'Will we ever meet them?' The dark haired boy with the green light in his eyes asks, a note of admiration in his tone.

'Unless you break a law or become a Creator, it's highly unlikely that you will ever meet the current Auctoritas.'

'How do we transform mortals?' Coleen asks in her small, girlish voice.

'You don't, unless you are chosen to be a Creator, at which time the process will be thoroughly explained.'

'Will?' The quiet, dark haired girl who sits at the back of the class alone pipes up and every student turns to look at her with surprise.

'Yes, Cheryl?'

'Why don't we tell humans about us?' She asks. 'I mean, we are top of the food chain. Surely we should be governing the world?'

'An interesting point, Miss Berry, and quite true. However, for obvious reasons, we can't sustain our existence without mortals. They are the most important thing to us and must be protected at all costs.

There was an incident, many years ago, when Menes Sekhem – the first Immortal – took on the very mindset you've just voiced. He almost bled the world dry before Aed managed to stop him and allowed the humans time to repopulate.

Our thirst is insatiable and without proper restraint, we will not stop. There are many Immortals today who have been Confined for draining too many humans, risking our exposure.'

'Will, you said 'Institutes.' Does that mean there's more than one? Where are they? And where are we?' A blonde girl whose name I know to be Tanya asks.

'Indeed, there are five Institutes in use today. But no-one – save the Auctoritas and the staff – are permitted to know their exact locations. The risk of former students who are unhappy with Immortality coming back to take their revenge on the Institutes is too great.'

'So, there have only been three sets of Auctoritas to this day?' I ask, doing the maths in my head.

'Correct, Miss Ryder. Aed was the first Auctorita, she chose Radha for her companion. They remain on the guidance counsel.

Caruso succeeded Radha and chose Lalita for his mate, they too joined the guidance counsel when Sirus took the throne.

Sirus and Maya Bathory rule for now until Sirus' chosen Auctorita child succeeds him and chooses his companion.'

'I wouldn't like to be an Auctorita child,' O'Brien shakes his head solemnly. 'If I ever met him, I'd tell him how sorry I feel for him taking on all that responsibility.'

'I'd imagine you've already met him, Mr O'Brien. You'd be hard pressed to ignore the presence of Malachy Beighley.'